New book chronicles the lives of Scotland's heroic lighthouse keepers

For years, supplies arrived by boat. A perilous journey that meant travelling 11 miles southwest of Tiree to bob above the treacherous reef while essentials were hauled onto the jagged rock and dragged along a rusting iron slipway.

The construction of a helipad would both transform the lives of the lighthouse keepers and, in 1978, provide one of the most anxious and terrifying of episodes.

With storms lashing the lighthouse and one keeper injured, the helicopter sent to bring him to safety would itself end up broken by the force of the sea – and only the fearless actions of the Skerryvore lightkeepers would save it.

The dramatic incident is told in a new book described as a “love letter to Scotland’s lighthouses” which spans their remarkable design and the challenges that came with their construction, to their influence on music and art as well as the experiences of those hardy souls whose lives were devoted to keeping them in operation.

Far from the popular image of lonely lighthouse keeper living a life of boredom, it reveals an often hidden role; braving wartime attacks, rescuing shipwreck victims and battling the elements to keep others safe at sea.

Written by Donald S. Murray, who was brought up on the Isle of Lewis and under the glare of the Butt of Lewis lighthouse, and published as part of Scotland’s Year of Coasts and Waters 2021, For the Safety of All includes previously unpublished drawings and photographs along with fascinating insight into the dramas that unfolded around them and the impact they had on the communities that lived within sight of their brilliant beam.

In particular, it explores the role of the lightkeepers. Contained within cramped walls and stuck on rocky outcrops with just each other for company, they often witnessed high drama, tragedy, nature at its wildest, and, in rare cases, were driven to despair.

For those charged with maintaining Skerryvore’s dazzling beam, the incident in 1978 when a helicopter was almost lost to the waves, was the most chilling they would encounter.

According to the book, the chopper was preparing to collect an injured lightkeeper when a catastrophic wave battered its rotor blade, snapping it.

Lightkeeper Ian Duff and Gordon MacDonald made sure the pilot and injured man were all right, recalls Donald in the book.

“As they were whipped by one wave after another the next thought came to mind. They knew they had to lash the damaged helicopter down to the surface of the pad, mooring it to the rock in case a flurry of wind or sea water might do more damage, sweeping it away from the narrow space in which it stood.

“They spooled out rope, looped it around the cockpit, tail and rotor blades ensuring that it could not be shifted whatever force and fury that day's storm might bring.”

A second helicopter was summoned to lift the broken aircraft to safety.

Despite the raging storm, Gordon used rope to create a makeshift cradle which could be fastened to the broken helicopter. The challenge was particularly difficult: the ropes had to be the same length otherwise the load might shift and pitch, sending both aircraft into the swirling water below.

As the rescue helicopter descended, both watched – hearts in their mouths and with overwhelming relief – as it slowly raised the battered aircraft to safety.

Far from living uneventful, even boring lives, the book reveals lightkeepers' role in recording weather and nature - sometimes under attack from migrating sea birds - while many encountered high drama when ships came to grief or when war broke out.

Around 30 attacks by German planes took place on Scottish lighthouses during the Second World War, from Duncansby in Caithness to Barns Ness in East Lothian. The Butt of Lewis lighthouse was peppered with bullets in November 1940 – the island’s only air raid.

The men stationed at Sumburgh Head, at the southern tip of Shetland’s mainland, would often see and feel the impact – whether it was the periscope of a passing U-boat, the shuddering of depth charges fired by destroyers and frigates, or the sight of wreckage from destroyed vessels floating past.

On one occasion, they cowered ready to leap into the ocean should the German Focke-Wulf which circled overhead release one of its bombs. While they sighed with relief as it departed, for the keepers at Skerryvore there would be the sheer terror as it dropped six bombs on and around the structure.

In some cases, lightkeepers were given means to defend themselves. At Holborn Head lighthouse in Caithness, a German bomb attack in 1941 led to it being supplied with two anti-aircraft Hotchkiss guns to be deployed in the case of attack.

There were fatalities: at Fair Isle North the 22-year-old wife of the lightkeeper was killed by German machine gun fire as she stood at her pantry window. Within weeks, the Luftwaffe returned to hit the main block of the lighthouse, killing the principal lightkeeper’s wife and child.

In others, lightkeepers could only watch as casualties were scattered to the seas. At Buchan Ness lighthouse near Peterhead, the lightkeeper, Archie MacEachern, remembered seeing casualties of a German U-boat blown up as it laid mines, drift by.

While the keepers at Dubh Artach in the Inner Hebrides were taken aback to see a bloated elephant and two mules in the water, assumed to be circus animals lost while being transported to America.

As well as exploring the lives of the lightkeepers, the book reflects upon the remarkable feat of engineering that saw more than 200 lighthouses built to protect vessels from Scotland’s most dangerous rocky shelves, narrow peninsulas and hazardous reefs.

Operated by the Northern Lighthouse Board, many were designed and their construction overseen over a 150 year period by members of the Stevenson family.

They include Bell Rock Lighthouse, the world’s oldest surviving sea-washed lighthouse, built between 1807 and 1810 by Robert Stevenson, grandfather to writer Robert Louis Stevenson. Ordered in the aftermath of a single storm which claimed 70 vessels, its construction involved building an impressive 45ft tall barracks to house workers alongside the site of the proposed 118ft tower.

It is among more than 150 lighthouses across Scotland which are listed by Historic Environment Scotland for their historical importance.

Since 1998 all of Scotland’s lighthouses have been fully automated and remotely monitored from the Northern Lighthouse Board’s headquarters in Edinburgh, bringing to an end the lightkeeper's long and lonely task of keeping the light burning.

However, lighthouses and their keepers continue to fascinate, adds Donald, such as the mystery of what happened to three Flannan Isles lightkeepers who disappeared just before Christmas 1900.

Stories raged over the state of the men’s minds, sea monsters, even abduction by aliens and – the most likely event – a wild storm that simply washed the men away as they grappled to protect equipment.

Despite their remoteness and the sometimes bleak tales attached to them, the book points out that lighthouses also have a long history of inspiring artists, poets, musicians and, increasingly, attracting holidaymakers keen to experience what it's like to stay in one.

“They are things of beauty,” he adds.

For the Safety of All will be available from 29 July. It is published by Historic Environment Scotland in partnership with the Northern Lighthouse Board.