Why do so many young people feel they have to leave the Scottish Highlands?

Will Sadler’s first question when he visits Farr High School in Mackay Country isn’t what makes the students want to leave - but what makes them want to stay?

He explores how romantic stereotypes of a wild, empty landscape clash with the young people’s lived reality that places people at the very centre of their experience.

He’ll find out how traumatic historical events such as the Highland Clearances mean that the question of whether to leave or to stay is nothing new.

He will discover why, despite the challenges of rural life, a strong sense of community and connection to place remains the most powerful reason for young people to call this beautiful part of the world their home.

Highlands Reimagined is an Anya Media production, commissioned by Strathnaver Museum and published in partnership with the Wild for Scotland podcast. Find out more at highlandsreimagined.com

Listen,

when you live in the

city, it really does

take some getting used to

the almost silence.

Or perhaps it's more that

you become more aware of the

few sounds that there are,

the wind,

the very distant

rush of a river, and

the occasional sounds

of a car traveling down

this one track road.

If I look round to the north, I

can see the Crask Inn where on

a previous trip up here I had

to seek refuge in a snowstorm.

I can see to my southwest

and west, a huge

expanse of moorland.

Off in the distance I can

see some of the mountains

of the Western Highlands.

I think that's Ben More Assynt

over there in the clouds.

And it feels very remote.

My name is Will Sadler.

When I was young, I didn't want

my Highland holidays to end.

I dreamt of exchanging

my inner-city childhood

for one immersed in

Scotland's rugged beauty.

In this 3-part miniseries

commissioned by Strathnaver

Museum and published in

partnership with the Wild for

Scotland Podcast, I'm finding

out what happens when these

romantic ideas of Highland life

meet the realities of growing

up in one of Western Europe's

most sparsely populated regions.

How do my memories of a

holiday-heaven that I never

wanted to leave compare with

the realities of being a young

person in the Highlands today,

where leaving can sometimes

feel like the only option?

You are listening to

Highlands Reimagined, episode

1 - Not just a pretty place.

I'm currently on my way to

a high school, right up on

the north coast of Scotland.

At a time when this area

still struggles so much with

reducing population and an

aging population, I want to

find out from the students what

it'll take for them to stay.

The Highlands is not alone in

its ongoing fight to retain

its younger population.

The evidence is mixed,

with significant variations

depending on which part of the

highlands we're talking about.

But I think it's fair to say

that difficulties convincing

young people to stay or return

is an age-old phenomenon

that rural areas all over the

world are dealing with, with

varying levels of success.

And it's no different here

in an area known as Mackay

Country, which is located about

as far north on the Scottish

mainland as you can get.

Hey, I'm here to

see Tracy Wilkinson.

Oh yes.

If I just get you

to sign in here.

Thank you very much.

This is Will Sadler,

who is working with Strathnaver

Museum and he's really keen

to hear your voices … and I'll

hand you straight over to Will.

I’m at Farr High School, in

the village of Bettyhill on

the north coast of Scotland

where I sit down with a small

group of students, and begin by

passing a voice recorder around.

Just names, first of all.

So, um, my name is Will.

My name is Alex.

Uh, I'm Kai.

I'm Callan.

Don't make me laugh.

Sorry.

My name is Dylan.

Uh, my name's Gracie.

I’m also Dylan.

As this is a podcast, it

felt fitting to start off

by asking what sounds they

associated with where they

lived, which ranged from the

nearby small town of Thurso to

far more rural areas out west.

Thurso - sometimes

in the morning.

I hear a lot of, uh, buses.

There's not buses

for me 'cause I'm a bit

more rural than Thurso.

So the main sound I

associate is just rain

hitting off the roof or like

animals and fields nearby.

It's, there's really nothing.

Probably like the

waves hitting the cliff side.

If you ever like

go to the beach in like

Melvich, there's a lot of

dogs and a lot of sheep.

So probably a lot of animals.

And people.

Uh, the sound of

cows and sheep get into

my garden, waking me up

probably, and during storms

when the ocean's really

close, so it keeps

whacking against the rocks.

If somebody your age

moved here from a city,

what is the first piece of

advice you would give them?

Move back.

In case you didn't hear that,

someone responded: ‘move back’.

I think back to myself as

a kid, dreaming of living

here in the highlands.

