The text from thesis entitled 'The Outer Hebrides and the Hebridean world during the Neolithic:an island history' Submitted and accepted for doctorate at Cardiff University, 2005

Doctoral thesis

Chapter 1
Islands of time: Introducing themes and a multi-scaled approach to prehistory

“Men are generally delighted with novelty, and what is represented under that plausible invitation seldom fails of meeting with acceptance.  If we hear at any time a description of some remote corner in the Indies cried in our streets, we presently conclude we may have some divertissement in reading of it; when in the meantime, there are a thousand things nearer to us that may engage our thoughts to better purposes”
Martin 1999, 236   
This thesis is concerned with providing a history for the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides, a group of islands situated off the west coast of northern Scotland (figure 1.1).  The Outer Hebrides are made up of numerous islands of varying sizes, the larger of which define the six modern parishes of the region: Barra, South and North Uist, Benbecula, and Harris and Lewis (although Harris and Lewis are not independent islands, instead separated by the Harris mountain range).  This archipelago provides an attractive subject for Neolithic studies.  The abundance of Neolithic monuments here was first noted almost a century ago and has since been widely debated, most notably in the writings of archaeologists such as Gordon Childe, Glyn Daniel and Stuart Piggott and more recently in the cataloguing of Scottish Neolithic monuments by Audrey Henshall.  Additionally, over half a century of archaeological investigation - primarily focussed on North Uist - has revealed a scattering of settlement sites from this period, yielding a much greater insight into life at this time than is achievable through the monument evidence alone.
Most recently the Outer Hebrides have become an area of intensive archaeological investigation with excavation and survey throughout the islands by the universities of Cardiff, Sheffield, Bournemouth and Edinburgh.  This has led to a much more detailed understanding of the history in this region and the valuable resource it presents to archaeology, chiefly through the exceptional preservation experienced by many sites.  However, since the work of Lindsay Scott over fifty years ago the Neolithic period has not been the focus for research and whilst there have been a number of Neolithic sites excavated in the past twenty years most of these have been excavated by scholars researching other periods or in limited rescue excavations.  There is practically no synthesis of the available evidence into a coherent whole.  It is such a synthesis that provides the main aim for this thesis.  
 
Figure 1.1 Main islands of the Outer Hebrides
This thesis will, for a number of reasons, be an island history.  This study area consists of islands in space, places bounded by the sea and grouped together through their collective separation from Skye and the Scottish mainland by the deep waters of the Minch.  These are also islands in time, bounded by distinctions in material culture and practice that span from the beginnings of the fourth to the mid-third millennium BC, a time period that we have come to call the Neolithic.  Finally, we might suggest that our study is of islands of archaeological evidence, isolated in space and time yet ultimately situated within broader regions of study.  
With islands of space and time we can identify, with relative confidence, the boundaries that distinguish them.  This is not to suggest that either were divorced from external contacts and interaction.  With both, the ‘islands’ of study - whether a land mass or a period of time - can be demonstrated to exhibit contact beyond their shores with, for example, trade and exchange in the former and continuity and tradition in the latter.  But in studying islands of archaeological evidence these coastlines are less pronounced.  These islands are situated within spatial and temporal contexts, yet in order to construct archipelagos from these fragmentary remains we must extend our investigation beyond the time and place in which they came into being.  Ours must be a study of human practice where practice - like our fragmentary evidence - transcends both time and space yet is ultimately informed by both.  
A study of practice must be concerned with identifying the continuities and discontinuities between these islands of evidence, the boundaries or coastlines that they present, and the scales at which this connectivity is played out.  It is an archaeology of scales that I will attempt to provide in this thesis, a multi-scaled history of this region during the Neolithic.  Informed by the writings of the Annales movement of French history, and in particular the work of Fernand Braudel, I want to examine the different scales at which the history provided by our archaeological evidence - by our islands of evidence - is written.  I want then in this first chapter to introduce the reader to the work of Braudel and the Annales movement and outline why it is I believe their work provides a useful perspective with which to view the Neolithic archaeology of the Outer Hebrides.
A multi-scaled approach 
“Some people lose their sense of proportion; I’ve lost my sense of scale”
 Self 1996, 93
Archaeological discourse has always wrestled with different scales of investigation.  From the localised physical remains of past individuals to what this can tell us about broader societies and periods, we are involved in situating our islands of evidence within archipelagos, and sometimes continents of knowledge.  There are a number of ways that archaeologists have tried to engage with this problematic regarding scales of approach and without doubt the most vigorous and prolonged discussions have concerned the structure-agency debate.  The structure-agency debate considers the dynamics of human practice and whether this dynamic is situated in the structures that underlie and inform individual action, or the agency through which individuals act.  The social sciences have for some time emphasised the mutual dependency of these two scales but such a dichotomy persists in archaeology, despite being criticised as clearly unhelpful (Shanks and Tilley 1987; Chippindale 1993; Last 1995; Barrett 1994; 1997; 2000).  There is neither the space nor the time in this thesis to outline the various discussions that surround the structure-agency debate.  Instead, I want to examine one particular attempt to transcend this dichotomy in the study of the past, that provided by Fernand Braudel in his history of the Mediterranean during the reign of Philip II of Spain, and explore its potential in writing an island history of the Hebridean Neolithic.  However, before outlining Braudel’s approach I want to place it in context by outlining the two main influences upon his work: the Annales movement of French history and structuralism.
The Annales movement 
The Annales movement arose in early twentieth France in reaction to traditional approaches to the study of history.  The movement was established by Lucien Febvre and Marc Bloch when they founded the journal Annales d’histoire économique et sociale in 1929 with 3 aims: to establish a problem-oriented analytical history (l’histoire problème) in reaction to the conventional narrative of events, to study a range of human activities as opposed to the hitherto emphasis on political history, and to initiate a multi-disciplinary approach to the past.
The ideas of the Annales movement arose in the context of growing dissatisfaction with established ways of writing history, as highlighted by the economist François Simiand.  
“According to Simiand, there were three idols [in the study of history] which must be toppled.  There was the ‘political idol’ – ‘the perpetual preoccupation with the political history, political facts, wars etc.…There was the ‘individual idol’ – in other words, the overemphasis on so-called great men…Finally, there was the ‘chronological idol’, that is, ‘the habit of losing oneself in studies of origins’.” 
Burke 1990, 11
Attempting to topple these idols, the Annales movement challenged conventional history by examining a history that shifted emphasis away from the politics of individuals and events, towards a history of people and longer-term developments.  One way they attempted to achieve this was through the study of mentalités, in essence ‘visions of the world’ (Vovelle 1990, 5).  In particular, attention was paid to the concept of mentalités collectives, the attitudes, beliefs and cosmology of society as a whole.  Through writing a history that considered the world-views of societies over time it was thought possible to supersede a history of individuals, events and narrow time-scales and move on from the idols identified and condemned by Simiand.  Mentalités also provided a means for writing a multi-disciplinary history through their connection with sociology, psychology and ethnology (Le Goff 1985), and a means for creating a total history which integrated the social, the cultural and the political.  
Braudel was one of Lucien Febvre’s students and part of a post-war renaissance in French history.  Febvre’s influence upon Braudel was considerable and by the time Braudel wrote The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean world in the age of Philip II - dedicated to Febvre - both Febvre and Bloch had gained senior posts within Parisian universities and the ideas of the Annales movement were now an accepted part of French historical practice.  However, it was not just the ideas of the Annales movement that informed Braudel’s work, his desire for a multi-disciplinary approach to the past led to his adoption of a much broader paradigm from the social sciences, structuralism. 
Fernand Braudel and structuralism 
It has been suggested that Braudel was a structural historian (Lechte 1994), influenced by the structuralist writings of linguists, anthropologists and sociologists such as Jakobson, Lévi-Strauss and Bourdieu respectively.  Central to structuralism are three main premises: study must be rooted in the study of the relationships between elements rather than of elements themselves; an understanding of such relationships can only be achieved through study of the differential rather than shared nature of these relationships; structures themselves are not empirically observable realities that exist ‘prior to the realization of these relations’ (Lechte 1994, 35) but are the means through which relations can be observed and understood.  The ‘structures’ of structuralism are therefore models created by the observer, to quote Lévi-Strauss: 
“social relations consist of the raw materials out of which the models making up the social structures are built”
Lévi-Strauss 1979, 279  
Anthropologists, for example, do not observe social structures but rather social structures are the constructed means through which anthropologists observe and interpret social relations.  If we return to practice, a structuralist perspective suggests that human practice is influenced by the differential relations within which action is situated.  Examples of such relationships would include environmental constraints, social obligations and cultural traditions.  Structure, in this sense, provides the means for understanding the motivations and dynamics behind human action.  The emphasis, however, is upon the restrictions that differential relations place upon the capacity for individual people to act:
“Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past” 
Karl Marx The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte
It is such a view of history that was central to the writings of Braudel, defining structures as “a coherent and fairly fixed series of relationships between realities and social masses” (Braudel 1980, 31).  For Braudel, structures presented an opportunity to shift historical study away from the three ‘false idols’ of history identified by François Simiand.  It was structures, in this structuralist sense, that formed the basis for Braudel’s The Mediterranean (1972; 1973). 
Braudel’s multi-scaled approach
Braudel’s The Mediterranean focused on three different historical scales or perspectives: the short time-span of events and individuals upon which historians traditionally dwelt, the medium time-spans of social and economic institutions, and the long-term, or longue durée, of the environment or geographic time.  Braudel’s history offers a study of the relationships between these three scales and considers the structures that underlie and inform continuity and change, yet as an exercise in structuralism these structures do not exist as genuine entities but as means for the historian to observe or interpret the past.  Braudel’s three temporal scales therefore required the historian to appreciate the historicity of their own view of the past, a perspective that was central to the writings of perhaps the most eminent structuralist Lévi-Strauss (1979, 16), and then to challenge these views through new and different perspectives. 
Braudel was perhaps the first historian to suggest that the environment, and to a lesser extent social and economic institutions, did not merely provide a back-drop for human practice but instead an active means for historians to understand the different series of relationships through which human practice took place: “the final effect is to dissect history into various planes…to divide man into a multitude of selves…it will perhaps prove that history can do more than study walled gardens.  If it were otherwise, it would surely be failing in one of its most important tasks” (Braudel 1972, 21-2).  Braudel’s perspective, however, has come to be widely criticised for the essentially passive view of the people that he presents, particularly through accusations of environmental determinism (Burke 1990, 40), a critique I shall return to later in the thesis.  
This can be seen as part of a broader critique of structuralism as ‘ahistorical, unverifiable and neglectful of human creative action (Abercrombie et al. 1988, 245). Studies in archaeology that have emphasised structure have similarly been criticised for generalising about human behaviour (Trigger 1989).  Such studies have specifically been challenged for regarding societies as systematic and human practice as the result of an imposed or inherent order in society where individuals are reduced to pawns of social, environmental or even biological circumstances (Barrett 1994, 36; J. Thomas 1996a, 34-7).  This has been most apparent in archaeology through studies that have related society to machines or organisms, as for example with systems theory (Watson et al. 1971; Renfrew 1979; 1984).  Because of such studies, the term structure has come to be widely criticised in archaeology, challenged as determinist and for denying the role of the individual in the past (Shanks and Tilley 1987, 98-102; A. Jones 2002, 13-17).  In particular, those archaeologies that have considered the work of Braudel (e.g. Bintliff 1991; 2000; Knapp 1992) have been criticised for what J. Thomas has called “determinist forms of ecological archaeology: ‘palaeoeconomy with a French accent’” (J. Thomas 1996a, 36).  
Braudel and archaeology
Smith (1992) has highlighted Braudel’s attempt to examine the past at different temporal scales and stressed its relevance to considering the archaeological past.  However, the adoption by archaeologists of ideas from the Annales movement, and particularly those of Braudel, was a slow process and by the time such research was being published (Bintliff 1991; Knapp 1992), the ideas of its practitioners were being criticised for an assumed association with processual archaeology (e.g. Hodder 1987, 2-8; Barrett 1994, 36; Gosden 1994, 134-5; J. Thomas 1996a).  This association was highlighted through Braudel’s emphasis upon the environment, a preference for economic and social over political histories and a shift of study away from the individual.  Further criticism has been levelled at the applicability of Braudel’s ideas within the poor chronological framework of prehistoric studies.  Bradley, for example, has expressed concerns at the applicability of Braudel’s ideas to archaeology through the need for “more chronological precision than we possess at present” (Bradley 1991, 212).  
However, I believe that these scholars have been over critical of Braudel.  It is wrongly assumed that the longue durée of environmental history provided the primary emphasis of study in Braudel’s The Mediterranean.  However, in this book the longue durée represents only a quarter of the overall text, the remainder covering in detail the more ‘traditional’ domains of social and political history (Braudel 1972; 1973).  It is the longue durée that takes precedence in people’s perceptions, and therefore their critiques, of Braudel because it was this concept and approach which Braudel offered to the study of the past.  His views ultimately do neglect the individual, whom he considered to provide little illumination upon the past (Braudel 1980, 10), but this was a broader agenda central to other Annales historians.  
What Braudel offers is a consideration for the environment that does more than provide a static backdrop for human history.  It, according to Braudel, provides an active part of the histories which the historian is faced with writing, requiring the historian to “convey a particular kind of history” (Braudel 1972, 23).  For Braudel aspects of the environment become actors in the history he is trying to write:
“To tell the truth, the historian is not unlike the traveller.  He tends to linger over the plain, which is the setting for the leading actors of the day, and does not seem eager to approach the high mountains nearby…and yet how can one ignore these conspicuous actors”
Braudel 1972, 29 
This view of history was primarily shaped by Braudel’s context, a student and friend of the Annales historian Febvre, and his subject of study, the Mediterranean.  In trying to condense what was over a hundred years of history into a historical study Braudel was aware that his history would be determined as much by what he chose to leave out as it would by what he included.  The significance of this is that through the inspiration of Febvre, and in particular his belief that history cannot focus its study on the micro-scale of events and individuals, Braudel believed that a historical study of the Mediterranean could not ignore a broader appreciation for the environment within which human history was situated.  One could argue that it was the Mediterranean that shaped the particular kind of history which Braudel set about writing.  In one particular analogy, Braudel stated that the study of the past must focus attention on the history of undercurrents, in other words the history of the longue durée, beneath the superficial flotsam of individuals and events and the stiller waters of social structures, beneath “the surface disturbances, crests of foam that the tides of history carry on their strong backs” (Braudel 1980, 12).  But the Mediterranean provided more than a metaphor for Braudel’s view of history, it arguably helped him to formulate his ideas about temporality and the three different temporal scales at which he believed historical study must be directed.  Equally, these three temporal scales were more than methodological devices, they encouraged a specific view of history, and in the case of Braudel this view not only required but demanded a focus on the environment.
Towards an island history of the Hebridean Neolithic 
Ralph: “This is an island.  At least I think it’s an island”
William Golding’s Lord of the Flies
An island archaeology cannot escape the ‘islandness’ of its subject matter.  Although we might challenge a perception of islands as isolated, a product of the colonial imagination and romantic popular fiction such as Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, Golding’s Lord of the Flies and Garland’s The Beach, there is an inescapable island quality to islands.  We have thankfully moved on from viewing islands as laboratories and have begun to consider the enabling rather than constraining properties of the sea.  Similarly, we have begun to appreciate the often intimate knowledge of waterways that are held by island dwellers (Ellen 1996) whilst recent works have called for an attention to islandscapes (Broodbank 2000) or seascapes (Warren 1997) in the archaeological narratives we construct.  In archaeology, especially British Neolithic studies, we have reached a particular paradox in the study of island archaeologies.  On the one hand, in a shift towards the study of individuals and smaller scale processes archaeologists have tried to blur and break down geographical boundaries.  But on the other hand we have seen a call for regional archaeologies which have sought to create and define geographical concentrations of archaeological materials and practices (Kinnes 1985; Sharples 1992).  Whilst regionally sensitive interpretations of this period have been encouraged, interpretations which regard the sea as a barrier, whether to the movement of people, materials or ideas, tend to have been discredited.  This cannot be constructive in examining the archaeology of islands. 
I believe Braudel’s multi-scale approach provides one solution to this problematic.  His work in The Mediterranean revolved around the role of natural features such as the sea and mountains in transcending national and political boundaries, yet also the boundaries that they themselves provided to the particular social and political histories that unfolded.  Through a multi-scale approach, Braudel was able to emphasise the multiple dimensions of the specific subjects of study.  Because his ultimate opinion in The Mediterranean stressed the constraining properties of these natural features does not mean we have to reject his approach altogether.  If we are to accept the ontology, rather than explicit epistemology of Braudel’s work there is ample scope for a Braudelian archaeology.  Thomas has questioned the application of Braudel’s temporal scales to archaeology through an assumption that “the prehistorian’s domain is thus exclusively the longue durée” (J. Thomas 1996a, 37).  I wish in this thesis to challenge Thomas’s assumption.  
If we return to the beginning of this chapter, I proposed that my study of the Neolithic in the Outer Hebrides would be an island history involving islands in space, islands in time and islands of archaeological evidence.  It is our job to situate these islands of evidence within their broader temporal and spatial schemes, their broader histories.  These histories must involve consideration for the longue durée, the environmental conditions that underlie and inspire them; the moyenne durée of social and cultural traditions that give these specific histories shape; and the histoire événementielle through which these histories are constructed and given meaning.  Each of these histories will, after the Annales movement, be a history of mentalités, the changing ways in which people viewed the world and themselves and articulated these relationships through the construction, use and deposition of material culture.
I would like then to consider the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides according to these three temporal scales, these three different histories.  I will begin with the evidence for settlement, places that reflect the lived out processes of the everyday.  Such evidence is rarely formally defined but involves the construction of place through the acting out of events in the repeated micro-scale routine of daily life.  From this history I want to move on to the history of megalithic monuments in the region. These histories involve the selection and construction of monumental forms, representing more enduring contexts for practice and longer term and longer distance processes of communication and interaction.  I want finally to consider the history of the environment in this region, considering the developments in the natural world during this period and the influences this may have had upon the particular histories explored through the settlement and monument evidence.  The result will hopefully be a history that acknowledges and interprets the relationships between these three different histories, an island history for the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides.

Chapter 2: A Mesolithic of the Outer Hebrides 

It would seem outdated to suggest that people appeared in the Outer Hebrides at the start of the Neolithic, arriving en masse with domesticated plants and animals, novel forms of material culture and an ability and desire to build megalithic monuments.  Such dramatic views of colonization have largely been consigned to the earlier writings of culture-history, informed by the narrow timescales perceived for prehistory at that time.  However, until very recently there was no direct archaeological evidence for the Mesolithic in this region, instead any suggestion for a Mesolithic presence restricted to possible palaeo-environmental signatures within a few loch core deposits (Bohncke 1988; Edwards 1990a; 1990b; 1996).  
Given the emphasis in this thesis on examining the various scales at which the Neolithic history of this region unfolds, it would first be useful to look at that history which precedes our period of study. Through investigation of the brief evidence available from the Outer Hebrides, and analogy to the greater body of evidence found on nearby Skye, the Small Isles and the Inner Hebrides, we can construct an image of island life during the Mesolithic and use it to understand what life might have been like in the Outer Hebrides in the centuries prior to our Neolithic evidence.  Furthermore, such a perspective will provide a useful tool for understanding the Neolithic of this region in terms of the various continuities and changes experienced between these periods; how Neolithic life was informed by preceding generations and those ways in which it had changed.
Absent friends: the Mesolithic evidence from the Outer Hebrides
Until 2001 there was no direct evidence for a Mesolithic presence in the region.  Given the abundance of Mesolithic evidence identified in recent surveys on nearby Skye and the Small Isles (figure 2.1), in addition to known evidence from the Inner Hebrides, it seemed improbable that the Outer Hebrides would have been unoccupied or at least unvisited during the millennia prior to the first Neolithic activity on the islands (Henley 1999).  Rather, significant landscape developments over the past five thousand years – to be discussed in greater detail in chapter 11 – combined with the generally ephemeral character of Mesolithic settlement, are likely to have concealed any Mesolithic presence in the region under sand, sea, peat or later human activity (Edwards 1996).  
 
Figure 2.1 Key Mesolithic sites from Western Scotland
A Mesolithic presence in the region had already been suggested through the identification of significant and abrupt vegetation changes within a number of loch sediments, in some cases coinciding with concentrations of charcoal.  In an investigation of three loch cores from Callanish on Lewis, Bohncke highlighted in one core a dramatic reduction of Betula (birch) c. 8400-7650 BP (c. 7500-6400 BC), replaced by open woodland and grass species such as Pteridium (bracken) and Salix (willow) and coinciding with a rise in charcoal particles within the core (Bohncke 1988, 450-1).  Bohncke took this to suggest human management of the woodland, possibly to promote the growth of heather moor and grassland and encourage grazing by deer and other terrestrial mammals (Bohncke 1988, 451, 461).
This idea was taken further by Edwards in his survey of several loch core sediments from the region (Edwards 1990a; 1990b; 1996).  Loch an t-Sìl on South Uist revealed significant palynological changes c. 8040 BP (c. 7000 BC) with a notable reduction in woodland species coinciding with charcoal peaks and an expansion of grassland species (Edwards 1996). A prolonged pattern of woodland replacement coinciding with sustained charcoals peaks between 8110-5050 BP (7100-3900 BC) was observed at North Locheynort, again on South Uist (Edwards 1990a), whilst inter-tidal peat at Borve, Benbecula, revealed an increase in charcoal between 7680 and 7100 BP (6450 and 5950 BC), associated with declining birch and hazel woodland (Whittington and Edwards 1997).
Whilst these changes do not provide demonstrable proof for a pre-Neolithic presence in the region, similar palynological signatures from locations with Mesolithic archaeology (Hirons and Edwards 1990; Sugden and Edwards 2000; Wickham-Jones 1990) suggest that the lack of Mesolithic archaeology from the Outer Hebrides might reflect an absence of evidence rather than a genuine evidence of absence.  Such suspicions were confirmed in 2001 when re-investigation of the Neolithic settlement site at Northton, Harris (to be discussed in greater detail in chapter 3), revealed two layers preceding the Neolithic levels that had been excavated in the 1960s (Gregory et al. forthcoming).  Fragments of charred hazelnut shell from these layers were initially thought to have been Neolithic, slightly predating the excavated structures. However, a series of AMS dates suggested an earlier origin (figure 2.2).
 
Figure 2.2 AMS dates obtained from burnt hazelnut shells, Northton (Gregory et al. forthcoming)
Two single entity samples of charred hazelnut shell from phase 1 dated to between 7050 and 6650 BC, whilst three single entity samples of charred hazelnut shell from phase 2 dated to between 6450 and 6200 BC (Gregory et al. forthcoming).  Of further interest, pedological analyses of the deposits suggested that both phases represented in situ soils that had been modified “through the addition of anthropogenic midden material, initially during the Mesolithic” (Gregory et al. forthcoming).  This midden material consisted chiefly of burnt peat/turf, charcoal, and burnt and unburnt bone fragments, with magnet and phosphate analysis suggesting it had initially derived from a domestic hearth.  
Whilst not the most exciting of Mesolithic sites, the work at Northton has highlighted the first direct evidence for a Mesolithic presence in the Outer Hebrides.  The ecofacts from phase 2 reveal a combined use of both plant and animal resources with charred hazelnut shells, seabirds, small mammals and fish.  Such limited evidence restricts our ability to interpret the original character of settlement taking place at Northton.  However, we might gain a greater insight into this period by crossing the Minch and looking at some recent discoveries made on the Skye peninsula and the adjacent Scottish mainland.
Close family? Recent work on Skye
A cause of optimism for the discovery of further Mesolithic sites in the Outer Hebrides can be found in recent work that has taken place on Skye, notably through the research of the Scotland’s First Settlers project.  Until the 1990s Skye was, like the Outer Hebrides, lacking any archaeology prior to the Neolithic evidence provided by the chambered tombs on the peninsula.  However, in 1993 salvage investigation of a rock shelter site at An Corran on the north of Skye revealed evidence for Mesolithic occupation (Saville and Miket 1994) underlying later activity.  The rock shelter had evidently been used over a considerable period of time, supported by radiocarbon dates from the site (figure 2.4, Hardy and Wickham-Jones 2003, 378), although the earliest use of the site – dated to around 6500 BC – revealed human activity associated with a ‘black greasy’ shell midden.  The shell midden was primarily made up of limpet shells but also included other faunal bones and some human skeletal remains (Saville and Miket 1994), with good preservation permitting the survival of a range of organic artefacts, notably bone points and bone and antler bevel-ended ‘limpet scoops’.  A sizeable quantity of lithics was also recovered, predominantly of narrow-blade microliths made from locally available chalcedonic siliceous materials and baked mudstone (Saville 1999; Saville and Miket 1994).  
 
Figure 2.3  New Mesolithic sites resulting from the Scotland's First Settlers project (http://www.oisf.org.uk/sfssvbg.htm)
Because publication of the excavations at An Corran is still pending there is only so much we can say about this site.  However, its discovery prompted a series of further investigations upon Skye and the adjacent Scottish mainland through the Scotland’s First Settlers project (Hardy and Wickham-Jones 2002; 2003).  A program of detailed survey commenced in 1998 and to date 164 hitherto unknown Mesolithic sites have been identified (figure 2.3), including 30 lithic scatter sites and 21 rock-shelter sites (Hardy and Wickham-Jones 2002, 828),  with the site of Sand on the Applecross peninsula the subject of major excavation.  On first impressions the character of occupation found at Sand was comparable to that recovered at An Corran, excavation revealing a limpet-rich shell midden overlying an area of tool manufacture abundant in organic artefacts as well as lithic debris (Hardy and Wickham-Jones 2002; 2003, 373).  However, unlike An Corran the radiocarbon dates from Sand were uniquely Mesolithic and together with the excavated evidence would seem to suggest two relatively concentrated phases of occupation, one falling between 7600 and 6260 BC and the other between 5620 and 5530 BC (figure 2.4, Ashmore 2004b; Hardy and Wickham-Jones 2002, figure 7; 2003, 374).  Interestingly, the first of these two periods is broadly contemporary to the earliest date from An Corran as well as the dates from the second phase of occupation at Northton.  
 
Figure 2.4 Radiocarbon dates from sites on Skye 
Despite similarities to An Corran, the evidence from Sand suggests a more concentrated use of this particular locale which has been argued to represent an expedient response to deteriorating climatic conditions (Hardy and Wickham-Jones 2003, 375), although more detailed discussion is awaiting the completion of post-excavation analysis.  However, an altogether different kind of site was discovered on the south of Skye when a newly constructed track at Camas Daraich exposed a large lithic scatter including the distinctively Mesolithic narrow-blade microliths (Wickham-Jones and Hardy 2004).  Unfortunately salvage excavation revealed very little in the way of in situ features, restricted to two shallow scoops and a stone-lined hearth, although a considerable lithic assemblage was recovered representing both the working and use of stone tools (Wickham-Jones and Hardy in Wickham-Jones and Hardy 2004, 60).  Single-entity radiocarbon determinations on charred hazelnut shells from the site dated the site to the mid 7th millennium BC (figure 2.4, Wickham-Jones and Hardy 2004, 58), corresponding to the available dates from lithic scatter sites elsewhere in western Scotland, to be discussed in greater detail below (figure 2.6).
Together, the work at An Corran, Sand and Camas Daraich provides a glimpse of the kind of sites that we might yet find in the Outer Hebrides as well as providing a detailed regional picture of Mesolithic settlement in this one small area of western Scotland.  The impression provided is of mobile communities featuring transient and activity oriented settlement (Wickham-Jones and Hardy in Wickham-Jones and Hardy 2004, 61).  Each of these three sites therefore represents different aspects in the spectrum of tasks employed within hunter-gatherer-fishers society: An Corran and Sand primarily concern the harvesting and consumption of marine resource, particularly shellfish, whilst Camas Daraich represents a locale for which significance was attached to the manufacture of a range of lithic tools.  This is a pattern of settlement evident across western Scotland during the Mesolithic and one which I would now like to examine in greater detail.
Distant relations: inference and analogy from western Scotland
The two types of site found on Skye - the lithic scatter and the midden site – have traditionally provided the foundation for explanation and interpretation of the Mesolithic period in Scotland (Woodman 1989; Finlayson and Edwards 1997; Finlay et al. 2001).  To situate the sites from Skye within their broader context I want to outline the kinds of evidence found at the lithic scatter and midden sites elsewhere in western Scotland before providing a broader interpretation of life prior to the Neolithic
Lithic scatter sites 
As their name would suggest, lithic scatter sites consist almost entirely of their lithic assemblages with limited organic remains surviving.  This can largely be attributed to the fact that most narrow-blade sites have been identified through fieldwalking, yet even excavated examples have featured poor preservation of organic remains and therefore limited dating and environmental evidence.  Lithic scatters, like Camas Daraich, are typically characterised by the presence of large numbers of narrow-blade microliths (figure 2.5) although other lithic artefacts such as scrapers are usually present.  
 
Figure 2.5 Examples of microliths from Kinloch, Rum (After Wickham-Jones 1990, 101)
In the past, lithic scatter sites have mainly been considered in terms of the technological aspects of their assemblages, providing a focus of study for artefact specialists to consider processes of production, trade and exchange (Finlayson and Edwards 1997).  However, this has changed in recent years with a number of archaeological projects investigating the context of a range of lithic scatter sites within western Scotland, notably the Southern Hebrides Mesolithic Project based on Islay, Jura and Colonsay (Mithen 2000a; 2000b) and Caroline Wickham-Jones research at Kinloch, Rum (Wickham-Jones 1990).  This corpora of work has done much to expand our understanding of lithic scatter sites, notably through detailed survey and excavation, and the collection of environmental samples and material suitable for radiocarbon dating.  Chronologically the lithic scatters span the known Mesolithic period in Scotland, from approximately 8000 to 4000 BC (figure 2.6, Finlayson and Edwards 1997, 118; Ashmore 2004b), though emphasis is on the 8th, 7th and early 6th millennia BC.
 
Figure 2.6 Radiocarbon dates from western Scottish lithic scatters (Ashmore 2004b)
Midden sites
Midden sites are typically made up of marine shells (figure 2.7) or cave deposits which establish excellent conditions for the preservation of organic remains and artefacts made from fish, animal and human bone, antler and shellfish.  The Mesolithic middens of Scotland are traditionally referred to as Obanian sites, a term coined after the discovery of several cave sites around Oban Bay in the late nineteenth century.  Sites such as Raschoille Cave (Pollard 1990), Druimvargie Rockshelter (Anderson 1898) and MacArthurs Cave (Anderson 1895) all contained shell deposits and were rich in worked bone and antler tools but lacked the microliths which characterised Mesolithic settlement elsewhere in Scotland (Woodman 1989).  The characteristic finds from these sites have been the bevel-ended bone, antler and stone ‘limpet scoops’ similar to those that had been found at An Corran and Skye, along with elaborate antler and bone barbed points (figure 2.8) and antler mattocks.  
 
Figure 2.7 Oronsay midden (after Saville 2004a, 7)
However, most of our information concerning middens sites in Scotland has derived from work on a series of middens on the small island of Oronsay (Mellars 1987).  The Oronsay middens of Cnoc Coig, Cnoc Sligeach, Caisteal Nan Gillean I and II, and Priory midden were all subjected to brief excavation in the late nineteenth century by Symington Grieve and William Galloway where a range of antler, bone and stone tools were found including – like the Oban Bay sites - barbed harpoon points, bevel ended bone and stone ‘limpet scoops’, worked antler, perforated and worn shells and a small chipped stone assemblage (Anderson 1898; Bishop 1914).  All the Oronsay middens were later to be re-investigated in excavations led by Paul Mellars during the 1970s (Mellars 1987) recovering a large faunal assemblage which was to provide important information about diet and subsistence at these sites.   
 
