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The village of Kyleakin is also the site of Castle Moil, an ruined fortress built in the late 15th century. Legend states that there were much older fortifications on the site, and that it was originally built for a Norwegian princess known as 'Saucy Mary' who would charge a toll to any boat using the narrow channel by hanging a chain from the castle to the mainland to prevent unpaid crossings. Her remains are said to be buried on the top of Beinn na Caillich (Gaelic for "mountain of the old woman"), the large mountain to the rear of the castle ruins. However, some local historians contest this and claim that she was laid to rest by another mountain of the same name a few miles west in the village of Broadford, so that she may forever face the land of her birth.
Information from Wikipedia.
Texture's & Effect's by William Walton & Topaz.
font: Pie Contest
Walter Wingate.
A Misty Dawn
The air is moist with thaw;
And where with patient moil
The teams their furrows draw,
A following halo crowns their warmth of toil.
The alders where they rim
The half-awakened stream,
Are vapour swathed and dim,
Like morning sleepers trammelled yet with dream.
The autumn hues are flown:
The landscape waits the day
Subdued to monotone:
A pencil sketch upon a ground of grey.
But where the morning shows
Beyond the eastern pale,
The mist is warmed with rose-
Faint as a blush behind a bridal veil.
The erubescence dies:
The world is grey again:
And through the alders sighs
A quiet fall of soft November rain.
Eolophus roseicapilla on a power line at Moil Cres, Moil, Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia, Feb. 2017
Castle Moil, Kyleakin, Isle of Skye
Well I have a certain Mr Gavin Hardcastle (he of the ‘appropriate footwear’ fame!) to thank for this location. I happened to see one of his videos a few months back where he was staying in Kyleakin and shot this castle. Some of you may recall I’ve a thing for old ruins and also for old wrecks. Put the two together and how could I possibly pass up the chance to shoot this location? I’d stopped the previous afternoon, after having crossed the bridge onto Skye, and although the light wasn’t too bad the tide was well out so it looked rather ‘messy’. I decided to return the following day and this time brought my Mini 5 Pro drone as my scouting visit made me think getting a bit higher than a tripod allowed might be a good idea.
I wanted to get all the mast below the horizon but if I did that then another small old boat hidden behind the main wreck became visible and created a bit of a distraction. I’m also rather a novice where drones are concerned and was a bit nervous of it getting caught up in some trees - I’d not had reason to test the obstacle avoidance capabilities! I ummed and ahhed before deciding to go for B&W in this image. The wreck does have some colour on it but as the light wasn’t anything to shout about and I often feel old wrecks/ruins suit B&W I decided to go with that. No ‘inappropriate footwear’ was worn during photographing this location.
In the background of the image is Castle Moil (also known as Caisteal Maol, Castle Moll, and Castle Maol) is a ruined 15th-century castle on a hill overlooking the entrance to Kyleakin harbour on the Isle of Skye, opposite Kyle of Lochalsh. The roofless ruin we see today dates to the late medieval period, but it is thought highly likely that an earlier castle stood on the same site.
The origins of Castle Moil are a mix of history and legend, and it is hard to know where one ends and the other begins.
Castle Moil is thought to have been built by the Norse during the 9th century, as part of their attempt to control the coast of western Scotland. The Norse would have used the sheltered harbour at Kyleakin to anchor their longboats, and the castle served to command the strait of Kyle Akin that separates Skye from the Scottish mainland.
Ships sailing up and down the coast had to pass through the strait, or attempt the dangerous passage of The Minch, between Skye and the Western Isles.
According to one version of the tale, Findanus of Mull, Chief of Clan Mackinnon, married a Norwegian princess, known to history as 'Saucy Mary', whose dowry lands included Caisteal Maol. This brought the area into Mackinnon hands, and Castle Moil was a regional seat of Clan Mackinnon until the 14th century when the Lairds of Mackinnon moved to Strathardill, also on Skye.
Tradition also suggests that Castle Moil was a source of revenue for the clan, after Findanus and his bride had a chain stretched between the castle and the mainland. Ships wanting to pass through the strait had to pay a toll, or make their way around Skye and attempt the passage of The Minch, known for its treacherous storms.
By tradition, King Haakon of Norway used Castle Moil as the assembly point for his fleet prior to the pivotal Battle of Largs in 1263. Indeed, the name Kyleakin means 'Haakon's kyle'. Medieval records also refer to Castle Moil as Dunakin, from 'Dun Haakon'.
Clan Mackinnon controlled Castle Moil throughout the medieval period. It was they who rebuilt the fortress, sometime during the reign of James IV (between 1488 and 1513). This version of the castle was a fortified tower house on a rectangular plan, standing perhaps three storeys high and surrounded by service buildings.
