11 January 2005 is one of those days that everybody who was in the Outer Hebrides at the time will not forget. A deep Atlantic depression moved past our islands, bringing with it winds of force 12 on the Beaufort scale, with gusts in excess of 130 mph. At the time, I was staying in Kershader, 12 miles south of Stornoway as the crow flies - more like 22 miles by road. At 6.22pm, the power went off, not to go back on again for 48 hours. The wind was already howling around the building. Blue flashing lights penetrated the darkness from across Loch Erisort - police cars were stopping traffic on the Stornoway to Tarbert road after a lorry driver reported a sheep flying past his windscreen. The driver of the South Lochs bus that night was mightily relieved to make it home in one piece, he told me later. Trees were downed, roofs taken off, vehicles crushed under trees - and hundreds of them toppled in the Castle Grounds in Stornoway. High tides lapped at the doors of people on Cromwell Street and Bayhead in the town. Boats were torn off their moorings and smashed into the ferry terminal. Slates became like missiles, and pedestrians blown off their feet. Some who sought refuge were denied entry; others were taken inside.
The next morning dawned breezy and bright. Everybody heaved a sigh of relief. That was a bad one, but it's only damage. By 9.20 am however, reports start to emerge from the Southern Isles. Five people are missing in South Uist, after they fled their home the previous evening at around 7pm. Rising tides had started to approach their home, and pebbles were hurled against walls and windows. They enter two cars and drive from their home at Eochdar towards the causeway, linking South Uist and Benbecula. A fatal decision. That road parallels the stretch of sea that separates the two islands. The southeasterly storm, combined with a springtide from the northwest pushed the waters of Loch Bi up; but on account of the floodtide they could not drain into the sea. The loch flooded a small causeway, sweeping the cars into the water. By morning, the five missing people are found dead. They include a mother and father with two young children and a grandfather.
Showing posts with label Weather. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Weather. Show all posts
Tuesday, 11 January 2011
Thursday, 12 November 2009
Towards the end of the year
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="240" caption="Gearrannan, 11 November 2009"]
[/caption]
Yes, you read that correctly. It is November 12th, and to me, the year is slowly heading towards its conclusion. Long gone are the light nights and bright days of summer. Only yesterday did I look out to the southwest at ten past four in the afternoon, and did I see the sun? No, it had set a couple of minutes before. The tourists have all headed home, with the exception of the odd customary winter visitor, here to experience the ferocity of the Atlantic winter storms. It has been dark for nearly four hours by the time the ferry comes in, at 8.20pm. If I see it coming in, as the curtains are drawn after nightfall. In summer, it comes in at 12.45 am, and it isn't even fully dark. Not now. When it leaves at 7 am, it is still dark. I walked past the slaughterhouse earlier this week, and caught the smell of beasts, newly discharged into its interior - to emerge onto our dinnerplates at some stage. The lambs that were gambolling on the machairlands in April and May, perhaps? Not a thought worth entertaining for too long. The verdant green, to use that dreadful duplication, has been taken off the moorlands and replaced by the dull browns, yellows and black of winter. Autumn, now firmly in charge, has been thoroughly wet, and any thought of venturing into the moors have to be dispelled. Snow, although not in the forecast, is a growing possibility. As is hail. During my first winter here, five years ago, I grew accustomed to the sound of the wind buffeting the house and hail (or rain) clattering against the windows. So much so, that in fact I could not sleep if there was no wind or hail. But I had a very restful winter in 2004/5. My abiding image of my first winter is that of a flock of sheep, crossing a snow-covered road late at night, seen in the yellow glow of the streetlights - when I was staying in an outlying area. Another memory is that of the hurricane in January 2005 which battered these islands with winds of up to 134 mph, taking five lives with it.
It is now November 2009, and in a few day's time, on the 16th, I will be at the 5th anniversary of my stay in Lewis. Much has changed for me in that time, some of it for better, some of it for worse. In 7 weeks time, the first decade of this century will be over, as we head into 2010. The pace of change in these islands is slower than elsewhere, but change does happen.
[/caption]Yes, you read that correctly. It is November 12th, and to me, the year is slowly heading towards its conclusion. Long gone are the light nights and bright days of summer. Only yesterday did I look out to the southwest at ten past four in the afternoon, and did I see the sun? No, it had set a couple of minutes before. The tourists have all headed home, with the exception of the odd customary winter visitor, here to experience the ferocity of the Atlantic winter storms. It has been dark for nearly four hours by the time the ferry comes in, at 8.20pm. If I see it coming in, as the curtains are drawn after nightfall. In summer, it comes in at 12.45 am, and it isn't even fully dark. Not now. When it leaves at 7 am, it is still dark. I walked past the slaughterhouse earlier this week, and caught the smell of beasts, newly discharged into its interior - to emerge onto our dinnerplates at some stage. The lambs that were gambolling on the machairlands in April and May, perhaps? Not a thought worth entertaining for too long. The verdant green, to use that dreadful duplication, has been taken off the moorlands and replaced by the dull browns, yellows and black of winter. Autumn, now firmly in charge, has been thoroughly wet, and any thought of venturing into the moors have to be dispelled. Snow, although not in the forecast, is a growing possibility. As is hail. During my first winter here, five years ago, I grew accustomed to the sound of the wind buffeting the house and hail (or rain) clattering against the windows. So much so, that in fact I could not sleep if there was no wind or hail. But I had a very restful winter in 2004/5. My abiding image of my first winter is that of a flock of sheep, crossing a snow-covered road late at night, seen in the yellow glow of the streetlights - when I was staying in an outlying area. Another memory is that of the hurricane in January 2005 which battered these islands with winds of up to 134 mph, taking five lives with it.