 
Fig 2.8 Bevel ended stone tools (top) and bone and antler barbed points (bottom) (after Saville 1994b, 191 and 195)
Together, the ‘Obanian’ shell middens of western Scotland reflect very similar practices, each comprising similar artefactual assemblages as well as comparable economic and environmental material, supported by the discovery of a further site near Oban at Carding Mill Bay (Connock 1990; Connock et al. 1992) as well as reinvestigation of an earlier excavated midden at Risga (Pollard 1990; 2000; Pollard et al. 1996).  Indeed, the relative homogeneity of the Scottish midden sites, together with a relatively concentrated date of origin spanning the 6th and 5th millennia BC, had originally led to their interpretation as a single cultural entity.  However, the work at An Corran on Skye discussed earlier, along with ongoing excavations at Ulva Cave on Mull (Bonsall et al. 1991; 1992), has demonstrated a much earlier origin for midden sites within the mid-7th millennium BC (figure 2.9).  
 
Figure 2.9 Radiocarbon dates from midden sites in western Scotland (Ashmore 2004b, excluding dates with an error term of greater than +200).

Themes during the Mesolithic of western Scotland 
The Mesolithic sites in western Scotland fit the character of settlement provided by the work on Skye, although the greater number of sites obviously enables a more detailed picture.  To consider this character in more detail I want to examine a series of themes which I will use later in the thesis to consider the settlement evidence from the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides: temporality and chronology, places and dwelling, subsistence practices and mobility, and the role and use of materials.  As well as summarise the various evidences discussed in this chapter, this approach will facilitate both a useful overview of contemporary understandings of the Mesolithic period in Scotland as well as provide a suitable frame of reference for imagining what Mesolithic life might have been like in the Outer Hebrides. 
Temporality and chronology
The available dates from the lithic scatter and midden sites in western Scotland span approximately four millennia, from 8000 to 4000 BC, the earliest dates provided by the site of Kinloch on Rum (Wickham-Jones 1990).  The lithic scatters tend to span the period between 8000 and 6500 BC.  The midden sites however are largely concentrated in the Later Mesolithic (after 6000 BC) although, as already mentioned, recent work at Ulva Cave and An Corran have implied an earlier origin for this type of site.  However, it is important to note that the majority of radiocarbon dates currently available for the Mesolithic period derive from midden sites, largely due to the greater preservation of (dateable) organic materials at these sites.  
It is also worth noting that the dates from the Oronsay middens coincide with a hiatus in the available dates from narrow-blade sites on the neighbouring islands of Colonsay and Islay (Finlay et al. 2002), possible indicating a chronological distinction between the midden sites on those islands off western Scotland and the lithic scatters.  Finlayson and Edwards have suggested that this chronological distinction may reflect a transition through the Mesolithic period towards an intensification of settlement, as possibly reflected by the large shell middens towards the end of this period (Finlayson and Edwards 1997).  In this context, the early dates from An Corran and Ulva Cave may suggest that these sites represent transitional locales, perhaps explaining the presence of large numbers of lithics at these sites compared to the later midden sites (Finlayson and Edwards 1997, 119).
 
Figure 2.10 Seasonal use of the Oronsay middens (After Mellars 2004, 176) 
In addition to providing a broad chronology for the Mesolithic occupation of Oronsay, the good organic preservation at the Oronsay shell middens has also provided a tantalising glimpse of a much finer chronology.  Analysis of the saithe otoliths (fish earbones) from four of the Oronsay middens has revealed seasonal variability in the deposition taking place at individual middens (figure 2.10): Priory midden being used in winter, Cnoc Sligenach in mid-summer, Cnoc Coig late summer to autumn and Caisteal nan Gillean II used in both summer and late autumn/winter (Mellars and Wilkinson 1980; Richards and Mellars 1998; Mellars 2004).  
Places and dwelling 
The evidence from the Oronsay middens supports the impression provided by the remainder of Mesolithic sites from western Scotland of a transient and seasonal use of particular places.  A notion of place is clearly important during the Mesolithic period as at both lithic scatters and midden sites our evidence reflects a repeated occupation or use of specific locales over a prolonged period of time.  This significance of place during the Mesolithic is an idea that has been explored by Pollard in proposing a more social reading of the Oronsay (and other) shell middens (Pollard 1996).  Pollard has considered that shell middens might represent liminal places within the landscape, located between land and sea and providing a focal place for the construction of tools and the consumption of marine and terrestrial foods.  Here Pollard suggests that middens may, in some instances, have served as precursors to Neolithic chambered tombs, providing “striking components of the cultural landscape” (Pollard 1996, 206) as well as possible contexts for the deposition of human remains, as at the Oronsay middens (Meiklejohn and Denston in Mellars 1987, 190-230).  
 
Figure 2.11 Structures at Cnoc Coig, Oronsay (After Mellars 2004, 180)
Whilst efforts to move beyond the utilitarian and functional in the interpretation of Mesolithic sites is desirable, particularly given the hitherto emphasis on technological analyses at lithic scatter sites, there is still compelling evidence at some Mesolithic sites for occupation or dwelling.  Excavations at Kinloch on Rum revealed a palimpsest of pits and hollows associated with a series of linear slots and postholes interpreted as shelters (Wickham-Jones 1990) whilst at both Cnoc Coig and Caisteal nan Gillean II middens on Oronsay a series of structural remains were preserved within and below the middens (Mellars 1987; Wickham-Jones 2004, 229-31).  At Cnoc Coig a series of ‘large and repeatedly reused hearths’ (Mellars 2004, 179) were found along with two stake-defined circular structures (figure 2.11).  
Mercer’s excavations at Lussa Wood on Jura revealed a linear arrangement of three circular stone settings, interpreted as a series of hearths (Mercer 1980) whilst excavation of a large sub-rectangular depression cut into the gravels at Newton on Islay revealed a central pit associated with several hearths and a sizeable lithic assemblage (McCullagh 1989).  Clearly the range of structural evidence for the Scottish Mesolithic varies considerably yet there are patterns that can be extracted from this variety.  Most seemingly derive from temporary structures (Wickham-Jones 2004), yet their repeated appearance at particular sites, as at Kinloch and Cnoc Coig, is clearly significant.  
 
Figure 2.12  Isotopic evidence contrasting Mesolithic (Cnoc Coig and Caisteal nan Gillean) and Neolithic (Carding Mill Bay and Crarae) human remains with animal isotopic values (after Schulting and Richards 2002, 156-8)
Subsistence practices and mobility 
Evidence for transience in the structural remains from western Scotland supports Wickham-Jones and Hardy’s argument, mentioned earlier in reference to the evidence from Skye, that the Mesolithic settlement of Scotland largely revolved around task-specific activities, with a broader pattern of mobility likely informed by the procurement of specific food resources (Wickham-Jones and Hardy in Wickham-Jones and Hardy 2004, 61).  Ashmore has considered this in terms of the broad chronological distinction between lithics scatters and middens sites, which he argues as reflecting a more general shift from hazelnut procurement to marine resources as part of the shift towards a “roughly stable forager population” (Ashmore 2004a, 92).  The coastal emphasis of the midden sites along with their artefactual and economic remains certainly hints at a considerable significance for marine foods during the Later Mesolithic.  For example, faunal evidence from the Oronsay middens suggests that both marine and terrestrial animals were exploited, the bones of grey seals, otters and red deer dominating.  Yet this is not supported by recent isotopic analyses of human remains from the middens (figure 2.12), where an almost completely marine-based diet is apparent (Richards and Mellars 1998; Schulting and Richards 2002).  
However, arguments for an emphasis on hazelnut consumption in the early Mesolithic likely owe as much to the poor preservation of organics experienced at the earlier lithic scatters – economic remains almost exclusively restricted to “ubiquitous carbonized hazelnut shells” (Finlayson and Edwards 1997, 120) – as they do to specific procurement strategies in the Mesolithic period.  The large number of microliths which define the lithic scatter sites may in part relate to hunting, although microwear analysis suggests that microliths would have been used for a variety of purposes (Finlayson and Edwards 1997, 122; Finlayson 2004).
The use of marine resources at the midden sites and the spread of specific lithic resources across western Scotland during the Mesolithic, as well as the ultimate spread of human activity itself onto the numerous islands of the Inner Hebrides and the Small Isles, demonstrates that Mesolithic mobility would have involved movement across water and some degree of capability, if not proficiency in marine communication and navigation.  It has been noted that one of the key absences in the Scottish Mesolithic record is the lack of any evidence for boats, though given the likely materials used for building boats the preservation of such would be extremely exceptional (Saville 2004b, 203).  Smith has suggested that the kind of mobility hinted at by the sites of western Scotland would most likely have taken place using coracles or skinboats (1992) although evidence from Denmark suggests that Mesolithic logboats or dugout canoes were used in coastal waters and may even have been used for sea travel (Christensen 1990).  The specific technological logistics of sea mobility during the Mesolithic is immaterial, what is clear is that Mesolithic communities were capable of crossing extensive waterways and moreover such movement probably provided a key element within seasonal, annual or longer term social mobility (Wickham-Jones 1994, 116-7). 
The overall impression we have then of Mesolithic subsistence is of the exploitation of a range of resources both marine and terrestrial.  It seems likely that the specific components of this economic repertoire would have required movement through the landscape, and probably on a seasonal basis.  However, despite the range and wealth of evidence for the Mesolithic period in Scotland surprisingly little attempt has been made to construct specific settlement mobility models for the Scottish Mesolithic.  Finlayson and Edwards have suggested that “the range and location of Mesolithic sites suggests that some are more likely to represent seasonal, or task-specific camps, whilst others may have been more permanent” (Finlayson and Edwards 1997, 120).  Yet there currently lacks any attempt to relate specific sites to particular social rounds or certain landscapes, although the crudity of the available radiocarbon chronology may preclude such an attempt (Ashmore 2004a).
The role and use of materials 
One opportunity for considering aspects of mobility has, however, been provided by work on the lithic resources from both midden and lithic scatter sites (Wickham-Jones 1986; Saville 1994; Telford 2002).   Bloodstone, pitchstone and mudstone are all restricted in their provenance and can be attributed to specific locations in western Scotland.  As a result, the presence of these lithic materials at certain Mesolithic sites can be explained as the result of exchange or movement with populations.  Knappable bloodstone for example is only found on a single hill on the island of Rum yet artefacts made with bloodstone occur at sites throughout Skye and the Inner Hebrides (Wickham-Jones 1986; Hardy and Wickham-Jones 2003).  Telford has recently suggested that the geographical distribution of particular lithic resources in Scotland can be related to a broader requirement within Mesolithic society for wider, regional social networks (Telford 2002).  Telford argues that Mesolithic communities would have exploited relatively localised environments and social interaction beyond the extent of these environments would have been a biological necessity, leading to the establishment of social alliances integral to the establishment and maintenance of mating networks (Telford 2002, 295).  
Summary
Pollen and loch-sediment studies have long hinted at the likely impacts of Mesolithic populations on the landscapes and vegetation of the Outer Hebrides yet significant environmental developments of the past six thousand years, along with human exploitation of the landscape during this time, would have done much to conceal any traces of Mesolithic settlement under sea, sand, peat or later settlement.  However, the discovery at Northton of human activity dated to the Mesolithic period has provided the first steps in extending the known history of this archipelago back from the Neolithic period.  Whilst the evidence from this one site is incomplete recent work on Skye and further afield in western Scotland has brought significant hope for the discovery of further sites as well as provide suitable analogies for interpreting Mesolithic settlement in the Outer Hebrides. 
This settlement involved mobile populations temporarily occupying parts of the landscape on a seasonal basis and probably related to the procurement of specific resources.    As part of this mobility particular places in the landscape were repeatedly visited, the accrued residues from which have come to form the sizeable middens and lithic scatters that provide most of our information for this period.  I support Telford’s (2002) argument for the significance in establishing and maintaining intra-community relations within such a fluid system and the distribution of specific resource, notably certain lithic materials, would have been an important part in forging these relations.  In this context the repeated reoccupation of certain locales would have provided suitable arenas for the coming together of different groups and with this hypothesis Pollard’s reading of the Oronsay middens gains extra substance (Pollard 1996).  If the middens come to represent social places for the communal manufacture of tools and the sharing of foodstuffs then we can perhaps envisage that the shift towards middens in the Later Mesolithic represents an increased significance attached to intra-societal relations and places.  It is this theme which I think is central to our interpretation of the Neolithic period in the Outer Hebrides and one that I will explore in the remainder of this thesis. 


Section I
Events, politics and people: Settlement, subsistence and material culture in the Hebridean Neolithic

Introduction
Section I is one of three sections that will consider the evidence for the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides, each in terms of the three different temporal scales adopted by Braudel in his The Mediterranean (1972; 1973).  This first section will examine the available settlement evidence for this period, what Braudel called the histoire événementielle of daily life: the history of events, politics and people.  This section will consist of two chapters.  In chapter three I will examine individually the seven sites from the region that have yielded settlement evidence (figure i.1).  The emphasis of this chapter will be upon description, outlining each site and the particular strands of evidence recovered during excavation, along with the character of occupation that they reveal.  
In chapter four I will go on to consider a broader interpretation of these sites according to four main themes: the temporality and chronology of settlement; dwelling and attitudes to place; subsistence practices; and the role and use of materials.  Though not mutually exclusive, each of these themes will consider specific theoretical arguments concerning the nature of the evidence from these sites and the character of settlement that they depict.  
Unfortunately, our geographical scope in this section is limited because the evidence is - as far as the present archaeological record permits - restricted in its extent (figure i.1).  Four of the seven settlement sites from the region are concentrated on North Uist with an additional site on Harris, another on Barra and possibly one more on South Uist.  The geographical emphasis of this chapter then is necessarily biased towards the central isles of the region, with the settlement record for some areas of the Outer Hebrides limited, and for many other areas absent.   
A final note concerns the limited publication of this settlement evidence.  Discussing archaeological excavations from the Outer Hebrides, Sharples has referred to "the curse placed on the islands that meant any excavation would require at least 20 years to appear in print" (Sharples 2001, 633).  Our period of interest provides no exception and of the handful of Neolithic settlement sites one has been published within its own volume (Branigan and Foster 1995; 2000; 2002) whilst two have been published in journals (W. L. Scott 1951; Crone 1993) and the remainder only presently available in the form of interim reports (Downes and Badcock 1998; Armit 1987; 1988; 1990) or notes and articles in papers, books and journals (Simpson 1966; 1976; Armit 1992; 1996).  Much of the information in this section has therefore been obtained through specialist reports and personal communications with excavators and specialists.  Interpretation of these however is my own and may not be that of the excavators and specialists concerned. 
 
Figure i.1 Settlement sites in the Outer Hebrides

Chapter 3
Passing places: The settlement evidence from the Outer Hebrides 

"In the north end of Geireann Mill Loch, five hundred yards south from the recently dismantled mill, is a narrow and rocky islet known as Eilean an Tighe, grass covered and with a profuse growth of brambles, as also, to some extent, of wild roses and royal fern…Considering its limited area, this island proved remarkably fruitful in relics of its former occupation.  Fragments of pottery (nearly all of these showing patterns of great variety) were especially common around its edge, both above and below the present-water level; while there were also found a well-polished and almost perfect miniature stone adze 2 ¼ inches in length, and half of a smoothly wrought stone axe."
(Beveridge 1911, 222-3)
From his account of the small natural islet of Eilean an Tighe on North Uist, it is uncertain whether Erskine Beveridge regarded the artefacts he had found there as Neolithic in date and unlikely that he considered them to be derived from a Neolithic settlement site.  Instead, study of the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides was restricted exclusively to the study of its chambered tombs (e.g. Beveridge 1911; Childe 1933; 1935; 1940), a situation that was true for much of Scotland at this time.  As Piggott noted "reconstruction of unwritten history can no longer be based on several aspects of a culture, but must rely almost entirely on the evidence of tomb architecture and grave goods" (Piggott 1954, 122).  This imbalance was, however, challenged with the investigation of the islet by Lindsay Scott in 1938 (W. L. Scott 1942a, 301; 1951).  
Lindsay Scott's excavations at Eilean Tighe were to reveal a wealth of Neolithic artefacts and enabled for the first time a study of the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides that was not dependent on its chambered tombs.  Furthermore, it provided the opportunity to address, and to some extent resolve, some of the key questions asked of the region in the studies of Childe and Daniel, studies that had exclusively focused on the chambered cairns and, to a limited extent, their contents.  Eilean an Tighe then provides a good point for beginning this section on the Neolithic settlement of the Outer Hebrides, representing the first of a series of sites providing a snapshot of the places, patterns and practices of everyday life.  
Laying the foundations: Eilean an Tighe
Lindsay Scott's excavations at Eilean Tighe have been essential to our understanding of this period.  Until this site was excavated the Neolithic of this region was solely examined and understood according to its chambered tombs.  Illustrating this perspective, Childe commented that "though the traditions of funerary architecture seem to be radically different in the two principal areas [western and northern Scotland], the culture of the people who built and used the tombs seems to have been the same" (Childe 1933, 135).  Here, Childe was forced to make a generalisation based on the paucity of excavated examples of settlement in Scotland and a lack of appreciation both for the local diversity revealed in the use of chambered tombs, and for the nature and character of Neolithic settlement in Scotland.  
Without settlement evidence the study of the Hebridean Neolithic was restricted to a survey of its upstanding monuments and, as will be considered in the next section of this thesis, this was hugely problematic.  For Lindsay Scott an understanding of the region could not be achieved "on the strength of typological concepts of 'passage graves' and 'gallery graves' but from consideration of all relevant cultural traits in the regions and the periods concerned" (W. L. Scott 1942a, 306).  The excavation of Neolithic remains at Eilean an Tighe provided exactly such an opportunity.
‘A narrow and rocky islet': Lindsay Scott's excavations
Eilean an Tighe within the large inland Loch nan Geireann, had been identified as one of around seventy prehistoric islets on North Uist by Beveridge (Beveridge 1911, 221-2).  Upon this small natural island, Beveridge traced the ruins of four or five old houses.  Survey revealed numerous fragments of decorated pottery eroding out of the shoreline as well as several flint scrapers and flakes, hammer-stones, two lumps of abraded pumice, a polished stone adze and half of a polished stone axe (Beveridge 1911, 222).  Beveridge himself did not believe these artefacts to be Neolithic in origin, instead attesting them to the later structures on the islet.  However, in a survey of Scottish Neolithic pottery, Graham Callander later identified the sherds as ‘western Neolithic ware' (Callander 1929, 36, 72-6), believed to provide a relatively homogeneous style of pottery with a broad distribution across western Britain featuring plain and partially decorated bowls and jars.  
The identification of Neolithic material from a non-funerary context afforded Lindsay Scott the opportunity to excavate a site that would complement his excavation of three chambered tombs from Skye and the Outer Hebrides (W. L. Scott 1932; 1934; 1935; 1948).  He completed his excavations of the islet in 1938 (W. L. Scott 1942a; 1951) and the results were to support the wealth of material found by Beveridge.  In addition to an abundance of pottery, Lindsay Scott found a sizeable lithic assemblage consisting of flint, chert and quartz artefacts, pieces of worked pumice and a diverse assemblage of stone objects, as well as a brief series of structural remains.  
 
Figure 3.1 Lindsay Scott’s original plan of Eilean an Tighe (pink: soil mixed with ashes, red: pile of clay, purple: burnt floor, blue: stone paving)
(after W. L. Scott 1951, figure 10)
The structures at Eilean an Tighe (figure 3.1) were significantly disturbed by the later buildings on the islet, one of which directly overlay the Neolithic remains excavated by Lindsay Scott (W. L. Scott 1951).  Despite this disturbance, excavation revealed three stone-defined hearths interspersed with stone paving, ashen spreads, brief arrangements of large stone blocks, and piles of clay, all situated on a relatively level surface adjacent to the shore of the islet (figure 3.2).
 
Figure 3.2 View west along southernmost remains at Eilean an Tighe 
(after W. L. Scott 1951, Plate I)
The absence of apparent structures along with the dense concentration of pottery from the site led Lindsay Scott to interpret the remains as a pottery workshop.  The remains were in no way comparable to those recently found in excavations at Skara Bare, Orkney (Childe 1931), and Lindsay Scott found it impossible to believe that this brief series of ephemeral structures could represent the remains of Neolithic settlement, irrespective of the disturbance at the site.  Instead, he proposed that any habitation site associated with the pottery workshop was now submerged, lost to the rising levels at Loch nan Geireann (W. L. Scott 1951, 3). 
On the basis of this interpretation, the remains at Eilean an Tighe were thought to represent three horizontal kilns (W. L. Scott 1951, 5-11), each spatially distinct (figure 3.1)  Two of these kilns, referred to by Lindsay Scott as kilns II and III, consisted of a paved hearth, stone-lined oven, and flue (figure 3.3).  It was argued that unfired pots would have been placed in the oven, made of stone slabs covered with turf, and a fire set in the hearth.  The flue drew the fire or hot gases through the oven firing the pottery (W. L. Scott 1951, 10).  An additional kiln, kiln I, consisted of just an open hearth, thought to represent the open firing of pottery (W. L. Scott 1951, 10).  
 
Figure 3.3 Lindsay Scott's interpretation of Eilean an Tighe 
(after W. L. Scott 1951, 6)
The poor stratigraphy at the site meant that Lindsay Scott was unable to provide a chronological relationship for the kilns on the basis of the structures alone.  Instead, he constructed a sequence based on the horizontal distribution of the ceramics from the site, and the association of particular ceramic forms with each of the three hearths.  
'Fruitful in relics': the finds from Eilean an Tighe
Interpretation of Eilean an Tighe as a pottery workshop was undoubtedly influenced, if not determined, by the substantial ceramic assemblage found there, totalling around 4500 sherds.  Lindsay Scott believed that all of these sherds represented wasters (W. L. Scott 1951, 24), vessels broken or deformed during firing.  Analysis of the sizeable assemblage identified 365 individual vessels on the basis of distinctive rim sherds (although this represented only ten percent of the overall ceramic assemblage: Squair 1998, 328), 96 of these partially or completely reconstructable (table 3.2).  
Phase  Structures (contexts)	Ceramics
I	Kiln 3 (w, x, x1, y1)	Plain bowls and jars with simple rims
ii	Kiln 1 (2,3)	Uncarinated bowls and jars with developed and externally expanded rims.  Half of vessels are decorated.  Emergence of flanged bowls.
iii	Kiln 2 (y, z, 0, 1)	Decorated vessels dominate with few rim-only decorated pots.  In- and out-bevelling of rims.  Emergence of Unstan vessels and ridged jars.
Table 3.1 Phases at Eilean an Tighe, North Uist (after W. L. Scott 1951, 13-20)
Three main vessel types were identified providing the basis for the chronology of the site: plain or undecorated pots; pots where decoration was restricted to the rim of the vessel; and pots where the body of the vessel was partially or fully decorated.  From analysis of identifiable vessels, the horizontal distribution of these three different ceramic styles led Lindsay Scott to devise a three-part sequence for Eilean an Tighe (tables 3.1 and 3.2, figure 3.4).  
Phase i	Phase ii	Phase iii
     	     	        
Table 3.2 Examples from Lindsay Scott's ceramic sequence at Eilean an Tighe, North Uist (after W. L. Scott 1951, figures 5 to 9)

 
Figure 3.4 Distribution of different vessels through Eilean an Tighe sequence (after W. L. Scott 1951, table I)
The first phase, represented by kiln 3, was dominated by small, plain jars and bowls with simple rims.  The second phase, represented by kiln 1, featured a relatively even distribution between plain and decorated vessels with the emergence of more elaborate rims and also a distinctive vessel, the flanged bowl.  The third and final phase, represented by kiln 2, was dominated by decorated vessels.  Lindsay Scott also noted the emergence in this phase of Unstan bowls and ridged jars and the further elaboration of rims, notably bevelling.  
Interpreting Eilean an Tighe as a pottery workshop, Lindsay Scott emphasized the development of pottery forms and decoration through this sequence.  His analysis suggested an ‘increasing differentiation of production and increasing elaboration in ornament' (W. L. Scott 1951, 16) thought to represent a development in demand: 
"The transition to new and more varied types of vessel, and to wares more elaborately decorated, would seem to reflect the growth in wealth of the community…It was only as wealth accumulated that they could afford a multiplicity of vessels specialized to particular uses."
(W. L. Scott 1951, 16)
By the later periods of Eilean an Tighe the communities of the Outer Hebrides employed a broad range of ceramics for a broad range of functions (W. L. Scott 1951, 16).  At the centre of Lindsay Scott's interpretation of Eilean Tighe, was the culture-historical perspective of his time.  The arrival of cultural components within the Hebridean Neolithic could only be explained - according to the interpretative framework of his day - by the arrival of these components with people, initially through colonization and later through trade and exchange.  The identification of parallels in material culture between Britain and the continent led Lindsay Scott, among many others, to suggest direct contact between these areas through trade, and even the specific routes for these interactions (W. L. Scott 1952).  For example, similarities were highlighted between the pottery at Eilean an Tighe and the Cortaillod ceramics at sites up the Rhône of Switzerland (W. L. Scott 1951, 19-20).  
Ultimately, Lindsay Scott's chronological sequence for Eilean an Tighe provided more than a history for this site alone.  Combined with his work on the chambered tombs of the Outer Hebrides (W. L. Scott 1935, 1948), he was able to offer a sequence and a place for the region during the Neolithic (W. L. Scott 1942a).  More so, through emphasising the interpretation of Eilean an Tighe as a production centre rather than a settlement site, Lindsay Scott felt he was able to demonstrate that far from an area of mixed culture developed in isolation, the Outer Hebrides was thriving.  Indeed, situated in 'the main stream of sea traffic of this time (W. L. Scott 1942a, 306) its people were able to afford the luxury of a broad variety of vessels and the various functions that these vessels would have served.  
Criticism and reinterpretation of Eilean an Tighe
Lindsay Scott's interpretation of Eilean an Tighe remained unchallenged for decades.  However, by the mid-seventies doubts had arisen about its interpretation as a pottery workshop (McInnes 1971).  Although there is evidence to suggest some degree of pottery manufacture at the site (W. L. Scott 1952, 34), it was felt that the majority of pottery from the site could not be interpreted as production wasters (Simpson 1976, 222).  Squair, for example, notes that 270 vessels from the Eilean an Tighe assemblage shows signs of abrasion derived from use, whilst over sixty vessels display sooting marks or macroscopic food remains (Squair 1998, 343-5), likely to derive from domestic use (Squair 1998, 347).  The lithic assemblage from the site, consisting of pumice, pounders or hammerstones, flint flakes and scrapers, and fragments from porcellanite and serpentinised peridotite polished axes, also seem unlikely to represent implements for making and working pottery, as originally suggested (W. L. Scott 1951, figures 12 and 13).
There is also reason to doubt interpretation of the structural remains of the site as kilns.  Kiln-firing of pottery is doubtful at this time and it is probable that open-firing in pits or hearths would have been the primary method for pottery production (A. Gibson 1995; Kilikoglou in A. Gibson 1995; Brown nd.).  Many of the structural elements of the kilns identified by Lindsay Scott are tentatively based on a few ephemeral and heavily disturbed stone alignments, and the patchy burning of floor deposits.  Additionally, the burning of the floor is too inconsistent to represent prolonged exposure to the intense heat that a kiln oven would be likely to generate (Squair 1998, 315).  
Eilean an Tighe then probably does not represent a pottery workshop.  So what interpretation can we offer in its place?  The overwhelming opinion is that the remains at Eilean an Tighe represent the fragmentary remains of occupation (Squair 1998; Armit 1992; 1996; Crone 1993), although the considerable taphonomic disturbance of the site has rendered the structural remains confused.  Any reinterpretation of the site is further frustrated by the lack of data available.  The only detailed information from the site is in the original report within Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, published by the excavator's son after his death.  The presentation of information is entirely based on the interpretation of the site as a pottery workshop, with the structures and artefacts allotted to one of Lindsay Scott's three kilns.  The discussion and interpretation of all the artefacts from the site is similarly based on this assumed role for the site.
Squair has attempted to reinterpret the remains at Eilean an Tighe (Squair 1998, 321-8) and suggests that the structures there represent the denuded remains of a stone-built house (figure 3.5).  Squair accepts that Lindsay Scott's interpretation of some features were likely to be correct, such as the hearths at the site, but that the vertical stratigraphy at the site was underestimated (Squair 1998, 322)  The stone and turf-defined kilns, ovens and flues proposed by Lindsay Scott are instead considered to be the remains of an entrance, trampled and cobbled floors, stone paving, stone walls, and stone and turf walls (figure 3.5), although these were not necessarily contemporary (Squair 1998, 323).  With Lindsay Scott's ceramics sequence for the site dependent on his interpretation of the structural remains, Squair's rejection of the structural remains as a pottery workshop demanded a re-analysis of the ceramic assemblage.  
 
Figure 3.5 Squair's reinterpretation of Eilean an Tighe (red: clay dump, purple: hearth, dark blue: burnt floor, yellow: paving, light blue: external wall) (after Squair 1998, 324)
Although reluctant to suggest a role for the site, Squair's analysis provides a plausible explanation for the large quantities of pottery found.  Squair suggests that much of the pottery from the site appears to have been deliberately deposited.  Some vessels appeared to have been deposited complete or as substantial fragments (Squair 1998, 350) and a few individual vessels seem to have had portions deposited at different parts of the site.  Lindsay Scott himself noted that several large fragments of a vessel were found under the flat slabs of the hearth of ‘kiln’ 2 (W. L. Scott 1951, 7).  Squair notes that certain elements of particular vessels were also deliberately deposited, particularly rims.  Lindsay Scott's initial ceramic analysis was restricted to the study of rims and this was certainly influenced by the large quantity of rims found, clearly a significant part of the assemblage with 10,856 sherds, 15% of the total number of sherds from the site (Squair 1998, table 6.4).  
In conclusion, Squair suggests that there are two depositional locales at Eilean an Tighe, one within the interior of the building, proposed as the original focus of deposition, and a second on the periphery of the site.  The presence of numerous vessels represented by sherds from both locales suggests that these were removed from the interior for deposition elsewhere and that the two depositional locales were not employed for different kinds of vessels (Squair 1998, 353).  Squair refutes the interpretation of the ceramic assemblage from Eilean an Tighe as 'domestic rubbish' (Squair 1998, 356) and prefers to consider the assemblage "as a consequence of deliberate deposition precipitated by ideological concerns" (Squair 1998, 357), although these concerns are not speculated upon.
Squair's interpretation is a plausible and welcome one, and goes some way to addressing some of the questions raised by the Neolithic material from Eilean an Tighe.  However, problems with the stratigraphy from the site, the absence of organic remains and the limited architectural evidence, along with the biases provided by Lindsay Scott's interpretations, means that we can only go someway to reinterpreting Eilean an Tighe.  Another islet site on North Uist may enable us to consider the questions raised by Eilean an Tighe in more detail.
Building on lochs: Eilean Domhnuill
Eilean Domhnuill a' Spionnaidh is a smaller islet than Eilean an Tighe.  It is situated in Loch Olabhat on the northwest coast of North Uist (figure 3.6).  Like Eilean an Tighe, Eilean Domhnuill was first investigated by Beveridge, where he noted a 'thick deposit of kitchen-midden ashes' underlying the foundations of two adjacent secondary buildings (Beveridge 1911, 198).  The islet, around 12 metres in diameter, was thought to be walled around its perimeter, and brief excavations yielded 'small fragments of ancient pottery', a saddle quern and a stone pounder (Beveridge 1911, 198).  The islet was connected to the loch shore by a stone-built causeway around 40 metres long, which continued up the shore of the loch (Beveridge 1911, 198).  Like Eilean an Tighe, it seems unlikely that Beveridge realised the Neolithic date of this site, assuming that this was one of numerous Iron Age duns found in North Uist's many lochs.    
 
