History of much of the Hebrides is played out in one Tiree township

That’s harsh – they are not that bad – but we definitely have a different ­approach to the world and to the study thereof!

My sister is a palliative care consultant, both my parents have PhDs, and my father sports not just one, but two DLitts (which you get for a lifetime’s work on a single topic …) I, on the other hand, managed a little more than a term at university; leaving before I was pushed.

These days, both my family and I are completely unable to explain to anyone what I do – but most people know that when I’m not on a rant in the Sunday ­National, I’m selling something, chasing something, or tapping at a keyboard. I don’t so much have a career as a basket of loosely connected things which I juggle more or less successfully. I’m quite happy that way.

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If I had my time again, I’d do computing, or agriculture, or a trade. I most certainly would not do what I tried to do, which was English literature and history. I learned the hard way that my idea of hell is studying a single topic in an excruciating amount of depth.

So, you can imagine my distress last weekend as I sat in an academic ­conference about the Tiree township of Balephuil. Put in charge of the audio ­visual operation (thanks to the part my ­father was playing in proceedings, and my basket of random skills), I was trapped in the community hall for no fewer than two full days of lectures, listening intently for cues to change the slide, whilst trying to funnel everything from speech to crackly sound clips to an accordion, through a single microphone, into Zoom.

As I prepared for the weekend (with the help of every Tiree tech geek I could muster), I asked more than one person how much there could possibly be to say about a single township.

More than you would think, it turns out.

Called “In Search of Balephuil’s ­Hidden Past – Tracing The History Of A Tiree ­Township And Its People”, the ­conference, organised by the Islands Book Trust, set out to answer a central question: While every community has its own unique story and has faced various hardships, how did Balephuil’s turbulent history stand apart from other parts of the island and influence the character of its people?

Over the course of the weekend, a cast of extremely clever and ­committed ­people presented papers covering a whole range of topics – from the songs that gave ­Balephuil its moniker of “Baile nam Bàrd” (township of the poets), to the religious revival that heard it often ­referred to as “Baile nan Gràs” (township of grace).

We heard about the topography of the area and how the geology shaped its ­agricultural fortunes. We followed the history of the township over 6000 years; from the raiders and settlers, and coming up to the 1960s, we got to listen to ­beautiful ­recordings, made by the School of ­Scottish Studies, of the stories and ­memories of people who have long since passed on.

We saw the works of painters such as Duncan MacGregor Whyte – many of which were inspired by Balephuil and its people.

Whilst the central question was around what set Balephuil apart from other ­townships in Tiree, I was struck by how closely the fortunes of Balephuil mirror the broader trends across the Highlands and Islands – even to the present day.

(Image: Martini Archive)

As I sat down to write this, I asked ChatGPT to tell me about Balephuil.

It told me the following: “Balephuil is a small, picturesque township located on the southwestern coast of the Isle of ­Tiree, in Scotland’s Inner Hebrides. Known for its stunning natural beauty, Balephuil is situated near Balephuil Bay, a wide and sandy beach that is a favourite spot for wildlife enthusiasts and surfers alike …” And so it went on.

You could replace the name Balephuil with pretty much any township in Tiree and get that description, but if I was a ­copywriter for VisitScotland, I’d be ­starting to worry at this point.

The relentless march of AI aside, it’s ­exactly the generic and bland description of a place that drives so many of us up the wall – the people are absent, and the view is that of the outsider, gazing at the place. It’s not the perspective of the people in the place.

Balephuil might indeed, at first glance, seem like a peaceful place where little has changed over the years, but nothing could be further from the truth. It has had a fascinating and dramatic history. It may stand out in Tiree as one of our more dramatic townships, but it is a history that people from just about any Scottish island will recognise.

The township witnessed significant economic shifts, particularly between the late 18th century and the early 20th century. During this time, Balephuil ­experienced the kelp boom – and bust. It suffered a tragic fishing disaster. It lost its young people to work in the cities. It saw its crofting township established by the Duke of the time in 1806.

The population surged, only to be ­followed by a wave of emigration ­after the potato famine of 1846. Land ­reorganisation also played a major role, with small crofts failing, some crofters being removed, and other crofts being merged under landlord reorganisation.

In 1886, a political uprising over land ­reform took place – resulting in the arrival of a gunship, arrests and imprisonment. At one point almost half of the township’s land was given to a neighbouring one, and the Balephuil crofters had to build the separating wall for free.

Today, Balephuil is home to a legal ­distillery rather than the illicit stills that once proliferated, but it is once again home to far, far fewer people than it was at its peak. It’s richer in property value than it ever was, but research ­undertaken by Isle Develop CIC a few years ago ­identified it as one of the Tiree townships with the highest number of properties ­sitting empty in the winter, with only nearby Mannal faring worse. Today, there is only one resident crofter.

For some, the weekend was an ­opportunity to remember the Balephuil of old. For others, an opportunity to learn about their ancestors. For yet others, a chance to share detailed and valuable ­research into the history of the township through rent records and census results.

For me, it was a reminder not just of what we have lost but of what we ­continue to lose. The stories told at the conference about characters and ­individuals that few still remembered in the flesh simply served to drive home the sense of loss that permeates Tiree today. That loss of Gaelic and community culture.

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We are hanging on to some of it by our fingernails, but the richness of language and song, the writers and poets and the fighters for islanders’ rights are all at risk of disappearing. So too are the resident populations.

All is not lost yet, though. Ian Smith of the band Trail West, who is Balephuil born and bred – and one half of the new distillery – performed on the final day, bringing a new context to old words and tunes.

Balephuil has had more than one ­incarnation, and I hope it will have many more. Incarnations that bring people back to populate the place once more – breeding new poets and singing new songs. Maybe the next conference on ­Balephuil will be less about the past, and instead a celebration of renewal.

And I hope that when we hold up the mirror, we see that new incarnation ­replicated up and down the west coast.