It is now November 2009, and in a few day's time, on the 16th, I will be at the 5th anniversary of my stay in Lewis. Much has changed for me in that time, some of it for better, some of it for worse. In 7 weeks time, the first decade of this century will be over, as we head into 2010. The pace of change in these islands is slower than elsewhere, but change does happen.
Thursday, 10 January 2008
The Hurricane - 3 years on
By the time this post gets published, it will be Friday 11 January 2008. Going back three years, we were about to experience the worst storms in 50 years. At 3pm, exactly as forecast, the wind whipped up to hurricane force. Powerlines went down all over the island, leaving people without electricity for anything between a few hours and up to 6 days. Property damage was widespread and severe.
Staying in South Lochs at the time, I lost power at 6.20 that evening, not to get it back for 48 hours. From the darkness, I could see blue flashing lights across Loch Erisort. Later, it became clear that this was the police, closing the A859 Stornoway to Tarbert road. A lorry driver had reported as sheep flying past his windscreen. The driver on the last bus into South Lochs had a terrifying time keeping his vehicle on the straight and narrow.
By 6pm, people in Stornoway were physically blown off their feet. Some sustained injuries as a result. Trees in the Castle Grounds were falling like match sticks, boats were ripped off their moorings and tossed onto the harbour wall at the Newton Basin. Flooding affected the town centre.
Down in the Southern Isles, a family of five found their home in Iochdar, South Uist, being pounded by pebbles and flying spray from the nearby sea. A flurry of phonecalls arranged a move across the causeway into Benbecula. Two cars would carry the grandfather, two parents and two young children across the few miles.
Dawn broke at 9 o'clock. The islanders, from Barra to Lewis, were mentioning that it had been a particularly nasty one, and people were comparing notes what damage everyone had sustained. A phonecall disturbed the sense of relief. People were reported missing in South Uist. A search party started combing the South Ford, which separates Benbecula from South Uist. The bodies of five people were found in the course of the next few days. They were those of a grandfather, two parents and their young children. Please view this page on the BBC News website for details. I cannot print their portraits here.
The funeral service, a few days later, was attended by 1,500 people, one out of every three islanders in the Southern Isles. Only 500 could actually enter the church, the rest followed the service outside, as it was relayed through loudspeakers.
Total damage was estimated to be worth £15 million, including severe storm damage to the causeway system stretching from Berneray to Eriskay. Repairs are only now being carried out.
This post is dedicated to the memory of those lost in the Iochdar tragedy.
Staying in South Lochs at the time, I lost power at 6.20 that evening, not to get it back for 48 hours. From the darkness, I could see blue flashing lights across Loch Erisort. Later, it became clear that this was the police, closing the A859 Stornoway to Tarbert road. A lorry driver had reported as sheep flying past his windscreen. The driver on the last bus into South Lochs had a terrifying time keeping his vehicle on the straight and narrow.
By 6pm, people in Stornoway were physically blown off their feet. Some sustained injuries as a result. Trees in the Castle Grounds were falling like match sticks, boats were ripped off their moorings and tossed onto the harbour wall at the Newton Basin. Flooding affected the town centre.
Down in the Southern Isles, a family of five found their home in Iochdar, South Uist, being pounded by pebbles and flying spray from the nearby sea. A flurry of phonecalls arranged a move across the causeway into Benbecula. Two cars would carry the grandfather, two parents and two young children across the few miles.
Dawn broke at 9 o'clock. The islanders, from Barra to Lewis, were mentioning that it had been a particularly nasty one, and people were comparing notes what damage everyone had sustained. A phonecall disturbed the sense of relief. People were reported missing in South Uist. A search party started combing the South Ford, which separates Benbecula from South Uist. The bodies of five people were found in the course of the next few days. They were those of a grandfather, two parents and their young children. Please view this page on the BBC News website for details. I cannot print their portraits here.
The funeral service, a few days later, was attended by 1,500 people, one out of every three islanders in the Southern Isles. Only 500 could actually enter the church, the rest followed the service outside, as it was relayed through loudspeakers.
Total damage was estimated to be worth £15 million, including severe storm damage to the causeway system stretching from Berneray to Eriskay. Repairs are only now being carried out.
This post is dedicated to the memory of those lost in the Iochdar tragedy.
Sunday, 4 December 2005
Pictures of the storms
I took these pictures around Stornoway at the time of the severe gales on November 11th. Quality is not very good due to the amount of spray flying around, and the low light.
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