On the shores of Loch Broom in the north-west Highlands lie the crumbling remains of an abandoned village. Richard Else meets a local man determined to uncover the full story of Inverlael Glen – and bring a terrible injustice to light
Standing at the head of Loch Broom in Ross and Cromarty, I am watching a magnificent white-tailed eagle hunt for prey. Nearby is the road north to Ullapool; to the south-east the bare summit of Beinn Dearg looming over a deserted interior of high lochs and barren land punctuated by remote rivers and glens. Immediately in front of me is the dark outline of Inverlael Glen, densely planted with conifers in the 1930s.
It is a tranquil spot. You might hear the piping of oystercatchers or, in summer, the howling calls of mating red- and black-throated divers. Today, the glen is devoid of people.
Rewind around 200 years and this would have been a vastly different scene. With widely spaced deciduous trees, this glen was home to around 77 multi-generational families and upwards of 600 Gaelic-speaking inhabitants. Their centuries-old lifestyle came to an abrupt end with the Highland Clearances of 1819–20, when they were brutally evicted and their homes destroyed.
There the story of Inverlael might end were it not for the curiosity and passion of Duncan Mackenzie – a former policeman, one-time guesthouse owner and lifelong stalker. He speaks of “a sophisticated people with a thriving economy”. The evictions were the work of an unrelated Mackenzie – George Steuart Mackenzie of Coul – the laird who lived 40 miles south at Contin. To Duncan, he’s “a toff set on improving land, rather than people”. A landowner who could get six times more rent from sheep farming. “My grandfather rarely swore,” says Duncan, “yet he summed up the landlord and his people in two words: ‘the bastards’.”
Some of those evicted went to other parts of the Highlands – 50 miles over the hill to Tain, south to Inverness or Dingwall. Others walked barefoot to ports to board boats bound for Tasmania and Nova Scotia, never to return. “It was just: ‘Go… and don’t come back!’ They weren’t even allowed to lift their potatoes.”
UNCOVERING THE PAST
Duncan’s family were among those cleared but, determined to cling to their roots, tried to scratch a living on the opposite side of Loch Broom. He
