Looking back through previous Reports the S.H.S seem to have many happy memories of Raasay. Now, after Raasay '75, it has some more. For this, above all else, was a happy and rather carefree sort of expedition. Our main achievement was that we enjoyed ourselves, and if we acquired a reputation for throwing stones into the sea, why, that was because we enjoyed throwing stones into the sea.

The great advantage of Raasay as a venue for an expedition is the island's variety. Within its length are high craggy peaks, soggy peat bogs, fertile farms and wooded valleys, shingle beaches and high cliffs. It is an island of infinite interest, and my only regret is that two weeks is not enough time in which to do it justice. Yet from our camp below Brochel Castle we managed to cover most of the ground, and even explored a little bit of Skye.

The establishment of the camp proved to be complicated. A combination of late running trains meant that our arrival on Raasay was delayed by several hours, and pitching the tents was a race against the darkness. We also found ourselves without water for the well close to the marquee was unusable following the long dry summer. For much of the expedition we had to carry our water from Fred Hohler's tank several hundred yards away up the hill.

Brochel Castle. 14/06/2009

Constructed sometime during the fifteenth century, Brochel Castle remained occupied until 1671, when the Laird of Raasay, Iain Garbh, died. Little is known of the castle as references in the historical record are sporadic.

© Copyright Euan Nelson

The Shore at Brochel Castle 14/06/2009

© Copyright Euan Nelson

However, the expedition was soon in full swing. We grew used to the lumps in the ground beneath the tents, we furnished the marquee, and we chalked our names in the hut alongside those of Carcas and Limpet. Most people did a fair amount of exploration southwards to Inverarish and Dun Caan, northwards to Torran, Fladday and over Beinn na h-Iolaire, or just up the road to Ardnish and into the forest. The Avon dinghy was constantly in use for fishing and exploring, or even collecting coffee tables from up the coast. The outboard proved to have a mind of its own only choosing to work when it felt like it, until the fault was diagnosed as an incorrect mixture of two stroke.

The project work was interesting, but not particularly serious. There was great excitement the day that the ornithologists found a golden eagle, although it then managed to elude various search parties. We gathered different species of edible seaweed - horrid. We admired the road to Ardnish, largely built by Callum MacLeod, and eventually met its builder. Surveying was a little limited since the Society's tapes had gone missing before they reached us, and the only measuring device that we had was a one foot ruler. Improvisation, using a hosepipe, marquee poles, Silva compass, and Broadbent's theory of error distribution failed to provide an accurate plan of the camp site.

Bivvy parties went to the old iron ore workings near Inverarish, and a climbing bivvy left for Skye, only to return due to rain, but more particularly because they forgot the climbing rope. We all sampled the delights of a day trip to Inverarish, and were fascinated by Raasay House. It was strange to picture it as it must have been in all its splendour before the desolation of desertion set in.

Back in camp Mike dished out beans, beans and more beans, and occasionally gave us a sausage to go with them. Stewart cooked better porridge than anybody else, and went on to serve luncheon meat in such a way that even I went back for seconds. We invented Raasay cricket, a highly dangerous version of the Headingley variety. The wind blew from the Southeast, as it always does when the Society goes to Brochel, and demolished the bog-tents and part of the marquee. Keith played his guitar in the evenings, and Steve told ghost stories.

Raasay iron ore mine ruins. 02/10/2010 © Copyright Richard Dorrell

This view looks along the line of the former railway which curves to the left past the principal buildings of the mine. The entrance to the mine is a hundred metres or so behind the photographer.

Raasay House, now an outdoor centre. July 1994

© Copyright John Darcy

Nearly everyone went orienteering, but hardly anyone found any of the stations. The prize for being lost, however, went to the lone yachtsman we found wandering round the north end of the island on a very wet and windy day looking for a telephone box. We reckoned that he was fifteen miles from the nearest.

The expedition had moments of madness, like the evening everyone rushed out of the marquee and into the sea, or the time that Dieter did a solo on the non-electric foot pump for the Avon inflatable. There was Steve running all the way to Inverarish, and Keith striding out manfully beneath his rucksack.

And so the expedition passed. In the end it rained as we carted the black boxes up the hill to the road, and it rained more as we raced south to the school house. There we shivered in wet clothes until the lorry for the equipment arrived, and we were able to change and cook some supper. It was still raining in the morning when the "Eigg" left Raasay for Portree, and we sailed back to reality, which in this case was represented by John Cullingford and Jim Turner who were waiting at the quay to meet us