But that dream was based

on a very simplistic view.

Now, I'm not saying that

my impression of this

place was wrong, more,

that it was … incomplete.

I think anyone who holidays

here - or, well, holidays

anywhere, needs to recognise

that what they're experiencing

is only one perspective

of a much bigger picture.

The most annoying

stereotype about your area?

The irony of this is that

I thought it myself when I was a

little kid, like five-ish, that

there's just no people up here.

There's just all

hills and sheep.

It's just funny that I myself

thought it when I was younger

and now I'm living up here.

There is more people than I

initially thought there was.

One stereotype I

hear a lot is, particularly

rural Scotland is stuck

in the Middle Ages with no

technology, roads or vehicles.

I hear that a lot.

It's not mostly true.

In this series, we’ll

be exploring where

these stereotypes of

the Highlands come.

We’ll find out how lingering

ideas of a remote wilderness

—impressions I'm guilty of

holding onto myself, and

will be told off for in

the next episode—can get in

the way of building strong,

resilient communities.

But before we get into all

that, I want to start with

a different question: not

what makes young people want

to leave Mackay Country, but

what makes them want to stay.

I've been there

for a long time and.

I really like it there and

a lot of my family live

around the area on my dad's

side, so it's convenient.

I've lived here most

of my life and I have deep

family ties to the area

historically speaking, so.

I probably wanna stay

because I've like grown up here

and it’s like close to family.

But if I was to leave, the

reason probably be, 'cause

most jobs are like seasonal,

so that's kind of a problem.

I think the things

that keep me here are maybe

my favorite people are here,

and if I was to move to

somewhere like a big city,

since I've lived mostly rural,

I wouldn't be used to it.

I don't think I would

fare well in somewhere,

you know, quite large.

So it's sort of like

getting used to it would

be quite a challenge.

I don't necessarily want

to stay myself, but a point

that does like make me want

to stay … It's probably all

the people here 'cause I've,

I'm very connected to them.

I wouldn't really want to leave.

I guess

the people as well.

It's quite a close-knit

community and everyone

knows everyone, so

it's really quite nice.

Like if something happens,

you know, you've got a

whole network to lean back

on.

The question of staying

or leaving is nothing

new for Mackay country.

I'm currently standing in

front of the large imposing

pulpit in the main part of

what is now Strathnaver Museum.

Up the stairs, I go.

The power structures would've

been directly represented

in the levels at which

people sat in this church.

You've got the congregation on

the ground level, local people.

You've got the minister who

would stand in the pulpit

here - I’m probably a good eight

or nine feet off the ground.

And then directly ahead of the

pulpit would've been the balcony

area where the local landowners

and gentry and factors would

all be looking down on both the

minister and the congregation.

And it was the man

who stood in this pulpit between

was to translate - from English

to Gaelic - eviction notices

telling the people of the local

area that they would be removed

from the land where they had

lived and where their families

had lived for generations.

This is the second phase

of what became known as

the Highland Clearances.

Dr. Elizabeth Richie

is a senior lecturer in

history at the University

of Highlands and Islands.

One of the main

things that landlords were keen

on doing in the late 18th and

early 19th century was they saw

how profitable sheep rearing

could be, and they were quite

keen to put over some of the

best parts of their land to

this very profitable activity.

But large scale sheep

rearing is not compatible

with people living there and

farming those areas as well.

For over a hundred

1860 - the Highland Clearances

led to thousands of people

being removed from land they

had lived on for generations

- all in the name of economic

“progress”. Mackay Country was

particularly badly affected.

In Strathnaver, 1819 became known

as the ‘Year of the Burnings’

where people were - quite

literally - burnt out of their

homes to free up the land for

more lucrative sheep farming.

After being forced off

their land, the next

question was where would

these displaced people go?

What some of the

landlords and factors thought

was quite a neat solution

was to remove the people from

these inland areas and to

replace them on the coasts.

And the coastal land was

often quite infertile, quite

rocky, quite windswept.

The land was divided into

long, narrow strips: crofts.

There would be a house on

each croft, and you would have

your particular strip, uh,

where you could do any sort

of agriculture you wanted.

Now,

these plots were designed

to be too small to support

families because the idea was

that the people who are now

crofters should be working

part-time at waged work.

