There’s a little shrine in a remote Scottish valley whose ritual stretches back past living memory into the mists of time.
The story told is that the Cailleach, her husband Bodach and daughter Nighean were passing through this glen when the weather turned bad. The local folks, who were spending the summer in the glen grazing their cattle welcomed them all in as is the way with Celtic hospitality.
The families of the area relied on her astute wisdom of country lore and she was treated with the utmost respect. To them, she was regarded as a diety. By her acute perception of the ways of the world and life, both mortal and immortal, she became central to their daily existence. Their food and health depended on her benevolence.
The Cailleach of Glen Lyon, contained in Perthsire folk tales
When it was time to leave the people began to worry as the Cailleach had become so central to their lives and the Cailleach herself understood this and so constructed a wee shieling (a Norse word meaning little dwelling), simlar to the summer dwellings the women and children lived in throughout the summer months. The Cailleach took three stones out of the near-by stream, explaining that if they tended to this little family by putting the stones out at Beltane then they could look after the glen, the people themselves ensuring that all were healthy and that the land remained fertile. At Samhain she instructed that the stones were to be returned to the shrine for the winter months.
No one knows when this ritual began and although the little shrine is rebuild every decade or so this age old ritual is still performed every Beltane and Samhain.
An Eye Shaped Rock, an Antler and a Doll.
It had been a wonderfully bright day the day I visited the Shrine. It was late may, and so the little sheiling had been opened in that age old ritual and Glen Lyon, Scotland’s longest glen was filled with bluebells and the sounds of lambs.
Yet on arriving at the Shrine clouds quickly gathered, the sky turned dark and there was 20 minutues of torrential rain. I had taken some photos of my little Cailleach doll beside the stones before heading over and spending some time by the stream.
I felt drawn to putting my hands in the cold fast flowing waters and took out a stone, whose rings of mica shimmered like a great eye. After heading back to the shrine the doll was gone. I searched everywhere and could not find her – for I didn’t want to leave anything behind in this remote place.
In my experience, this Old Crone has quite the sense of humor – much like the 20 minute rainstorm that stopped the minute we left the Shrine and started heading back on the track.
As we were passing a big black peaty bog my eye was drawn to something white. As I peered in I saw an antler, it looked pretty old as it had a few gnaw marks which resembled an ancient pictorial langauge.
I leaned in to pick up the antler but then thought maybe it should just stay where it was, then an image of the Old Crone came to mind cackling, nstructing me to take the antler, for it was her swap for the doll.
When I think back to Glen Cailleach and the women who spent their summers in the shielings I picture their evenings, singing and telling stories. I imagine their ritual of gathering at the end of summer when it was time to pack up and take the herd back down to their homes. I see them gathered around the stones, each women giving thanks to the Cailleach, whispering their gratitudes as did their mothers and their mothers before them.
Click on the image above to listen to Julie Fowlis sing Bothan Àirigh am Bràigh Raithneach, A Shieling Bothie on the Braes of Rannoch.
(Meet Mago Contributor) Jude Lally.