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Based on an idea by Dr Lewis Mackie and adapted
for video by Alan White
In 1894, the building of Collieston’s Pier was
the prelude to the end of a centuries old way of life.
Its construction closed the northmost of the two entrances
to the natural harbour between the Black Rig and the
Dilcecrag rocks. The harbour soon began to silt up.
The heavy yawls that had been easy to haul up on the
shingle shore moved much less easily on sand.
At around the same time steam powered trawlers and
long liners began to work out off Aberdeen. A number
of the young men from Collieston, many of whom were
quite well off, decided to move to Torry in Aberdeen.
There they bought shares in the new boats or even
bought boats themselves.
This combination of a harbour that was silting up
and the prospect of still
greater prosperity in Aberdeen, was the beginning
of the end for Collieston as a fishing community.
Up until the building of the Pier and especially during
the second half of the Nineteenth Century the village
thrived on its rich harvest from the sea.
During the summer the yawls, some as long as thirty
feet, could be beached on the shingle shore around
the natural harbour. At least partially sheltered
by the Black Rig they had the choice of a north and
south entrance or exit and were able to operate in
all but the worst of weather. In the winter they were
sailed into the Ythan estuary and beached at Waterside.
The usual summer catch was haddock or whiting, whlst
in winter it was mostly cod.
Fishing was mostly just off the village on what was
known as the “Castle Hard” and roughly
four miles out to sea at about twenty six fathoms
on the deep water “Hard Grun”.
This involved using long lines with several strings
of baited hooks. Each village had its own variation
on the number of hooks per string and the number of
strings per line.
In Collieston a line was almost half a mile in length
with seven strings, one every 60 fathoms and each
string sixty fathoms in length. Each with one hundred
hooks and Sma’ gretlin (the heavier gretlin
only being used for deep sea fishing) with a backing
of hemp, 5/32nd of an inch thick, used mainly for
winter cod fishing and known as pun and a half line.
The usual summer catch was haddock or whiting, whilst
in winter it was mostly cod.
The hooks were hung from lengths of hemp called snoods.
These were tied to the backing by a clove hitch. A
further two inches were plaited as a stiffener with
another twelve inches of single strand hemp before
putting on a length of plaited horsehair, taken only
from stallions or geldings, spun in two strands, each
with five hairs per strand. In Collieston this horse
hair was spun by hand on a piece of moleskin, although
in other places a spinner with an iron hook fixed
in a lead disc was used.
A haddock hook was then beat on with linen thread
to make a total length, on a sma’ line, from
backing to hook of thirty- six to forty inches.
The heavier five pun winter lines had the thick backing
and used the sma’line backing for tippens -
the strand of plaited horse hair and the hook, the
bigger hook being beat on as per the sma’ line,
but ending in total length of almost five feet from
backing to hook.
Most fishermen would have had at least two lines,
so that one would be in use whilst the other one was
being baited. These had to be preserved by soaking
in boiling cutch (the bark from the South East Asian
betel nut tree). In Collieston this was done once
a year in March when the winter fishing was coming
to an end. It was said that this barking of the lines
gave them a better hold for hauling.
The lines were baited with either mussels, lug worm
or mackerel for the summer fishing and paaps (sea
anemones) and lug worm for the winter lines.
The best mussels came from the Ythan estuary. These
were large and only one was required for each hook.
Mainly woman’s work, the shells were prised
open with a double bladed knife at a rate of five
every minute. It was quite an art.
As about seven hundred hooks had to be baited it was
a lengthy job and must have been sore on the fingers.
Almost as bad was reddin’, or cleaning. This
meant taking off all the old bait that was still on
the hooks. It was often a job given to youngsters.
The all important baiting was a slow job and meant
using a scull, deep at one end and shallow sat the
other. This could be made of wicker or wood.
Originally dried rushes, cut from the sandy loch were
used were used as a base at the shallow end. The baited
line was paid into the deep end its coils separated
by more rushes, or dried grass, laid crossways, strip
after strip until the last hook was baited.
