For whom the bridge tolled: the saga of travelling over the sea to Skye

Though, before its opening in 1995, a road bridge across Kyle Akin (sea) at the mouth of Loch Alsh had long been sought, its eventual creation was not universally popular. Some disliked the concrete look of it and its obscuring of the view from Kyleakin (village) up the Inner Sound.

But more unpopular were the pricey tolls, leading to locals describing the bridge as “the only place in the world where you get mugged and get a receipt”.

The origins of that situation lay in the summer queues for the ferry, which had begun to stretch well back along the A87. As The Glasgow Herald reported in 1971, the two 28-car ferries were carrying more than 300,000 vehicles a year, and local pressure for a bridge was growing.

Only 28 years later, Lord James Douglas-Hamilton, the Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State for Scotland in the UK Conservative Government, announced the opening of bids from private companies to build a toll bridge: the first major capital project in Britain funded by the Private Finance Initiative, whereby companies constructed public edifices and rented these back to the Government.

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The contract was won by Miller-Dywidag, a consortium made up of Scottish company Miller Construction and German engineering firm Dywidag Systems International, with the Bank of America as financial partner.

The Miller-Dywidag design, drawn up in collaboration with civil engineering firm Arup, was for a single-span concrete arch across the water from the outskirts of Kyleakin to Eilean Bàn, with a further connection on to Kyle of Lochalsh (so the “Skye Crossing” is effectively two bridges, with Eilean Bàn, the small island formerly inhabited by otter lover and author Gavin Maxwell, acting as a stepping stone between the two).

The contractors estimated the cost at £15 million, which increased to £25M in the traditional manner. In addition, the Scottish Office spent £6M on approach roads and £3m on consultants and land purchase. It forked out a further £4m to compensate the consortium for the costs of construction delays and design changes.

Work began in 1992 and, with occasional tea-breaks, was finished by 1995, with Scottish Secretary Michael Forsyth performing the opening ceremony in October that year, assisted by local schoolchildren. Immediately afterwards, the trouble started.

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While local politicians had understood that there would be an initial period of high tolls, locals were outraged at the scale of these. Accordingly, with a pipe band leading the way through the rain, the first drivers arriving at the toll booth refused to pay the charge. They were then charged again – with a criminal offence.

Over time, 500 people were charged, including Clodagh Mackenzie, whose land had been compulsorily purchased for the bridge. Of these, 130 (not including Mrs Mackenzie) received criminal convictions, with one – Andy Anderson of campaigners Skye and Kyle Against Tolls (SKAT) – serving 11 days in jail.

The issue became a cause célèbre internationally, with the charges said to be the most expensive in Europe. By 2004, a return car journey cost as much as £11.40, this being 14 times the round trip over the Forth Road Bridge, which was more than twice the length. At the same time, other smaller bridges were being built around the isles with no tolls.

With doughty campaigners such as Robbie the Pict casting doubt on the legal paperwork, political pressure to trash the tolls became unstoppable and, on 21 December 2004, Scottish Transport Minister Nicol Stephen announced that the Holyrood Government had purchased the bridge for £27m. Toll collection ceased immediately.

Over the nine years of what was supposed to have been a 27-year contract, the consortium operating the bridge collected £33.3m in tolls. Their operating costs were £3.5m.

So, has the bridge been a curse or a blessing? The consensus today among islanders and visitors alike is the latter. Obviously, some aspects of an old way of life went by the wayside when the bridge was built. Hours of waiting in summer queues had at least benefited local shops in Kyle of Lochalsh and, at first, the bridge was evidently bad for business, with traffic simply passing through.

But, today, with food outlets, attractions and a Co-op supermarket for stocking up, the village has become a popular stopover, with a charm – and holiday accommodation – of its own. The cultural side of ferry life for locals has also been lost, with the short trip having provided an occasion for a natter. Jobs were lost too, among men who’d given years of service to the ferry.

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Caledonian MacBrayne had made over £1m a year on the route, mainly from summertime tourist traffic (it’s not clear if locals were always charged by the ferry workers). But the bridge brought more in (and out), with its first year recording traffic of 612,000 vehicles, a third more than the ferry's official numbers.

Much has been made of the psychological impact of a bridge: was Skye still an island if umbilically linked to the mainland? But, once you cross the bridge, you know you’re on an island. It’s 50 miles long and 25 miles wide. Of its many miles of coastline, the bridge takes up just a few yards.

The bridge allows 24/7 access to the mainland – a boon in emergencies – and it doesn’t get cancelled as often as a ferry. And there are still ferries anyway, for those who prefer to arrive by sea: CalMac’s Mallaig to Armadale route, and the small but characterful Glenelg to Kylerhea service, run by the Skye Ferry Community Interest Company from March to October, with what is said to be the last operating manual turntable ferry in the world.

At any rate, however you arrive on Skye, by bridge or by ferry, you’ll still have to go “over the sea”.

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