Figure 3.6 Eilean Domhnuill a' Spionnaidh (after Beveridge 1911, facing 199)
This perception continued and a brief excavation was carried out in 1986, the islet assumed to be 'a rather unexceptional island dun of likely Iron Age date' (Armit 1996, 44).  Upon excavation, however, quantities of Neolithic pottery were found and Eilean Domhnuill became the focus for over three seasons of excavation.  A sequence of structures exposed a long history of occupation on the small islet.  Thus far no natural foundations to the site have been found and it is possible that the island itself is completely artificial (Armit 1992, 309).  The timber and stone built structures at Eilean Domhnuill were more considerable than the remains that had been found at Eilean an Tighe.  Various structures and deposits were clearly recognizable, but like Eilean an Tighe, a key element of the excavated remains was the massive pottery assemblage of over 22,000 sherds (Brown nd.).  A wealth of other artefacts were also found including several saddle querns, a stone axe, eight stone balls, in addition to worked flint, chert and quartz (Armit 1990, 16). 
Eilean Domhnuill was set apart from Eilean an Tighe by the high degree of preservation experienced at the site.  Environmental sampling was an integral part of excavations revealing evidence for the use of both domesticated cereals and wild taxa such as hazelnuts, fruits and seeds.  Animal bone and marine shells were preserved in waterlogged levels (Armit 1990, 19) although in less significant amounts.  The degree of preservation at the site also provided material suitable for a series of radiocarbon dates.  

'The existence of an earlier structure is further proved': the sequence at Eilean Domhnuill 
Excavations revealed a long sequence of construction at the islet, comprised of eleven separate phases (figure 3.7).  
 
Figure 3.7 Armit's phasing of Eilean Domhnuill (after Armit 1990, 6)
In the earliest phases of the site remains of occupation were ephemeral and brief.  Phase eleven - represented by ‘house’ L - was only partially excavated to reveal the patchy remains of a rectilinear or oval structure in the centre of the islet, its entrance aligned on the causeway to the site.  Excavation exposed paving and posts, possibly secondary to the initial occupation of this phase (Armit 1990, 12).  This phase also provided the earliest evidence for the entrance and causeway to the site.  The islet would have been accessed via a timber causeway, and entrance to the islet framed by a low orthostatic façade and passageway (figures 3.8 and 3.9), probably supporting a timber palisade (Armit 1990, 14).  Beneath the entrance paving were crushed timbers suggesting an even earlier, wood-defined, entranceway to the site.
 
Figure 3.8 Entranceway to Eilean Domhnuill in phases 11 to 9 
(after Armit 1990, cover)
The remains of phase ten were slightly more substantial, consisting of a house form - house K - defined by an elongated oval of mixed ash floor deposits with a single central hearth.  Underlying this floor deposit was a dense black organic layer, thought to represent the decayed remains of an organic floor covering.  In the lower floor deposits lines of wattlework hurdles and posts were preserved (Armit 1990, 12) giving an impression of the character, if not the exact nature, of internal architecture.  Phase nine was virtually indistinguishable from phase ten, certainly stratigraphically (Armit 1990, 11), with house J on the west side of the islet, appearing to have been deliberately dismantled down to its foundations.  This deliberate dismantling meant that reconstruction of the house was virtually impossible, although some floor deposits had survived around two super-imposed oval hearths (figure 3.9).  Armit argues that the stone from this phase, except where employed in the construction of the overlying house I, would have been used to reinforce the entrance to the site (Armit 1990, 14).    
 
Figure 3.9 Entranceway and phase nine remains at Eilean Domhnuill 
(after Armit 1990, 13)
Phases eight to six provide more substantial structural evidence, with houses G, H and I featuring stone-defined walls.  Phase eight - house I - directly overlies the remains of the previous phase and comparable deposits of both houses probably suggest that the latter is a near rebuild of the earlier structure (Armit 1990, 12).  Situated on the west side of the islet, the surviving features of house I consist of the remains of stone wall-footings and a large rectilinear hearth.  Adjacent to this house was a stone-defined palisade, possibly built with stone from the dismantling of house J.  This was more substantial than the previous entranceway had been, featuring a higher slab-faced palisade, possibly to support timber uprights interwoven with wattle-work panels (Armit 1990, 14).
Phase seven is represented by a single house structure - house H - sealing and truncating house I of phase 8 (figure 3.10).  Situated in the centre of the islet house H featured four successive hearths, each replacing the other, and a series of postholes thought to represent internal divisions.  Boulder wall-footings and ash spreads define the extent of what would originally have been an elongated oval structure built with stone-faced walls (Armit 1990, 10), although this footing was severely decayed through water-logging of the site.  The hearths from this phase provided a detailed sequence for the construction of 'hearth mounds' (Armit 1990, 10), a character of hearth construction that is recurrent through the site's sequence.  Here, an initial hearth featuring a slab base and stone kerb is gradually enveloped by accumulated ash from its use before a new hearth is eventually built into this mound adjacent to the previous hearth.   
 
Figure 3.10 Phases six to eight at Eilean Domhnuill (after Armit 1990, 11)
Phase six is defined by house G, a solitary house to the east of the islet.  The easternmost remains of the structure were badly eroded.  Like house H, house G was constructed with boulder wall-footings to form a broadly rectilinear shape (figure 3.10).  The wall-footing was fairly insubstantial and where absent, the outline of the house was deduced from an occupation surface consisting mainly of ash spreads overlying black organic flooring, again probably the remains of organic flooring such as straw, heather or timber (Armit 1990, 9).  Like house H, four successive hearths were constructed at the centre of the house, and stake-holes may suggest some degree of internal partitioning.    
    
Figure 3.11 Phase five at Eilean Domhnuill (after Armit 1990, 8)
Phase five departs from the previous phases with the construction of two distinct houses attributable to one phase (figure 3.11) and a substantial reconstruction of the islet entranceway.  The buildings at the site are perhaps the most complicated throughout the Eilean Domhnuill sequence and feature the "periodic rebuilding of a series of structures on a recurrent plan" (Armit 1988, 101).  House E, to the west of the islet, contained a succession of hearths, post-holes and cobbled surfaces despite considerable erosion by the loch.  House F featured a concentric arc of considerable post-holes abutting the substantial stone-built entrance to the islet (figure 3.11), containing a series of hearths, spreads of hearth debris, cobbled surfaces, and smaller postholes (Armit 1988, 10).  This phase then represents two areas of activity (although it is not certain whether either of these are houses as such) each rebuilt and containing considerable quantities of midden debris.  Phase five also sees the rebuilding of the entranceway to the site.  A stone wall is constructed with earth or turf packing, replacing or reinforcing the earlier timber palisades (Armit 1990, 14).  This entrance, like the structures from this phase, seems to have been subjected to continual rebuilding (Armit 1988, 13) and throughout phase five the entrance gradually becomes higher and moving back from the shoreline, Armit suggesting this as a response to rising loch-levels (Armit 1990, 14).   
 
Figure 3.12 Phase four at Eilean Domhnuill (after Armit 1988, 9)
The end of phase five is dramatically punctuated by a layer of alluvium that covered most of the site, representing the flooding of the islet (Armit 1990, 4) and marking its abandonment (the 'inundation deposit', figure 3.7).  Some time after this abandonment the islet was reoccupied.  Phase four is rather poorly represented by a brief, length of walling (figure 3.12) truncated by later structures.  The walling - the vestigial remains of house D - was double-faced, made of stone, with earth and stone packing and possibly represents the fragmentary remains of a rectilinear structure (Armit 1988, 7).  Phases two and three were less considerable still, but provided more conclusive evidence for occupation.  These two phases are also likely to represent a single episode of occupation and activity (figure 3.7), rather than the two distinct phases originally suggested (Armit 1988, 7).  Phase three is identified by a hearth and two brief stone alignments, together possibly derived from an oval building (house C).  Each arc is single-faced and only one to two courses high, built of water-worn boulders.  The easternmost arc, the longer of the two, contained two post or stake settings.  These remains are slight and it is possible that they have only survived due to their incorporation into the foundations of houses A and B (Armit 1987, 18).  The hearth itself was similar to earlier hearths, made of small stone uprights and lined with small slabs, and inside the two alignments were a couple of post or stake settings, a patch of black ash and a burnt, red clay deposit (Armit 1987, 18).   
Phase two is identified by a series of post-settings, each consisting of a small pit containing rounded pebbles.  The settings are fairly small and given that they ‘cut into soft silts and clays' it is unlikely that they would have accommodated anything more than small timbers (Armit 1987, 13), perhaps providing posts for wattle-work.  This phase was severely disturbed by later activity and the post-settings, like the brief arcs of wall in phase three, were probably preserved by the construction of later structures directly over them (Armit 1987, 13).  
Phase one contains the most substantial remains from the Eilean Domhnuill sequence, initially believed to represent a post-medieval settlement overlying the prehistoric use of the islet (Armit 1987, 10).  These buildings are undoubtedly those structures referred to by Beveridge as "the foundations of two secondary structures placed side by side" (Beveridge 1911, 198).  However, after the second season of excavation it was realised that these structures could possibly be Neolithic (Armit 1988, 5-7).  Two structures were revealed (figure 3.15), houses A and B.  Both structures were constructed with large stone-faced walls featuring an earth and rubble core (Armit 1987, 11).  House A is rectilinear, with internal dimensions of around 6.5 by 4 metres, aligned SW/NE along its length.  There was no evidence for internal structures except for a brief partition extending from the west wall for a metre or so.  House B was slightly smaller, around 5.4 by 3 metres internally, and built partially abutting the western wall of House A.  Both structures had been robbed and much of the north-east portion of house A has been destroyed, as too had the eastern wall of house B.  Clearance of rubble in the south-west corner of house B revealed a patch of beaten earth floor deposit, likely to have been the only in situ evidence for this phase apart from the walling (Armit 1988, 7).  Excavation of the causeway from this phase also revealed a rebuilding of the entranceway with a cobbled surface of small rounded pebbles.
 
Figure 3.13 Phase one at Eilean Domhnuill (after Armit 1987, 12)
Further evidence for was gained from excavation of the adjacent shore and underwater excavation around the islet.  Excavation of the landward part of the causeway revealed only one building phase, suggesting "that some parts of the causeway were subject to more rebuilding than others" (Armit 1988, 16).  This consisted of large boulders with rubble packing accompanied by sherds of Neolithic pottery (Armit 1988, 19).  A timber precursor to this end of the causeway was not identified, although fragments of wood suggest hurdling (Armit 1988, 19), notably a burnt and sharpened stake (figure 3.14).    
 
Figure 3.14 Wooden hurdle fragment (after Armit 1988, 19)
Underwater excavations were also carried out off the eastern side of the islet (Armit 1990, 15) and although phases one to four were eroded, organic-rich deposits survived from earlier phases.  Found within these deposits were an intact piece of wattle-work hurdle, birch branches, straw, bracken, fern and twigs.  It is possible that these represent in situ flooring, since covered by advancing loch-levels.  The wattle-work may indicate the internal partitioning suggested by the stake-holes found during excavation whilst the branches, bracken and twigs may suggest the original nature of the organic flooring that survived as black organic deposits in the earliest excavated phases of the site (Armit 1990, 15).  This suggests that the area of the islet may originally have been substantially greater than at present, supported by the discovery of submerged walling 4 metres from the islet edge (Armit 1990, 15).
Overall, we can see a rich sequence of structures at Eilean Domhnuill that contrast with the ephemeral remains at Eilean an Tighe.  We can see a gradual progression in site architecture from slight stone and timber built structures to the elaborate stone built constructions of houses A and B.  We can also see a sequence of responses to rising loch-levels, through the elaboration and reinforcement of the palisade and entrance to the site, through the shifting of structures on the site, and with the abandonment of the site between phases four and five.  We have a view of architectural history that is unparalleled at Eilean an Tighe and this history becomes much more interesting when we examine the artefacts from the site.  
'Ancient pottery, pounders and a saddle quern': the artefacts from Eilean Domhnuill  
One product of the excavations at Eilean Domhnuill was a substantial pottery assemblage of 22,181 sherds (Brown nd.), five times that from Eilean an Tighe.  There is very limited stratigraphic and contextual information in the available pottery report from the site (Brown nd.), although broad patterns are still visible within and throughout the sequence.  The character of the assemblage from Eilean Domhnuill is very similar to that from Eilean an Tighe, featuring seven main distinct styles or types of vessel form: cups, open bowls, necked bowls, bag shaped jars, ridged jars or bowls, Unstan bowls and shouldered bowls (figure 3.15), as well as a few examples of shallow dishes, though these represent less than one percent of the overall assemblage.
 
Figure 3.15 Examples of vessel forms from the Eilean Domhnuill assemblage, a. cups, b. shouldered bowls or jars, c. bag-shaped jars, d. ridged jars and e. Unstan bowls  (sources: a. Armit 1990, 17; b. Armit 1987, 25; c. Armit 1990, 20; d. Armit 1987, 26; e. Armit 1987, 24)
The quantities of each of these forms can be seen in figure 3.16, with bag-shaped jars, ridged jars or bowls, and Unstan bowls dominating.  The majority of the forms represented at Eilean Domhnuill are paralleled at Eilean an Tighe, and Brown notes that together these probably reflect a typical ‘Hebridean domestic assemblage', distinct from the kinds of assemblages found in the chambered tombs of the region.  The ridged jars or bowls, for example, do not occur in the excavated tombs and neither do Unstan bowls, contrasting significantly with the use of Unstan bowls in Orkney (Henshall 1963; Davidson and Henshall 1989; A. Jones 1999).  Brown also notes the smaller size and simpler decoration on the Eilean Domhnuill Unstan bowls than those from the Orcadian tombs, as are those from Eilean an Tighe (Brown, nd.).  The bag-shaped jars are paralleled at Eilean an Tighe, and also at both Clettraval and Unival chambered tombs.  
 
Figure 3.16 Vessel forms from the Eilean Domhnuill assemblage 
(after Brown nd., 19)
Unfortunately, neither Lindsay Scott (1951) nor Squair (1998) examined the assemblage from Eilean an Tighe in terms of vessel forms so we cannot directly compare the relevant concentrations of individual forms in either assemblage.  However, we can note from Lindsay Scott's illustrations of the Eilean an Tighe vessels that not only are the styles of vessels found at the two sites comparable, but that the relatively frequencies of these styles are also similar.  For example, cups and small bowls, whilst present, represent a low proportion of the illustrated vessels from Eilean an Tighe, whereas bag-shaped and ridged jars are much more recurrent.  Furthermore, we are able to make direct comparisons between the rim forms from the two assemblages, as shown in figure 3.17.  
Some degree of conjecture has been employed in comparing the two assemblages.  For example, the absence in figure 3.17 of t-shaped, inturned and rolled rims at Eilean an Tighe can be explained by the absence of these forms in Lindsay Scott's typological analysis.  Unstan bowls on the other hand were allotted a rim form category of their own (W. L. Scott 1951, Appendix I).  The analysis of rims provided a fundamental part of Lindsay Scott's interpretation of the Eilean an Tighe assemblage, so it is interesting then that the proportions of particular rim forms are broadly similar between the two sites, although everted rims are more frequently represented at Eilean an Tighe, whereas collared rims are more common at Eilean Domhnuill.  Cups, open bowls and necked bowls from Eilean Domhnuill predominantly featured simple or plain rims, whereas bag-shaped jars and ridged jars or bowls feature collared rims.  Unstan bowls at both sites feature plain rims.
 
Figure 3.17 Comparison of rim forms from the Eilean Domhnuill and Eilean an Tighe assemblage (sources: Brown nd., 19 and W. L. Scott 1952, table I)
In his report, Brown noted that not only was the quantity of pottery from Eilean Domhnuill impressive but also the quality of the vessels, "uniformly well made and hard fired…even relatively coarse pots showing a considerable degree of care in surface finish" (Brown nd.).  Particularly significant is the decoration of the vessels.  Brown does not quantify the proportion of vessels from the assemblage featuring decoration but decoration is clearly important and significant, present on 20 to 100 percent of sherds, on average 50 to 60 percent of the overall assemblage (Armit 1988, 22).  The ridged jars from Eilean Domhnuill were 'invariably decorated with patterns of sloping lines' (see figure 3.17d), most also featuring decorated rims, whilst the bag-shaped jars also 'appear almost always to have been decorated' (Brown nd.).  Similarly the majority of shouldered bowls from the assemblage, amongst the finest pots from the site, were decorated and it is only the cups, open bowls and necked bowls that are undecorated.  The Unstan bowls from Eilean Domhnuill were not as elaborately decorated as the 'classic' Unstan vessels from Orkney.  Here decoration in most examples is restricted to the upper portion of the vessel with bands of horizontal, vertical, sloping or opposed sloping lines (see figure 3.15), and rims mostly undecorated.  
Burnishing, where present in the Eilean Domhnuill assemblage, was most frequently found on Unstan bowls.  Although Lindsay Scott noted the difficulty in identifying burnishing on the Eilean an Tighe vessels (W. L. Scott 1952, 33), burnishing was apparent on the exterior of 'nearly all pots' from Eilean an Tighe, and also the interior of some vessels, particularly Unstan bowls (W. L. Scott 1952, 34).  Internal burnishing was, however, absent in the Eilean Domhnuill vessels.  Attempting to ascertain the function of some of the Eilean Domhnuill vessels, Brown recorded the occurrence of sooting and residues in the assemblage (Brown nd.).  Abrasion of vessels was rarely identified, but sooting was widely present.  The heavy, collared rims and occasionally lugs, on many of the jars from the assemblage could suggest a function for certain vessel forms, facilitating the attachment of wooden or leather lids and also the handling of the vessel (Brown nd.), whilst the small size of the Unstan bowls from the site might suggest their use as eating or drinking vessels (Brown, nd.), although some examples have evidence of sooting which also implies their use for cooking or heating contents. 
Brown also examined the deposition of the Eilean Domhnuill vessels.  With the substantial quantity of the assemblage, establishing conjoins was extremely difficult, exacerbated by the relative uniformity of decoration and forms (Brown nd.).  However some conjoins were noted (Brown nd., appendix 2), primarily from adjacent contextual blocks, but also some from opposite sides of the islet.  Suggesting this pattern as deliberate is extremely problematic but it does illustrate the degree of redeposition that took place at the site and the relatively rapid accumulation of floor deposits that often occurred (Brown nd.; Armit 1990, 16).  There was only limited indication that specific vessel forms were deposited in certain ways or in particular parts of the islet, although Armit notes the extremely small frequency of decoration amongst over four hundred sherds from a context overlying phase one of the causeway.  This contrasts strongly with other contexts from the site.  Armit goes on to note that the ten decorated sherds from this context appeared to be residual whilst the undecorated sherds derived from vessel forms that were uncharacteristic for the site, such as a plain, coarse vessel with a flat-base.  
There was evidence for the deliberate selection and deposition of some sherds from the site, particularly at the point where the causeway reached the loch shore where an Unstan bowl featuring stab-and-drag decoration (unique in the Unstan bowls from the assemblage), an additional small Unstan bowl featuring decoration on the rim interior, and sherds from Beacharra-type bowls with curvilinear decoration, a rare form of decoration in the Eilean Domhnuill assemblage, were found (Brown nd.).  Further evidence for structured or selective deposition may be suggested by a complete upturned cup (figure 3.15), the large part of a shouldered bowl, and half of an Unstan bowl apparently placed in floor deposits of house H in phase seven (Armit 1990, 16; Brown nd.).  
 
Figure 3.18 Ceramic 'phalli' from Eilean Domhnuill (after Armit 1988, 25)
One of two ceramic phalli from the site (figure 3.18) was found incorporated into a wall of the phase five house (house E) at the western edge of the islet (Armit 1988, 24; Brown nd.) whilst the other was found in midden deposits preceding phase five.  The herringbone incised decoration of these objects is remarkably similar to decorative motifs featuring on the pottery from the site, particularly one the bag-shaped jars and ridged jars or bowls (Brown nd.).
Other cultural material from Eilean Domhnuill included numerous saddle querns (figure 3.19), a stone axe (figure 3.20), worked pumice, and several stone balls, in addition to worked flint, chert and quartz (Armit 1990, 16).  Two of the saddle querns seemed to be in situ and a complete, particularly large example was found upright in clay deposits of Trench C (Armit 1987, 29).  Some were incorporated into walls and paving (Armit 1988, 24).  The lithic material from the site was 'small and relatively unaccomplished' (Armit 1988, 24).  The lithic resources of the region are poor, which can be seen in the use of small beach pebbles for the flint assemblage, the degree of retouch of many of the flint and chert artefacts and the predominance of quartz throughout the assemblage (Armit 1987. 28).  A number of pieces of pumice were also found with grooving and flattening implying their use as tools (Armit 1987, 29).  A single polished green stone axe (figure 3.20) was found from a phase five occupation surface, made from imported fine-grained igneous rock.
 
Figure 3.19 Saddle querns from Eilean Domhnuill (after Armit 1990, 18)
 
Figure 3.20 Igneous polished axe from Eilean Domhnuill (after Armit 1990, 25)
Eight stone balls were found at Eilean Domhnuill including one decorated example (figure 3.21).  This was found in wall collapse from the phase one houses, accompanied by sherds from Unstan bowls, and would possibly have originally been incorporated within the walls of one of these structures (Armit 1988, 24).  Like the ceramic phalli, the decoration of the stone ball is comparable to the decorative motifs employed on ceramics from the site, particularly the herringbone motif, as well as the possible representation of a hafted axe.  This stone ball, made from a garnet-amphibole-plagioclase (Armit 1988, 24) was heavily abraded which may suggest its use, along with the other stone balls, for grinding.  
 
 Figure 3.21 Decorated and pyramidal stone balls from Eilean Domhnuill 
(after Armit 1988, 23)
'A thick deposit of kitchen-midden': the economy of Eilean Domhnuill 
Environmental sampling was an integral part of the work at Eilean Domhnuill.  In addition to intensive sampling of water-logged levels, dry deposits in later phases were also analysed (Armit forthcoming; Grinter 1999).  One of the primary emphases of the environmental work at the site was the recovery of both water-logged and charred plant remains from the site, and animal bones in water-logged levels.  The use of cereals at Eilean Domhnuill was already suspected through the presence of numerous saddle querns (figure 3.19), although it has been noted from other sites that these may also have been used for the grinding of ceramic temper (Traill and Kirkness 1937, 313) or wild nuts and seeds (A. Ritchie 1983, 56).  The full results of environmental sampling at the site are yet to be published, but a draft version of the finding confirms the presence of both wild and domesticated plant remains (Grinter 1999).
Of 43 samples examined, 25 were from dry contexts and all but two of these produced identifiable plant remains, 20 containing carbonised cereal grains (Grinter 1999, 47 and table 5).  All of the 18 samples from water-logged contexts contained plant remains, six containing cereals (Grinter 1999, table 5).  However, although present in the majority of samples, the concentrations of plant remains were relatively small.  Of 1,924 cereal remains from the site, over 1,600 of these were from a single context - context 330 of trench C - providing 83 percent of all cereal from the site (Grinter 1999, table 5).  This is perhaps not that surprising given that the remains of cereals in archaeological deposits are likely to represent the accidental loss of a food resource, in contrast to wild plant remains such as hazelnut shells which represent the waste of the resource.  The large concentration from context 330 arguably has to represent the accidental charring of cereals through drying or parching (Grinter 1999, 58; Helen Smith pers. comm.) and was originally described as a 'dumped deposit' (Grinter 1999, 55).  It is interesting, however, to note that this context also featured one of the two ceramic phalli and a substantial, oval saddle quern, apparently in situ.  Three other contexts contained more than 40 cereal grains: contexts 316, 635 and 681.  Context 316 contained seventy-four grains of barley and no weeds, whilst context 635 contained 42 grains of barley and two weed seeds (Rumex sp.), the latter derived from the fill of a hearth, and probably representing the result of their use for fuel or as the accidental remains of cereal-drying or parching (Grinter 1999, 55).  
Context 681 was an ashy deposit also from the fill of a stone-lined hearth.  Fifty grains of barley were from this context and six grains of bread wheat (Triticum aestivum/compactum), the only sample containing bread wheat from the site (Grinter 1999, 55).  Bread wheat was also found in excavations at Balbridie (Fairweather and Ralston 1993; Dickson and Dickson 2000, 238).  Sixteen more contexts contained a few barley grains, four of these from hearth deposits and three from postholes (Grinter 1999, 56).  Weed seeds were found in the hearth samples and is thought to derive from the remnants of fuel brought onto the site, all derived from rough grassland (Grinter 1999, 56). 
Nineteen of the samples contained fragments of hazelnut shells (Grinter 1999, table 5).  Most were charred, although some uncharred fragments survived in water-logged deposits (Grinter 1999, 56).  Further evidence for the exploitation of wild plant resources included two contexts containing bearberry seeds (Arctostaphylos uva-usi), a moorland species of edible berry (Clapham, Tutin and Warburg 1958, 777).  Grinter notes the medicinal properties of the leaves from this plant, although like the weed species it is possible that these berries arrived at the site as part of turf for fuel or building material (Grinter 1999, 56).  Water-logged samples revealed a wealth of preserved organic material.  These included flowers from heather (Calluna vulgaris), buds and leaves from birch catkin (Betula pubescens) and a bundle of twigs.  Heather and grasses also found would seem to represent roofing material, bedding or living floors (Grinter 1999, 57).  
Grinter concludes that the plant remains from Eilean Domhnuill are indicative of a mixed economy with 'the use of wild resources and foraging form[ing] part of the economy at this time' (Grinter 1999, 58).  Cultivation of cereals clearly took place at the site, although an appreciation for the role of cereals is uncertain given that the overall quantities represented are biased by a few large samples, probably representing accidental burning of cereals during parching.  Wild foods probably did not provide a considerable part of the diet for the islets occupants, as suggested by the low quantities of hazelnut shells and bearberry seeds, although wild plants were probably being exploited for bedding, building materials and animal fodder. 
 
Figure 3.22 Quantities of animal bones for each phase by bone weight (g) (after Hallén nd., diagram 2)
The recovery of over three thousand fragments of animal bone may provide a more rounded picture of the economy at Eilean Domhnuill (Hallén nd.).  The overall assemblage is thought to be indicative of a small farmstead with the main food animals being sheep and cattle (figure 3.22).  Sheep bones dominate and can be found in all phases, with cattle in phases five to eight.  Also found was a dog tooth from phase five, whalebone fragments from phases six and seven and a single red deer tooth from the underwater excavations of trench A (Hallén nd., 8).  Seaduck and redshank bones were recovered along with the small fragment of a possible pig skull.  The sheep bones are predominantly from young sheep and possibly derive from a recently domesticated species of sheep, some fragments comparable to mouflon sheep (Hallén nd., 8).  On the basis of the age-profile of the bone assemblage, and the likelihood that such primitive sheep were likely to have had hair rather than wool (Noddle in A. Ritchie 1983, 55), it is probable that these sheep would have been exploited for their meat, and possibly also their hides.  
However, reservation should be expressed - as Hallén admits - to how representative the bone assemblage is.  The sample is small and does not reflect the differential degrees of preservation at different parts of the site in different phases.  Ninety percent of the bone fragments found had been burnt (Hallén nd., 1), although the ten percent of unburnt bone - primarily from water-logged levels - accounted for fifty percent of the weight of the bone assemblage (Hallén nd., 1).  Hallén also looked at the proportions of meat bones and slaughter bones from the site and noted that there was a gradual shift through the sequence from the predominance of slaughter bones to meatbones (figure 3.23), suggesting that in later phases the butchering of animals took place elsewhere (Hallén nd., 6). 
 
      Figure 3.23 Quantities of meat and slaughter bones for each phase by bone weight (g) (after Hallén nd., diagram 3)
Interpreting Eilean Domhnuill 
After the excavation of Eilean Domhnuill, Armit concluded that this site represented a small-scale farming settlement (figure 3.24), each phase featuring a primary domestic focus in the form of a house (Armit 1990, 19).  Other activities are likely to have taken place on the site, although there was no evidence for pottery-making, lithic-working or wood-working from the site.  This latter point is interesting given the high degree of preservation in some phases, the absence of woodchips - and the use of driftwood – possibly suggesting a scarcity of timber at this time (Skinner in Armit 1990, 16).  Warsop has suggested that the presence of beetle species Eudasyphora cynanella and Neomyia cornicina indicates the presence of cattle-dung, which he has used to infer the presence of cattle on site (Warsop 2000).  This is contradicted, however, by the lack of disturbance of fine strata at the site (Armit 1990, 22; 1992, 315) and the projects own analysis of insect remains, and is more likely to represent the use of dung for building materials or fuel (Armit forthcoming, 6).  The animal bone report would suggest, however, that some degree of butchering was taking place at the site, particularly in the earlier phases (figure 3.25; Hallén nd.).  
 
      Figure 3.24 Reconstruction of phase nine at Eilean Domhnuill 
(after Armit 1990, 23)
Armit acknowledged that the complex location and entrance to the site suggested that Eilean Domhnuill was more than a ‘simple agricultural settlement' (Armit 1990, 22), and initially proposed a defensive purpose for the entrance features and its situation in a loch.  Armit also noted how the nature of the structures on the islet - perishable, short lived and frequently replaced - contrasted significantly with the enduring stone-built monuments of this time.  By 1992, Armit was less convinced by this interpretation of Eilean Domhnuill, noting that "its precise role and status in the economy and settlement system of its builders remain hazy" (Armit 1992, 314).  Considering the repeated rebuilding of the site, Armit considered the role of Eilean Domhnuill within broader patterns of mobility, perhaps on a seasonal basis, as one of a series of sites that would have "occupied specific, diverse, resource-based areas encompassing machair, lowlands and hills" (Armit 1992, 316).  
This idea is taken further in Armit's The Archaeology of Skye and the Western Isles (Armit 1996).  Here, Armit draws a distinction between islet settlements with their impressive attention to place and other sites where "there seems to have been no formal demarcation of the settlement" (Armit 1996, 57).  These sites are related to the ephemeral nature of Mesolithic settlement, and Armit has noted elsewhere that were it not for the presence of pottery and occasionally cereal remains at these sites then we would probably interpret them as Mesolithic (Armit and Finlayson 1992).  This contrast is employed to provide a settlement model for the region, where "islet settlements like Eilean Domhnuill were permanent bases, occupied all year round, whilst the machair and peatland sites were more transient or seasonal activity areas" (Armit 1996, 57).  
In a more recent paper, Armit challenges some of his earlier interpretations of Eilean Domhnuill (Armit forthcoming), supported by the recent acquisition of a series of radiocarbon dates from the site (which will be discussed later).  Armit considers that if we are to interpret Eilean Domhnuill as a settlement site, then the recurrent patterns evident in it’s abandonment and resettlement may be metaphorical, the life-cycle of the house symbolising the life-cycle of the household.  However, the interpretation of Eilean Domhnuill as a 'straightforward farming settlement' is challenged.  Armit notes the absence of environmental evidence for the processing of cereals on site, despite the evidence presented by both saddle querns and carbonised cereal grains.  Similarly, despite evidence for the butchering and consumption of livestock, animals were not apparently kept on the site.  Fluctuating loch levels during the Neolithic also suggest a more transient role for Eilean Domhnuill.  The water-logging of organic material from the lower levels can only have come about with the relatively rapid submergence of the islet, and many deposits were evidently eroded by fluctuating loch levels (Armit forthcoming, 7).  This argues against the interpretation of Eilean Domhnuill as permanently occupied, as Armit had earlier argued, and it is more likely that it was occupied on a seasonal - if not longer-term - basis.    
Reassessing his consideration for the role for Eilean Domhnuill, Armit suggests that the site may represent "one of a series of linked settlement units, a high or special status residence, or perhaps a place of some ritual significance" (Armit forthcoming, 6).  Despite the transient and ephemeral nature of the structures on the islet, the islet itself was 'important and permanent' and even when unoccupied, would probably have "remained embedded in the consciousness of the local population" (Armit forthcoming, 4).  It is this permanence, according to Armit, which gives Eilean Domhnuill its significance in the Neolithic.  In the context of a predominantly transitory existence, as suggested by the other settlement sites that I will shortly discuss, Eilean Domhnuill's permanence contrasts with a wider landscape of change, transience and instability.  This he suggest mirrors the permanence of the chambered tombs of the region, with which Eilean Domhnuill shares a number of other characteristics, such as the structuring of access, monumentality and dimensions (Armit forthcoming, 7-8).  However, there are also a series of distinctions with the tombs such as its location, its construction with timber rather than stone (although in later phases stone was more significant), and the character of the ceramics found there, the deep heavily decorated and ridged jars and Unstan bowls contrasting with the relatively small carinated bowls and bag-shaped jars found at the tombs.  
This series of similarities and differences was framed, Armit argues, by the constant, sometimes dramatic, changes in the environment at this time.  As well as the localised flooding of Loch Olabhat, North Uist was subject to rising sea-levels accompanied by the development of the coastal machair sands, peat growth and a reduction in both woodland and the species of trees present.  As Armit previously noted, "by the end of the Neolithic period much of the Hebridean landscape would have been transformed from its Mesolithic state" (Armit 1996, 66).  Armit, then considers Eilean Domhnuill as a more than a 'straightforward' settlement site.  In the context of ongoing movement within the landscape, Eilean Domhnuill represented a place for repeated occupation, a place that "like the chambered tombs…acted to structure people's perceptions of the social landscape within which they lived and farmed" (Armit forthcoming, 9).  He goes further to suggest that the islet setting of Eilean Domhnuill may in itself be metaphorical for island life on North Uist, a microcosm for an island that was itself  low-lying and subject to seasonal flooding and gradually rising sea-levels.  In this sense, the renewal and maintenance of Eilean Domhnuill may reflect the seasonal renewal of the island community itself after the wet winters (Armit forthcoming, 10).    
To test Armit's interpretation and appreciate the broader context of Neolithic settlement within which Eilean Domhnuill and Eilean Tighe are situated it will be necessary to consider the other settlement sites from the region.
The same thing but everything's different: the Neolithic remains of Northton  
A sequence of occupation dating from the Neolithic to the Iron Age was revealed during excavations of eroded midden material in sand dunes at Northton on the Toe Head peninsula (figure 3.25) of Harris (Simpson 1966, 137; 1976, 222).  Two phases dating to the Neolithic were exposed during excavation, identified as Neolithic I and Neolithic II.  The coastal location of the site is important because the alkali sands that enveloped the site after each phase of occupation have enabled the preservation of material that, with the exception of the briefly investigated water-logged levels at Eilean Domhnuill, is lacking in the acidic soils of the other settlement sites from this region, notably shell and animal bone.  
 
