Peaty Odds And Ends

Arising from the Peat Posts, Monica asked whether I had any pictures of the peats being burned. The answer lies in this photo of a fire in an original Black House at Arnol.

Another point that I was reminded about was the fact that before the peats were brought home by tractor and lorry the women often brought them home on their backs in creels. So that the time wasn't wasted (and as an early example of women multi-tasking) they also knitted whilst they were walking.

Coll Pottery (about which I have many times promised to blog) also produced models of the Peat Ladies as they were called. This is a photo I took many moons ago.

The Peats - Part 3

Of course the work didn't end there. The pile of peats had to be stacked. This was an art in itself but art with a purpose. The peats on the outside were placed in such a way that the rain was directed away from the centre of the stack.  These stacks are at the Arnol Blackhouse which is looked after by Historic Scotland.

Peat stacks at the Arnol Blackhouse on Lewis

Overall, working at the peats could be a wonderful or hellish experience depending on the day and the circumstances. I can recall being out on the moor on a perfect late spring or early summer midge-free evening listening to the merlin, curlews and other birds and the gentle wind with not another sound to be heard. I can remember picnics and comradeship and fun which lessened the hard work. On the other hand, in the days before midge nets, I remember bringing the peats home when every peat that was lifted brought with it a cloud of wretched little creatures which filled the ears, nose and eyes. 

And then there was the lost wellington boot. Some of 'the family of incomers' were out cutting at Marcel's peat banks out on the Pentland Road (where the Stornoway grazings were).  Suddenly Marcel started to sink into the peat. By the time the rest of us had stopped laughing Marcel was up to his thighs in the muddy peat and we realised that this was a situation that needed some attention and thought. Eventually an extremely annoyed Marcel was extricated from the mire minus a wellington boot. That was the end of the evening's work. I always imagine that at some time in the distant future the single boot will be discovered amid bemused speculation.

Today there are few banks being cut: few people have the time or the inclination and the ease and warmth of other forms of heating is very attractive. I notice that there are a few banks being cut but it seems to be on a very small scale and so far I've only see one or, at most two, people involved on any bank. Culturally I suppose it is a sadness as that part of society's life has gone. Environmentalists, though, will be happy: peat is hardly a green fuel environmentally.

The End.

The Peats - Part 2

Harvesting the peats comprises a number of processes: turfing; cutting and throwing; turning; lifting and stacking into stooks or cruachan
(at least twice); and, finally, getting the peats off the bank and into a lorry/trailer and taking them home.

Turfing is a solitary, backbreaking job which requires strength and a very sharp spade to cut through the heather and turf to lift the top off the peat to expose it for cutting. The turf removed is placed into the (usually sodden) area left from the last cut. This provides a footing for the thrower in the next stage.

Cutting and throwing requires two people and a peat iron (to a Leòdhasach, a tairsgeir (pronounced tarashker) or to a Hearadh a iarann mònach);  a cutter; and a thrower (surprisingly). The cutter slices through the peat to a depth of about a foot and a width of about a hand. The peat will then drop into the hands of the thrower who throws it onto the turf either below or above the bank. A single set of cuts will usually be about 5 peats wide by the number of peats deep which for us varied from two to four. So room had to be found on the ground adjacent to the peat bank for a minimum of 10 peats at every cut. Throwing the peats onto the bank so as to minimise the space between each peat and minimise the effort (it was a very physical job because a wet peat is heavy) requires considerable skill, stamina and practice.

 

 

Our peat banks out on the Coll Common Grazings (with thanks to Adrian for improving the image quality)

Turning. When the peats have been cut for long enough to dry on the top (which, of course, depends on the weather) they are turned over to allow them to dry on the other side.

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Lifting and stacking into cruachan. This was, even in the '70s, considered 'women's work'. I recall being looked at askance (even by the females present) when I said in the office one morning that I'd been lifting the peats the previous evening. It was as if my very manhood was being challenged. The photo shows my tairsgeir which I keep for purely sentimental reasons. In the photo of our peat bank above, Carol is lifting and stacking the peats into cruachan. When in a cruachan the peats hopefully dry thoroughly ready for taking home.

Getting the peats off the banks was a 'family' effort. There was one drawback making it one of the hardest parts of the process for us: the bank was traversed by two drainage ditches. The peats had to be barrowed down to each ditch, dumped and thrown over to the next section until they ended up at the end of the bank which was elevated above the river. With hindsight I would have thought we would have put planks over the ditches but, presumably, there was a reason why we didn't. The 10 ton lorry reversed up to the bank and the peats were thrown into it. Once home the peats were unceremoniously dumped and we all retired for a beer or two.

To be continued....

The Peats - Part 1

When I came to the Outer Hebrides in the '70s two of the common forms of heating were an open fire and a Rayburn Stove (definitely not an Aga). Ours was like the one shown and the same (hideous) colour. But then colour is a matter of taste and whilst I love blue I don't like that blue.

We had replaced the open fire in the living room with a solid fuel burning stove. The Aga and the stove were both fed on a diet of peat with some coal when more heat was necessary or the peat ran out.

Peat was an integral and essential part of Island life in those days. Every household had it's own peat banks out on the moor in the Township's Common Grazings. 

There was a ritual to cutting 'the peats' (as individual peats were called) which involved the whole family and, to an extent, the community. Being incomers we didn't have any family on the Island. However we came at a time when the local Council (with which I had come to work) was new and so there were a lot of incomers came to work at the same time as I did. We all formed our own 'family' for friendship, babysitting and peat-cutting etc. Many of the friends I made all those decades ago are still close friends today.

We were fortunate to have excellent banks with a mixture of dark (higher carbon) and light (more fibrous) brown peat. The banks were in a straight line probably 75 or more metres long which would easily provide enough peats for the house for a year.

Our peat banks out on the Coll Common Grazings

 To be continued.......

The Peats

Peat cutting for fuel has almost ceased in Lewis compared with even 30 years ago. However this year more peat is being cut than I have seen for many years. Perhaps after having paid £750 for a tank of oil this is not surprising. The cutting has been helped by the fabulous weather we have had for the last 5 or 6 weeks. Many of the peats cut have been taken in already. I remember many years ago (over 30 years ago in fact!!) when we were the first family in Coll to get our peats in. It was just before the end of May ie just about now. I still have my tarasgeir or peat iron. After all one never knows when.... One day I shall look out my old photos of our peat banks and the whole ritual. In the meantime here are a few photos from CJ and my trip across the Pentland Road yesterday. A more full exposition can be seen on CJ's blog at Barvas Moor.

The cut bank and the peats drying

Peats stacked ready for taking home