My aunt, uncle and I booked a little white pebble-dash cottage on the Isle of Lewis for a week. The island was gloriously windswept, with small hunched trees dotting the peaty landscape and standing stones jutting out of the earth like diseased teeth. We fuelled ourselves every morning with a hearty bowl of porridge over which we poured generous lashings of Edradour Cream Liqueur for an extra kickstart.
A blackhouse is a traditional type of dwelling which used to be common across Ireland, the Hebrides and the Scottish Highlands. Blackhouse buildings were typically long, narrow buildings, with double wall dry-stone walls packed with earth in between the stone layers, covered by a roof of wooden rafters over which a thatch of turf was grown. This thatch would be secured with old fishing nets or twine, which was attached to large rocks to hold everything in place. The floors were created from flagstones or in many cases, packed earth.
With the central hearth for the fire, and no chimney, the smoke was forced to filter through the roof, blackening the interior on its way out. According to some accounts, this smoked thatch was a rich fertiliser, so it was common to strip it off for this purpose and rethatch the roof annually. Contrary to popular belief however, the name "blackhouse" (Scottish Gaelic: taigh-dubh) actually derives from the distinction between the newer white houses (taighean geala) such as the one we were staying in, and the older traditional thatched cottages. The newer white cottages began to appear from the end of the 1800s onwards, driven by the need to separate living quarters for people from those for animals.
Some blackhouses at Arnol were still roofed, although most were not. The newer blackhouses had gable end walls, with a stone wall dividing the living area and the byre (bathaich, animal quarters).
The peat fire in the centre of the living room warmed the house and was extremely energy efficient. This fire was the heart of family life and was never allowed to extinguish - it was dampened each evening.
The process, known in Scots as "smooring" (commonly translated as "smothering" or "subduing"), involved carefully covering the fire to keep it safely burning without needing attention overnight.
The thick double-layered stone walls and earthen floors of the blackhouse retained the fire’s warmth overnight while keeping out draughts. The heavy, dense turf and thatch were brilliant insulants.
The squat Lewis blackhouses were specifically designed to endure the harsh conditions of the Outer Hebrides. The dwellings were low to the ground and were often built into the earth’s natural slopes and embankments.
The round roofs, intricately secured with ropes, were designed to withstand the fierce Atlantic winds. Additionally, the thick walls offered excellent insulation and were built to bear the lateral pressures exerted by the short driftwood roof beams.
Doors were usually located on the east side of the building so that southwesterly winds battered only against blank walls. According to the Scottish Crofting Federation, this design also conformed to the old Gaelic proverb An iar’s an ear, an dachaigh as’ fhearr - cul ri gaoith,’s aghaidh ri grein. ("East to west, the house that’s best - back to the wind and face to the sun").
Excavations by the Headland Archaeology team found some houses were occupied and modified by successive owners and inhabitants over the years. One particular house initially was built around an open central hearth, with no division between the living area and the byre.
Later iterations of this house saw the laying down of flagstones and a division built between the humans and the animals, before it was finally turned into a weaving shed.
Although the design of blackhouses might appear to trace directly back 5000 years to Orkney’s Skara Brae, most are not as ancient as one might assume. The blackhouse featured in the Arnol museum, for instance, was constructed as recently as 1875.
These beautiful old houses hold a certain appeal to me. Call me naive but I don’t think I’d mind living there - although perhaps only during the warm, light-filled summer months, and certainly without any cows.
Despite my gregariousness and wonderfully large friendship circles, I am something of an introvert and prefer my own company to that of most people. I can happily spend entire weeks by myself - reading, writing, sleeping, ambling around the countryside. I also have photosensitivity - my friends call me a "goblin" for the cavernous darkness of my room.
Except for a reading light, I don’t think I’d mind the largely windowless darkness of the blackhouses.
In fact, you can actually stay the night in some of these blackhouses on Lewis, although unfortunately the price tag is a little too steep for me. The Gearrannan Blackhouse Village is a coastal crofting village snuggled within a secluded bay on Lewis’ west coast. The village is a wonderful example of careful and respectful restoration, with the once-derelict properties and croft land revived and re-created for visitors - albeit with modern facilities. Perhaps one day I’ll be lucky enough to stay there.
Visitors to the blackhouses might be tempted to view the dwellings as somewhat ancient, backward and shoddy. But these homes were carefully and astutely created, designed to withstand harsh economic and social conditions.
With their thick stone walls and densely thatched roofs, these blackhouses were built to endure the severe weather of the Outer Hebrides.
Their creators had an intimate understanding of local materials and the environment. They made do with what they had and today these blackhouses are still a blueprint for sustainable living in the Highlands.
• Jean Balchin is an ODT columnist who has just started a new life in Edinburgh.