And that was very often in

the kelp industry on the

coasts, or it might be in

some sort of other industry

that the landowner had set up.

The kelp industry was

profitable for the landlord.

The kelp workers themselves

were quite poorly paid, and

it meant you didn't really

have a choice of employment.

It's not like going for a

job now where you can choose

to apply for a job for this

company or that organization.

If you lived in one of these

places, then the landlord was

your only potential employer

and kelp working or whatever; it

was that he - usually he - had

set up and was your only option.

So it wasn't a case of a

sort of free market of labor.

And if you didn't want to do

that, then you'd need to head

off to the city or get enough

money together for an immigrant

ship or something like that.

At exactly the same time

as people were deciding whether

to take their chances on the

coasts or move away to find

opportunity elsewhere, the

Scottish Highlands were becoming

an increasingly popular holiday

destination for the emerging

middle classes; drawn there

by the dramatic paintings and

writings of the romantic era.

We all see things

through lenses and the lens

that was created and is a very

strong lens and is very much

promoted and continued today

is this romantic lens through

which to see the highlands.

From Landseer’s dramatic

paintings of stags on misty

hillsides to Walter Scott's

tales of noble clans, the

romantic artists of the 18th

and 19th centuries crafted

an image of the Highlands as

wild, untamed, and timeless

… whilst its people were often

either misrepresented or

forgotten about altogether.

You've got the

impact of the Napoleonic Wars

where you can't go in the grand

tour around Europe anymore.

And so instead you go on

the grand tour around your

backyard, which is the Scottish

Highlands, and there comes

to be quite a well worn set

of roots around different

parts of the Highlands.

One of the things that

really strikes me is that a

lot of the writers seem to

be writing about these wild

and spoil landscapes of the

Highlands at more or less,

exactly the same time that

people were being cleared

off their land through

the Highland clearances.

Yes, I agree.

There is a. There's a

disjuncture, isn't there?

Between these tourists coming

up exactly the time that local

people were being removed,

cleared to the coasts,

encouraged to emigrate; going

to the industrial cities to

make their living and making

the highlands a deserted place.

They were almost like

seeing what they needed to see.

Based on what they had seen

and read from the various

romantic artists of the time.

If you have been

looking at Landseer's paintings

and you've been reading maybe

some travel accounts and so

on, and you're expecting to see

amazing scene scenery, there's

no discussion of the people who

live there are these sorts of,

then that is what you'll see

when you go traveling and you'll

actually blot out, uh, things

which don't fit that narrative.

There's a striking

irony at play here.

Earlier, the students I

spoke to named the strength

of their local community as

the main reason they wanted

to stay in Mackay country.

Yet for centuries, the

Highlands have been portrayed

as an empty wilderness

untouched by human hands;

romanticized picture postcards

that still persist today.

On

a bright late winter

morning, I meet the students

at Strathnaver Museum.

After being asked to have a

wander around the collections

and see what catches their

attention, it's interesting

to me that the objects they

are drawn to have “people”

at their very heart.

So there was a display that

was like an immigrant's kist, a

box of stuff that they took with

them when they were leaving.

And I found like that

really interesting.

Those leaving the

Highlands would have to

think very carefully about

what personal belongings

they could afford to take

with them - sometimes to

the other side of the world.

These would typically include

essential clothing, small

tools or implements for

work, as well as essential

documents and paperwork for

the journey to their new lives.

They were leaving

for opportunity.

They were leaving because

there wasn't anything here.

They were leaving because they

were being cleared off the land.

There was like

a box filled, filled with

like old instruments.

There was a fiddle and

accordion bagpipes.

I think it's just interesting

'cause after being like

cleared and having your house

burned, they had some way

of entertaining themselves

after like the worst thing

probably was to happen.

Ceilidh’s are still

quite popular up here.

You've got Ceilidh Club

at school as well, and

I'm learning fiddle.

I know a lot of people do

similar instruments and stuff,

so I think that part of the

culture is still alive and well.

These days you might

imagine a ceilidh as part of

a wedding celebration' but

it's much more than that...The

word ‘ceilidh’ actually

comes from the word ‘visit’

in the Gaelic language.

It’s as much about sharing

stories, songs and playing

music together as it is about

traditional Scottish dancing.

Here is museum manager:

Fiona Mackenzie.