Figure 3.25 Toe Head peninsula, Harris (photo courtesy of Alan Moar http://www.alanmoar.flyer.co.uk/Westernisles/Lewis/005.jpg.  
Structural evidence for the Neolithic levels of Northton was meagre, certainly compared to later levels.  The reading of the earlier Neolithic phase, Neolithic I, as a phase of human occupation is dubious.  This layer of black, clay-loam featured alternating layers of charcoal and quartz sand (Evans 1971, 53) and directly overlay the natural boulder clay subsoil.  Archaeologically, it was represented by a single Neolithic sherd of pottery (Johnson forthcoming), and lacked the animal bone (Finlay 1984, 46) and shell-fish (Evans 1971, figure 12) characteristic of the later horizons.  
Phase Neolithic II consisted of alternating layers, varying between black sandy clay with charcoal fragments, dark-grey sand with charcoal fragments, and grey sand (Evans 1971, 53), preceded by a thick horizon of sterile wind-blown sand which overlay Neolithic I.  Occupation of this phase is represented by a general scatter of stones and boulders and a short length of dry-stone walling (Simpson 1976, 221), interspersed with patches of burning and deposits of unfired clay, and a roughly oval setting of boulders containing the crouched burial of a human child.  The degree of preservation at Northton facilitated the survival of animal bone, shellfish, and 2,756 sherds of Neolithic pottery.  Later excavation around Northton revealed further evidence for occupation and a stone setting that may represent the remains of a wall, contemporary to the Neolithic levels from Simpson's excavations.  Intensive soil sampling during these excavations revealed more animal bone, charred grain, hazelnut shells and fragments of flint and quartz (Murphy et al. 2001).  A detailed discussion of Northton is not possible due to the pending publication of both Simpson's and the more recent excavations at the site.  However, information on the animal bones from the site has been published (Finlay 1984), and the report of the Neolithic ceramic assemblage has generously been provided in advance of publication (Johnson forthcoming).
The animal bones from Northton
Excavation of phase Neolithic II of Northton yielded 324 fragments of animal bone, in addition to over 300 animal teeth (figure 3.26).  Like Eilean Domhnuill, sheep fragments dominated the bone from the Neolithic levels of Northton, over four times the quantity of cattle fragments from this level (Finlay 1984, table 17).  Also represented were red deer, with seventeen fragments derived from a single individual, four fragments of seal bone, twenty five fragments of bird bone derived from shag, gannet, guillemot, puffin, redshank, blackbird and medium gull, a single piece of worked whale bone and four fragments of fish bone including a conger eel jaw (Finlay 1984, 48).  The presence of red deer is complemented by the presence of an antler macehead (Simpson 1976), the only such example from outside Orkney (Simpson and Ransom 1992).  The tooth assemblage was also dominated by sheep.  Six red deer teeth were found as well as three seal teeth, and a single pig tooth from this level, probably from a wild boar (Finlay 1984, 47).  
 
Figure 3.26 Animal bones and teeth from Northton (after Finlay 1984, 189).  
Of the sheep bones at least sixteen individuals are represented with a minimum of seven neo-natal (younger than ten months) sheep and nine older animals.  This compares with a minimum of five individuals from the cattle bones, with at least one neo-natal (less than seven months) cow and four older animals (Finlay 1984, 48).  The age profile provided by the bone data is supported by the analysis of the animal teeth, where sheep are mostly represented by individuals under eighteen months old and over forty months old, whilst the two diagnostic cattle teeth are exclusively represented by individuals between six and eighteen months old.  This 'double-peaked kill-off pattern' is "representative of a subsistence economy where surplus animals are culled at around a year old before the winter, while the older animals are maintained to replenish the flock and to provide wool and milk" (Finlay 1984, 54).  There is no evidence however, through cut marks, of butchery practice in the bone assemblage.  
Of interest is the presence in the Neolithic levels of two cattle phalanges which are significantly longer than those from other levels (Finlay 1984, 53).  This may indicate a recently domesticated species.  Noddle has proposed that the larger cattle bones from Skara Brae are indicative of 'a large primitive domestic race of cattle', closer to wild species than later domesticated examples (Noddle in A. Ritchie 1983, 95-6).  
Finlay concludes that the evidence from Neolithic II at Northton is indicative of a herding economy with a few cows, supplemented by hunting, fishing and fowling (Finlay 1984, 49).  This was in contrast to the later phases at Northton, where cattle are much more significant, as was the hunting of wild species such as red deer, fishing and fowling (Finlay 1984, 52).  However, this pattern is broadly comparable to the evidence from Eilean Domhnuill, with sheep dominating, supported by smaller quantities of cattle, and minimal exploitation of wild animals (figure 3.27).  John Evans examined the shell-fish retrieved from the excavations at Northton (Evans 1971) which showed a variety of species, particularly edible cockles (Cardium Cerastoderma edule) dominated.  The predominance of this species was thought to indicate the presence at this time of extensive inter-tidal sands, contrasting with the predominance of limpet in the Beaker phases indicative of a higher sea-level with no intertidal sand (Evans 1971, 61 and figure 12).  

 
Figure 3.27 Comparison of animal bones from Northton and Eilean Domhnuill (sources: Finlay 1984, 189 and Hallén nd., diagram 2).  
The pottery from Northton 
The Neolithic pottery from Northton was first examined by Squair, as part of his doctoral thesis on the Neolithic pottery of the Western Isles (Squair 1998).  This analysis however, was independent of the bulk of material from the site and was completed without reference to the data-structure report.  A re-examination of the Neolithic pottery has been commissioned by Historic Scotland in preparation for the publication of the final excavation report.  It is this report that I will employ here (Johnson forthcoming). 
2,756 sherds and fragments of pottery derived from the Neolithic layers at Northton (Johnson forthcoming), all but a single sherd from Neolithic II.  Johnson identified four main categories of vessel from the assemblage: Unstan-type bowls (figure 3.28a), multiple ridged jars (figure 3.28d), carinated bowls (figure 3.28b), and uncarinated bowls (figure 3.28c).  Uncarinated bowls consisted of simple bowls, cups and bag-shaped jars, whilst the 'carinated bowl' category is made up of bipartite bowls (excluding the Unstan-bowl form), and necked and shouldered bowls.  

 
Figure 3.28 Examples of Neolithic pottery from Northton (after D. Simpson pers. comm.)
The fabrics of these vessels were primarily compact and hard with few inclusions and the surfaces were frequently well finished, with a mica-rich slip on many examples.  Sixty-nine percent of the sherds from the assemblage were decorated, whilst only three percent of the 72 vessels with an identifiable vessel form were undecorated.  Decoration with incisions or grooving was predominant, mostly to form horizontal, vertical or diagonal lines, although there are some examples of the use of curvilinear incisions and impressed decoration, such as the unique decoration on the vessel in figure 3.29.  Eighty-one percent of the rim sherds from the assemblage were decorated.  
 
Figure 3.29 Curvilinear decoration on vessel from Northton (after D. Simpson pers. comm.)
Of the seventy-two vessels with an identifiable vessel form, the majority were Unstan bowls providing over half of the vessels with identifiable forms (figure 3.30), whilst ridged-jars provided twenty-two percent.  Uncarinated and carinated bowls provided twelve and nine percent of the identifiable vessel forms respectively, although the presence of numerous carinated orphan sherds suggests that carinated bowls were more abundant than these percentages suggest (Johnson forthcoming).  
 
Figure 3.30 Proportion of vessel forms from Northton (after Johnson forthcoming)
Overall, the ceramic assemblage from Northton is broadly comparable to those from Eilean Domhnuill and Eilean an Tighe.  However, the different classificatory schemes employed at each site means direct comparison between them is difficult.  Nevertheless, we can observe the high proportion of ridged jars and Unstan bowls in all of these assemblages, although the presence of the latter form is considerably higher at Northton than at the other two sites.  We can also note the importance attached to the decoration of pottery at these sites and comparable decorative motifs throughout the three assemblages.  
Summary of Northton
Although the excavation of Northton took place in the mid-1960s, publication of the findings is still pending (Simpson et al. forthcoming).  This has led to only a limited interpretation of the remains, and a full understanding of the Neolithic phases has been limited by the predominant focus of publications upon the later, Beaker levels at the site (e.g. Simpson 1976).  We can see from what little evidence there is, however, that in terms of the ceramic assemblage, and also the kinds of animal bones represented, that Northton is similar to the islet sites from North Uist.  But its location is clearly distinct from the islet sites, situated in the newly forming coastal machair sands (to be discussed in greater detail in chapter 11) and lacking the formally defined setting provided by the islet sites.  The only suggestion for permanence was provided by the quantity and quality of the pottery deposited there.  Northton is also distinguished from the other sites by the presence in Neolithic II of a crouched child burial, the only Neolithic settlement site in the region to feature a burial or even fragments of human bone.  Armit has tried to consider some of these distinctions, incorporating Northton into his model for the Hebridean Neolithic (Armit 1992; 1996).  In this model, the coastal location of Northton represents one part of a three-fold exploitation of the landscape involving movement between the coastal fringes, the islet settlements, and a third locale, the peatland.  It is to sites from the peatland that I now want to turn and as we shall see, yet unlike Northton it is not just the location of these sites that distinguishes them from the sites already discussed.   
Burning and burying: the shallow pits and hearths from Bharpa Carinish and Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir
The discovery of Neolithic remains at Eilean an Tighe, Eilean Domhnuill and Northton can all be attributed to chance because all were found underlying later structures.  At Northton, this was complicated by the sealing of the Neolithic and later levels under wind-blown sand, a factor that was fundamental to the preservation of the archaeology found there.  On North Uist, two further sites have been found by chance in the past decade, both underlying peat.  The first, Bharpa Carinish, was found during a survey of sub-peat features around the chambered long cairn of Carinish (Crone 1993) and the second, Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir, was found during construction of the Berneray Causeway (Downes and Badcock 1998).   
 
Figure 3.31 Bharpa Carinish (foreground) and Carinish chambered cairn (background)
Bharpa Carinish
In 1987, a series of large stones were exposed whilst peat-cutting for fuel around the chambered long cairn of Carinish on North Uist (figure 3.31).  Initial excavation of these peat-cuttings revealed a series of stone banks that had been employed in the construction of a large sub-rectangular enclosure (Crone 1993).  Underlying the stone bank in one of the peat-cuttings, excavation exposed a 'mineral soil rich in carbonised wood fragments' overlying a hearth complex associated with ash/charcoal rich spreads, postholes and pits (Crone 1993, 363).  Accompanying these remains were sherds of pottery, flint, quartz, burnt bone and a single fragment of marine shell.  
Three hearths were revealed (figure 3.32), each defined by stone slabs and associated with spreads of ash and charcoal.  To the north of the hearths was a steep natural scarp in the bedrock, defining the edge of the activity area, whereas a gentle break in the slope defined the southern edge of the site, essentially forming a terrace between the two (Crone 1993. 362).  The structural evidence from the site was minimal, a brief arc of stone walling lay a few metres north of the three hearths.  A few postholes and stakeholes also scattered the site.   
 
Figure 3.32 Primary features at Bharpa Carinish (after Crone 1993, 366)
The westernmost of the three hearths, identified as hearth one, consisted of a small rectangular stone setting built into a shallow hole that had been scooped into the old ground surface (Crone 1993, 362 and figure 6).  The bedrock formed the base of the hearth and small stones of sandstone were used to prop up the sloping larger stones which formed the hearth edge.  An ash spread lay to the west of the hearth, cut by a small post-hole filled with charcoal and ash (Crone 1993. 363), and over these were two discreet charcoal spreads.  Accompanying these spreads were forty sherds of pottery and single pieces of chipped flint and quartz (Crone 1993, table I).  Hearth two lay three metres to the south-east of hearth one, similarly constructed with a shallow scoop.  There was evidence that hearth two was rebuilt a number of times, with scoops cut into the hearth interior (Crone 1993, 365).  This contrasts with the 'hearth mounds' identified by Armit at Eilean Domhnuill and may suggest a more ad-hoc use.  This hearth was associated with a slight charcoal spread, primarily comprised of carbonised birch twigs, also containing thirty-eight sherds of pottery.  Some small postholes cut this spread and to the south, the spread overlay a yellow/grey ash and charcoal deposit which filled a natural hollow in the bedrock (Crone 1993, 365).  
Hearth three was situated a further two metres to the south-east of hearth two and was built over the edge of a roughly circular pit containing large carbonised fragments of hazel.  The construction was similar to hearth one where a shallow rectilinear scoop was lined with stone slabs, and filling this hearth was an orange/yellow charcoal rich-ash containing small fragments of burnt bone.  The charcoal spread to the south-east of the hearth and contained burnt bone as well as carbonised hazel twigs and sixty-eight sherds of pottery.  This spread overlay two postholes and a pit, the latter a shallow oval scoop filled initially with a layer of 'pure charcoal' and then yellow/orange ash containing birch and hazel twigs and fragments of rowan (Crone 1993, 365).  
The pottery from Bharpa Carinish comprised 422 sherds, 150 of which were decorated, derived from around one hundred vessels (Armit in Crone 1993, 370).  The sherds were indicative of similar vessels to those from the sites already discussed, with decoration consisting of patterns of incised lines.  A number of vessel characteristics are readily identifiable such as the presence of carinations (figure 3.33).  The entire assemblage seems to derive from round-based jars and bowls, as was the case at the assemblages from Eilean an Tighe, Northton and all but a few vessels from Eilean Domhnuill.  Armit notes the low proportion of decoration for the sherds from this site, and also the low number of rim sherds - four percent of the assemblage compared to thirteen percent of those from Eilean Domhnuill (Armit in Crone 1993, 372).  The assemblage was too fragmentary to deduce specific vessel forms, and although an Unstan bowl is suggested by three sherds (Armit in Crone 1993, 371), the absence of a carination from this vessel means that this interpretation is speculative.
 
Figure 3.33 Sherds from Bharpa Carinish (after Crone 1993, 373)
 Ten pieces of worked quartz and twenty-four pieces of flint were found at Bharpa Carinish, most derived from a thin charcoal-flecked mineral soil overlying the hearths and their associated debris.  Most of the flint was derived from angular beach pebbles and suggests a low availability of flint, supported by the use of bipolar knapping and the reuse of retouched material (Finlayson in Crone 1993, 375).  The only diagnostic piece from the lithic assemblage was a lozenge-shaped arrowhead (figure 3.34), derived from the mineral soil just mentioned.  This piece, and most of the lithic pieces from this context, was burnt and probably derived from one of the hearths.  
 
Figure 3.34 Flint arrowhead from Bharpa Carinish (after Crone 1993, 374) 
Environmental sampling from the excavations revealed a mixed economy at the site, with 68 cereal seeds, predominantly of barley but also some wheat species, 733 fragments of hazelnut shell and eight crab apple pips.  The majority of these were derived from hearth one, although all except the wheat and apple pips were present in all three hearths.  There is very limited evidence for cereal processing at the site, with a lack of straw and few weed seeds suggesting that the cereals arrived on the site already processed (Boardman in Crone 1993, 376).  This then supports the picture from the other sites already mentioned, of a mixed Hebridean economy during the Neolithic, although with a greater importance for wild resources.  The charcoal from the site was analysed and a mixture of species were identified, namely birch, hazel, rowan and willow, although each was used almost exclusively within specific deposits, suggesting that each fire was cleared out after use, rather than after the accumulation of successive hearth deposits (Crone in Crone 1993, 376).  The presence of large carbonised twigs is taken to suggest that the site was only briefly occupied, probably at intervals, rather than the context for permanent occupation, otherwise they are likely to have been trampled.  Also of note is the presence of peat-ash in some of the features at the site, suggesting peat was supplementing the use of wood for fuel.
Overall, the features from Bharpa Carinish consist of three stone-built hearths and accompanying spreads of ash and charcoal, five shallow pits and six small postholes (Crone 1993, 378).  The remains from Bharpa Carinish cannot easily be described as the remains of a domestic structure.  The postholes are too small to have accommodated substantial timbers and there is a distinct lack of other features which may suggest that the features identified represent the remains of a Neolithic house (Crone 1993, 378).  However, Crone suggests that it may represent the vestigial remains of turf houses that could have been built and replaced several times.  The turf walling would have decayed to leave no trace prior to the onset of peat at the site, whilst substantial timbers and stone-walling employed in their construction could be easily dismantled and retained for use in later or other structures.  Interpretation of the brief remains, however, are complicated by the lack of understanding for their relationship to the nearby chambered cairn.  
We should also note the remarkable similarity between Eilean an Tighe and Bharpa Carinish, both featuring a series of three hearths accompanied by charcoal, some brief stone structures and situated to the south of a steep natural scarp in the natural geology.  Although the pottery assemblage from Eilean an Tighe far exceeded the size of that from Bharpa Carinish, the presence of compacted unburnt earth at the former - which Lindsay Scott argued as the turf lining of the kilns from the 'pottery workshop' (W. L. Scott 1951, 8), may provide just the evidence that is lacking from Bharpa Carinish for turf walling.
Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir 
In advance of quarrying for the construction of the Berneray causeway on North Uist, two sherds of Neolithic pottery were discovered (Downes and Badcock 1998, 9).  This investigation trench was re-excavated by hand to expose an arc of large boulders and smaller stones, a short row of rounded stones, a scatter of smaller stones, and an irregular shaped shallow pit (figure 3.35). 
 
Figure 3.35 Neolithic remains from Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir, North Uist (blue: stone alignment) (after Downes and Badcock 1998, illustration 4)
The edges of the pit were poorly defined, sloping down gently into an uneven clay bottom, and within it were a series of narrow gullies filled with clay.  Within the fill of the pit were lenses of charcoal and a dense concentration of pottery, along with lumps of unfired clay, sherds of part-fired pottery and fire-cracked stones (Downes and Badcock 1998, 11).  Worked stone was also recovered from this fill, and part of a mace head and a stone knife were found at the edge of the pit.  Field-walking around the pit exposed a series of other elements including a truncated hearth to the north and finds of pottery and flint in a general scatter of the immediate environs.
The pottery from the site consisted of 1713 sherds, with an overall uniformity of fabrics.  Some vessels were covered with a mica-rich slip (Squair in Downes and Badcock 1998, 18).  A variety of styles were represented, although of note was the low proportion of decorated vessels, and the predominance of relatively deep, cordoned or collared jars (figure 3.36), almost to the exclusion of open bowls.  It is of interest that 60 sherds of highly decorated pottery were found through field-walking concentrated in an area approximately 20m north-west of the pit. 
 
Figure 3.36 Cordoned or collared jars from Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir (after Downes and Badcock 1998, illustration 8)   
Also present in the ceramic assemblage were a number of lugs, derived almost exclusively from undecorated vessels (Squair in Downes and Badcock 1998, 20).  The motifs on the decorated vessels from the assemblage are comparable to those from the other sites discussed and some forms are also paralleled, such as necked and flanged bowls.  However, there is no indication of either ridged jars or Unstan vessels from the assemblage.  Abrasion suggesting use is present on approximately twenty vessels, and macroscopic food residues and sooting are present on numerous examples (Squair in Downes and Badcock 1998, 29).  
 
Figure 3.37 Stone spall (A) and Broken macehead (B) from Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir (after Downes and Badcock 1998, illustration 12)
A relatively large assemblage of 256 pieces of worked stone was also found at Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir, comprising 217 pieces of chipped quartz, 32 pieces of flint as well as 2 pieces of Rhum bloodstone and one piece of chalcedony.  The predominance of quartz, and the use of flint for retouched tools, suggests perhaps that flint, available locally only in the form of small beach pebbles, is used to produce formal tools - possibly for symbolic use - whilst quartz is used more expediently (Finlayson in Downes and Badcock 1998, 39).  There was no indication that the quartz and flint items were worked on site, and were probably brought to the site in their current state.  At the edge of the shallow pit which had contained most of the pottery, was part of a stone macehead (figure 3.37), made from locally available gneiss, and a gneiss spall (figure 3.37).  The spall is the only known example from the Outer Hebrides and is similar to the 'Skaill knives' from Later Neolithic contexts on Orkney (Clarke 1992).  The broken macehead is also paralleled by Orcadian examples (Simpson and Ransom 1992), predominantly associated with Later Neolithic assemblages (Finlayson in Downes and Badcock 1998, 43).  Charcoal from the pit was examined to reveal birch, hazel, willow/poplar, and heather.
On the basis of the relatively large ceramic assemblage (certainly given the small extent of the excavations), the large quantities of charcoal, and the discovery of unfired clay and part-fired pot sherds, the brief remains from Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir were initially believed to be the remnants of a pottery production centre.  This has, however, been discounted on the absence of wasters from the assemblage, along with the incomplete nature of many of the vessels and the evidence for use on some of the sherds in the form of abrasion and sooting (Squair in Downes and Badcock 1998, 31-2).  
In the report of the excavations from the site, Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir was re-interpreted as a resource-specific site.  The restrictive nature of the ceramic assemblage - in terms of forms represented - and the fact that the lithic tools seem to have been brought to the site ready made, implied a particular function for the site with a narrow range of domestic activities represented (Downes and Badcock 1998, 48).  This use was perhaps then seasonal, supported by the vague nature of the structural remains from the site, and fits in with both Armit's interpretative model, and the character of the remains from Bharpa Carinish.      
A view from the south: Alt Chrisal and the remains from Barra 
One site that falls outside of Armit's interpretative scheme is Alt Chrisal on the island of Barra at the southernmost tip of the Outer Hebrides.  This site is coastally located yet is also situated in peatly uplands, falling then into, or perhaps rather between, two of Armit’s three settlement types.  Identified on the south coast of Barra in 1989, excavation commenced on a 'neatly finished stone-faced platform' built into the hillside of Ben Tangaval, upon which an eighteenth-century blackhouse had been built (Branigan and Foster 1995; 2002).  Excavation of a narrow drainage ditch associated with the blackhouse revealed early prehistoric material, and it was soon realised that the platform represented a relatively modern reinforcement of a Neolithic construction that had provided the focus for a variety of activities.  The Neolithic element of the site was divided into two parts: T26 consisted of Neolithic remains as they were visible under the floor and around the walls of the black house, whilst T26A consisted of the Neolithic activity area on the platform itself.  Contemporary to, and uphill from, the Neolithic activity of T26/T26A was a substantial roundhouse - site T19 - also situated on an artificial platform constructed into the hillside.
The structures
The remains from T26 were severely truncated by the building of the blackhouse during the eighteenth-century.  Despite this, Neolithic activity could be identified and the earliest phase at T26 consisted of the levelling of the platform that was to provide the focus for later structures.  Large boulders were placed across the slope, filled with smaller stones and earth to create a level surface (Branigan and Foster 1995, 67-8).  A thin layer of charcoal and ash-rich soil was spread across this foundation platform, possibly representing debris from occupation of the platform, but before long the southern edge of the platform was revetted with more earth and brief stonework.  This was followed by a thick, dense deposit of soil intermixed with ash, burnt peat, stones and occupation debris.
Excavation of the platform itself was more informative with the remains less disturbed.  A complex of post-holes, superimposed hearths, pits, postholes and stone settings were revealed associated with a mass of occupation debris.  This represents a 'longevity of use' focused on the platform that confounded attempts to understand the stratigraphic sequence of the site (Branigan and Foster 1995, 72).  Despite the intensity of repeated activity, a series of structural elements were identified including hearths, paved areas, and walls which were divisible into four distinct phases of use continuing into the beaker period.  
Phase one consisted initially - phase 1a - of a composite set of gullies, stone and clay alignments, pits and two 'open' hearths situated in shallow scoops (Branigan and Foster 1995, 78-81).  These were not all contemporary and probably represent an extended series of activities at the site over time.  At a later stage - phase 1b (figure 3.38) - the site was sealed with an occupation horizon, accompanying which were three new hearths, a series of small pits, possibly to support posts, and a 'stone foundation wall' - thought to have supported a turf superstructure (Branigan and Foster 2002, 35) - as well as fragments of pottery, flint, stone grinders and pounders and deposits of baked clay and ash (Branigan and Foster 1995, 78-81).  
 
Figure 3.38  Phase 1B at site T26A, Alt Chrisal, Barra (red: hearth, blue: stone blocks, purple: post-pits, green: wall foundation) (after Branigan and Foster 2002, 35)
In phase two of T26A there is less convincing evidence for structures on the scale of the wall alignments from phase 1b, although there are some postpads and a post pit, as well as the first stone-defined hearth (figure 3.39) and a further two open hearths (Branigan and Foster 1995, 81-2).  The occupation debris for this period is however more substantial than in the previous phase, and thick layers and deposits of soil and ash represent the continual clearing out of the hearth, the material dumped and trampled around the hearth.  The absence of charcoal from the stone-lined hearth possibly suggests that peat rather than wood, was being used as a fuel by this time (Branigan and Foster 1995, 82).  
 
Figure 3.39 Stone-lined hearth of phase 2 at site T26A, Alt Chrisal, Barra 
(after Branigan and Foster 2002, colour plate 10)
Phase three is thought to have lasted several hundred years (Branigan and Foster 1995, 89) and consists of a second stone-lined hearth overlying that from the previous phase, although much larger, several more hearths - one of which is a possible kiln (Branigan and Foster 1995, 85-8) - a paved area, a foundation wall and more layers of occupation debris.  Phase four features the most substantial structures from the sequence including a stone arc and settings, a small platform, and a series of four hearths (Branigan and Foster 1995, 89).  Many of the more substantial stones from this phase were visible prior to excavation above the modern ground surface, and it is likely that the mass of stones that derive from this phase have been heavily disturbed by the construction and use of the adjacent eighteenth-century blackhouse.
 
Figure 3.40 Plan of roundhouse T19, Barra (blue: Beaker roundhouse, green: beaker cist, purple: later shelters)
(after Branigan and Foster 2000, 321)
The roundhouse T19 (figure 3.40), was erected upon an artificial platform built into the hillside, over one hundred metres uphill of T26/T26A.  Originally around three metres in diameter, the roundhouse was constructed with a metre-thick stone-faced wall with an earthen core (Branigan and Foster 1995, 57-8).  Compared to the other settlement evidence from the Outer Hebrides, the interpretation of T19 as Neolithic may be doubtful given its considerable nature.  This is certainly the case compared to the ephemeral and transient settlement remains so far considered, and given the absence of radiocarbon dates from this structure and "the limited nature of the excavation of T19…especially with regard to the earlier, usually stratigraphically deeper, less visible and inaccessible phases" (Branigan and Foster 1995, 57).  However, it is worth noting that almost all of the sites already discussed had been subjected to disturbance from later activity that to some degree would have involved the re-use of stone from the earlier, Neolithic structures.  It is plausible then that T19 provides a tantalising glimpse of the original character of other Neolithic sites from the Outer Hebrides, although without more detailed excavation this is uncertain.
The finds
The excavations at Alt Chrisal revealed a wealth of artefacts from the Neolithic, including pottery, flint and other stone tools, and worked pumice.  A considerable ceramic assemblage accompanied the Neolithic phases of both T19 and T26/T26A (figure 3.41), with over 6800 sherds (A. Gibson 1995, 100).  
 
Figure 3.41 Examples of pottery from Alt Chrisal, Barra (after A. Gibson 1995, figures 4.29, 4.32 and 4.35:Unstan bowls shown (136 and 146) are smaller than the other vessels illustrated)
This was dominated by large, plain jars and bowls, although decoration - predominantly with incision - was present in the assemblage, notably upon numerous Unstan bowls.  Alex Gibson has argued for a general uniformity through the sequence at the site with undecorated vessels dominating, particularly cordoned and lugged jars, and necked, shouldered and carinated bowls (figure 3.41).  This element of the assemblage was similar to the vessels from Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir, but also present was a substantial quantity of decorated pottery.  These are comparable to those from the other sites of the region including jars and bowls decorated with incised lines and herringbone motifs and there are illustrated examples of what appears to be a flanged bowl and ridged jar (A. Gibson 1995, figure 4.32: pots 73-6 and 64).  We can observe then a broad distinction in the Alt Chrisal assemblage between shallow, decorated bowls on the one hand, and deep, undecorated jars on the other (Branigan and Foster 2002, 40).
 
