An aerial view captures the dramatic coastal landscape of Harris. A vibrant green, grassy headland, textured with patterns from cultivation, slopes down to a white sand beach and the turquoise waters of the sea. Rocky outcrops jut into the water. On the higher part of the headland, near the water's edge, are the ruins of a stone building. A few small, dark figures, possibly people or animals, are visible on the headland.

Rubh’ an Teampaill

Perched at the edge of this headland, a crumbling medieval chapel stands forlorn. Its gables and walls almost reach full height, but its purpose has long since faded. Believed to date from the 15th or 16th century, the building sits atop a stony mound, hinting that it was merely the last in a long sequence of structures1Rudh’an Teampuill. Canmore ID 10506. http://canmore.org.uk/site/105062Northton. Canmore ID 10504. http://canmore.org.uk/site/105043Rubh An Teampull. Canmore ID 10502. http://canmore.org.uk/site/105024Rivett, Mary Macleod. The Outer Hebrides: A Historical Guide.Birlinn Ltd. 2021..

The chapel is built west to east, with one narrow slit window in each wall and a solitary door in the north. At some point, a gallery was squeezed into the west gable, offering a little more space but no more comfort. Inside, it was once plastered with lime, with an altar at the east end, now reduced to its footings. There were recesses for sacred vessels and a rough stone ledge, probably for a statue now long gone.

Outside, a battered stone-and-earth dyke rings what is left of the graveyard. The wind and the sheep are steadily erasing it. Local lore claims the graveyard has been in use since Viking times, perhaps earlier, and that this was once the site of a nunnery.

But even before that, over two thousand years ago, the promontory was home to a broch—a circular, stone tower built by Iron Age chieftains to show off and keep enemies out. All that is left of it now is a ring of stones, partly buried under the later chapel. The rest of its stone was likely salvaged for use elsewhere, perhaps even the chapel itself.

Go back another few thousand years and the story darkens into obscurity. Prehistoric hands carved small circular marks—cup-marks—into the rock, their meaning unknown, their intent long forgotten.

Along the shore, 500 metres away, the remains of early settlements crumble into the sea. People have lived here off and on since the Mesolithic, when they hunted and gathered rather than farmed.

By the 17th century, a township stood here. That too was swept away—cleared in the 18th century for sheep. The ridges of their ’lazy beds’ are all that remains of that phase, one more layer in a long cycle of use, decay, and reuse. Now, only fragments remain. The rest, like the lives lived here, has disappeared.


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