Yeah, I think that

that sense of community and

the coming together and music

as a source to do that is

really important because the

removals had created such social

disruption; but then those

folk that went abroad, they

took their culture with them.

For many of those that

decided not to leave Mackay

country, their only option

was to move from the straths

to the coasts where they

had to adapt and adapt fast.

I quite liked seeing

about the fishing stuff,

about just how much and how

specialized, while all the

tools were, you could tell

they were good at it and they

knew what they were doing.

I keep on thinking about

the fishing stuff because the

ingenuity and the adaptability

and being able to quite quickly

switch to a new trade after the

clearances was so impressive.

I mean, obviously it was

very difficult and it wasn't

fun by any means, but it

was incredibly impressive.

I don't whether … Can you

speak to that for a bit Fiona?

Yeah.

There would've been fishing

that would've been going on

along the course, but the

folk that were cleared from

the inland straths; they

had absolutely no experience

of fishing whatsoever.

But the ingenuity that

they used as well, they

didn't have any equipment.

They didn't have any knowledge,

so they would buy equipment or

boats that had been rejected by

fishermen as as old equipment.

Donald McLeod, who was a

stone mason, and he was a

vocal critic of the estate.

He wrote a number of letters.

He speaks about the hardships

that were faced by the folk

that ended up on the coast and

then had to take up fishing.

And within one of those letters,

he gives a quiet detailed

description of those that were

lost on the shore through simple

things like picking cockles

being washed off by the waves.

But he then also does go on

to describe an enterprising

opportunity where they do take a

boat and they do go out and they

do start learning about this.

Without sale, helm or

compass with three patched

oars, only one of the party

ever having been on sea before,

this apparently insane attempt,

gathered a crowd of spectators,

some in derision cheering

us on, and other friends

imploring us to come back.

However, Neptune being then

and one of his placid moods, we

boldly ventured on human life

having become reduced in value.

And after a night spent on

the sea in which we fishermen

suffered severely from

seasickness, to the great

astonishment of the people on

shore, the Heather Boat, as she

was called, reached the land

in the morning, all hands safe

with a very good take of fishes.

Returning to the question

of the museum objects which

caught the student's attention,

Dylan found some personal

testimonies of people's

experiences of the clearances.

I think the written

parts were very interesting

because if you think about

people, during those times, you

don't think of like individuals.

So like seeing sort of

individual writings,

sort of how they were the

personalities showing.

It's quite interesting.

So some of those were

the evidence that was given

at the Napier Commission.

They were the witness

testimonies about the

hardships that they had

faced after being removed.

In the decades following

the Clearances, protests driven

by demands for secure land

rights, fairer rents and better

conditions led to the formation

of the Napier Commission,

to investigate conditions

for Crofters and Cotters in

the Highlands and Islands.

Three years later came the

which for the first time gave

people living on Crofts some

security of tenure and the

right to pass their tenancy

down through generations.

Here is Elizabeth Richie

of University of Highlands

and Islands again.

I heard a

quote once about a croft

is a small piece of land

surrounded by legislation,

I thought was rather clever.

[Laughs] That

is a, that is good.

I like that.

I like that.

You have what we

now see as a landmark moment

of the Crofters Holdings Act

being passed, which provides

you with secure tenure, fair

compensation for improvements

and other key elements which

have been firmly held onto

ever, ever since, in the

hundred and almost fifty years

since the passing of that act.

Whilst hailed

as a milestone in land reform,

the act was - and still

is - not without controversy,

with some critics arguing

it didn’t go far enough by

failing to redistribute land

or protect the landless.

Over a century later,

the crofting system it

established is regarded as both

essential and frustratingly

inflexible in equal measure.

The protests that led to the

1886 Act weren’t just about

land—they were about the right

to build stable, rooted lives in

places people could call home.

A place where people

could feel they had some

influence over decisions

that impacted their lives.

A place where

people could belong.

Belonging.

A universal part of

being human, even for an

unashamed introvert like me.

There is growing evidence

globally that the nature of

human connection is changing.

I sit down with two friends

from Mackay Country, Catriona

and Rosemary, to talk about

how that shift is playing

out in their own community.

Actually, you know what would

be quite nice, just to give

us a quick pen portrait of

growing up in this area.

Tell us what was,

what was it like?

[Silence] Just

to reiterate that I am

actually sitting in a space

with two other people.

