A Holiday in the Highlands
In 1881 an
article was published in the Northern Ensign as part of a series called A
Holiday in the Highlands of Caithness. Chapter V was about Berriedale and
Badbea. I will record the second part of the article for this blog and head
back to the beginning next blog. The reason for this is that I have just
written about Catherine and Christina who were both living at Badbea at the
time this visit took place and may even have entertained these people.
A rare glimpse into Badbea hospitality 1881
The writer
says:
A few miles
along the coast in this direction, perched amongst the rocks, which descend
sheer as a wall to the sea beneath, a depth of several hundred feet, is a
little cluster of five or six homesteads of the most primitive character
imaginable.
 |
| Stones and heather at Badbea |
A lady, who
chaperoned us on several pleasant excursions, volunteered one day to take us to
call upon these out of the world neighbours, at Badbea, as the place is called.
What a unique little colony we found ourselves amidst, after picking our way
across the heather and rocks, surmounting several styles, and taking flying
leaps over black “pots” in a peat-moss, where we lost our reckoning, encouraged
by the advice to be cautious, and not to step on adders! “With good heart and
our Lady’s grace,” however we reached our destination at last, and if the
distance had been ten miles in place of two or three we would have walked every
step of it with pleasure to receive the warm reception we met with at Badbea.
On a slope
so steep that it seemed incredible they could have been cultivated by the
plough, lay the little strips of fields. Potatoes and corn were growing to the
extreme verge of the cliffs – the very sight making one feel nervous: one rock
being pointed out as the spot where, only a short time before, a keeper named
McEwen met a dreadful death by falling into the sea beneath while endeavouring
to reach the eyrie of an eagle. The entire party were Gaelic-speaking –
three-fourths being Sutherlands – but mostly all knew English, and marvellously good English too. One house, however, we were
precluded from calling at, as the mistress spoke only her native language. The
most pretentious of the cottages did not contain more than three rooms, and
some only one – little “native” looking thatched concerns. The last of the
group – standing only a few feet back from the edge of the cliff – gained great
interest when we were told that when their children were young, the people were
in the habit of tethering them to keep them from falling over the rocks!
A surprising
happy contented look pervaded the whole colony, who possessed immeasurably more
natural refinement and dignity than many of the denizens of large towns. Almost
completely shut off from the outside world, and its hurried life – shut in by
seas and rocks, they had all a distinctly self-sustaining air about them, as if
constantly thrown on their own resources.
We felt as
though we had got round the corner from modern civilisation, for a little
while, where scarcely a rumour of the Eastern or any other “questions,”
“crisis” or “embroglio” could reach our ears. Entering a cottage by what was
evidently the ordinary door, we found ourselves confronted by some half-dozen
Highland cattle, in a building closely attached to the dwelling house for
warmth in the winter.
 |
Highland Cottage 1860
Katherine Ellice
|
On the wall of the byre hung a sort of large fishing
basket – this was the nest in which the hens laid their eggs – a couple in it
at that moment faithfully fulfilling their destiny. From this novel vestibule,
a door led into the kitchen, in the centre of which was a peat fire, the
chimney consisting of a considerable hole in the roof, by no means directly
over the fire, for the danger of rain or storm putting it out. Suspended from
the rafters –ebony black with smoke- was an iron bar to which pots were hooked.
In a corner of the room a hen was fastened by a foot, her flock of chickens
darting about the floor, in imminent danger of being stepped on. Everything was
very clean, and of boundless interest.
 |
This photo of a Badbea house was taken probably twenty
years after the article was written but it is almost certainly
one of the houses visited, possibly the Gunn house mentioned
below. The Badbea houses in the early nineteenth century
were generally smaller and had no chimney
|
Built on the slope - of course - there was no flat land
From an
inner (or more correctly, an upper room, for the houses were on the slope to
such an extent, that though all on one floor, a person in the uppermost or
parlour end, was several feet higher than one in the kitchen or lower end,)
issued “the lady of the house,” who received us with genuine, natural
politeness, making us feel instantly at home, which stamped her in our minds as
one of “nature’s gentlewomen.” With kindly alacrity, a vigourous young woman,
with loveable childlike eyes, was meanwhile heaping an armful of peats on the
fire, filling the place with pungent hospitable smoke, which made its escape
quite as much by the door as the chimney.
 |
China plates at the Helmsdale museun. The blue Willow
Pattern was popular with some even leaving Badbea
for New Zealand in 1839
|
The kettle was promptly swung on;
marvellous china dishes, each with a story of its own, were disinterred from
sundry presses and chests, and in a short time we were enjoying a welcome cup
of tea, amidst surroundings the most charmingly natural possible. Taking our
complexions in our hands, we wished exceedingly we could have prolonged the
visit for a whole. The good souls were kindness and hospitality itself, and
paid us the original compliment, telling us we were “fine, plain, homely
cratures.”
 |
| This 1881 census extract shows a 2 year old girl named Donaldina Gunn living with her parents Jessie and John Gunn |
 |
The numbering of the houses does not indicate the number of houses at Badbea but the number of houses
in the Berriedale district
|
 |
| The above three census records show the names of everyone living at Badbea on the night of the 1881 census |
A short time back there lived in Caithness a number of preachers or
evangelists mostly lay people , who held services in their houses on Sundays,
the churches being frequently long distances apart. These “Fathers of
Caithness” as they were called were held in the highest esteem and veneration,
the people resorting to them from all quarters. One of these had lived at Badbea.
And his honoured memory is treasured with affectionate respect.
Caithness Convoy
On leaving a
cottage the mistress of it invariably accompanied us as far as the next one,
and introduced us the inmates, according to what is known as “Caithness
convoy.” At the last house in Badbea we came upon one of the most beautiful
children we had almost ever seen, a lovely little golden haired girl, whose
parents had conferred on her the peculiar name of Dolina.
A Blessing from a visitor
Dear, kindly Badbea
folks! May Heaven ever richly bless their banks and their store, kail and
potatoes!
 |
| Badbea landscape probably at the end of the twentieth century. |
Source: A Holiday in the Highlands of Caithness. Chapter V –
Berriedale and Badbea. Northern Ensign, Thursday January 13, 1881
