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Superstitions among fishermen

Probably because of the perilous nature of their work, and a genuine desire not to tempt fate, fishermen throughout the world are notoriously superstitious. Consequently, a number of superstitions and taboos have evolved over the years. Some of these are not all that familiar to many of us. For example, it was considered unlucky if a local crewman happened to meet a strange woman, particularly a redhead, whilst he was baiting his lines or making his way down to the harbour. The same was true if the fishermen met a church minister, even although the crew might well have been deeply religious. Another seemingly innocent gesture which was frowned upon when at sea was whistling. The reason for this was that it might tempt the wind to blow up into a storm.

Certain words were equally taboo on board the boat once it had set sail. These included: rodan (rat), ministear (minister), fiadh (deer) and bradan (salmon). This was universally true of Hebridean and mainland crews - whether the words were spoken in English or Gaelic. If they wished to refer to any of the above or any other forbidden word, the crews would use alternative terms such as an t-iasg dearg (the red fish) if referring to salmon.

Local crews would never use the word tionndadh (turning), when changing the boat’s direction. It was considered that its use might somehow tempt fate into capsizing it. Consequently, the term ‘A’ toirt timcheall’ (turning her around) was usually adopted by the crews. Crews would also avoid heading the boat into the sun, or even coiling a rope whilst facing towards the sun. Although common-place within the fishermen’s homes, finding a ball of wool aboard the vessel was considered an equally bad omen. It is thought that this particular superstition persisted because witches reputedly used balls of wool when conjuring up spells.

The crews linked certain natural phenomena with impending bad weather. For example, the fishermen were reluctant to go to sea ‘air latha lasadh nan cloich’ - days in which the sunshine reflected unusually brightly off the stones around the shore. Equally, ‘latha fead nan tuill’ - when conditions caused the wind to whistle audibly through holes in the dry-stone walls within the village - were occasions on which the men preferred to stay ashore. In both cases, the fishermen believed that a spell of bad weather, or a rotach, was imminent.

		Perhaps the crew of the Spanish fishing vessel Ormaza did not fully heed the ancient superstitions of men who go to sea? The Ormaza went badly of course one day in October 1999, ending up on a rocky shelf at Skigersta in Ness.  Despite attempts to refloat the vessel, the sea quickly broke her up and she was completely submerged within a few weeks.  Fortunately, all the crew were successfully rescued by the Stornoway based RNLI Lifeboat, the Coastguard helicopter with support from Ness based Maritime & Coastguard Agency (MCA) volunteers. LEFT TOP: The Ormaza soon after she was stuck on the rock shelf LEFT:  Within days the vessel began to break up

These superstitions and beliefs were often specific to the season of the year in which they occurred. During the spring it was widely considered that if it was clear and bright in the morning, the latter part of the day would turn out stormy. Alternatively, in winter, good conditions in the morning signalled continued good weather throughout the rest of the day. Of course, other factors such as temperature and wind direction would also be taken into consideration. The above two examples of weather forecasting might appear to be absurd and unreliable when compared to today’s meteorological methods. However, in the absence of modern technology, the lives of the fishermen - working in some of the harshest sea conditions on earth - often depended on such skills.

Of course, individual crew members might have had their own particular interpretations of weather signs, and some would undoubtedly be better at it than others. Donald ‘am Patch’ Morrison, once recalled a story he had heard concerning a boat that had set sail in glorious sunshine one morning for the distant fishing grounds.

As the boat sailed away from the harbour one of the crew felt increasingly uneasy about some of the signs he observed.  Firmly believing that the weather was about to turn for the worse, he suggested to the boat’s skipper that they should return to port. However, the skipper was unconvinced and speaking in Gaelic he said to the crewman: "Chan eil agadsa ri ‘rent’ neo searbhant a phàigheadh ann." (You don't have to pay rent or a servant's wages.)  The concerned crewman immediately responded, "Ma thèid thusa a-mach, cha bhi ‘rent’ neo searbhant agadsa ri phàigheadh a bharrachd!" (If you go out there, you wont have  to pay a servant or rent either.)  The skipper relented and just managed to make it back to port before a terrible storm suddenly arrived.