WeRead Powered by ReaderPub
Superstitions of the Highlands & Islands of Scotland / Collected Entirely from Oral Sources cover

Superstitions of the Highlands & Islands of Scotland / Collected Entirely from Oral Sources

Chapter 106: ON GARLIOS, MORVERN.
Open in WeRead

About This Book

A collection of oral traditions from the Scottish Highlands and Islands, recorded and arranged thematically to present popular beliefs about fairies, changelings, banshees, tutelary beings, witchcraft, and related customs. The material combines narrative tales and descriptive entries that show regional variants, accounts of sightings and interactions, and practical measures for protection or repair. Gaelic expressions are translated with emphasis on literal meaning and authentic usage, and the compiler relied solely on spoken testimony gathered across multiple districts to preserve the vernacular form of these folk beliefs.

ON GARLIOS, MORVERN.

The lonely and rugged mountain tract, known as the Garlios (Garbh-shlios, the rough country side), extending along the coast of Morvern, from the Sound of Mull to Kingairloch, a distance of about seven miles, was at one time haunted by a Glaistig, whose special employment was the herding (buachailleachd) of the sheep and cattle that roamed over its desert pastures. Tradition represents her as a small, but very strong woman, taking refuge at night in a particular yew tree (craobh iuthair), which used to be pointed out, to protect herself from wild animals that prowled over the ground. In a cave in the same locality lived a man, known as ‘Yellow Dougall of the Cave’ (Dùghaill Buidhè na h-Uamh), who supported himself and wife by taking a sheep or goat, when he required it, from the neighbouring flocks.54 One day when about to row himself across to the opposite island of Lismore, in his coracle (curachan), a woman came and asked for a passage. She took the bow oar, and before long cried out, “A hearty pull, Dougall” (Hùg orra, Dùghaill.) “Another hearty pull then, honest woman” (Hùgan so eil’ orra, bhean chòir), cried Dougall. Every now and then she repeated the same cry, and Dougall answered in the same way. He thought himself a good rower, and was ashamed to be beat by a woman. He never rowed so hard in his life. When the boat touched the Lismore shore, he for the first time turned round his head, and no woman was anywhere to be seen. She who was so strong and disappeared so mysteriously could only be the Glaistig.

Other accounts say that the boatman was Selvach Mac Selvach (Sealbhach Mac Shealbhaich), a native of Lismore, and the woman against whom he pulled for the three miles from Kingairloch to Lismore, a Glaistig that stayed in the ravine of Alltaogain in the latter place. Her cry was, “Pull away, Selvach” (Hùg orra, Shealbhaich), and his answer, “Pull away, my lass” (Hùg orra, ghalad.)