Figure 3.42 Quantities of different vessel styles from Alt Chrisal, Barra (after A. Gibson 1995, table 1)
An element of the decorated bowl assemblage consists of eighteen Unstan bowls from T26/T26A, and like those from the islet sites and Northton, the examples from Alt Chrisal are notably small.  One interesting vessel, bowl 146 (figure 3.42) is unlike other Unstan bowls from the region and has a relatively unpronounced carination and circular stabbed decoration rather than incised lines.  This particular vessel is broadly paralleled with a single vessel from Isbister, Orkney (A. Gibson 1995, 110) and it is interesting that this unique vessel was found placed below a large post-hole packing stone in phase 1a of T26A (Branigan and Foster 1995, 77; 2002, 40).  Unstan bowls occur throughout the Alt Chrisal sequence, although none are present at T19.  Also present in the assemblage were later Neolithic impressed wares, and beaker vessels (figure 3.42). 
A considerable lithic assemblage was also recovered, and in addition to the presence of worked flint (Wickham-Jones 1995) were flakes of Arran pitchstone, Rhum bloodstone and two polished axes, with a further two fragments from polished axes, one made of porcellanite from County Antrim, Northern Ireland (Sheridan and Addison 1995, 137-9).  The flint assemblage was comprised of tools made from locally derived pebbles of beach flint leading to a 'miniaturised' assemblage (Branigan and Foster 2002, 43) where use of flint was maximised, primarily through extensive retouching and the use of the bipolar knapping technique (Wickham-Jones 1995, 136).  The presence of a pitchstone blade may suggest that the locally available materials were not suited to the production of blades, the size, quality, and quantity of workable local material limited to the production of flakes.  The range of lithic tools represents a broad range of tasks, although these are not restricted to particular parts or phases of the site (Wickham-Jones 1995, 137), and all areas contain evidence for both the manufacture and use of stone tools.  Also found were two saddle querns, both incorporated into walling (Foster 1995, 158).  
Environmental analysis was carried out at Alt Chrisal, particularly on charcoal found through excavation, but also through bulk sampling across the site: 138 charred cereal seeds, all barley, were found through bulk-sampling of Neolithic contexts, along with fourteen fragments of hazelnut shell, seeds of bramble, strawberry and other fruits (Boardman 1995, 151-2 and table 4.43).  The charcoal from the site consisted of a mixture of tree and shrub species, particularly alder, birch, hazel, and pine (Boardman 1995, 149 and table 4.42).  The nature of the charcoal fragments through the Alt Chrisal sequence suggests that the availability of wood declined with time (Boardman 1995, 155-7).
Interpretation
The nature of the materials found from T26 led the excavators to believe that this platform represented an area devoted to various activities that would have been situated, at least in this context, away from the domestic focus, interpreted as being the roundhouse T19.  The role of fire on this platform seemed important, with all phases featuring numerous hearths, notably the substantial stone-lined hearths of phases two and three.  Considerable numbers of beach cobbles were found in all the phases, which have been interpreted as pounders and grinders for cereal processing (Branigan and Foster 1995, 97), supported by the two saddle querns.  From this evidence, the platform T26/T26A has been interpreted as a focus for activities such as the processing and cooking of foods.  The acid soils prevented the preservation of animal bone and shell - but the presence of several pieces of worn pumice (figure 3.43), interpreted as fishing floats, might suggest that fishing was significant at this time (Branigan and Foster 1995, 81; 2002, 34; Newton and Dugmore 1995, 148).  
 
Figure 3.43 Worked pumice from Alt Chrisal, Barra (after Newton and Dugmore 1995,148)
In addition to the processing of food, the platform T26A has also been interpreted as a focus for various craft activities (Branigan and Foster 1995, 89).  Pottery manufacture has been suggested through the presence of unburnt clay, possible clamp kilns and the hearth/kiln from phase three.  The manufacture of flint tools is also thought to have been important in this locale and there is evidence throughout the sequence of various stages of tool manufacture (Wickham-Jones 1995).  The sequence of T26A suggests that craft production becomes increasingly important, and perhaps reflects an increasing differentiation between the domestic sphere and areas appropriate for the production and processing of materials and foods (Branigan and Fraser 1995, 98).  There is also a shift in the character of structures at the site, with the construction of more defined hearths and the shift from timber-defined to stone and turf-defined structures (Branigan and Foster 2002, 40), perhaps brought about by the reduction in available timber suggested by the analysis of charcoal fragments.
The relationship between T19 and T26/T26A, both chronologically and functionally, can only tentatively be posited on the basis of the later disturbance of the platform and the limited excavation of the roundhouse.  However, Alt Chrisal does provide a unique glimpse of the Neolithic from the southern part of the Outer Hebrides and provides evidence for a broader range of activities and structures than is perhaps evident from the other sites already discussed.  
 
Figure 3.44 Loch a' Choire, South Uist 
A cause for optimism: survey and excavation on South Uist
The final site I wish to discuss in this chapter presents a further example from the southern part of the Outer Hebrides, and also gives us a sense of confidence for the discovery of further Neolithic settlement sites in the future.  In the summer of 2000, a survey was carried out of islet sites in the south-western part of South Uist to attempt to complement the six chambered cairns that exclusively represented the Neolithic period of the island (Cummings et al. forthcoming).  All the known Neolithic settlement sites from the Outer Hebrides had been found underlying either later structures or environmental developments such as peat formation or machair development.  To this extent, their discovery had been by chance leaving little optimism for the identification of future sites.  
The discovery of Neolithic settlement at Eilean Domhnuill however had suggested, along with the remains from Eilean an Tighe, that islets within lochs may present a focal point within the landscape for Neolithic settlement, and therefore also a focal point within the landscape for the archaeological identification of such settlement.  Armit highlighted that there were numerous islets and crannogs on North Uist, traditionally interpreted as Iron Age, that may have provided a focus for Neolithic occupants (Armit 1996, 52).  Survey of thirteen islets in ten lochs (Henley 2002) yielded limited evidence and it was decided that any trace of Neolithic activity would not be found without excavation.  However, survey of a natural islet in Loch a' Choire with a local resident revealed flint and pottery eroding out of the islet shore.
 
Figure 3.45 Trench 3, Loch a' Choire (red: context 305) (after Henley 2002)
A series of small test trenches were excavated on the islet (figure 3.44) to ascertain the origin of these finds and to see if any more finds or structures could be located.  Further flint, pottery and three pieces of pumice were found, but these were substantially abraded and are unlikely to have been in situ (Henley 2002).  Most of the pottery sherds, as well as twelve pieces of flint, derived from a relatively defined horizon of trench 3, context 305, a dark grey/brown layer rich in charcoal (figure 3.45).
 
Figure 3.46 Pottery and pumice (7) from Loch a' Choire, South Uist 
(after Henley 2002)
Of the finds, a few diagnostic piece of pottery were found and these would seem to be Neolithic in date, including a few sherds with incised decoration, a decorated lug, and a carinated sherd (figure 3.46).  The flint assemblage included a number of scrapers and a bifacially worked point - possibly a lozenge-shaped arrowhead - as well as irregular flakes, burnt chunks and angular shatter.  The nature of the assemblage suggest that the lithics were worked on site and that the material used was small, abraded beach pebbles (Pannett in Henley 2002).
The implications of the finds from Loch a' Choire are uncertain given the limited extent of excavation and the poor quality of the material found.  However, the suggestion that at least some of the small ceramic assemblage represents sherds from Neolithic vessels is an important addition to our picture of the Hebridean Neolithic.  It provides perhaps the earliest excavated evidence for activity on South Uist, bringing it up-to-date with the settlement history for Harris, North Uist and Barra and highlights the potential for what remains to be discovered in the region.  

Chapter 4
Dwelling in the Hebridean Neolithic: Settlement and material culture

The previous chapter was necessarily long, and primarily descriptive, in an attempt to present to the reader the full and diverse spectrum of activity for these sites – as excavated and published – and their prevalent interpretation.  The purpose of this chapter will now be to bring together these different strands of evidence in an attempt to consider a Neolithic of the region which examines and appreciates this diversity.  To achieve this I want to examine a series of themes that emerge from the sites, and how these provide a broader illustration of the character of life during this period.  Introducing these themes, I would like to make some general observations concerning the evidence from the previous chapter and establish some questions and issues which will be addressed in this chapter.
Temporality and chronology 
The first theme concerns the temporal relations between the different sites.  This will first consider the different kinds of temporality suggested by individual sites, and secondly the chronological relationship, in absolute terms, between them.  With the use of certain kinds of materials, the exploitation of particular places and resources, and the employment of specific subsistence strategies, each site represents a different kind of temporality.  By this, I mean to examine the different temporal depths and rhythms embodied by each site, whether explicitly through the built form, or inadvertently, through the accumulation of settlement debris over time.  This temporality may also be rhythmic in nature as in the seasonal occupation of a site in relation to particular subsistence strategies. 
Ultimately this temporality relates to a particular kind of dwelling, a term which I will consider in greater detail below.  Some sites endure for generations, although not necessarily visibly so, whilst others are brief, ephemeral and fleeting.  In the context of a broader history for the region, what does this tell us about the significance constructed in or attached to particular places?  Through this theme I will consider the varying degrees of temporality embodied by each site and how this relates to, or even derives from, the activities and landscape context of each site.  This in turn will be related to the absolute chronology for the sites, examining available radiocarbon dates in an attempt to construct a settlement history for the region.  Can we identify developments in the above themes through the Neolithic and do certain kinds of places, practices or kinds of dwelling become more important over this period than others?  
Places and dwelling
Our next observation is that there is no single characteristic Neolithic settlement type or practice in the region, although we are only dealing with a handful of sites from a large geographic area spanning over one and a half thousand years.  Thomas has highlighted that the Neolithic settlement of the British Isles is quite different to that of mainland Europe, lacking the tradition of large timber-framed buildings (J. Thomas 1997).  At a more local level, Barclay has suggested that the people of the earlier Neolithic in Scotland “generally lived in small rectangular houses” (Barclay 1997, 144), highlighting comparable sites from Ireland (Barclay 1997).  But as Noble has pointed out (Noble 2002), this is not reflected in the examples from the Outer Hebrides.  There is a large amount of variability in the settlement evidence from the region, with only the latest phase at Eilean Domhnuill (itself not certainly Neolithic in date) showing evidence for these ‘characteristic’ rectilinear settlement structures.  In fact if there is one thing that unites the settlement evidence from the Outer Hebrides it is the distinct absence of specific architectural features at almost all of the sites.  Rather ‘architecture’, in terms of a framework for the activity that took place at these sites, is instead provided by the nature of the activities themselves, and particularly by the materials that came to be used and deposited through these activities.  This is a complicated issue to understand, certainly given the emphasis on architecture that is prevalent in the construction of monuments from this period, as will be discussed later in the thesis.  Rather, I want to suggest that these sites were defined through the attention to place that they inherently possessed, the embellishment of some of these places through repeated attention over time, and the role and location of these within the broader landscape.
We may understand this in terms of a ‘dwelling perspective’ (Ingold 2000).  A dwelling perspective considers people’s engagement with the world and the ways that people and the world are constructed through this engagement.  A dwelling perspective is the practical engagement of people with the world, the places that feature through this engagement, and the products – both physical and conceptual – of such engagement.  In archaeology settlement invariably becomes a significant concern because it gives us points in the landscape - as dictated by survival - from which to consider a dwelling perspective.  However, Ingold has highlighted some of the problems that this has created, particularly noting that a dwelling perspective should not be a perspective concerned with dwellings (Ingold 2000, 172-88).  Rather, it is concerned with the processes of dwelling, of which settlement is just one part.  The root of this problem, Ingold argues, is in the preference for choosing buildings as units of study.  Distinguishing between a building perspective and a dwelling perspective, Ingold highlights the former as a pre-conceived framework through which people act.  This framework may be physical in terms of an architectural structure, for example a house, but also considers the structuring framework through which engagement with the world takes place, “a world to which form and meaning have already been attached” (Ingold 2000, 153).  A dwelling perspective on the other hand considers how such form and meaning continually undergo construction, and rather than shaping or determining the life activity of people, are themselves given shape only “within the current of their life activities” (Ingold 2000, 154).  
The character of settlement in the Outer Hebrides arguably provides an ideal context for considering a dwelling perspective in the Neolithic precisely because it lacks the conventional architectural structures which have, according to Ingold, thwarted the archaeological study of dwelling.  The nature and form of settlement is fluid and organic, continually being redefined and subject to new interpretations.  A dwelling perspective may then be identifiable in the ad-hoc exploitation of places and materials that we witness in some of the settlement sites of the Hebridean Neolithic.  Admittedly, we are concerned with only a handful of specific places, providing biases against a broader landscape perspective.  However, we can see from the significance invested in some places, and equally the insignificance invested in others, that there are intricacies involved in the construction of place that are not fixed or pre-given.  Furthermore, the ephemeral nature of the settlement remains points to a broader impression of dwelling in the Hebridean Neolithic that cannot be concerned with permanent or isolated points in the landscape.  I will argue that these sites can only be understood in the context of some degree of mobility, alluding to a broader engagement with the world than purely at the site level.  Such mobility is likely to have been closely related to subsistence.
Subsistence practices
As well as diverse characters of occupation, the settlement remains reveal variability in economic practice.  Again this may to some degree be attributable to the large timescale and geographic range presented by the limited number of sites, as well as the varying degrees of preservation experienced by individual sites.  The acidic peaty soils which have enveloped much of the region, affecting the majority of excavated sites, have limited the preservation of animal bone to only small amounts, although such conditions have proven conducive to the preservation of charred, and at Eilean Domhnuill waterlogged, plant remains.  The potential for this missing evidence is highlighted by the quantities of animal bone found from excavations at Northton (Finlay 1984), owing to its situation in the dry alkali soils of the sandy machair coast.  Despite these factors there is evidence overall for a broad economic base featuring hunting, gathering, fishing, pastoralism and cereal cultivation.  
Subsistence practices highlight a broader engagement with the landscape, a certain kind of dwelling that is not restricted to the site level.  Specifically, subsistence can perhaps be argued as the primary component of a dwelling perspective because it relates to the practical engagement of people with their surroundings (Ingold 2000, 186). This practical engagement results from and simultaneously constructs a familiarity of the landscape and an understanding of appropriate places for particular subsistence activities.  The movement of deer and appropriate contexts and conditions where wild plants could be found, as well as the lochs, rivers and shores for certain fish and fowl, would all construct a particular dwelling perspective.  This engagement would in some cases be more dynamic, such as in the reduction of woodland for fuel and building materials, or to provide good pasture for livestock and bracken to encourage deer grazing.  With a shift to pastoralism, animals would have slowly made impacts upon the vegetation of the region and with their repeated movement through the landscape, paths would have been created.  An altogether new dwelling perspective may perhaps be identified in the emergence and increased significance of cereal cultivation, highlighting new kinds of engagement and requiring longer term reference to particular parts of the landscape.
So in the context of the mixed economy highlighted above, we have to ask how the character and form of settlement related to these subsistence practices.  Were particular sites influenced by certain subsistence practices and can we trace any developments in subsistence during this period?  Furthermore, can we highlight particular kinds and scales of mobility in some sites, and conversely, times and places of permanence, as related to certain economic practices.  This will be most notable in examples of cereal cultivation, but also in the use, and ultimately deposition, of certain kinds of materials.
The role and use of materials
In the absence of ‘conventional’ earlier Neolithic architecture, at least as has been suggested by Barclay (1997; 1998), many of the settlement sites from the Outer Hebrides seem primarily to be defined by the materials used there, rather than the architectural contexts which dictated or framed that use.  These sites are represented by ashen and charcoal spreads along with midden material comprised of material culture, plant and animal remains, with only a scatter of post-holes and stake-holes, pits and walls between them.  A key component of this material is pottery, most of the sites from the region featuring large quantities of pottery, much of it decorated.  The use and deposition of certain forms of pottery would seem significant towards the construction of certain kinds of places and therefore cannot be seen purely as the products of the use of such places.  
This is of crucial importance to the study of mobility and dwelling because, as Hoopes and Barnett have observed, although pottery is not restricted to sedentary populations its use is usually restricted to periods of sedentary activity (Hoopes and Barnett 1995).  Ceramics then, like cereals, hint at a different kind of dwelling, highlighting longer term and perhaps more significant attentions to particular places.  So why is it that pottery, often in considerable quantities, in varying condition and occasionally in quite particular contexts, comes to be deposited at settlement sites?  Also what is the role and importance of pottery decoration and does this relate to the depositional contexts considered?  Are certain pots suitable for certain places or vice versa?  Furthermore are other forms of material culture, for example stone axes, afforded comparable significance in the construction and use of places?  Such objects, especially when made with materials from exotic sources, highlight an engagement with a broader world and interaction beyond the islands that make up this region.  In particular, the circulation, history and biography of such objects would have been integral to their significance, not only referencing a broader world but also a longer term history which transcended the life of the individual.  With a broad introduction to themes in mind I now want to consider them each in more detail.
Temporality and chronology
If we are to explore the various relationships that exist between the individual sites discussed in the previous chapter, and the recurrent themes that they reveal, it will first be necessary to consider the temporal properties that they each exhibit.  By this I mean two things, firstly the chronological situation of the sites, and secondly the temporal scales, or temporality, that they reveal.  A total of 24 radiocarbon dates are available from five of the sites, over half of these from Eilean Domhnuill.  All, however, are situated in a temporal sequence for the region that reveals on the one hand a longevity of attention to particular places and practices, and yet somewhat paradoxically a fleeting existence that is shifting, transient and ephemeral.  Calibration curves are provided for all of the dates, created in OxCal v3.5, presented on a scale of 4200 to 2200 BC.  Where date ranges are provided in the text, this is the date range of each sample with 95.4 % (two sigma levels) confidence.   
Eilean Domhnuill
The good preservation of organics at Eilean Domhnuill led to the retrieval of a variety of materials suitable for radiocarbon dating and 13 samples provided dates for seven distinct elements of the site (figure 4.1 and table 4.1).  The underwater excavations on the east part of the islet provided the earliest dates from the site, supporting the interpretation that this area predated the earliest excavated levels (Armit 1992; Mills et al. 2004; Brown nd.).  Three dates were obtained, two from hazelnut shells (OxA-9084 and OxA-9086) dated to around 3660 to 3370 BC whilst one from heather (OxA-9085) was earlier at around 3790 to 3530 BC.  Together, these dates suggest that occupation of the islet may pre-date 3500 BC, though the early date from OxA-9085 may result from the use of older heather, perhaps brought to the site with peat or turf for bedding, building material or fuel (Grinter 1999; Mills et al. 2004).
Lab code	Material	Sample #	context	Date BP
OxA-9084	hazelnut	ed 1003-1	early, underwater	4735+45
OxA-9085	heather	ed 1003-2	early, underwater	4895+50
OxA-9086	hazel nut	ed 2008-2	early, underwater	4775+50
OxA-9079	carbonised barley seed	ed 681-2	phase 9 hearth	4830+45
OxA-9157	carbonised barley seed	ed 681-1	phase 9 hearth	4675+60
OxA-9158	carbonised barley seed	ed 592-1	phase 8 hearth	4635+60
OxA-9159	carbonised barley seed	ed 592-2	phase 8 hearth	4265+60
OxA-9081	alder charcoal	ed 279	block 17 of phase 6	4555+50
OxA-9080	birch charcoal	ed 293	block 17 of phase 5	4215+45
OxA-9294	carbonised barley seed	ed 295	block 17 of phase 5	4600+100
OxA-9295	carbonised barley seed	ed 346	block 17 of phase 5	4620+70
OxA-9082	birch charcoal	ed 183	phase 4	4010+45
OxA-9083	birch charcoal	ed 039	phase 3	4275+45

Table 4.1  Radiocarbon dates from Eilean Domhnuill (after Bronk Ramsey et al. 2000)
 
Figure 4.1 Radiocarbon dates from Eilean Domhnuill (after Bronk Ramsey et al. 2000)
Phase nine was the earliest dated phase from the islet excavations, comparable to the hazelnut dates from the underwater excavations.  Two samples of carbonised barley grains (OxA-9079 and OxA-9157) derived from the hearth of house J provided date ranges of 3710 to 3510 BC and 3640 to 3350 BC respectively.  A further two dates from phase eight, again both carbonised barley seeds (OxA-9158 and OxA-9159) were obtained from the hearth of house I.  One of these dates (OxA-9158) is contemporary to those from the previous phase, at around 3650 to 3100 BC.  OxA-9159, however, is significantly later, around 3030 to 2620 BC and importantly, later than samples from subsequent phases.  It remains difficult to account for this late date within the sequence of dates provided by the rest of the samples from the site.  However, we should note the repeated dismantling and rebuilding of structures throughout the sites history and it is possible that the late date provided from this sample indicates the introduction of later material through this specific character of occupation, with house I of phase eight “truncated by [the succeeding] house H…[and also] under the entrance palisade of phase five” (Armit 1990a, 10).  We should also note Ashmore’s observation that ages measured from barley grain may provide a good date for the grain but a less accurate date for the context from which the grain derives (Ashmore 2004c, 126).  
Phase six is represented by a single sample of alder charcoal from house G, dated to 3500 to 3090 BC.  The dating of phase five was one of the priorities of the dating programme for Eilean Domhnuill as this phase preceded the inundation of the site.  One of three samples from this phase was birch charcoal (OxA-9080) and the other two were carbonised barley seeds (OxA-9294 and OxA-9295).  The birch sample was significantly later, around 2910 to 2620 BC.  The two carbonised barley seeds however provided comparable, although not particularly precise, date ranges of 3650 to 3000 BC and 3650 to 3050 BC.  The chronological relationship between these three samples is uncertain but most likely reflects a long period of occupation for this particular phase, the birch charcoal sample OxA-9080 providing a terminus post quem for the formation of a lacustrine silt across the site between phases five and four.
The abandonment of the islet which this lacustrine deposit ultimately signifies lasted less than a century, occurring around 2800 to 2700 BC (Mills et al. 2004, 890), a single fragment of birch charcoal from phase four (OxA-9082) providing a date for the reoccupation of the islet between 2840 and 2400 BC.  A single date, also from birch charcoal, was gained from phase three (OxA-9083) dating to 3020 to 2690 BC.  This sample significantly predates the single sample from phase four, although environmental analysis at the site hints at one possible explanation for this (Mills et al. 2004).  It is unlikely that wood was used as a fuel, instead turf or dung probably preferred.  That the birch charcoal sample selected for the dating of this phase was not directly associated with a burning episode (such as from a hearth) but instead derived from a boulder-defined building (Bronk Ramsey et al. 2000) might indicate that this sample derived from old wood used in the building of the house from this phase.  This suggestion is reinforced by the character of settlement on the islet, involving the deliberate dismantling of earlier structures in advance of the building of new ones.  
Altogether, the dates from Eilean Domhnuill provide a relatively detailed chronological sequence for the site.  The earliest excavated layers, phase nine and the underwater excavations, show that the islet was probably occupied before 3500 BC, and continued to provide a focus for settlement until the islet was flooded between 2800 and 2700 BC.  Reoccupation of the islet took place shortly after 2700 BC where it continued to provide a focus for activity, but only until around 2600 BC.  These dates provide a surprising length of attention to the islet, over a thousand years or forty generations, much longer than had originally been anticipated or should be expected from the ubiquity of ceramic styles from the site.  They highlight the considerable sense of permanence that was invested in this place, even though the site itself may never have been permanently occupied.    
Bharpa Carinish
The length of occupation exhibited by the radiocarbon dates from Eilean Domhnuill contrasts with the five dates that were obtained from Bharpa Carinish; four from the hearths and one from a pit underlying hearth three (figure 4.2 and table 4.2), all derived from hazel and birch charcoal.  A single sample (GU-2669) provided a date range of 4550 to 4050 BC, which may represent residual charcoal.  However, the close stratigraphic association of the sample with dated material over a thousand years younger, along with the unabraded nature of the charcoal, led the excavator to believe that this sample was a “statistical aberration” (Crone 1993, 370).  The other dates are broadly comparable and suggest a concentrated period of activity between 3400 and 2800 BC.  The large standard deviations for the dates, particularly GU-2671 and GU-2672, mean that we cannot state categorically whether the three hearths are contemporary, although the difference in ranges between GU-2670 (3310 to 2880 BC) and GU-2458 (3360 to 3010 BC) is relatively small.  It is likely, however, that the hearths and associated structures represent a series of occupations spread over a concentrated period of time, rather than constituent elements of a single occupation, as has been suggested (J. Pollard 1998, 85).
Lab code	Material	context	Date BP
GU-2670	Charcoal	Deposit E, hearth 2	4370+50
GU-2671	Charcoal	Spread D, hearth 3	4430+100
GU-2672	Charcoal	F98, hearth 3	4280+130
GU-2458	Charcoal	Spread B, hearth 1	4490+50
GU-2669	Charcoal	Spread C, hearth 2	5520+90

Table 4.2 Radiocarbon dates from Bharpa Carinish (after Crone 1993, 369-70)
 
Figure 4.2 Radiocarbon dates from Bharpa Carinish (after Crone 1993, 369-70)
Northton 
A single date was provided from the later Neolithic - Neolithic II - phase at Northton, derived from animal bone (BM-705).  This sample provided a date range of 3350 to 2890 BC (figure 4.3 and table 4.3), predating the Beaker levels from the site by around eight hundred years (Burleigh et al. 1974, 61).  With only a single sample, discussion can only be limited, although it falls into the later phases of the Eilean Domhnuill sequence and is broadly contemporary to the dates from Bharpa Carinish.  This is supported by the similarities in material culture between Northton and Eilean Domhnuill, notably the considerable quantities of heavily decorated bowls and jars as well as Unstan-type vessels.  New dates from the re-examination of the site for publication are clearly required and eagerly anticipated (Simpson et al. forthcoming). 

Lab code	Material	Context	Date BP
BM-705	Animal bone	Deposit E, hearth 2	4411+79
Table 4.3 Radiocarbon date from Northton (after Burleigh et al. 1974)
 
Figure 4.3 Radiocarbon date from Northton (after Burleigh et al. 1974)
Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir 
Two radiocarbon dates were obtained from birch charcoal at Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir (figure 4.4 and table 4.4), both from the shallow pit that provided the majority of material from the excavations.  The dates were broadly comparable, providing a date range of 3350 to 2650 BC.  These two dates, like that from Northton, coincide with the later dates from Eilean Domhnuill and the date ranges from Bharpa Carinish.  
Figure 4.3 Radiocarbon date from Northton (after Burleigh et al. 1974)
Lab code	Material	Context	Date BP
GU-7537	Birch charcoal	Pit	4320+70
GU-7538	Birch charcoal	Pit	4400+80

Table 4.4 Radiocarbon dates from Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir 
(after A. Badcock pers. comm.)
 
Figure 4.4 Radiocarbon dates from Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir 
(after A. Badcock pers. comm.)
Alt Chrisal
The three radiocarbon dates from Alt Chrisal all derive from the platform T26/T26A, gained from samples of birch charcoal (figure 4.5 and table 4.5).  The earliest phase represented, phase 1b, has a date range of 3720 to 3370 BC (GU-3922), whilst phases four and five have date ranges of 3700 to 3100 BC (GU-3467) and 3360 to 2920 BC (GU-3923) respectively.  Together, these three dates correspond to the earlier, pre-inundation, dates from Eilean Domhnuill.  Although after calibration the samples from phases four and five experience large date ranges, like Eilean Domhnuill they suggest a significance for this location over a considerable period of time, perhaps as much as 600 years.  However, unlike Eilean Domhnuill, a longer-term importance for this locale is also suggested by the later, Beaker presence at the site.  
Lab code	Material	Context	Date BP
GU-3467	Birch charcoal	Context 536, Period I, Phase 4	4700+100
GU-3923	Birch charcoal	Context 524, Period I, Phase 5	4470+60
GU-3922	Birch charcoal	Context 564, Period I, Phase 1b	4820+60

Table 4.5 Radiocarbon dates from Alt Chrisal 
(after Branigan and Foster 1995, 51-2)
 
Figure 4.5 Radiocarbon dates from Alt Chrisal (after Branigan and Foster 1995, 51-3)
Chronology and sequence
All the available radiocarbon dates can be said to fall into our conventional understanding of ‘the Neolithic’, i.e. from 4000 to 2500 BC (figure 4.6).  There is, however, very limited evidence for general developments or changes during this time.  Eilean Domhnuill, and to a lesser extent Alt Chrisal, span a substantial portion of this period with both exhibiting a relative uniformity in their character of settlement, although each reveal specific developments over time.  Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir and Bharpa Carinish on the other hand have more concentrated date ranges, each from the later half of the fourth millennium BC, although the relative lack of comparable sites and the limited number of available dates prevents a more detailed sequence to be constructed.  The limited dates also conceal the longer-term picture from some of the sites, with both Northton and Alt Chrisal featuring continued occupation after the Neolithic period.
 
Figure 4.6 Broad chronology of Hebridean settlement sites based on radiocarbon dates
It is difficult then to present a history or chronology for the region in terms of particular developments and it seems unlikely that any one character of settlement was superseded by another during our period of interest.  However, we can observe particular developments at specific sites and perhaps more importantly an apparent distinction between two different characters of settlement over this time, each I would argue exhibit a different kind of temporality.  As Ingold states (1993; 2000, 194), temporality is neither the order or ordering of events (chronology), nor the attempts to situate particular events within this order (history).  Rather, temporality is a social process involving the way people act within a set of available possibilities.  With this in mind I want to examine the settlement according to two different kinds of temporality: brief places in time and lasting places over time.
Brief places in time
Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir and Bharpa Carinish both seem to represent brief and concentrated periods of activity.  The brevity represented in the concentration of the radiocarbon dates from these sites is supported by the brief nature of their remains.  At Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir almost all of the material derived from a single shallow pit with only limited structural associations, almost certainly representing a single episode of activity, although of uncertain duration.  Charcoal and pottery, along with a variety of lithic materials, some exotic, were placed in the shallow pit, providing what is probably the full temporal extent of the excavated activity from the site.  Although the evidence from field-walking suggests that this pit does not represent the full extent of the Neolithic use of this locale, this would seem to have been an area that experienced only brief attention.  
At Bharpa Carinish, the three hearths suggest a lengthier period of occupation, although as already mentioned it is uncertain whether these are all contemporary.  However, this site was not especially long-lived, possibly for little more than a couple of generations, and the nature of the remains indicate that over this period the use of the site was fleeting and occasional.  The vertical rather than horizontal build up and re-cutting of the hearths suggest that Bharpa Carinish did not provide the focus for permanent occupations, but rather was a revisited place featuring the re-use of already defined features, and only occasionally the construction of new ones.  The impression is of a locale exploited opportunistically and infrequently, although this is not to deny an ultimate significance for the choice of locale, as suggested by its location near to a chambered long cairn.  
This notion of the temporary exploitation of a locale is supported by the low quantities of material culture found at Bharpa Carinish, and their apparently even distribution across the site, with use of the site sufficiently restricted in time to prevent the build up of midden material, or the definition of areas through the construction of enduring super-structures, or the concentration of specific material residues.  The presence of three distinct hearths may point to a longer-term interest in this locale, with some movement of features over time, but this was still short lived.  In her interpretation of the remains at Bharpa Carinish, Crone suggests that they are likely to represent the residual remains of domestic structures, probably timber- or turf-defined, although she is hesitant to conclude whether these were from a short-lived transient occupation, or alternatively indicative of a more substantial settlement (Crone 1993, 380).  She notes, however, that there was only limited evidence for earthfast structures at Eilean Domhnuill and suggests that the removal of walling from that site would produce remains comparable to those from Bharpa Carinish (Crone 1993, 379).  However, if this was the case the removal of such features is significant and cannot be explained purely by the removal of stone for functional reasons.  The nearby chambered long cairn would clearly have provided a more useful resource for building material.  Bharpa Carinish also lacks the long-term attention invested in Eilean Domhnuill.  
Ultimately the structures that did survive at the site provided no lasting sense of place and this is reflected in the concentration of activity in both time and space.  If more substantial structures had once been constructed at Bharpa Carinish they were deliberately removed, and the activity and occupation that took place at the site was in itself as brief and ephemeral as the architectural remains that have survived, reduced to a series of small ashen spreads, three stone-defined hearths and a small amount of artefactual debris.  Irrespective of the original nature of the structures and activity at Bharpa Carinish, the attention to the place is dwarfed by the attention placed upon the islet at Eilean Domhnuill and the platform at Alt Chrisal.  
Lasting places over time  
 Eilean Domhnuill and Alt Chrisal are distinguished by the longevity of occupation that their radiocarbon dates reflect, each spanning several centuries.  At Eilean Domhnuill we can see a history of use that has its origins in the mid-fourth millennium BC, although underwater excavations imply that these origins are undoubtedly older still.  This history features the repeated construction, abandonment and reconstruction of ‘houses’ and other structures at the site over a period of at least a thousand years.  Alt Chrisal, similarly, has a series of dates that span the later half of the fourth millennium BC, with Beaker re-use of the site signalling a longer use of this place.  Northton cannot fully be considered in this context because of the single radiocarbon date that is available, although the dense concentration of material culture there and the continuity of occupation into the Beaker period and Bronze Age, suggest that it is more comparable to Eilean Domhnuill and Alt Chrisal than it is to Rubh' a' Charnain Mhoir and Bharpa Carinish.  Eilean an Tighe has no radiocarbon dates, but similarly the quantity of the ceramics from the site would perhaps seem to place it in this category.
However, despite this longevity of use, these sites are very rarely defined by enduring or permanent structural remains.  Eilean Domhnuill featured a series of structures that were slight and transient, and repeatedly rebuilt and redefined over time.  There was evidence that the structures from some phases had been deliberately dismantled, whilst the flooding of the islet between phases five and four highlighted that it cannot have been permanently occupied.  Like Bharpa Carinish, the structures were probably timber- or turf-defined with only a limited use of stone, although stone became more frequently used later in the Eilean Domhnuill sequence.  Similarly, the evidence from Alt Chrisal and Eilean an Tighe was indicative of a series of apparently timber- and turf-defined structures that were by no means substantial and enduring.  These sites then seem to have been the subject of long-term attention, but in the character of this attention existed only as a small part of longer-term strategies involving a movement between places, unlikely to represent a sedentary existence.  
In fact we may suggest that all of the sites from the region are comparable in the transient nature of the occupations that they represent.  The structures are consistently vague and the scattering of post-holes, pits and brief alignments of stone suggest that the houses that framed the activity at these places would originally have been constructed with timber, turf and only occasionally stone.  The distinction lies in the particular attention to place that is manifest in their construction and use, and particularly the continuity of this attention over the longer term.  It is the various attentions to place that are manifest in the settlement sites that will provide the second theme.
Places and dwelling
The Neolithic settlement sites from the Outer Hebrides each represent a different kind of place.  Each is as much an artefact of when they were excavated and by whom as well as the different landscape developments that each has been subjected to over the past four and half thousand years, as they are artefacts of occupation during the Neolithic.  Consequently, each site is quite different with direct comparisons between them difficult.  This situation is made worse by the chronological resolution available, which I have just discussed in detail, with only a handful or radiocarbon dates from some sites, none from others and perhaps worse still, dates from some which span several human generations.  Furthermore these sites, the majority from the island of North Uist, are all that we have to interpret the Neolithic settlement of a much larger geographic area, and complement the rich monumental evidence from this region that I will be discussing later.  
However, it is this diversity which we should embrace and from which our understanding of the Hebridean Neolithic will ultimately benefit.  With no characteristic settlement form of the Hebridean Neolithic, our study of settlement must then consider each particular manifestation of settlement in terms of the attitudes and practices that it individually exhibits.  This is not to deny that broader patterns and models are achievable or desirable.  Indeed, attempts to highlight broader patterns or models of settlement within this diversity can only help in terms of the future identification of more sites, as has been proposed for islet settlement on North Uist (Armit 1992; 1996) and South Uist (Henley 2002).  Specifically, we must highlight general trends concerning the different kinds of places that were exploited in the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides, and the different kinds of dwelling that these may represent.  But these models must be situated within an appreciation of the variability exhibited by individual sites.  
I want then to consider these different kinds of places and the different ways in which they are constructed and used.  This will firstly consider the different ways in which architecture and structures are employed to define certain kinds of places, ultimately highlighting their limited role.  From this I want to consider the other ways in which place is defined at each site, considering the context of the site and alternatives to architecture for defining place.  Finally I want to highlight the different landscape locations of the sites, paving the way for the next theme which will consider the role of subsistence in defining these places, and the kinds of mobility that they might punctuated.
Architecture and structures
As I have already noted, the evidence for structural remains from the settlement sites of the Outer Hebrides is very limited.  This is due to three reasons: the nature of site construction, the nature of site abandonment and the nature of post-depositional influences.  It is the first two reasons that I want to consider here.  The original nature of settlement did not seem to require substantial structures with only brief stone footings and intermittent timbers.  Stone, for example, was only occasionally used, whilst timbers would seem to have provided only the most basic of frames from which other materials such as turf, peat, straw and wattle work were used to provide the remainder of the structure at any site.  These sites contrast significantly with the settlement evidence from Orkney, primarily defined by stone structures, and the stone-built chambered cairns from the Outer Hebrides.  It is clearly apparent that communities were capable of constructing stone built houses, so we must consider the implications for why it was that they did not, at least given the current range of evidence.  
At Bharpa Carinish, Crone argued that the surviving remains probably represented a series of buildings with a turf superstructure and no earth fast elements (Crone 1993, 379).  At Eilean Domhnuill, although subject to better preservation, evidence for walling was restricted to the latest phases with earlier architectural features confined to ‘fragmentary boulder wall footings’ (Armit in prep.).  These footings, it has been argued, were unlikely to have supported coursed walling (Armit 1989, 9) with turf the most likely candidate for walling material.  The use of turves, and peat, in the construction of sites raises some interesting questions concerning the broader nature of settlement.  Although turf has a long history of use in Scotland, continuing in use for the construction of rural settlement until the eighteenth century (Fenton and Walker 1981; Martin 1999), its use has predominantly been in the construction of temporary, seasonal structures, notably shielings (Strachan 1999).  With such structures turf is often used because it is readily available and provides a quick means for constructing upon a predefined foundation, requiring only a limited use of stone.  
 