Castle Moil was abandoned following the death of Neil Mackinnon, nephew of the clan's 26th chieftain, in 1601. By that time, the medieval castle was too old and uncomfortable to serve as a residence. Even after they abandoned the castle, however, the Mackinnons continued to benefit from their ownership of the Kyleakin estate, since they were granted a monopoly over ferries crossing the strait.
The castle today is a roofless ruin, badly decayed, with walls crumbling and the ground floor filled in with rubble. The most recent blow to the castle came in 2018 when it was struck by lightning, destroying the top section of one wall.
Of much more modern heritage is the wreck in the foreground. Built in 1949 by J N Miller, St Monans, Fife, the MV JOHAN was a fishing vessel of wooden carvel construction with an inboard diesel engine. She was used for ring netting from Kyle, then for creeling (a creel is a wicker basket used to hold freshly caught fish) from Ullapool and latterly was used to service Klondykers at Ullapool. She was bought in 1987 and was for a time in use as a houseboat in Brighton.
She has been based at Kyleakin, Isle of Skye, since at least 2015.
© All rights reserved to Steve Pellatt. Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit written permission.
For many, for years this was the first castle you saw on Skye. These days the Skye bridge completely passes by this historic ruin. Unless you come into Kyleakin you will not see it.
The view from the gorse and heather covered Balmacara viewpoint is one of the most classic and impressive highland vistas, encompassing a rich tapestry of land, sea, and mountain, where immediately below is the dramatic sea loch, Loch Alsh, its waters appearing deep blue, reflecting the dramatic Scottish sky above. In the distance across the loch Castle Moil and the village of Kyleakin can be seen with the Skye Bridge just crossing the Loch Alsh narrows, then the land rises sharply to become the Isle of Skye where in the far distance, taking up a vast portion of the horizon, is the magnificent outline of the jagged, formidable peaks of the Cuillin mountain range who’s sheer scale emphasises the wildness of the Scottish Highlands
A poor old boat, dragged up onto the shore at Kyleakin, Isle of Skye, near the ruin of Castle Moil. When I first photographed this boat about 10 years ago, the hull was bright green, but has since deteriorated.
The Kyleakin wooden harbour pier is now mainly used by local fishing boats, whilst being dominated in the background by Caisteal Moil, a ruined fortress built in the late 15th century. Legend states that there were much older fortifications on the site, and that it was originally built for a Norwegian princess known as 'Saucy Mary' who would charge a toll to any boat using the narrow channel across to the Kyle of Lochalsh by hanging a chain from the castle to the mainland to prevent unpaid crossings.
font :
Aundee BTN
Walter Wingate
A Misty Dawn
The air is moist with thaw;
And where with patient moil
The teams their furrows draw,
A following halo crowns their warmth of toil.
The alders where they rim
The half-awakened stream,
Are vapour swathed and dim,
Like morning sleepers trammelled yet with dream.
The autumn hues are flown:
The landscape waits the day
Subdued to monotone:
A pencil sketch upon a ground of grey.
But where the morning shows
Beyond the eastern pale,
The mist is warmed with rose-
Faint as a blush behind a bridal veil.
Caisteal Maol (Gaelic: Caisteal, 'Castle', Maol, 'bare') is a ruined castle located near the harbour of the village of Kyleakin, Isle of Skye, Scotland. It is also known as Castle Moil, Castle Maol, Dun Akyn, Dunakin Castle, Dun Haakon and Castle Dunakin.
The castle, an ancient seat of the Mackinnon clan, was a fortress commanding the strait of Kyle Akin between Skye and the mainland, through which all ships had to pass or else attempt the stormy passage of The Minch. The present building dates back to the 15th century, but is traditionally reputed to be of much earlier origin.
According to that tradition, Alpín mac Echdach's great-grandson Findanus, the 4th MacKinnon chief, brought Dunakin into the clan around the year 900 by marrying a Norse princess nicknamed 'Saucy Mary'. Findanus and his bride ran a heavy chain across the sound and levied a toll on all shipping vessels. The Princess lies buried on Beinn na Caillich on Skye, her face reputedly turned towards Norway.
The last stop on Skye was not a planned stop, but an horrendous noise from under the car as we approached the Skye Bridge caused me to pull in to the road for Kyleakin where we managed to remove a branch that had lodged in behind the engine. A circuit of the village brought into view Castle Moil or more precisely what is left of it and it was worth the short wait for a shaft of sunshine to brighten up the foreground.
Whenever I see the Northern Lights, the poem, "The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert Service comes to mind.
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;
It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.
And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."
Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."
A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.
There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."
Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.
