Dry Stone Walling is a traditional building technique of laying stones, without mortar, to define boundaries and build enclosures. There are many such walls in the north of Lewis, some at different stages of disrepair, some hidden beneath the heather and some recently built or repaired. All of them will have played or will play a role in the history of the landscape, and all of them will have a story to tell.  

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Admittedly, when I signed up for a two-day drystone walling course with local archaeologist (and, of course drystone waller) Chris Barrowman, I didn't really appreciate the art of drystone walling, I certainly didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did, and neither did I anticipate that I would never look at a stone, or drystone wall, in the same way again. 

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The course, delivered over a Friday and a Saturday, was coordinated by Urras Oighreachd Ghabhsainn and held at the Clan MacQuarrie Community Centre, the idea being that over two days we would be introduced to the theory of a particular drystone wall building method and then apply the techniques involved through the hands-on building of a wall. 

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The first two metres of said wall and partial foundation

had been started by Chris, and we were tasked with

finishing four complete metres, of a 1.1m high and

0.65m wide wall.  Our first job, Chris explained,

was to organise the materials. Confronted with thirty

tonnes of reclaimed building stone, this meant selecting

by eye, and pulling out by hand, stones that each of the

participants believed were appropriate in size and shape

for the different stages of building. Whilst selecting these

, Chris provided a running commentary of things to take

note of and use in our selection. Is the stone long and

flat? Brilliant, put it to one side and it can be used as a

‘Through Stone’ to provide structural integrity as the

wall gains height. Does the stone have a good face? (an

attractive side that you would want to show on the

outside of the wall). Does it have cement residue from

the reclamation process? Then don the safety goggles

(ahem) and chisel it off. I, and my previously unknown

acquaintances, became immersed in the task - stones

were rolled, lifted and prised from their previous

resting place and arranged as directed by Chris.

 

​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​Looking across the various shapes and sizes I was intrigued to know just how exactly, all of these mis-shapen stones were going to work together to form a uniform structure. But one by one, under guidance, each of us selected, tested, aligned and pinned these stones to create layer upon layer of the wall -  pausing to step back as advised, to assess from a distance, or watch as Chris came along and politely, but decisively picked out a stone you had relentlessly tried to make work, explaining that the ‘Batter’ was not quite right, or it needed more pinning or, would perhaps be suited elsewhere on the wall. He did of course, also provide encouragement when we got it right. 

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By the end of the first day each and every one of us was not only slightly weary with aching limbs but entranced with this newfound skill - watching the delight on the faces of a group of adults when a particular shape and size of stone has been located and positioned successfully is something to cherish. Building a giant, collaborative, three-dimensional puzzle, it seems, is an excellent way to break down barriers and introduce people to each other. 

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The second day was slower on the lifting, but harder on the head, with the final layers of the wall needing to reach an even level for the coping stones to rest on. This meant an almost endless quest with nine pairs of hands repeatedly placing and removing smaller stones and hearting

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Fortunately, a Soup and Pudding lunch in the hall sustained us, and as we headed towards the end of the second day, we completed our four-metre section of wall. We all stepped back and studied it, recognising the stones we had placed, recalling the struggle or ease with which a natural shape had aligned with another to form something designed and built to last. Tracing the visual story of the conversations held as we had built, I couldn't help but wonder about the stories these stones could tell, not just from the past two days, but from the centuries past and centuries to come.