Figure 4.7 Illustration of shieling (after Stewart 1996, 21)
Turf-built houses are constructed to satisfy a number of needs, examples of which cited by Strachan include the need to move as resources were exhausted and the value placed on organic building materials to facilitate both future rebuilding and the recycling of building materials for other purposes such as fuel, fodder and fertiliser (Strachan 1999).  Most important, however, was that the structure satisfied the needs associated with a mobile lifestyle, specifically a lifestyle that was rooted in pastoral mobility.  The main example of turf-built structures provided by Strachan is the Airidhean, or timber-roofed shieling (figure 4.7).  Here stone footings were limited and seldom earthfast, and “the walling material consist[ed] primarily of turf if so required” (Strachan 1999).  Roofing was usually provided by a thatch of straw or grass, or by turf, requiring a bare minimum of supporting timbers.  These timbers often provided the most invaluable - and irreplaceable - element of the structure, frequently removed after the site was abandoned and retained for future use.  
We should not hurry to make direct analogies between the Neolithic settlement sites of the previous chapter and these relatively modern shielings.  We should be particularly cautious because the form and use of the shieling are intimately bound up in the lifestyle of the people who built them, in turn shaped by the particular locations in which they are built and the specific economies to which they relate, in most examples a seasonal migration concentrated on dairying.  However, there are connections between the two - in terms of the architectural elements adopted, the materials used for construction and a particular way of life - that I think should be highlighted.  If the shielings referred to by Strachan were removed to the foundations the remains would be comparable to those from the Neolithic I have discussed.  Indeed, Strachan observes for even recent examples that “the identification of the shielings can be fraught as building for their temporary function has resulted in the rapid loss of the more fragile matter, principally turf, used in their construction”, an observation that is considerably relevant to our settlement sites of the Neolithic.  Can we highlight comparisons then not only between forms of architecture but their function?  Although specifics concerning the form of shielings, and the associated way of life, may not be appropriate here, broader themes such as a pastoral way of life may be directly relevant to our interpretation of the Neolithic examples.
With both the Neolithic and modern examples, an important part of their life history is concerned with abandonment, which may be responsible for the insubstantial remains we are left with.  The timbers from shielings were often deliberately removed and retained because they were difficult to replace, especially given the scarcity of timber in large parts of highland Scotland.  Turf and stone on the other hand were commonly and quickly available and consequently often left in situ.  However, these were deconstructed in particular ways to facilitate rebuilding when returned to.  This pattern of abandonment may be suggested at some of the archaeological examples.  Interpreting the remains at Bharpa Carinish, Crone has suggested that the more substantial components of the site, such as large timbers, may have been removed and retained upon abandonment.  Armit has proposed that “each structure [at Eilean Domhnuill] had been dismantled to its foundations” (Armit in prep.) whilst there was evidence from houses G and H that the boulder footings for the house walls were almost entirely removed, the house plan visible in the extent of ashen spread from the house interior (Armit 1989, 9).  
It seems difficult to deny the active role for deconstruction at these sites, one that is perhaps bound up in the life history of such structures or places, and particular ways of dwelling at these places and in the broader landscape?  To investigate this possibility I want to examine the particular ways, as well as architecture, in which the places discussed in the previous chapter were constructed.
Attention to place: context or association?
In my earlier consideration of the dwelling perspective I suggested, after Ingold, that one of the problems with archaeological attempts to consider dwelling was a prevalent concern with built places.  I want then to consider the other ways in which places are constructed.  Following on from this idea, I also want to examine how these places are involved in the construction - or playing out - of different kinds of dwelling.  Ultimately these would also be built or constructed forms.  However, as different kinds of construction we can perhaps begin to step outside of the house as our focal point for settlement towards a broader concept of dwelling in a Neolithic world.  
As an extension of - and closely related to - the two kinds of temporality discussed, I want to consider a distinction between two different kinds of place that define Neolithic settlement in the Outer Hebrides: places of permanence and places of transience, each of these representing different kinds of dwelling.  With this distinction we are not focusing on the built form of the settlement, but rather are considering the contexts for settlement and the significance of these contexts over time.  Our places of permanence may be related to what Tilley refers to as ‘locales’, “places created and known through common experiences, symbols and meanings” (Tilley 1994, 18).  Of course neither locales, nor places of permanence, are restricted to settlement sites.  However, this distinction is useful in highlighting the broader landscape context of such settlement.  Places of permanence represent a kind of dwelling that is rooted in particular places in the landscape, providing contexts of permanence in what may otherwise have been a transient lifestyle.  In particular, it is the context of settlement in places of permanence that is often key to the permanence that they come to embody, this context often constructed.  At Eilean Domhnuill this context is provided by its location on an islet constructed within a loch, whilst at Alt Chrisal this is a platform built into the hillside.  This permanence is manifest then in both the context for occupation (place) and the length of occupation that each exhibits (time).  But at neither of these places is this ‘permanence’ permanent.  
At both sites there is a significance attached to place yet a similar permanence - or significance of place - may be suggested for the other, less substantial sites.  At Bharpa Carinish this is provided by the nearby chambered cairn of Carinish.  However, this ‘permanence’ is less enduring and powerful, and we can suggest that the attitude to place embodied at this site is one of association rather than context, specifically association with the chambered long cairn.  This is not to deny a significance embedded in these places, one that was ultimately responsible for the location of settlement there, but that this significance was not sufficient to ensure the prolonged attention to these places over time.  Places where the context for settlement is not constructed are ultimately temporary.  Remains are ephemeral and activity is short-lived. These sites represent a form of dwelling that is itself temporary and mobile, where certain places may only have been used on a limited number of occasions and then probably only for short periods of time.    
At Eilean Domhnuill however, this significance was constructed.  This construction was either through the embellishment of an established small, natural islet, or through the construction of a completely artificial islet within Loch Olabhat (Armit 1992, 309).  It is doubtful that the initial occupiers of Eilean Domhnuill envisaged the long history of use that would follow, but we can envisage that the significance that they perceived, and in turn invested in this place was considerable enough to endure.  Similarly, at Alt Chrisal the levelling of a platform into the hillside was to provide a locale for activity that was to last for several hundred years.  We will see later how at both Eilean Domhnuill, and to a lesser extent Alt Chrisal, this construction of significance was perpetually reinforced through the use - and particularly the deposition - of certain materials, and through the building, dismantling and rebuilding of structures with reference to previous occupations.  In other words, as well as a sense of temporality, these sites also had a sense of history.  The significance of these places over time was directly related to this history.  
 
Figure 4.8 Phases six to eight at Eilean Domhnuill (after Armit 1990, 11)
Eilean Domhnuill exists today as the result of a series of occupations superimposed over each other, where occupation debris and the remains of structures and floors are levelled and rebuilt upon over hundreds of years.  The construction of new structures involved digging postholes into the residues of previous occupation, clearing floor deposits and debris, dismantling old walls to make new ones.  But as I began to suggest earlier, this was not ad hoc demolition or reoccupation.  Each phase reflected and respected the previous one.  Figure 4.8 shows the shift from west to east across the islet as the structure of each phase shifted eastwards in relation to the location of the previous phase.  Hearths within individual structures were also moved, horizontally, each new one cut into the ash-rich accumulation of the previous (Armit 1989, 10).  Despite the apparently deliberate dismantling of each structure to its foundations, it was surprising that “in seemingly all excavated cases the hearths of these buildings had been left intact” (Armit in prep.).  This contrasts with the examples from Bharpa Carinish where reoccupation involved the re-cutting and reuse of the existing hearths (Crone 1993, 376).  At T26A, Alt Chrisal, the construction of the main hearth in phase three directly overlay that from phase two, although the orientation and form of the later hearth was slightly different.  It seems that it was appropriate for this hearth to reference the previous hearth, yet it was not acceptable simply to reuse it.  A sense of history and permanence was invested in this site, a sense that was lacking at sites like Bharpa Carinish.  
So in considering the context of settlement, and the distinction between contexts of permanence and transience, we can begin to move away from the built form as the focus for considering settlement and dwelling.  We can begin to see a distinction between contexts that are constructed, and contexts of association, and from this distinction we can begin to see how some places come to be used for generations, whilst others were used in response to more transient requirements.  We can perhaps go further by considering the landscape context of sites, and begin to consider the kinds and scales of settlement mobility that they might signify.
In his original interpretation of the Neolithic settlement of the Outer Hebrides, Armit considered that there were three different kinds of settlement according to their location within the landscape: coastal or machair sites, peatland sites and islet sites (Armit 1996).  In this interpretation, Armit suggested that “it is possible that islet settlements like Eilean Domhnuill were permanent bases, occupied all year round, whilst the coastal and peatland sites were more transient or seasonal activity areas” (Armit 1996, 57).  This highlights movement around the landscape and the exploitation of different parts of the landscape at different times.  It also offers an interpretation of the islet sites that suggests they provided a stable, sedentary basis from which only limited mobility took place, involving the occasional movement into the hills and the coasts for the particular resources that they offered.  
However, there are problems with this threefold classification of the sites, and the inherent settlement model that they provide.  For example, Alt Chrisal may be considered to fall into both coastal and peatland categories, as might the site of Rubh’ a’ Charnain Mhoir.  Armit concedes that the real distinction may lie between the islet sites and the non-islet sites, the latter he suggests “appear to have more in common with Mesolithic settlements even though they were clearly occupied by communities with some commitment to farming” (Armit 1996, 57) . This viewpoint has privileged the evidence from Eilean Domhnuill, with the evidence from the islet site of Eilean an Tighe not dissimilar to the ephemeral remains from sites like Bharpa Carinish and Northton.  However, the location of settlement upon an islet, whether natural as at Eilean an Tighe and Loch a’ Choire, or artificial as may be the case at Eilean Domhnuill, is clearly a significant act and the decision at Eilean Domhnuill for this settlement to continue for over a thousand years emphasises this significance.  However, the interpretation of islet sites as ‘permanent bases occupied all year round’ can be challenged.  To understand this we must consider the specific modes of subsistence in this period and how this shaped mobility and the use of certain settlement locales.
Subsistence practices and mobility
If we are to challenge the settlement model offered by Armit (1989; 1992; 1996), we must be aware of some of the assumptions that have influenced, and continue to influence, our interpretation of the Neolithic period in this region.  As Whittle (1997) has highlighted, reluctance in Neolithic studies to model or define specific kinds of mobility during the Neolithic may, in part, derive from limited and generalising concepts of subsistence.  In particular, Whittle has suggested that the root of this problem may be found in the emphasis in past studies upon an evolutionary trend towards sedentism, a perspective that has relegated the study of mobility to specialised, secondary developments, often interpreted as a response to localised stresses (Whittle 1997, 16-17).  
We can observe some of these generalisations in recent studies on the Mesolithic-Neolithic transition of western Scotland (Armit and Finlayson 1992; 1995; 1996).  In an attempt to move away from the passive role for Mesolithic populations, as provided in the transition models of Zvelebil and Rowley-Conwy (e.g. Zvelebil and Rowley-Conwy 1984), Armit and Finlayson fail to account for or explain the scale and character of agriculture.  To some extent this may be deliberate, stating “it has not been our intention to discuss a definition of the Mesolithic, but rather to consider the relationship between post-glacial hunter-gatherers and Neolithic farmers” (Armit and Finlayson 1992, 672).  Their intention is desirable because by refusing to define the Mesolithic they have attempted to play down some of the biases and generalisations inherent in the evolutionary models provided by Zvelebil, Rowley-Conwy and others.  However, in sacrificing detail and definition to highlight a diverse rather uniform ‘Mesolithic’, they instead seem to have highlighted the Neolithic as a single entity synonymous with farming, and farming as an assumed and undefined economic practice.    Furthermore, Armit and Finlayson go on to state that ‘subsistence economy is wholly distinct from social organization’ (1992, 674).  This can perhaps be seen as a broader post-processual agenda which has, in attempting to escape the broad sweeping economic and environmental generalisations offered in previous years, afforded only limited attention to economic aspects of social life.  I would argue that our recent studies have thrown the food out with processual carrier bag.  In particular, the different kinds of settlement and dwelling highlighted above derive from forms of dwelling which are intimately related to, although not exclusively determined by, various kinds of economic practice.
These economic practices would have involved and required particular engagements with the world, essential to which would have been some degree of mobility.  Such mobility is an integral part of dwelling and one that enables us to make the transition from dwelling as ‘being’, towards dwelling as ‘being-in-the-world’ (Tilley 1994, 12; J. Thomas 1996a, 65; Ingold 2000, 185).  Ingold suggests that dwelling in the world entails movement between places in a network of comings and goings (Ingold 2000, 155).  When these places are not themselves fixed and permanent, as may be the case with the Neolithic settlement sites, then the process of movement itself becomes a form of practical engagement with the world, an act of dwelling.  In particular, this would have involved movement associated with animals, both the hunting of wild animals and movement with domesticated animals, as well as the fishing of freshwater and seawater fish and shellfish.  I want to examine in turn these different kinds of movements and the respective roles of these different components in the Neolithic economy.  I want to consider the various influences of wild plants and animals, domesticated animals and cereals and specifically begin to suggest, as forms of practical engagement with the world, how these may have shaped the settlement forms considered above and the mobility these would have been a part of.
Wild resources – hunting, gathering and collecting
In his study of the Hebridean Neolithic, Armit acknowledged that wild resources would probably have still contributed significantly to the Neolithic economy, particularly fishing and fowling (Armit 1996, 62).  In the analysis of charred and water logged plant remains from Eilean Domhnuill, Grinter argues that the foraging and collection of wild plants “would have had an important role to play in the economy” (Grinter 1999, 61).  Charred and waterlogged hazelnut shells were found across the site, in addition to other wild berries and seeds.  A similar range of wild foodstuffs was found at Alt Chrisal (Boardman in Branigan and Foster 1995, 152), whilst hazelnut shell fragments were also found at Bharpa Carinish along with crab apple pips (Boardman in Crone 1993, 375).  Furthermore, three fragments of hazelnut shell from the topsoil underlying the chambered cairn of Geirisclett on North Uist, along with other carbonised material, has been thought to represent middening of the ground surface with domestic hearth refuse prior to the construction of the cairn (Church and Cressey 1999).  Whilst we can and should be critical about the role of wild resources in this period as suggested by archaeobotanical remains (G. Jones 2000), the presence of hazelnut shells at these sites points to the collection of this plant for some use, if not contributing significantly to diet.  We may observe other uses for wild plants, and Grinter highlights the medicinal properties for many of the wild plants found at Eilean Domhnuill (Grinter 1999, 56), an intimate knowledge of which is more recently evident in Martin Martin’s accounts from the region in the seventeenth century (Martin 1999).  
Evidence for the exploitation of wild animals is less convincing, where an animal bone assemblage of over three thousand pieces from Eilean Domhnuill contained only a single red deer tooth and one piece of worked antler (Hallén nd.).  Red deer was only slightly more abundant in the Neolithic levels at Northton, with 17 fragments (from a single animal) and six teeth providing 5.9% of the animal bone from this phase (Finlay 1984, 189-90).  An antler macehead was also found (Simpson 1976), the only such example outside Orkney (Simpson and Ransom 1992, 229).  In contrast, red deer represented 41.4% and 31.5% of the animal bone from the two beaker phases at the site, and 82.6% of the bone assemblage from the earliest Iron Age levels (Finlay 1984).  It would seem, at least from the available bone evidence, that the hunting of wild animals provided only a limited component of the economic base in the Hebridean Neolithic.  This is to some extent paralleled in the evidence from Orkney where most sites produce only limited numbers of red deer bone, although large quantities have been found at a restricted number of sites (Sharples 2000).  Sharples highlights the differential quantities of red deer bone at certain sites, noting that large quantities can be found at some, exceptional sites whilst they are often excluded from other depositional contexts, notably henges and causewayed enclosures (Sharples 2000, 114).  A single tusk, probably from a wild boar, was recovered from Northton whilst there is a possible fragment of pig skull at Eilean Domhnuill, although Finlay has noted that pig does not appear in significant quantities in the region until the Bronze Age (Finlay 1984, 35).  Whale bone was represented in the bone assemblages at both Northton and Eilean Domhnuill, although these would most probably be restricted to the opportunist exploitation of beached whales (Armit 1996, 64).  Fragments of seal bone and seal teeth found at Northton may, however, point to a more active exploitation of marine fauna (Finlay 1984). 
There is also evidence from the region for fishing and fowling, with seaduck and redshank at Eilean Domhnuill (Hallén nd.), and shag, gannet, guillemot, puffin, redshank and gull at Northton (Finlay 1984).  At Northton evidence for fishing was provided by four fragments of fishbone including a fragment of conger eel jaw, and at Alt Chrisal worked pieces of pumice have been interpreted as fishing floats (Newton and Dugmore in Branigan and Foster 1995, 148).  A variety of fish species were recovered from excavations at the chambered cairn of Geirisclett, and although stratigraphically related to the Neolithic exploitation of the cairn (I. Armit pers. comm.), the assemblage is indicative of animal activity probably representing offal and faeces from a coastal otter holt (Cerón-Carrasco 1999).  A substantial shellfish assemblage was also found at Northton with cockle dominating, but limpet, dog whelk and mussel also represented (Evans 1971, 60-1).  However, the fragmentary nature of fish, shellfish and seabird bone, combined with the acidic soils at most of the sites, probably means that these are underrepresented at the other sites.  
 
Figure 4.9 Proportions of animal bone by fragments from Northton and Eilean Domhnuill (after Finlay 1984, table 17 and Hallén nd., table 1i)
Pastoralism and the role of animals
There is considerably more evidence for the exploitation of domesticated animals with cattle and sheep dominating the animal bone assemblages from both Northton and Eilean Domhnuill (figure 4.9), and some calcined sheep or goat bone also found at the chambered cairn of Clettraval (Jackson in W. L. Scott 1935, 499).  At Northton, 219 fragments of sheep bone and 195 sheep teeth represented 75.5% of the animal bones from the Neolithic levels at the site, a further 18.6% represented by 54 fragments of cattle bone and 116 cattle teeth (Finlay 1984, 189-90).  The age profile of the sheep bones suggests ‘a double-peaked kill-off pattern’, where the bones predominantly represent individuals under a year and over 30 months old (figure 4.10a).  This is supported by the evidence from sheep teeth where the majority of teeth derived from individuals under a year and over forty months (figure 4.10b).  This age pattern is suggestive of “a subsistence economy where surplus animals are culled at around a year old before the winter, while the older animals are maintained to replenish the flock” (Finlay 1984, 54). 
a  b  
Figure 4.10 Age profile of sheep from Northton a. epiphyseal fusion data (Finlay 1984, table 23), b. sheep tooth eruption (Finlay 1984, table 25)
This pattern is contrasted with the age-profile of the cattle bones, although a smaller sample is available (figure 4.11a).  The majority of cattle from Northton were culled before eighteen months old suggesting that they were not being exploited for their meat, but killed before reaching full meat weight (i.e. 36 to 48 months).  It has been suggested from similar cattle mortuary profiles in eastern and southern Africa that the culling of immature cattle is unlikely to represent a subsistence practice “but rather the emphasis is on their growth and reproduction” (Reid 1996, 50).  This is particularly commonplace in pastoral economies, with such practice concerned with either milking or dairying, or the management of cattle in socio-political relations (Reid 1996, 51-5).  
a  b 
Figure 4.11 Epiphyseal fusion data of a. cattle from Northton (Finlay 1984, table 24), b. sheep from Eilean Domhnuill (Hallén nd., table 2)
The domesticated animal bone from Eilean Domhnuill is broadly comparable to that from Northton, although the quantities are smaller (Hallén nd.).  At Eilean Domhnuill, sheep also dominated throughout the sequence, with the exception of phase seven in which cattle was prevalent (Hallén nd., diagrams 1 and 2).  We can observe a broad transition in the animal bone sequence at Eilean Domhnuill, from slaughter bones to meat bones, representing a shift from butchery to consumption on the site, which has been argued to suggest a “change in economy from one based on domestic production to a more centralized economy” (Hallén nd., 6).  The age profile of sheep epiphyseal data from Eilean Domhnuill (figure 4.11b) is not comparable to the ‘double kill-off’ pattern for sheep from Northton, Hallén commenting that “the sheep bones are almost all from young sheep that have not reached adulthood” (Hallén nd., 8), although only a small sample is available.  Comparison of the Eilean Domhnuill sheep bones with examples from other sites suggest that the sheep were of a primitive form, similar to mouflon, and possibly only recently domesticated (Hallén nd., 8).  Hallén goes on to suggest that it would be unlikely for this primitive form of sheep to have had wool, which combined with the young age structure of the assemblage suggests that the sheep were being exploited for meat and hides (Hallén nd., 9).  
Arable agriculture and a time for cereals
Three of the settlement sites from the Outer Hebrides have produced cereal grains, Bharpa Carinish, Alt Chrisal and Eilean Domhnuill, the latter producing both charred and waterlogged examples.  Barley (Hordeum vulgare) dominates the species represented, although six grains of bread wheat (Triticum aestivum) were recovered from Eilean Domhnuill (Grinter 1999) whilst several grains of emmer wheat (Triticum dococcum) and a single possible grain of bread wheat were recovered from Bharpa Carinish (Boardman in Crone 1993).  Despite the presence of several saddle querns at Eilean Domhnuill (Armit 1989), there were very few chaff fragments or weed seeds (Grinter 1999) from which it has been suggested that crops were not being processed on the site (Armit in prep.).  This was also observed at Bharpa Carinish where “the lack of cereal/straw and the few weed seeds are suggestive of fully processed crops” (Boardman in Crone 1993, 376).
a  b  
Figure 4.12 Quantities of charred barley from Bharpa Carinish, Alt Chrisal and Eilean Domhnuill, a. with context 330 b. without context 330 (after Boardman in Crone 1993;  Boardman in Branigan and Foster 1995; Grinter 1999)
Of these three sites the most substantial quantity of cereals came from Eilean Domhnuill with over 1800 charred barley grains (figure 4.12a), plus an additional 50 waterlogged barley grains.  However, of these eighteen hundred grains just over sixteen hundred derived from a single context, context 330, described as a ‘dumped deposit’ (Grinter 1999, 55) probably representing a single accidental burning episode (Helen Smith pers. comm.).  When we compare these assemblages without this exceptional deposit we can see a much less significant, although still important concentration at Eilean Domhnuill (figure 4.12b).  
It might also be suggested that this higher concentration at Eilean Domhnuill could be the result of research bias and the length of occupation as compared to the other two sites.  However, if we look at the densities of charred barley grains recovered from the sites, in other words the number of grains found per litre of material sampled from each site, this concentration persists (figures 4.13a and 4.13b).  In figures 4.13a and 4.13b the density of cereal grains is considered with and without context 330 from Eilean Domhnuill.  We can see that even without this exceptional single deposit, the density of charred barley grains recovered from Eilean Domhnuill is almost four times that of Alt Chrisal and practically 40 times those from Bharpa Carinish.  This concentration cannot purely be explained as products of differential research strategies or degrees of preservation.  Rather there seems to be a genuine concentration of charred barley grains at Eilean Domhnuill far in excess of those from the other sites in the region.  
a  b  
Figure 4.13 Densities of charred cereal barley from Bharpa Carinish, Alt Chrisal and Eilean Domhnuill, a. with context 330 b. without context 330 (after Boardman in Crone 1993;  Boardman in Branigan and Foster 1995; Grinter 1999)
Moving on and around - subsistence and mobility 
We have then a broad base of economic resources being exploited in the Neolithic and these would all have influenced the kinds of settlement found.  We have the use of wild resources, although these perhaps do not seem to have been as influential as has been suggested (e.g. Armit 1996).  There has recently been compelling evidence to suggest that wild resources were of only limited significance in the Neolithic subsistence practices of western Scotland, despite the fact that it “presents a relatively marginal environment for farming” (Schulting and Richards 2002, 147).  Stable isotope analysis of human remains from Mesolithic and Neolithic sites in western Scotland has indicated a dramatic shift from marine to terrestrial resources around 3850 BC, on the basis of d13C values (Bonsall et al. 2002; Schulting and Richards 2002), supported by the minimal evidence for wild plants and animals from the Hebridean sites discussed.  Wild resources then seem unlikely to have provided the bulk of subsistence but rather served as a supplement to the use of domesticated cattle, sheep and cereals.  It is these domesticates that would have provided the greatest influence upon settlement.  
Pastoralism with sheep and cattle would have required movement around the landscape for grazing, punctuated by transient and ephemeral settlement.  Cereals, however, were clearly an important component of the Neolithic economy and would have required longer-term and more fixed attentions to place, yet also would have required the movement of animals into upland pasture to limit their impact upon growing crops.  A similar pattern of mobility can be observed in the Outer Hebrides and other regions of Scotland into the recent past, with the seasonal movement of people with cattle into the uplands during the summer months until harvest, persisting in large areas of highland Scotland until the eighteenth century (Stewart 1996; Strachan 1999).
We can probably suggest then some degree of mobility during the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides which may best be described as ‘embedded or tethered mobility’ (Whittle 1997, 21), characterised by transient and short-lived settlement but rooted in the use of more enduring places at certain times of the year.  Seasonality would clearly have been an integral part of settlement mobility, and in turn would have been of crucial significance to the character of dwelling.  Barley would have been grown over the summer months in sheltered lowland areas, perhaps in relatively small but undefined plots, with planting in March to April and harvesting from September to October (Dickson and Dickson 2000, 233).  During the growth of crops some if not all of the population would possibly have moved into the uplands with their livestock.  The mortality profiles for the animal bone assemblages also suggest some degree of seasonality in the management of sheep and cattle.  Andrew Jones has suggested that the large number of neo-natal and juvenile cattle from Neolithic sites on Orkney represents the culling of cattle around autumn to midwinter (A. Jones 1996, 295; 1999, 64).  A comparable impression is given by the cattle bones from Northton, and we can perhaps envisage the ‘double-peaked kill-off’ pattern for the sheep from Northton indicating the culling of juvenile sheep at around the same time.  
However, although modes of subsistence would have informed, and perhaps even determined the location and character of settlement, their ultimate form would have equally been shaped in other ways, particularly through the use and deposition of materials at them.
The role and use of materials
Without obvious or substantial settlement architecture, a significant influence on the construction and definition of place, as well as the scale and character of settlement mobility, would have been the use of certain forms of material culture, particularly pottery.  Hoopes and Barnett have suggested that whilst the use of ceramics is not restricted to sedentary populations, their use is typically limited to periods of sedentary activity, “even by groups that are mobile for part of the year” (Hoopes and Barnett 1995, 4).  The use of pottery would also have been closely related to the particular modes of subsistence I have just discussed, affording new opportunities for the storage, processing and consumption of foods (A. Jones 1996; 1999).  Another form of material culture that would have been closely related to mobility is the procurement of lithics.  Flint was scarcely available as a natural resource so would have been carefully curated whilst exotic lithics suggest longer distance contacts and movement than those involved in a pastoral economy.  I want now to examine the relationship between material culture and the aspects of settlement I have already discussed, particularly the relationship between cereal and ceramics and the role of pottery decoration in this relationship.  
Lithics: the importance of stone
Mobility was not exclusively restricted to subsistence practices, although this would probably have provided one of the main reasons for moving on and around.  Flint was a rare resource available as pebbles of beach flint only in a restricted number of locations (Wickham-Jones and Collins 1978).  The lithic technology employed on the worked flint that has been found suggests an exhaustive and maximal use of what was available, with extensive retouching evident (Finlayson in Crone 1993; Finlayson in Downes and Badcock 1998; Wickham-Jones in Branigan and Foster 1995).  Flint was supplemented by the use of quartz, which unlike flint is abundant in the local geology (Johnstone and Mykura 1989), though not as easy to work as flint.  Unfortunately, the significance of quartz in Scotland during prehistory has only recently become appreciated (Bradley 1995) and the difficulty in identifying worked-quartz has meant that this chief component of Scottish lithic assemblages has been discarded from many sites.  The presence at some of the Hebridean sites of exotic lithic materials such as Arran pitchstone, bloodstone from Rhum and porcellanite from Northern Ireland point to broader still movement than the localised procurement of flint and quartz.  Bloodstone and pitchstone finds have been restricted to a few isolated examples but point to some degree of contact with the Inner Hebrides.  This should not be surprising given that Skye and some of the Inner Hebridean islands can be seen from parts of the Outer Hebrides even on an overcast day.
Far more compelling evidence for such long distance links and movements, however, is provided by the use and deposition of polished stone axes.  Five flakes from polished axes were found during Lindsay Scott’s excavations at Eilean an Tighe (W. L. Scott 1951).  Two flakes were serpentised peridotite and one siltstone, all locally available, but one flake was from a porcellanite stone axe which could only have come from Tievebulliagh or Rathlin, Northern Ireland (Clough and Cummins 1988).  Twelve other porcellanite axeheads and axehead flakes have since been found in the Outer Hebrides (Sheridan 1992, 201), the most notable example being the hafted Shulishader axe found in peat cuttings on the Eye Peninsula, Lewis (figure 4.14), its hawthorn haft preserved in the peat (Sheridan 1992).  For the haft to have been preserved this axe would have had to have been deliberately deposited within a waterlogged hollow or pool.  There was no evidence that the axe had ever been used.
 