And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.
Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.
This photo was taken north of Fairbanks on a gravel road off the Steese Highway.
Since the bridge, this location has seen a significant downturn in trade and passengers by boat. steeped in history its worth a visit if you are spending any time on Skye.
Caisteal Maol is a ruined castle located near the harbour of the village of Kyleakin, Isle of Skye, Scotland. It is also known as Castle Moil, Castle Maol, Dun Akyn, Dunakin Castle Dun Haakon and Castle Dunakin
Eolophus roseicapilla on a power line at Moil Cres, Moil, Darwin, Northern Territory, Australia, Feb. 2017
We're back from a spectacular weekend on the Peninsula. Mrs. Orca made some reservations months ago and the days just happened to be ones of glorious sunshine. We saw tons of wildlife: elk, deer, eagles, coyotes, tons of sea otters (though too far for photographs). Anyway, it was a needed getaway from the winter moil and toil. Roosevelt elk, Quinault Rainforest, Olympic National Park, Washington.
Orion above the ruin of Castle Moil, Kyleakin, Isle of Skye.
Sadly, night skies as clear as this don't happen very often on Skye.
And even more sadly, a few weeks after this photograph was taken, the tower on the left was struck by lightening in a recent thunderstorm, and is now half the height.
font: Pie Contest
See more in my Landscapes set Here
Walter Wingate.
A Misty Dawn
The air is moist with thaw;
And where with patient moil
The teams their furrows draw,
A following halo crowns their warmth of toil.
The alders where they rim
The half-awakened stream,
Are vapour swathed and dim,
Like morning sleepers trammelled yet with dream.
The autumn hues are flown:
The landscape waits the day
Subdued to monotone:
A pencil sketch upon a ground of grey.
But where the morning shows
Beyond the eastern pale,
The mist is warmed with rose-
Faint as a blush behind a bridal veil.
The erubescence dies:
The world is grey again:
And through the alders sighs
A quiet fall of soft November rain.
Ile de Skye.
Kyleakin : avant la construction du pont, c'est là que débarquait le ferry.
Le château est un ancien siège du clan Mackinnon et il est connu sous de nombreux noms tels que le Château Moil, Château Maol, Dun Akyn, Dunakin Castle Dun Haakon et Castle Dunakin. Ce qui reste de la structure du château est censé remonter à la fin du 15e ou début du 16e siècle.
My first trip out in nearly 6 months and thoroughly enjoyed it. Nice to be back in familiar company. We decided to forget about going for the sunrise/sunset shots and take in Skye in the daylight hours, the weather was stunning probably too bright but we didn't allow that to spoil our afternoon trip. We stopped several times during the day and this is just a taster of it.
This was taken right at the end of the day when the light had almost deserted us but it managed to highlight Castle Moil beautifully before it really did disappeared for the day.
an amazingly vivid lime-green pool on the shore near the ruin of Castle Moil, Kyleakin, Isle of Skye
I was delighted to finally make it up to the ruined Castle Moil in Kyleakin. For all the years I lived on Skye I never came out here.
There is now a path to the castle at low tide, for me it was high tide! I had a fair bit of clambering and a pretty boggy section to contend with. Sheer determination got me here, it was quite a challenge.
The walls are thick and the section on the left was the section that was struck by Lightning in Feb 2018.
Castle Moil was a MacKinnon stronghold and dates from the late 15th century approx. The last occupant was Neill the nephew of the 20th Chief of the Clan Mackinnon.
Creel boat Danny J. BRD639 enters Kyleakin Harbour passed the ruins of Castle Moil on the Isle of Skye. (from my archive)
Thank you for all your comments and visits
© Ralph Stewart 2009
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved
Creel boat Danny J. BRD639 enters Kyleakin Harbour passed the ruins of Castle Moil on the Isle of Skye.
Thank you for all your comments and visits
© Ralph Stewart 2009
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved
Keepsake Mill
Over the borders, a sin without pardon,
Breaking the branches and crawling below,
Out through the breach in the wall of the garden,
Down by the banks of the river we go.
Here is a mill with the humming of thunder,
Here is the weir with the wonder of foam,
Here is the sluice with the race running under--
Marvellous places, though handy to home!
Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller,
Stiller the note of the birds on the hill;
Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller,
Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.
Years may go by, and the wheel in the river
Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day,
Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever
Long after all of the boys are away.
Home for the Indies and home from the ocean,
Heroes and soldiers we all will come home;
Still we shall find the old mill wheel in motion,
Turning and churning that river to foam.
You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled,
I with your marble of Saturday last,
Honoured and old and all gaily apparelled,
Here we shall meet and remember the past.
Robert Louis Stevenson