I'm not by myself in

the Telecenter, just

chatting away to myself.

There are two other

the people in the room.

so, so you might get

a minute out it,

I'm sure.

I'm sure we'll get at least

a few minutes out of it.

Well you've taken

the clock away, so we have

no idea what time it is.

Yes, I did take it away.

But only because the tick of the

clock was being picked up by the

microphones and not because I

wanted my interviewees to lose

all concept of time, I promise.

I remember I

worked from quite a young

age in hotels, so say

about 14 up in Borgie.

But the highlight of the weekend

would be that gathering in

the local pub, and it would

be what I would call a ‘proper

ceilidh’, where you had all

the getting together and drams.

I mean, it would be round after

round, and then TD would bring

out the accordion and somebody

else would join in and it was

just a, a night to be had.

You wouldn't find that now?

You just would not find

that.

That ceilidh culture of the pub

gathering, the socialization

has gone completely.

Yeah, it does raise

the question, doesn't it?

Is there any way of getting

it back or is it gone?

And, you know, again, I'm not

saying that this is a problem

just for the Highlands because

I think it's a, I think it's an

issue that is global, frankly.

Oh, definitely.

Loneliness is increasingly seen

as a public health priority by

the World Health Organisation.

Earlier, the students

talked about the importance

of ceilidhs as a way of

bringing people together.

This is a form of socialising

that certainly has changed.

Nowadays it’s less likely to be

an informal gathering and more

likely to be a planned event.

Another factor up here

is agricultural practices and

crofting and how that's changed.

But that was a massive

cohesive element.

That needing each other

and relying on each other.

Some people would have some

machinery or something that

someone else didn't, and you

would borrow it and or you'd

all go out and work together

at the sheep 'cause you

couldn't do it on your own.

You needed other people

and their expertise

and their knowledge.

And the peat…

peat cutting.. The

whole family out into the peats.

It was like a, a really

big event, you know?

And you all pitched in and

you all helped out and that

everybody from the village would

help, you know, help each other.

And then of course at

the end you'd have to celebrate

that it was all done by having a

ceilidh in the house and a dram.

And maybe now even, the crofting

element and the people who

are involved in crofting maybe

have a bit more of that getting

together and common ground

for those who aren't involved,

you know, don't have anymore.

But it's obviously changed

a massive amount with

advancement in technology in

some regard, in some ways,

it’s a lot easier for people.

Compounding the challenge

of population decline is the

sharp rise in empty homes

in the Scottish Highlands.

According to Scottish

Government data, the number of

properties left vacant for 12

months or more, rose from 434

A 670% increase.

And yet we were just in

the cafe, just there,

and you must have said

‘hello’ to how many people?

A good half dozen,

no, maybe even a dozen

people coming in and out.

And so I, as an outsider,

I get a real sense of there

being a real togetherness.

But it's a nice

element of living somewhere

small is, is knowing people

and, and that kind of, yeah,

that feeling of, you know who

you are, you know who they are.

That there's that sort

of, sort of just, I dunno

what the word is really

like sense of community.

Listening to a recording of that

conversation are the high school

students I've been working with.

They tell me what they think.

I think the main

takeaway was just when they

started saying about like the,

the pub ceilidh things were

sort of not happening anymore.

It sort of just shows how

everyone's like - not more

reclusive - but they're less

sort of together more often.

Yeah.

I think a big takeaway

on that was the communal,

like gatherings.

We really lack like the

communal areas, like we

can't get together anymore.

It would be quite nice

if we got back all the community

events with having ceilidh every

few weeks maybe or once a month.

I live in a crofting

community and I'm involved

in that quite a bit, and

in part, some of it hasn't

really changed much.

I've helped out with

clipping multiple times and

there is always drinking

involved afterwards.

There probably isn't as

many people doing it now as

there used to be though, and

I've even noticed to myself

that it's gotten smaller

and smaller over the years.

Also listening was Tracy

Wilkinson, their teacher.

She had some interesting

reflections on the

importance of crofting as

a way to build connection.

As an incomer, we

wanted sheep 'cause we had a

croft and that was just the

best thing we could have done.

'cause we met so many

people and we've got

really good friends now.

And that's from working

at the fanks together.

You're helping each other out

when you're sheep dipping or

if you're going to the sale.