Figure 4.14 Shulishader axe, Lewis (after Sheridan 1992, 199)
An imported igneous axe was found in a phase five occupation surface at Eilean Domhnuill (Armit 1988, 26), suggesting that the item had been placed rather than discarded and given the degree of preservation experienced at the site it also seems unlikely that the axe had been hafted when it was deposited.  Another, smaller, igneous axe was also recovered from a cobbled surface of house F at the site (Armit 1990, 16).  
With just these few examples of the numerous polished stone axes found in the region we can see that they would seem to be deposited in quite special ways and often in quite particular contexts.  Apart from those found at settlement sites - the Eilean an Tighe examples, two from Eilean Domhnuill and a further four axeheads and axehead fragments from Alt Chrisal (Sheridan and Addison in Branigan and Foster 1995) - many of the polished axes would seem, like the Shulishader example, to have been deliberately deposited in watery contexts.  At Loch nan Geireann, North Uist a hoard of six polished stone axes were found at the loch edge (Beveridge 1911, 262) whilst five stone axeheads were found by the shore of Loch Airigh na Ceardaich, Lewis (Cowie 1981, 50).  Three stone axes and a flint fragment were found in peat-cuttings arranged touching with tips down, the flint fragment beneath them (Ponting and Ponting 1977).  The position of the axes suggested that they had been buried or deposited in a container, perhaps a bag (Close-Brooks 1980).
There has been a great deal of work in recent years on the symbolic properties of axes (Bradley and Edmonds 1993; Edmonds 1993; J. Thomas and Tilley 1993) and Whittle has highlighted three possible dimensions to this symbolism (Whittle 1995).  Axes may symbolise control over nature, objects associated with the control and management of woodland.  Secondly, it is likely that some of this symbolism derived from the particular stone that the axe had been crafted from, itself possibly metaphoric for the distant places where these materials had been quarried (McBryde 1984; Taçon 1991).  Thirdly, these axes may also have been prestigious items acting as symbols of wealth, status or identity (Burton 1984; Bradley and Edmonds 1993).  As Whittle suggests (Whittle 1995), it is unlikely that the symbolism of axes was restricted to any one of these examples and the metaphoric power of axes may itself derive from the potential of these objects to represent a number of broader associations.  So given this symbolic power why is it that so many come to be deposited, apparently deliberately so, in such a restricted range of contexts?  What was the particular significance of depositing such prestigious materials at settlement sites and how were these involved in the construction of place or character of dwelling at such sites?  I think to understand and explain this we must begin to think about the kinds of activities that were taking place at these sites.  One explanation may relate to another form of material culture that comes to be quite deliberately deposited at the sites, pottery, and its potential symbolic properties. 
Pottery forms and contexts of deposition
Pottery, like cereals, was not evenly distributed between the sites (figure 4.15) and we can see once again that a significant quantity of pottery was recovered from Eilean Domhnuill, over three times the number of sherds from Alt Chrisal and nearly ten times those from Northton.  Unlike cereals we cannot demonstrate that this large concentration is not an artefact of excavation or the duration of occupation at the site, but it does appear that ceramics are significantly over-represented at Eilean Domhnuill, particularly decorated sherds (Armit 1988, 22).  Although decoration was also prominent in the ceramic assemblages from Northton and Eilean an Tighe, this was to a much lesser extent than had been observed at Eilean Domhnuill.  Without detailed stratigraphic information, currently lacking for all the sites from the region, we cannot examine specific acts or patterns of ceramic deposition at individual sites.  We can, however, make broad comparisons between them based on the quantity and nature of the ceramics found.  
 
Figure 4.15 Quantity of pottery sherds from settlement sites (after Armit in Crone 1993; Squair in Downes and Badcock 1998; Brown nd.; Scott 1950; A. Gibson 1995; Squair 1998)
The low number of sherds from Bharpa Carinish would seem to support the interpretation that this site was only briefly occupied, as suggested by the ambiguous structural remains and the low concentration of cereal grains from environmental sampling.  There was also a high degree of fragmentation and abrasion for the sherds from the site implying that these may have been casually discarded rather than carefully or deliberately deposited (Armit in Crone 1993, 371-2).  The quality and quantity of the ceramics therefore indicate that the pottery from this site might represent background noise for what was only a temporary, transient and ephemeral occupation.  The comparably larger assemblage from Rubh’ a’ Charnain Mhoir would seem to derive from a more concentrated, possibly deliberate, episode of deposition (Squair in Downes and Badcock 1998, 34).  Unfortunately, the excavations were too limited to provide a greater insight into the nature of this assemblage, although it would seem that parts of around 140 vessels, some probably complete, were deposited within the shallow pit which provided the focus for the site.  
Identification of the selective deposition of ceramics at Eilean Domhnuill was difficult, where “there is little variation in pottery throughout the deposits, and the pottery itself gives an impression of general uniformity” (Brown nd.). However, it was certainly significant at the site that hundreds if not thousands of vessels came to be deposited there, most of them partially to fully decorated and in a relatively restricted range of forms.  This range of forms was mirrored at the sites of Northton and Eilean an Tighe, although in considerably smaller quantities.  The range of vessels from Alt Chrisal were perhaps less restricted, and decoration less prolific.  Nevertheless, at Alt Chrisal a large quantity of sherds were found, almost as much as the total number found at Eilean an Tighe and Northton combined.  
At Northton, Eilean an Tighe and particularly Eilean Domhnuill, the assemblages were dominated by heavily decorated ridged jars and Unstan bowls, whilst at Rubh’ a’ Charnain Mhoir and Alt Chrisal plain lugged jars and bowls were predominant, although Unstan bowls were also present at the latter.  At these last two sites the vessels found were comparable to the vessels from the chambered cairns.  At the others, however, the ceramic assemblages were clearly distinct from those found at the cairns.  
Like in my earlier distinction between two different kinds of place - lasting places over time and brief places in time - I think we can distinguish between two different kinds of pottery deposition.  At sites like Rubh’ a’ Charnain Mhoir deposition of ceramics, although apparently significant, is brief and short-lived.  Similarly at Bharpa Carinish ceramics do feature significantly in the use of this locale over time.  Northton and Eilean an Tighe are more problematic as ceramics provide a considerable proportion of the finds from both sites but again this does not seem to endure for long, irrespective of the quantities and qualities of pots used there.  At Eilean Domhnuill and Alt Chrisal however, the deposition of ceramics seems to be crucial and an important part of the long histories that both sites exhibit.  We can perhaps envisage an architectural role for the deposition of ceramics at these two sites in that it is active in the construction, demarcation and designation of space, and frames a certain kind of dwelling.  Although these sites were both initially defined through the modification of a particular locale, the significance of both these places was maintained through the continued deposition of quantities of pottery.  That the ultimate forms of the ceramics deposited at either site are not similar need not be important.  Rather each would seem, in the materials employed and deposited there, to be a localised realisation of a similar theme, although perhaps for dissimilar reasons or functions.  To explore this idea further I want to examine the role of pottery decoration and the relationship between pottery and cereals at the site of Eilean Domhnuill.
Pots, plants and the role of ceramic decoration
I have already commented on the considerable proportion of decorated sherds from Eilean Domhnuill, far exceeding the numbers from other sites in the region.  Can we explain the considerable attention to decorated vessels at this site and the large quantity of ceramics that are ultimately deposited there?  The relationship between pottery and cereals at Eilean Domhnuill seems important and may help us to understand this intensity of deposition.  Furthermore we might suggest that the decoration of the Eilean Domhnuill vessels was crucially involved in this relationship between pot and plant.  
 
Figure 4.16 Decorated objects from Eilean Domhnuill (after Armit 1988, 23-5)
The repetition of particular decorative elements is significantly not restricted to the pottery from the site but also occurs on a single carved stone ball as well as two ceramic phalli (figure 4.16).  These were apparently deliberately deposited at the site, the carved ball incorporated into the walling of the phase one structures, whilst one ceramic phallus was found within a stone alignment of phase five and the other in midden deposits beneath phase five (Armit 1988, 24).  So what was the function of this decoration and why was it important for the vessels at Eilean Domhnuill to be decorated?  
In discussing the function of decorative (rather than representational) art, Alfred Gell has suggested that decorating an object establishes a relationship between the decorator, the object and the social projects that the object entails (Gell 1998).  For Gell decoration is a process, a choreography where it is the process of decorating an object that is important, rather than the finished product itself: “patterns…generate relationships over time between persons and things” (Gell 1998, 80).  This point is mirrored in a brief study by Maurice Bloch on Malagasy house carvings, who comments that “the carvings are not pointing outwards - mutely trying to say something, voulant dire as the questions expected - they are an essential element of the material and the social principle on which they occur; they are not referring or signifying” (M. Bloch 1995, 215).  For both Gell and Bloch decoration is not there to communicate a message, or to signify a particular identity for the owner of the object, but rather it is an act aimed at creating an agency for that object.  Gell goes on to suggest that much decorative art serves as a medium for protection, whether it is to protect the object decorated, the decorator or in the case of pottery, its contents.  
To understand this further I want to refer to a study based on the ceramics of the Bulahay communities of Mafa in Cameroon (David et al. 1988; Sterner 1989).  The decoration of pottery for the Bulahay creates a ritual boundary that becomes the medium through which power flows, essentially as a medium for protection.  Decoration in this case is not an art, it is essential to the pots ‘being’ and indeed the well-being of the community.  Here, pottery decoration is strongly paralleled with the decoration of people, tattoos and scarification, oiling or painting of the body and bodily adornment all primarily intended as mediums for protection (David et al. 1988, 377).  Power here is generally thought of as destructive, incorporating both aggressive supernatural or cosmic powers such as spirits, but also powers inherent in people.  Much bodily adornment for example is designed to protect individuals from their own, potentially dangerous, powers.  Similarly, the majority of decorated pottery is employed where power provides a threat.  Everyday pots tend not to be decorated but rather decoration is focused on pots for special occasions or certain contexts such as men’s meat pots or pots that are designed to contain the souls of the living.  Equally children’s pots are undecorated because children are regarded as powerless.  
These ideas about decoration contrast significantly with the predominant modern western view of ‘art’ emphasising the product rather than production or process of art.  Performance art, music, theatre and dance provide notable exceptions and these are frequently employed as metaphors and direct analogies in the works cited above.  For Gell and the work on the Bulahay decoration is not representation nor is it necessarily intended to communicate or broadcast information.  It is a social process of transformation essential to an object fulfilling its role.  This can particular be seen in the Cameroon examples where “sacred pots are more elaborately decorated…but rarely seen…the decoration is ritually, magically essential to the vessel fulfilling its role, but it does not have to be visible – that it exists and is known to exist is sufficient” (Sterner 1989, 457-8).  So how does this help with our interpretation of the large quantity of heavily decorated ceramics found at Eilean Domhnuill?
For the Bulahay, the primary cultivated crop of millet is, until processed, regarded as a wild crop and as such is often associated with potentially harmful natural spirits.  Not until the millet is processed can it be brought into the settlement compound, “at this stage, and until it has been threshed, the millet is still considered a wild, natural product and thus less controllable or at risk than the processed grains, whose entry into fully cultural space and status is accompanied by various rituals” (David et al. 1988, 374).  Vessels that are associated with millet are regarded as sacred pots and usually heavily decorated, the decoration itself representing the spirit of the processed millet, a symbol that is also associated with God’s hair, one of the most powerful symbols in the Bulahay cosmology (David et al. 1988, 373-4).  Whilst I am not advocating this anthropological example as a direct means for interpreting the Eilean Domhnuill evidence, it provides compelling insights into the possible relationships between cereals, pottery decoration and site architecture.  Despite the presence of several saddle querns, there was no evidence for the earlier stages of cereal processing on Eilean Domhnuill “such as winnowing and threshing, although the conditions were ideal for the preservation of chaff” (Armit in prep.; Grinter 1999).  Can we envisage a comparable scenario at Eilean Domhnuill to the Bulahay example where cereals were not allowed on to the site in their unprocessed form?  One way we may explore this possibility is through a consideration for the nature and role of boundaries at this one site.  
Boundaries at Eilean Domhnuill
Boundaries, like I have already suggested for material culture, are architectural.  I do not by this term refer to architecture in terms of a building or structure, in the literal sense, but rather I want to consider that what boundaries do is frame certain notions of categorisation.  This clearly does not have to be restricted to the framing of physical space, such as a wall frames the space either side of it, because boundaries are equally likely to be conceptual.  However, what is important for archaeology is that conceptual boundaries very often gain and sustain their value through manifestation in physical forms, made concrete through specific acts or through the use and deposition of certain materials.  Through emphasising the conceptual nature of boundaries we begin to see that boundaries are not fixed, enduring or absolute.  Rather, they are dynamic and may constantly be subject to interpretation, movement and negotiation.  Boundaries then exist as a system of framing given value and made concrete through physical and material acts.
The evidence from Eilean Domhnuill seems to suggest a site evoking if not involving a powerful series of boundaries.  When we look at the site, even today, the site is bounded by its location within a loch surrounded by water on all sides and accessible only by a brief causeway (figure 4.17).  Within the site the most impressive structural element throughout its sequence was invariably the façade and entranceway.  In the earliest excavated levels a stone revetment was built to support a timber palisade and frame the entrance.  Subsequently, the revetment and palisade were replaced by a stone wall with turf or earth packing.  In later phases the entrance became more elaborate still, defined by paving and small stone orthostats, the timber causeway replaced by a more enduring stone one.  
 
Figure 4.17 Eilean Domhnuill
The form and decoration of some of the pottery from Eilean Domhnuill seem to reflect the boundaries inherent in the architecture of the site (figure 4.18).  In both the interior is defined by a strong set of rigid but not impermeable boundaries, and at no point are these boundaries more striking than at the threshold between the interior and exterior: in the pottery through the elaborate decoration and sometimes closed form of the upper potion and mouth of the vessel, at Eilean Domhnuill through the entranceway and façade to the site.  
 
Figure 4.18 Hypothetical similarities between architecture and ceramics at Eilean Domhnuill 
It is not difficult to envisage that the pottery from this site would have been used for the storage and consumption of the large quantities of cereals that were found.  Deep closed jars, shallow open bowls and cups would have been well suited to the storage, cooking, presentation and consumption of cereal products.  Can we go further to suggest that the decoration on these vessels was intimately related to these cereals, and that cereals themselves may have contributed significantly to the construction of the boundaries at the site?  As noted the decoration of the sacred pots of the Bulahay was specifically designed to protect the contents of the vessels from the potentially harmful powers inherent in millet.  It was no coincidence that decoration and ornamentation was predominantly focused on the mouth and rim of the pot, the threshold of the vessel.  This decoration served to act as insulation, drawing power away from the millet, “the pellet motif represents, we contend, millet that has been tamed by culture; somewhat like a vaccine, it offers protection against the darker side of a potent spirit of nature that is at the same time the staff of life” (David et al. 1988, 374). 
The decorative motifs found on the vessels from Eilean Domhnuill, and also on the ceramic phalli and carved stone ball, provide exactly the qualities that Gell refers to in his consideration for the function of decorative art (Gell 1998), particularly the bands of incised diagonal lines and herring bone motifs that dominate the assemblage.  Gell highlights the ‘maze-like’ quality of decorative art, designed to draw in, confuse and disorientate (Gell 1998).  We might perhaps even suggest a more direct association between decoration and ceramics drawing on a recently found vessel from the Black Isle near Inverness (figure 4.19) featuring “corrugated decoration with a herringbone effect” (MacSween in Barclay et al. 2001, 62).  Quite a large number of barley grains were found at this site, along with some emmer wheat (Holden and Hastie in Barclay et al. 2001) and the ‘herringbone effect’ decoration would appear to be a direct imitation of the heads of unprocessed cereals.  I am not suggesting that specific decorative motifs on ceramics at Eilean Domhnuill and other Hebridean sites were designed as visual representations of cereals, but there would seem to be a strong relationship between the two.
 
Figure 4.19 Pot from Kinbeachie, Black Isle (after Barclay et al. 2001, 65) 
As noted, whilst evidence for the early stages of cereal processing was absent at the site we must recall the recovery of several saddle querns during excavation.  These were initially thought to represent the casual reuse of old stone whilst at least a couple appear to have been found in situ within floor deposits (Armit 1988, 24).  Some were certainly used in walling and paving at the site.  But can we suggest a more active role for these materials in the context of this discussion?  It is possible that these querns were deposited because of their symbolic association with the processing of crops.  If the processing of cereals was dangerous then this may have restricted the use of querns to certain places at certain times and perhaps for only a limited number of occasions.  I would argue that these saddle querns were not casually re-incorporated into later structures but actively incorporated into the site in a carefully staged appropriation or negotiation of power and space.  That there was no evidence, even in the water-logged excavations, of cereal processing (Mills et al. 2004) would suggest that the querns were brought to the site having been employed somewhere else altogether.  If this is the case then we have an intriguing glimpse into the biography of objects and the ‘social projects’ that these objects were involved in.  
So why go to all this trouble?  Unlike the Bulahay, the people who built and rebuilt Eilean Domhnuill were not dependent on an arable subsistence base.  The faunal and botanical evidence from the Hebridean sites is strongly suggestive of a mixed economy focused on movements with sheep and some cattle and only the occasional exploitation of cereals.  Yet at Eilean Domhnuill we have overwhelming evidence for the use of cereals and pottery that is quite different from the other site of this period and the kind of settlement that we would expect from this form of dwelling.  Furthermore this site was set apart from this broader world through its situation within a loch, and set apart from normal everyday practice through the use and deposition of considerable quantities of elaborately decorated and well-made ceramic vessels.  Recent work has emphasised the social implications of changes in subsistence and diet (J. Thomas 1996b, 319; Bradley 1998, 66).  More recently still, isotopic studies have stressed the relatively dramatic uptake of domesticated animals within the earliest Neolithic diet (Bonsall et al. 2002; Schulting and Richards 2002).  Yet evidence of a shift from pastoral to arable agriculture is much less acute (Mike Richards pers. comm.).  We might suggest that the shift from hunter-gatherer-fishing to pastoralism was not substantially dramatic, both involving some degree of movement through the landscape throughout the year. In contrast cereal crops required a longer-term and more fixed attention to place, involving a more gradual incorporation into the Neolithic way of life.  This, however, does not account for Eilean Domhnuill with evidence for cereal consumption very early in the Neolithic (Bronk Ramsey et al. 2000).
An important question then must be what were people growing crops for.  Even if barley was a subsistence crop, given the analogies above and rich artefactual evidence from Eilean Domhnuill, we should consider that the consumption of cereals would have been a closely controlled and structured act, possibly restricted to certain individuals, groups, activities, events, times of the year, or for certain motivations.  Feasting and consumption within small-scale societies are highly political events, creating bonds of association within and between communities and also debts of reciprocal obligation.  But such acts also serve to exclude and establish or assert particular socio-political hierarchies (Potter 2000).  This would have been accentuated had the cereals been fermented to create beer or sugars.  The elaborate decoration of the Eilean Domhnuill vessels may have specifically been associated with the transformation of the vessel contents.  Hodder has highlighted the decoration of vessels involved in the transformation of milk into butter and yoghurt (Hodder 1982, 70), with work on the Bulahay suggesting that this decoration was expressly intended to protect the vessel and its contents during this transformation (David et al. 1988, 374).  
The use of cereals for brewing, or restricted and occasional acts of feasting, might explain the relative absence of cereals from Neolithic diets on the basis of the isotopic evidence, beer consisting mostly of carbohydrates whereas isotopes measure protein (Mike Richards pers. comm.).  The charring of the grains at Eilean Domhnuill could have resulted from parching as part of the brewing process, with the large ‘dump’ of context 330 certainly consistent with an accidental burning during parching.  According to Merryn and Graham Dineley one of the fundamental requirements for brewing is the availability of water for all stages of the fermenting process (Dineley and Dineley 2000) which may provide one, but not necessarily the only, explanation for the location of Eilean Domhnuill within a freshwater loch.  In a personal communication Dr. Thomas Kavanagh at the University of Pittsburgh has discounted the possibility of brewing in the British Neolithic on the absence of a suitable ceramic technology to provide the watertight conditions required.  However, burnishing may improve the ability of pottery to store liquids, a technique that is evident from Eilean Domhnuill despite its susceptibility to taphonomic damage (Brown nd., Scott 1951).  The burning of high-fat milk into the surface of a vessel, a long established tradition in the Outer Hebrides (U. MacKlellan and S. Blair pers. comm.) may also provide adequate conditions for fermentation and it is possible that milk fats identified in residue analysis of later prehistoric pottery (Craig et al. 2000), conventionally used to infer the role of dairying in a subsistence economy, may derive from the construction rather than use of ceramic vessels.  Beeswax may also be used to limit the permeability of vessels, noted in analysis of the vessels from Balfarg (M. Dineley pers. comm.).
It has been argued by some that beer might have been much more favourable than bread as a reason for adopting elements of an arable economy (Braidwood 1953; Katz and Voight 1986; Whittle 1996, 68-9).  Certainly, technology permitting, beyond the physiological and social effects of beer or alcoholic foods, “the fermentation process, in addition to adding nutritional value, preservatives, and alcohol…adds flavour to an otherwise monotonous dish” (Webber 1995).  Fermentation may then have been an important reason for the decision to cultivate cereals and may have been instrumental in the setting apart of Eilean Domhnuill from the rest of the landscape.   
Whether Neolithic people were brewing at Eilean Domhnuill, ceramics and cereals were an integral part of the things that took place at this site; so integral that it is perhaps these above anything else that define the site, at least in terms of the material record we are left with today.  It was clearly important for the people at Eilean Domhnuill to use and deposit several hundred vessels of pottery during its history and for these vessels to have been decorated and embody particular forms.  Furthermore it was important for cereals to be brought to the site but have already undergone processing.  In addition to these two elements it was important that at various stages in the sites history other significant objects were to be deposited there, such as saddle querns, stone axes and stone balls.  What is perhaps most striking is not the nature of this material wealth, but that it lasted for so long, almost the length of the Neolithic itself in this region.  What kind of dwelling does this represent?  What kind of practical engagement with the world can we see taking place at Eilean Domhnuill and what may have brought about this quite deliberated and structured activity, in such a particular context? 
Summary 
In this section I have tried to examine a history of events, a history of the Neolithic that is made up of the pockets of daily existence from this period, revealed through a handful of excavated settlement remains.  I have tried to reveal a number of themes that connect these diverse sites and suggested that despite their diversity, broad patterns highlight similarities between them.  Together, the sites suggest some degree of mobility in this period, part of a wide-ranging engagement with the world, possibly originating in earlier settlement practices, perhaps from the Mesolithic.  However, the sites from this time are fundamentally distinct through a subsistence emphasising domesticated animals and plants, and the use of ceramics.  The evidence from the settlement sites reflects the tension between this broader mobility and the fixed places that this lifestyle required, however fleeting in use they may once have been.  Movement with domesticated animals would have required a more punctuated use of the landscape, a situation that would have been magnified with the use of pottery and even more so with the growth, processing and consumption of cereals.  Yet in addition to these small-scale, fleeting contexts of settlement a series of enduring locales, though not permanently occupied, would have provided a more permanent focus. 
It is the tensions provided by these new subsistence practices and new materials, exaggerated by the needs for mobility and yet also the needs to settle in certain places and at certain times, which seem to bring about the exceptional site of Eilean Domhnuill.  I have spent a large part of this section talking about this one site and its extraordinary evidence.  Primarily this is because of the considerable quality and quantity of archaeological evidence from the site, benefiting from a high-quality of excavation with modern techniques.  Yet this quantity and intensity of deposition, enduring for several hundred years, sets this site apart from the others, even Alt Chrisal.  The stuff that this site is made up of - its essence - is essentially the same as the other settlement sites; slight structural remains accompanied by pits, post-holes, stake-holes and brief stone alignments, and hearths associated with ashen and charcoal spreads filled with midden material and artefactual debris.  
Yet at this one site all these together seem to provide a monumentalisation of the more mundane moments of daily life played out at the more ephemeral sites, more a representation of settlement than a settlement site itself.  The pottery is considerably more decorated, the motifs employed also used on other objects, some apparently deliberately discarded along with further items of apparent significance.  The cereals occur in much larger quantities, suggesting more than a background noise to domestic consumption that this may have been a place for ostentatious consumption, not only of cereals and animals but also of prestigious and valued objects.  It is these activities that set apart Eilean Domhnuill from the other settlement sites of the period and furthermore, it is these that are responsible for the setting apart of this site through the construction of a powerful series of boundaries; its setting in a loch, the elaborate threshold to the site and the restricted and complicated range of heavily decorated ceramics.  Furthermore, these activities were so crucial that the site was repeatedly re-used over a millennium, and with each phase the boundaries employed at the site were elaborated and intensified. 
I do not wish to argue that Eilean Domhnuill was the only such site in the region at this time, nor that it provided the only such focus for the activities that came to define it.  The similarities in ceramics between Northton and Eilean Domhnuill argue against a complete distinction in the role of these two sites, despite their differing locations and forms.  Similarly, the orchestration of settlement at Alt Chrisal and its ongoing use throughout the Neolithic (and later) hints at some form of connection between the two sites, despite differences in the material culture at each.  Rather it would seem that Eilean Domhnuill represents the pinnacle of such a spectrum.  The question to ask now is what brought about this site and these practices.  Can it just be attributed to the emergence of new subsistence practices and new forms of material culture, and the restrictions on mobility that these afforded?  If so, can this explain the elaborate boundaries employed at the site, or the ongoing significance of this site with time?  
If we are to attempt to answer these question I propose that we must investigate a different kind of evidence from this period, one that reveals an altogether different history for the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides, the slower history of the megalithic monuments from this time.  
Section II
Collective destinies and general trends
Neolithic monumental traditions

 
 
Introduction
In contrast to the ephemeral traces left by the daily episodes and small-scale movements and interactions of Neolithic settlement are the enduring stone monuments of the period.  These megalithic constructions represent the movement over time (the Neolithic) and space (north-west Europe) of a relatively comparable system of beliefs and practices that involved, but was not necessarily determined by, the attitudes to and treatment of the dead (Bradley 1998a; Whittle 1996).  They represent, in material form, the movement and interaction of ideas and traditions over larger areas and over longer periods than discussed in the previous section yet ultimately are also situated within localised and particular contexts of construction and use.  
It is a history of these monuments that will provide the moyenne durée of Braudel’s three temporal scales, the slower history of social institutions and traditions that outlive the rapid, short-term histories of the previous section.  For this history I will examine the monumental megalithic structures of the Outer Hebrides and consider what these might tell us about the shifts (and continuity) in contact, communication and ways of life throughout this period.  These sites, perhaps more than the settlements discussed, can begin to inform us about the nature and development of mentalités during the Neolithic of this region, the ways in which practice was structured around certain belief systems and particular architectural forms, and the opportunities for social practice that individual forms afforded.  Furthermore, these monuments can begin to show us longer-term social developments - longer-term histories - and highlight the shifting scales of interaction in which these monument were situated; located between traditions of monumental construction that span the Atlantic façade of north-west Europe, yet located, built and used in quite local and specific ways.  
I first want to consider the chambered cairns of the region and highlight the two main types of cairn construction that we find there.  I will initially examine in chapter five how these have come to be studied and understood in the archaeological literature before highlighting in chapter six some of the problems that I feel are raised by our present interpretations of these monuments.  In chapter seven I will go on to consider new ways of looking at these monuments and discuss the variability and continuity that they display, examining both external influences and insular developments in monument form, construction and use.  I will finally suggest in chapter eight a history for the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides and propose a particular chronology embedded within local and regional trends.
In chapter nine I will go on to examine the stone circles from the Outer Hebrides, distinguishing between two concentrations in the region; first the stone circles of North Uist and secondly those on the west coast of Lewis.  Through this distinction I wish to highlight a broad shift in both the geographic focus for monument building and the ultimate form and function of these monuments.
Ultimately, as a regionally specific analysis of the Neolithic monuments of the Outer Hebrides yet sensitive to broader themes from recent British Neolithic studies, this section aims to examine and understand the local development and importance of these enigmatic constructions and situate them within a broader understanding of Neolithic society in this region.  Furthermore, embedded within Braudel’s three temporal scales or histories, we will begin to see the history of the Neolithic monuments for this region unfolding in a quite different way to the history of the previous section.
 
Figure ii.1 Neolithic monuments in the Outer Hebrides (main window: chambered cairns, inset: stone circles)

Chapter 5
Chambered cairns: An outline of perceived traditions

To understand the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides, particularly within the context of a regional history, we must first appreciate how these sites have been examined in the past and how this has shaped how we view them in the present.  I have chosen to provide a historiography of these particular monuments, tracing how they have been considered and incorporated into broader studies of the Neolithic.  As the subjects of almost a century of scrutiny and debate these monuments have rarely, if at all, been considered in terms of their local significance within the Outer Hebrides, instead situated within larger scale models and theoretical debate on Scottish, British and European Neolithics.  
‘Pagan monuments and burials’ 
Although reference to the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides had been made in the account of Martin’s travels in the seventeenth century (Martin 1999, 61), the earliest detailed investigation of these monuments was undertaken by Beveridge in his study of the archaeology and geography of North Uist (Beveridge 1911).  Beveridge was keen to understand the Neolithic monuments of North Uist and situate them within a longer-term history of the island, devoting a chapter of his book to Pagan monuments and burials.  Influenced by the studies of Joseph Anderson (Anderson 1886) Beveridge situated the Neolithic monuments of North Uist within a three-age prehistory of the island, arguing for a shift from communal burial in chambered cairns during the Neolithic to cremation in cists with grave goods during the Bronze Age to unburnt burials in the Iron Age (Beveridge 1911, 240-1).  
Beveridge divided the cairns of North Uist into two categories; ‘barps’ (from the Gaelic for cairn) or chambered cairns, and long cists (figure 5.1).  The barps were thought to be related to similar monuments throughout the British Isles, particularly monuments from Caithness, Sutherland, Orkney and Argyllshire (Beveridge 1911, 243). Beveridge was conscious however of the regional  peculiarities that they displayed.  Although sharing close affinities with other monuments, particularly those from Caithness, the North Uist barps were distinct through an overall larger scale and through the definition of the cairn by large upright stones, known as a peristalith (Childe 1935, 33).  The barps of North Uist also tended generally to be “rudely circular in form” (Beveridge 1991, 245), although two long varieties were recognised.  
 
