A Visit to Largiebaan
Caves
Margaret Kaye, M.A.
It was a long time ago - well over half a century - when we set out , a happy band of youngsters in a farm cart drawn by a heavy Clydesdale, from near the village of Southend on an expedition to the caves at Largiebaan, on that rocky coast between Machrihanish and the Mull of Kintyre. Chattering and singing we soon passed the old graveyard where a small burn used to separate the graves of the Highlanders from the Lowlanders, new comers after the plague that hit Kintyre, brought by the Campbell Militia on their way to oust the Macdonalds, and culminating in the bloody battle of Dunaverty - the rock which stands at the other end of the lovely sandy bay from the graveyard. No water supply on the Rock forced the Macdonalds to surrender, to be massacred and their bodies thrown from the rock into the sea. Lowlanders sent from Ayrshire, Renfrewshire, Drumfriesshire and I believe, Fife, cultivated once again the derelict farms.
Behind the graveyard is a beautiful limpid pool of water under a rocky face - a wishing well, into which I have hopefully thrown many a coin. Beyond the graveyard is the hillock on top of which St. Columba is said to have preached and to have left his footprints in the solid rock. Alas the older one dates back long before Columba, and is the place where a new chief placed his foot at his inauguration, and the other was added by one of the masons building Keil House, of whom my grandfather was one.
A little further on we passed Keil Caves, where once I helped the archaeologist who was excavating there. In the Campbeltown Museum are the relics he found, but the most important discovery was a pit full of shells which proved that early man had lived in the cave and eaten the contents of the shells. The cave still gives shelter to wandering folk, few and far between these days.
On we go up Glenbreakerie, past the schoolhouse where Miss Frances Young taught. Originally on a site further up the glen this school had been founded by the Society for the Propagation of the Christian Gospel, and had at one time over a hundred pupils on its roll. The glen grew narrower and at length we left our horse and cart and went on across a wooden footbridge, and past the last inhabited farm. We had crossed the watershed, and now made our way down a peaty burn which eventually fell into the Atlantic near the Caves. After quite dangerous scrambling we reached the wild rough shore, and clambered over huge boulders till we reached the Caves.
At our approach the herd of wild goats that are so often seen in that place scattered and almost instantaneously disappeared from our view. Into the cave we went to scratch our names on the dripping walls, and what well known personalities many of those teenagers have developed into. After a long rest, and when we have finished our sandwiches we begin the climb up the slippery slopes, the youngest being helped by the older ones. At the top we rest and gaze out at the view: Ireland is so very near, and was that America?
Then disaster! Mist came down over the Moil. What were we to do? Then we struck a burn. Follow that burn said the older ones. We did, not knowing whether we would land on the road or at the Machrihanish shore. Luckily for us we had turned almost a complete circle, and came down at Glenadale from where our homeward trek was clear, and in due course we all reached our various homes, experiencing that wonderful tiredness of a great achievement successfully completed.
Some 200 yards from the Largiebaan caves there is a large rock washed by the sea with some building on it. According to tradition this hill of old was the residence of a giant, who lived by hunting and fishing. About 2 miles to the north, at Aonan More, there lived another called Gille Dubh. This giant became enamoured of the Greenan giant's wife. So watching his chance until he got him absent on a fishing expedition, he set off to see if he could persuade her to elope with him. He used all the flattery he could command, but that which seemed to have most weight with her was his assuring her that she would get "shell fish in plenty on the bonny shores of the Aonan." So intent was he on pressing his suit that he took no heed of time. Happening to look seaward, what was his astonishment to see the outraged husband returning and almost within a (giant's) bowshot of him, at the top of his speed. Off set the enamoured swain; but just when going over the hill, an arrow sent after him by the jealous husband overtook him, piercing him to the heart. The place where he fell is still called Bealach a Gille Dubh.
From Legends of Argyll, by Lord Archd. Campbell (1885)