And I'd say any incomer that,

that would be a must is to like,

get involved in activities.

So what role do the students

have - what role do we all have

- in building a local community

that we want to live in?

Later that day, two of the

students, Dylan and Aaron

meet with Lara Gunn and Joanna

Mackenzie, who both grew up in

Mackay Country, moved away and

then came back later in life.

Aaron tells Lara and Joanna what

community here means for him.

I was in Thurso until

primary six or seven, maybe

before that, even primary five.

And the first few years I

came up here, it was like,

oh, it's middle of nowhere.

There's nothing really,

and it's just, it's so dead

compared to being in Thurso.

But as I've gotten older and

lived here for longer and

actually gotten really in with

the community and working in

their local places and got to

know people and the community

by being in it ; it's definitely

made me feel like this is home.

What do you think it is

that makes up here have more

of a sense of connection

than anywhere else?

I can only speak I guess

for for what I know, but I think

it's just that sense of history

and sense of being kind of part

of here, like your generations

being part of this area.

I think also you're

taught how hard they fought

for our area and the clearances

come into it and you're just

given such a sense of worth.

And having gone through being

eradicated for sheep, I think

it does make you feel that

this little villages that

we've created are, are ours,

and we need to protect them.

Lara and Joanna share their

thoughts on what it takes

to make a thriving community

in Scotland's far north.

Lara goes first,

followed by Joanna.

There is a lot of stuff

going on in the community, but

you have to put yourself out

there and get involved and join

clubs, and join committees and

to chat, like what's going on.

And if something doesn't exist,

then you know, there might

be the opportunity to create

a group that does that or to

get together with other people

who've got similar interests.

The kids wanted

gymnastics and I put it

on Facebook and Caithness

Gymnastics reached out, so now

we have a gymnastics group here.

So you have to forge your

own futures and this place

can be what anybody wants

it to be for anybody.

There are of course gonna be

barriers to achieving this,

especially for young people

without access to a car.

But I really like Lara and

Joanna’s positive attitude

here and their call to action…

for people to find their

role in strengthening the

community that they call home.

Also, you need people

to move up there from other

areas that are not from here.

You need that mix of different

people, different skills,

different mindsets, and

that's what makes a good

kind of thriving community.

First of all, you really

have to understand the area

and understand that it will

support you if you support it.

Whereas in, in built up areas

or busier places, you can

become really insular ; you

don't know your neighbors, you

don't know what's happening

around about you ; here,

everybody will know your

business before you know it.

And you have to embrace

it 'cause that's a

safety blanket as well.

They will know if you've

not been out of your house

for a couple of days if

there's something wrong.

So it's really just embracing

this; the culture that is up

here, and knowing that people

look out for one another.

There is opportunity.

The winters will be dark and

long, but the summers will

be fantastic and bright.

the Herald declared the

new Highland Clearances.

The newspaper said: “Comparing

population decline in the

highlands and islands, however

serious, to the notorious 19th

century clearances that led

to families being burnt out

of their homes, might not sit

well with some Herald readers.

However, it's a comparison

that was made not by us, but

by others. Living at the sharp

end of what is being called

a population emergency”.

The paper cited, transport,

housing, health, connectivity,

and education as key drivers

for population resilience.

In the next episode, we will

explore what needs to change

to encourage more young

people to build their futures

here in Mackay Country.

While some people will always

feel the need to leave, we'll

also hear that what really

matters is coming back.

Highlands Reimagined is an

Anya Media production for

Strathnaver Museum, published

in partnership with the

Wild for Scotland Podcast.

The executive producers are

Fiona Mackenzie for Strathnaver

Museum, and Kathi Kamleitner

for Wild for Scotland.

The script editor is Andy Jones.

The theme music is by

Cameron Mackay, with

additional music by me.

Thank you to all those

who contributed to this

series, and a special thank

you to the students and

staff of Farr High School.

Highlands Reimagined is

recorded, edited, mixed and

presented by me: Will Sadler.

Find out more at

highlandsreimagined.com.

The Artist Residency Programme

through which this podcast

was made was part funded by

Museums Galleries Scotland, The

William Syson Foundation, the

Children’s and Young People’s

Mental Health and Wellbeing

Fund, and received support

from the UK Government through

the UK Shared Prosperity Fund.