Then the tail end was tied to the scull handle ready
for tying on to the bowstane which would hold the
line on the bottom.
With the lines baited, the women would carry their
men folk through the shallows to the boats. There
was nothing subservient in this, only the necessity
of keeping their oiled leather sea boots dry.
Each yawl was crewed by up to 6 fishermen, each with
one or two sculls baited and laid. Unless there was
a previous agreement, the division of the catch was
a share for each scull and one for the boat.
With oars stowed and masts and sails raised the yawls
sailed for the fishing grounds. Typically this would
have been to set a course four miles straight out
to see, before taking a bearing on the Twa Lans. That
is to say lining up the Lighthouses at Buchan Ness
and Rattray Head.
Typically on a flood tide, the lines would be shot
southwards over the hard grun with north end of the
line attached to a dan buoy which in turn was anchored
to the sea bed with the bowstane. Sometimes, if the
tide was too strong, this was reinforced with a grapnel.
With their lines shot, the yawls rode out the slack
water between the flood and ebb. As the tide turned
the boats would swing round on their anchors. It was
time to haul the lines. By keeping the stern into
the lines thus minimising the weight on the line,
skilled fishers could make good time in unhooking
the catch.
With all the gear back on board the yawls returned
to the beach. The catch was landed and it was over
to the women, who had already been shelling mussels,
to start on the job of gutting and cleaning. The men
went off for breakfast and the children began the
reddin’. This painful and tedious job also involved
tipping which meant winding the horsehair round the
hook shank and placing the hook backwards into the
horsehair to prevent it catching on a baiter’s
hand.
In the meantime the men would have set off to fetch
back creel loads of mussels from the Ythan.
The women continued with the gutting and cleaning.
For some of the women the hardest work was still to
come. Their task was to carry on their backs creels
laden with between eighty and one hundred pounds of
fresh fish and to sell and barter them around the
neighbouring towns and villages, as far afield as
Inverurie. Often they returned with their creels filled
with fresh farm produce.
Meanwhile the remaining fish were split open and thoroughly
cleaned with a small scrubbing brush to remove any
trace of blood in the bones or flesh. They were then
left in salt for up to six hours.
After this salting they were ready to become the renowned
Collieston speldings. The next stage was to dry them
on racks or simply hang them in pairs over a wire
or string until they were air or sun dried. Any hint
of rain would ruin the process. The result was considered
a delicacy and well salted fish would keep for as
long as six months.
It was a hard life, but Collieston did become the
wealthiest village on the north east coast of Scotland.
This wealth was hard earned and depended on whole
families toiling towards a common goal.
Once the summer fishing started in April this included
all the children over the age of seven. As a result
the village gained some notoriety for school attendances
that regularly fell by fifty percent during this season.
As the nineteenth century drew to a close the minister
saw it as his mission to improve the lot of his flock.
In particular he wanted to put an end to the, as he
saw it, degrading (immodest with skirts hoisted above
the knee) practice, of the women carrying the men
out to the boats. At the same time he had economic
ambitions for the village. In the belief that the
fishing would continue to provide an inexhaustible
stream of wealth, he was active campaigner for the
opening of a bank and a branch railway line to the
village. Key to these ambitions was his proposition
that a Pier was required.
Despite warnings from the fishermen that the harbour
would silt up, the Pier and bank were built. The coincidence
of the harbour silting up with the start of the much
more efficient steam trawling from Aberdeen, meant
that the bank never opened – it became the Post
Office and general store. The railway line remained
a dream.
A century on, Collieston is a very different and quite
cosmopolitan community. Many villagers now commute
to work in Aberdeen or much further afield. The oil
industry and associated services provide much of the
employment.
A few part time fishermen still set lines and nets
during the summer months. The technique of making
speldings still survives, though our modern obsession
with food hygiene regulations precludes their sale.
They remain a great delicacy….once tried, never
forgotten!
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