Figure 5.2 Plan of Marrogh ‘barp’, North Uist (after Henshall 1972, 523)
Beveridge also highlighted differences in internal architecture, where the chambers from North Uist tended to feature a single, larger chamber (figure 5.2) while those from examples in northern Scotland were frequently divided into two or three compartments (Beveridge 1911, 244).  A total of thirteen barps were identified on North Uist, with a further five noted for South Uist and Barra.  
The long cists were represented by five examples on North Uist with Clettraval believed to be related to similar monuments from Arran (Beveridge 1911, 254).  Here, Beveridge was undoubtedly referring to the work of Bryce who had defined a tradition of monument construction centred on Bute, Arran, Islay and mainland Argyll (Bryce 1902; 1903).  Bryce defined this ‘Clyde group’ of monuments according to similarities in architectural form, characterised by an elongated chamber marked out by overlapping upright stone slabs, internally divided into two or more compartments by low septal slabs at right angles to the chamber walls.  This chamber was typically contained within a rectangular or trapezoidal cairn, accessed via a concave façade at one end of the cairn.  The North Uist examples also consisted of an elongated cist defined by a series of upright slabs set within a cairn, the most characteristic of which was thought to be Dun na Carnaich (figure 5.3).  
 
Figure 5.3 Plan of Dun na Carnaich long cist, North Uist (after Henshall 1972, 515)
Despite detailing each of the known chambered cairns of North Uist, describing in detail their condition and location and relating them to known examples from elsewhere in the British Isles, the limited knowledge of these monuments at this time meant that little was understood about their origins or sequence.  However, by the 1930’s the chambered cairns of this region had become the focus of intensive study and debate within broader Scottish, British and European Neolithic studies.
Similarities, differences and origins 
Childe and changes in time
Childe, like Beveridge, distinguished between two different traditions of monument construction; passage graves (Beveridge’s barps) and the Clyde-Carlingford gallery graves (Beveridge’s long cists).  In particular Childe (1933, 121) highlighted the regional distinction between these traditions, passage graves concentrated in northern Scotland, notably Orkney, Caithness, Sutherland and the Outer Hebrides, and gallery graves concentrated in western Scotland, particularly Galloway, Arran, Argyll and once again the Outer Hebrides (figure 5.4).  In attempting to explain these distinctions in monument form, Childe looked for continental parallels for the cairn-types and proposed a spread of traditions through  colonization, the passage-graves derived from similar monuments in western France and southern Spain, and the gallery graves influenced by monuments from the western Mediterranean.  Childe explained the variability of cairn form within particular regions as the result of degeneration, insular developments from a foreign ‘pure’ form:
 “the oldest [cairn] types will be those most accurately reproduced in the greatest number of distinct regions; types localised in specific areas will be later inasmuch as they represent regional variants from the original type or types” (Childe 1933, 121).  
In the Clyde group, those monuments defined by Bryce were thought to signify a primary spread of colonization whilst variations such as the absence of a forecourt, smaller chambers and the presence of multiple chambers under a single cairn were thought to represent a secondary localised degeneration of earlier traditions (Childe 1933; 1934).  Degeneration therefore not only became a method for typological distinction and explanation but also for chronological refinement, through which Childe suggested that the ‘pure’ gallery and passage graves such as those in the Clyde region and Caithness respectively were amongst the earliest megalithic monuments in Britain (Childe 1933, 129).  
But neither Childe’s two-fold typology nor his degeneration model adequately explained the Hebridean monuments, with both passage-grave and gallery-grave traditions present (Childe 1933, 121; 1935, 24).  Not only were there both traditions in the Outer Hebrides but some individual sites seemed to represent a merger of both these styles.  Beveridge had noted the architectural affinities between Clettraval on North Uist and known monuments from Arran whilst Lindsay Scot observed that the site was linked by its structural form to the allée couverte of northern France, and by its pottery to similar vessels from the Clyde-Carlingford region (W. L. Scott 1935, 525-30).  Yet other elements of this site differed from a Clyde group gallery grave, for example the use of a convex rather than flat or concave façade, the widening of the chamber with depth and a curve in the chamber axis.  Childe noted this site “might be described as a long cist, walled with slabs on edge and divided into five compartments by septal stones in the Clyde manner.  But the compartments grow wider and higher towards the inner end…The structure might, therefore, also be described as a chamber preceded by ante-chamber and segmented passage” (Childe 1935, 40).  But Childe failed to offer an explanation for this hybridisation and it is not easily accounted for by his degeneration model.
Daniel and monuments in space
Daniel criticised Childe’s views as simplistic and highlighted the problems that the Hebridean cairns presented to his typological schemes (Daniel 1941).  For Daniel, gallery grave and passage grave styles in the Outer Hebrides were “so inextricably mixed” that they could not be explained by degeneration (Daniel 1941, 44).  Daniel’s solution was to create a further four monument classes in addition to Childe’s passage and gallery-graves: near-passage graves, near-gallery graves, types which cannot be classified as either passage or gallery grave, and the exceptional Orkney cairns (Daniel 1941, 44).  Whilst Childe would have explained these sites as degenerate examples, Daniel felt this explanation insufficient.  However, despite stressing the over-simplicity of Childe’s model and disagreeing with his degeneration model, Daniel ultimately agreed with Childe’s two-stream hypothesis concluding that certain regions - including the Outer Hebrides - represented the merger of passage grave and gallery grave traditions rather than the emergence of different or new traditions.    
Despite further highlighting the difficulty that Clettraval and many other northern Scottish cairns presented to Childe’s typological framework (Daniel 1962, 59), Daniel’s views were ultimately still rooted in the same explanatory framework as Childe.  Central to this was the assumption at this time that the spread of material culture was equivalent to the movements of specific groups of people.  Daniel and Childe had disagreed about the specific nature or medium through which cultural traits moved, Daniel favoured colonization (1941) whilst Childe preferred migration through trade (1935) and later religious diffusion (1939).  Yet despite this disagreement, both Daniel and Childe ultimately shared the premise that the movement through time and space of Neolithic monument forms or traditions equated to the spread through time and space of specific cultural groups.  Such views ultimately derived from a limited appreciation for the contents and use of the chambered cairns. 
Lindsay Scott, Piggott and the use of monuments 
One benefit the Outer Hebrides provided to an understanding of chambered cairns was a number of excavated examples, through the work of Lindsay Scott, at Clettraval (W. L. Scott 1935), Unival (W. L. Scott 1948) and Rudh’ an Dunain (W. L. Scott 1932; 1934).  From these excavations Lindsay Scott attempted to construct a chronological sequence for the Hebridean material, largely based on the ceramics from these sites but also through an intimate knowledge and awareness of British and European Neolithic studies (W. L. Scott 1942).  Through analysis of their finds he realised that the chambered cairns of this region could not be understood on typological or architectural grounds alone, or explained through the models that had been constructed by Childe and Daniel.
The evidence from his excavations demonstrated that despite architectural differences, both Clettraval and Unival were probably contemporary and built by the same population, although the latter site appeared to have been in use for longer and until later, conflicting with concurrent assumptions.  For example, both sites were linked through the specific burial rites carried out in their use and their location upon hillsides (W. L. Scott 1942, 305).  Childe’s degeneration model had implied that Clettraval was a degenerate form of a long cist, probably post-dating the more ‘typical’ passage grave form of Unival, whilst Daniel’s ideas would suggest that these two cairns represent “two streams of migration separated both in time and space” (W. L. Scott 1942, 305).  
Daniel’s view of the Hebridean material was particularly problematic and in providing a sequence for the region, Lindsay Scott stressed the necessity of situating its study within broader fields of discussion yet also emphasised caution in interpreting the evidence as a product of the regions peripheral situation.  For Lindsay Scott, the evidence for long-distance links in the region, as for example between Clettraval and monuments from the Clyde region of Scotland and western France, demanded that the region was understood on its own merits and provided a more central role in broader Neolithic studies.  
Lindsay Scott’s sentiments were reflected in the work of Piggott.  Piggott ultimately accepted the two-fold typology of passage and gallery-graves in Scotland.  However, he was more interested in understanding and explaining the specific regional variations of these two types.  This he attempted through relating ceramic forms to monumental styles, an approach made possible by a number of recently excavated chambered cairns.  Whilst Childe had observed broad correlations between particular styles of Neolithic pottery and the two cairn-types, notably the preference for closed Beacharra bowls in the gallery graves and open, shallow Unstan bowls in the passage graves (Childe 1935, 66-7), he ultimately believed that the ceramics from these sites were relatively ubiquitous (Childe 1932, 135).  
For Piggott, the existing typological schemes were flawed through their dependence on unexcavated examples (Piggott 1954, 123).  This was highlighted through his excavation of the Galloway cairns where previous interpretations were undermined by the excavated evidence (Piggott and Powell 1949, 129).  It was also demonstrated through explicit reference to Lindsay Scott’s excavations on North Uist.  Piggott acknowledged the peculiarities of Clettraval that had been identified by earlier authors, but differed through his reluctance to attribute this to the regions distance in time (as Childe had done) or space (as Daniel proposed) from particular monument concentrations.  In particular, Piggott was keen to highlight that despite the insular hybridisation stressed by the architectural typologies, there was abundant evidence from Lindsay Scott’s excavations for contact and communication with other areas.  
Piggott did not support Daniel’s idea that the Outer Hebrides represented an area of mixed culture, but rather - like Lindsay Scott - was keen to highlight the local, internal developments it displayed and how these related to developments elsewhere.  Of interest to Piggott was why both traditions were present in the Outer Hebrides when for most of Britain one type was built to the exclusion of the other.  This led him to question the “significance attached to specific forms of architecture in these communities” (Piggott 1954, 231).  For Piggott an understanding of this problem could not be provided by the analysis of site-plans but had to be situated in an appreciation for the finds from these sites.
Lindsay Scott had identified two influences in the ceramics from the Hebridean sites.  On the one hand there were strong parallels between the early ceramics from Clettraval and the pottery from gallery graves in south-west Scotland.  On the other hand the later vessels from the Unival and Eilean an Tighe sequences shared similarities with some of the pottery from Orkney, notably a Grooved Ware vessel at Unival and Unstan-type vessels at Eilean an Tighe (W. L. Scott 1942, 305).  This fitted in well with Piggott’s ideas for a spread of the Neolithic along the Atlantic coast of the British Isles (Piggott 1931; 1954).  For Piggott Neolithic monuments would have originated in the Mediterranean and western France, moving into the Irish Sea and south-west Scotland before eventually moving up to the north-east Scottish mainland and on to Orkney and Shetland.  Lindsay Scott’s view for the relative contemporaneity of Clettraval and Unival did not disagree with this model as Piggott noted, like archaeologists before him, that Clettraval “can only be interpreted as a structural hybrid between the Passage-grave and Clyde-Carlingford architectural traditions” (Piggott 1954, 225). 
For both Lindsay Scott and Piggott the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides represented a series of local developments inspired, but not necessarily determined, by external contacts through processes of colonization, trade and communication.  Through acknowledging the impact of local developments in the Outer Hebrides and their situation within a broader British Neolithic sequence, both Piggott and Lindsay Scott placed the Outer Hebrides in a much more critical position than Childe and Daniel had done.  Rather than a peripheral insular tradition marginal to two main streams of monument construction, the Outer Hebrides were now considered to be at a central point in the main stream of sea traffic along the Atlantic route (W. L. Scott 1942, 306).  The merging of both traditions in the construction of Clettraval reinforced this argument and the examples excavated by Lindsay Scott provided substantial means not only for understanding the Neolithic of this region but also its relationship with other parts of Scotland at this time.
Henshall’s Chambered tombs of Scotland 
It was some time after Lindsay Scott’s and Piggott’s works that the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides again received mention in British Neolithic studies.  During the 1960’s the Hebridean cairns were surveyed and reappraised as part of Henshall’s ongoing investigation into Scottish chambered cairns, the findings of which were published in the second volume of her Chambered tombs of Scotland.  This work (Henshall 1972; 1973) set out to provide a detailed catalogue of Scottish Neolithic chambered cairns, and to attempt a classification and discussion of them.  
Henshall’s classification was, by the time of publication, much needed (Selkirk 1972, 301).  Since Piggott’s work there had been considerably more sites excavated in Scotland and yet with the exception of a refined typology by Daniel (1962) and ongoing discussion on the origin and development of the Clyde monuments (summarised in J. G. Scott 1969), there had been few attempts to step beyond site-specific or regional case-studies, and subsequently limited development of Piggott’s work.  A more detailed and specific investigation of the Scottish scenario was desirable, if not required.  
Henshall, like earlier writers, acknowledged the presence of two-main traditions of monument construction in Scotland but realised that these had to be appreciated in their particular regional forms.  She decided upon five main chambered cairn forms: Clyde-type cairns (the term long-cist was no longer in use) and four different types of passage grave according to chamber form and regional concentration; the Orkney-Cromarty-Hebridean (with the Shetland monuments a related sub-group), Bargrennan, Clava and Maes Howe groups (Henshall 1972, 199; 1974, figure 19).  Individual sites were investigated in terms of their overall shape and construction, chamber form, location and orientation and, where excavation permitted, their contents and ritual use.  Through these classifications Henshall was able to not only highlight regional traditions in monument construction but also synthesise relationships between different areas beyond merely identifying appropriate architectural parallels.  They also enabled her to consider a detailed sequence for the Scottish cairns, although the relative absence of radiocarbon dates at this time meant that this was based mainly on typological grounds.  
Phase	Period bc	Period BC (approx)	Passage graves	Clyde cairns
one	3750 to 3000 bc	4000 to 3750 BC		simple
two	3000 to 3250 bc	3750 to 3500 BC	simple	developed
three	2750 to 2500 bc	3500 to 3250 BC	developed	later
four	2500 to 2000 bc	3250 to 2500 BC	Maes Howe and Boyne types	
Table 5.1 Henshall’s sequence for Scottish chambered cairns
Henshall devised a four-phase sequence for the Scottish chambered cairns (table 5.1), proposing that the earliest monuments were likely to be those featuring rectangular chambers under small cairns, roughly dated to the late fourth millennium bc (around 4000 BC in calibrated radiocarbon years).  The majority of these were represented by the Clyde-group of south-west Scotland, supporting Childe and Piggot’s suggestion for the high antiquity of the monuments from this region.  The interior for many of these early examples was closed and Henshall believed it was plausible that their form may have derived from an earlier tradition of using stone cists or from wooden proto-types (Henshall 1972, 277).  These monuments were succeeded in the second phase by the development of segmented chambers to produce ‘classic’ Clyde cairns, paralleled by similar developments in Ireland (Henshall 1972, 257).  This phase, tentatively dated to the early third millennium bc (approximately 3750 to 3500 BC), also saw the construction of the first passage-graves, consisting of simple, polygonal chambers set in small round cairns.  Phase three, approximately 2750 to 2500 bc (around 3500 to 3250 BC), saw the development and elaboration of the passage-grave chamber plans, notably the bipartite and tripartite chambers of the Orkney-Cromarty cairns, and also the construction of long cairns, both as independent monuments and as extensions of existing cairns.  The Clyde cairns of phase three produced larger chambers later embellished with elaborate orthostatic facades and by now were predominantly set within rectangular or trapezoidal cairns.  The fourth and final phase, dated to the late third millennium bc (around 3250 to 2500 BC), witnessed the development of the large and impressive cairns of Orkney, constituting the Maes Howe group, and also the Clava group of the Moray Firth. 
Henshall suggested that the majority of Hebridean cairns, with the notable exception of the cairn at Callanish and a few other examples, belonged to the second and third phases, i.e. to the mid-fourth millennium BC.  The persistence of the simple polygonal chamber throughout almost all the cairns in the region (Henshall 1972, 142) and the absence of radiocarbon dates hindered the creation of a detailed local chronology, but variations in cairn form may hint at broad developments through this period.  Some evidence for development in the region was thought to be provided by a handful of composite or multi-phase monuments.  Henshall proposed that remnants of an original, smaller peristalith could be seen in the cairn at Oban nam Fiadh (figure 5.5a) whilst an unusual stone in the northern passage of Barpa Langass (figure 5.5b) hinted at the possible extension of the passage to facilitate the construction of a larger cairn.  Similarly, her classification of the long cairns of Scotland argued that nearly all of the long cairns from the Outer Hebrides, despite the absence of excavated examples, resulted from the secondary extension of pre-existing monuments, probably round cairns (Henshall 1972, 296). 
 
Henshall argued that the Clyde cairns of North Uist were probably developed Clyde forms, supported by Jack Scott’s Clyde cairn sequence (J. G. Scott 1969).  What these monuments did suggest was a relatively early contact with the Clyde region, strengthened by the ceramic styles found in Lindsay Scott’s excavations (W. L. Scott 1935; 1948).  Henshall argued that it was probably this contact with the Clyde region which led to the adoption of large orthostats in the peristaliths of the Hebridean monuments (Henshall 1972, 280), inspired by the elaborate façades of the mid-fourth millennium BC Clyde monuments.  With this hypothesis the Hebridean passage graves were potentially amongst the earliest in Scotland.
 
According to Henshall then (table 5.2) the earliest monuments in the Outer Hebrides were probably: the Clyde-type monument Geirisclett, those passage graves featuring a simple polygonal chamber under a minimal cairn such as Oban nam Fiadh and Loch Glenn na Feannag, and those cairns which were later extended into long cairns, all dating to the early to mid-fourth millennium BC.  After around 3500 BC developed Clyde-type monuments were built, such as Clettraval and Dun na Carnaich, whilst larger passage graves were built featuring polygonal or elongated chambers and existing passage graves either enlarged to create larger round cairns or elongated to create long cairns.  
The latest chambered cairns in the sequence, with the exception of Callanish and perhaps Craonaval (Henshall 1972, 140), were the square cairns such as Garrabost and Guala na h’Imrich signalling a shift in influence from south-west to northern Scotland.  Henshall supported this through suggesting, like Piggott and Lindsay Scott had done, that the Outer Hebrides acted as a springboard for contact from Ireland, the Irish Sea and south-west Scotland on to northern Scotland (Henshall 1972, 280).  Pointing out the strong links between the Boyne monuments and the later, developed Maes Howe cairns, Henshall went on to suggest that this contact was two-way, with Orkney-Cromarty forms emerging in the Outer Hebrides in later periods and the square cairn perhaps influenced by the heel-shaped cairns of Shetland (Henshall 1972, 282).
The last thirty years 
The past thirty years since Henshall’s invaluable contribution have seen only limited consideration for the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides.  In his influential paper Circumstance not context: the Neolithic of Scotland as send from outside, Kinnes (1985) hinted at the unusual concentration of chambered cairns on North Uist (Kinnes 1985, illustration 5) and suggested a regional Hebridean megalithic tradition that was perhaps distinct from the broader Orkney-Cromarty-Hebridean group identified by Henshall (Kinnes 1985, 33).  
Henshall’s interpretations of the region were to be supported and refined by Müller in his statistical comparison of the chambered monuments from Orkney, Shetland and the Outer Hebrides (Müller 1988).   Inspired by Fraser’s studies on Orkney (1983), Müller examined a number of variables to study the preferred locations of the chambered cairns from each of these regions and also how different elements of cairn construction and use came to be transmitted between them (figure 5.6).  The largest cairns in the Hebrides seemed to have a relatively dispersed distribution throughout the region, either located individually or in pairs.  The largest chambers also shared this distribution, but the largest cairns never incorporated the largest chambers (Müller 1988, 26), reinforcing Henshall’s suggestion that these represented secondary enlargements.  In comparison to those from Orkney and Shetland, the chambered cairns from the Outer Hebrides had relatively small chambers but on average featured significantly larger cairns than equivalents in the Northern Isles (Müller 1988, figures 18 and 19).  In addition to differences in scale there were noticeable differences in the technological and architectural elements of the cairns.
 
Figure 5.6 Example of Müller’s transfer of technological information 
(T1: wide corbelling, T2: projecting orthostats, source: Müller 1988, 35)
The boundary of the cairn, in terms of the peristalith, tended to be much more monumentally defined in the Hebridean examples, as too were forecourts and façades.  In contrast the cairns from Orkney and Shetland were more likely to be delineated by hornworks, platforms or a ditch and bank as at Maes Howe (Müller 1988, 32).  As interesting as the observed regional differences however were the similarities, which Müller highlighted as the movement of certain kinds of information through particular patterns of long-distance interaction.  Like Lindsay Scott, Piggott and Henshall, Müller envisaged the long-distance movement of ideas throughout western and northern Scotland along the Atlantic coast.  Of note though was his suggestion for a long-term shift in influence upon the Hebridean monuments through the Neolithic from south-west Scotland to northern Scotland (Müller 1988, 24).
In a broader consideration for the Scottish Neolithic, Sharples has suggested that the concentration of chambered cairns on North Uist represents competition for resources during this period (Sharples 1992).  The construction of larger monuments, the location of settlement in lochs and the development of heavily decorated Hebridean jars are all cited as evidence for the increasing pressure between the communities there (Sharples 1992, 327).
Armit has also highlighted the concentration of monuments on North Uist (1990b; 1992; 1996).  This he contrasts with the later concentration of stone circles in Lewis which he argues to represent a shift in authority in the region from ancestors within individual communities to a more centralised authority, possibly related to celestial events (Armit 1990b, 94).  Armit accepts Henshall’s two-fold distinction between passage graves (the Orkney-Cromarty-Hebridean group) and gallery-graves (the Clyde group), but acknowledges that the typological distinction between these two traditions becomes blurred in some of the Hebridean examples (Armit 1996, 70).  Through a brief examination of the excavated sites from the region a ritual purpose to the architectural forms of the chambered cairns is suggested (Armit 1996, 76).  In particular, the elaborate nature of the façade at these monuments and an interior hierarchy of space, “with the most important area being the innermost compartment or chamber which is higher and larger than the passage or compartments leading to it” is highlighted (Armit 1996, 76).  Armit goes on to suggest that the Clyde cairns are probably chronologically earlier than the passage graves (Armit 1996, 76) and that we should be wary of assigning any one single explanation for the function of all the chambered cairns from the region (Armit 1996, 77).  
Drawing on Renfrew’s (1979) work on the Rousay monuments of Orkney, using the location of the cairns to suggest that they may have once performed as territorial markers, Armit highlights the marginal location of the North Uist cairns.  These are situated on the slopes of hills with extensive views that may relate to specific tracts of land and may therefore be associated with individual communities (Armit 1996, 77).  However, the North Uist and Rousay examples, each with an unusually high concentration of monuments, may provide the exception rather than the norm and Armit emphasises caution when employing these concentrations to provide broader regional interpretations.  Like Sharples, Armit suggests that the concentration of chambered cairns on North Uist, along with the architecture of these monuments, represents some degree of social competition and differentiation, with status perhaps defined “by age or gender groups within relatively small social units” (Armit 1996, 79).
Most recently, in a doctoral thesis on the Neolithic ceramics of the Outer Hebrides, Squair (1998) has considered the chambered cairns of the region as performance locales.  Criticising the traditional emphasis of study on architectural typologies Squair, like Armit, considers the architectural design of chambered cairns as framing devices for particular rituals essential to the mortuary practices taking place at these sites (Squair 1998, 501).  At the centre of Squair’s hypothesis is the relationship between architecture and bodily movement, and the role of architecture in the manipulation of agency, “designed to facilitate and co-ordinate the prescribed actions of a ritual performance” (Squair 1998, 502).  With this manipulation, Squair considers the architecture of chambered cairns as embodying notions of inclusion and exclusion, the ‘performances‘ of the interior invisible to those obliged to wait outside.  Squair argues that the cairns of these sites were ostentatious and highly visible arenas on which mortuary practices would have taken place.  
Considering the location of the cairns, Squair acknowledges a strong relationship between monumentality and landscape setting (Squair 1998, 512), arguing that the topographic setting of the sites serves as an extension of their architecture, accentuating their visibility and scale.  This takes further his interpretation of monumental architecture, considering the location of the sites as also manipulating bodily movement and experience, the journey to them encouraging particular views of the landscape and legitimising certain social hierarchies.
This view that the landscape settings of the chambered cairns of this region was quite a deliberated part of their architecture was a theme that emerged in a recent study of the chambered cairns of South Uist (Cummings et al. forthcoming).  The majority of cairns were situated overlooking the coastal plain but were not placed to maximise these views.  The visual role of certain landscape features was important in the situation of the monuments but clearly also important was the exclusion and control of some views, where individual sites were subtly located in relation to local topography so as to encourage some views whilst limiting others.  It was argued that the majority of monuments were specifically situated in relation to certain valleys which may have provided route ways between different resource areas, for example between the coastal plain and large flat inland basins.  This was taken to suggest that the cairns were referencing movement through the landscape.  The one exception to this was provided by the single long cairn from the island, Dun Trossary, which was thought to have served a different function to the other cairns, “perhaps acting as a focus for a much larger community or a much wider range of activities” (Cummings et al. forthcoming).
So where does this historiography of the Hebridean chambered cairns leave us?  Where do we go from these ninety years of study and debate?  I want now to highlight some of the shortcomings I think that are inherent in their study to date before proposing how we are to study these monuments in the present. 

Chapter 6
Chambered cairns: Some limitations of contemporary understandings

In the previous chapter I outlined a history of study for the Hebridean chambered cairns and their situation within broader fields of discussion.  I now want to consider some of the issues raised in this historiography and the limitations they present to understanding these monuments, particularly within the context of providing a broader history for the Neolithic of this region.
Temporal scales
Our first observation must be the absence of a clear and coherent chronological framework for the study of the Hebridean cairns, a situation highlighted by Kinnes (1985, 35).  As exercises in culture history, much of the work carried out on these monuments involved the construction of relative typological developments, whether purely on architectural grounds (such as Childe and Daniel’s work) or through consideration for the contents of the cairns (as in Lindsay Scott and Piggott’s work).  However, the relatively limited amount of differentiation between sites, the scarcity of excavation, the limited amount of parallels from the Scottish mainland and the absence of radiocarbon dates have together hindered the creation of a sequence for the Hebridean cairns, both in absolute and relative terms.  
There are no radiocarbon dates from the Neolithic monuments of the Outer Hebrides with the exception of the atypical chambered cairn at Callanish, a situation undoubtedly determined by their limited excavation.  Unival and Clettraval were both excavated in the 1930s and no dateable material has survived (A. Sheridan pers. comm.) whilst excavation at Leaval only cleaned the surface of the cairn (Cummings and Sharples 2000).  Rescue excavations at Geirisclett, threatened by coastal erosion, recovered charcoal from the chamber but there has not been funding to obtain radiocarbon dates for the site (Dunwell 1997; I. Armit pers. comm.) and whilst radiocarbon dates were obtained through excavations at the Callanish stone circle and cairn, the unique nature of the monument offers only limited help in understanding the broader temporal context of the chambered cairns from the region.  We can contrast this with the relatively large number of dates from the Orkney-Cromarty chambered cairns (Kinnes 1985, 37; Davidson and Henshall 1989; 1991; Masters 1997; Ashmore 2000).
This situation is compounded by the absence of a satisfactory relative chronology for the region.  The predominance of passage graves in the Outer Hebrides and the apparent lack of diversity in the form of these sites have led to only limited attempts to provide a developmental sequence and relative chronology for these monuments.  Whilst both Piggott and Henshall situated the Hebridean monuments within more general chronological models for the British and Scottish Neolithic respectively, neither offered a particularly convincing nor detailed regional sequence for the Hebridean monuments in particular.  
 
Figure 6.1 Piggott’s chronological sequence (after Piggott 1954, figure 64)
Piggott, after Lindsay Scott’s work, broadly placed the Hebridean examples as an early passage-grave tradition emerging in the middle Neolithic (figure 6.1), later than the Clyde-Carlingford and Cotswold-Severn cultures of western Britain (ignoring the presence of Clyde-type monuments on North Uist) but slightly earlier than the Orkney-Cromarty monuments of northern Scotland.  Henshall was more explicit than Piggott had been about the sequence in the Outer Hebrides but again this was mostly in relation to broader developments elsewhere.  Although Henshall was able to relate the Hebridean sites to absolute sequences elsewhere in Scotland, this was within an overall context of relatively few Scottish radiocarbon dates (Henshall 1974).
Despite providing the most thorough account of the Hebridean chambered cairns to date and the most detailed sequence we have for the region, it is surprising that there has been no work on the chronology of these monuments since Henshall’s work published over thirty years ago.  An important goal will be to provide a sequence for these cairns, not only in the light of new dates from the Scottish mainland but also in the light of new ideas concerning how we understand chambered cairns and how monument typologies are constructed.  
Spatial scales
A further problem with our present understanding of the Hebridean chambered cairns is the geographical framework currently employed, highlighting a regionally unified body of evidence separated from the remainder of the Scottish Neolithic by the deep waters of the Minch.  The roots of this view can perhaps be seen in Lindsay Scott’s work, which was keen to emphasize the regional peculiarity, and importance, of the Hebridean Neolithic.  This was undoubtedly justified at the time as both Childe and Daniel had placed the Outer Hebrides on the periphery of broader movements, the region only notable for the blurring of different styles represented there.  By highlighting the Outer Hebrides as central within the movement of monument traditions Lindsay Scott, and after him Piggott, identified a regional character embedded in a broader context of contact and communication spanning south-west and north-east Scotland and beyond (Henley 2004).
However, since Lindsay Scott’s work, consideration for the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides has been, once again, through a much broader perspective for Scottish megalithic traditions.  The result is a marginal view, not restricted to archaeology, which regards the region as peripheral and peculiar, perhaps best illustrated by the recent weather map for the Times newspaper (figure 6.2).  This image reflects a view of the region that underlies our current perception of the Neolithic monuments from the Outer Hebrides, perched on the edge of the known world, the archaeology regarded as a product of this marginality.  Such a perspective cannot be helpful and although not intended, the chambered cairns from this region have frequently been lumped into a complete and unified whole, defined primarily by geography (the sea) and modern political boundaries (the Western Isles council).  There has been limited consideration for variability  within the Outer Hebrides itself, rather its evidence lumped together to provide broad comparison with other regions in Scotland (Henshall 1972; Müller 1988). Study has almost exclusively focused upon the North Uist monuments (Müller 1988; Chrisp 1990; Squair 1998; Henley 1999), playing down the evidence from Benbecula, South Uist (cf. Cummings et al. forthcoming), and Barra.  In constructing a new typology, or understanding, for the Hebridean chambered cairns then it will be necessary to try and identify ‘sub-patterns’ within the  region yet situate these within their regional and broader influences.  
Name-calling
Related to, and perhaps characteristic of, the spatial scales inherent in the study of the Hebridean cairns has been the choice of names and labels that have been employed.  As we have seen, in the Outer Hebrides there are a variety of chambered cairns which at the most basic level can be divided into passage-graves and Clyde cairns, the former dominating in the region.  These terms themselves have undergone a series of changes, mainly through the changing interpretative frameworks that have informed them.  For example, the Clyde cairns have been called long cists by Bryce, gallery-graves by Daniel, Clyde-Carlingford tombs by Childe and Piggott, and most recently Clyde cairns by Henshall.  Similarly, Piggott noted a distinctive type of passage-grave in the Outer Hebrides that he referred to as the Hebridean group, a localised adaptation of a broader tradition of passage-grave construction across northern Scotland.  Henshall supported this observation, but situated these monuments within a broader tradition of northern Scotland, noting morphological similarities with the passage-graves of the Orkney-Cromarty group, but also certain variations in form.  Most recently Kinnes, Armit and others have come to suggest once again that the Hebridean monuments may represent an insular tradition distinct from the remaining northern Scottish passage graves.
At present then we have a two-fold system of monument classification, as identified by Beveridge in 1911, consisting of two distinct traditions derived in form from particular geographical areas: the Hebridean cairns perhaps an insular development encompassing the Outer Hebrides and the adjacent mainland but influenced by a passage grave tradition spanning northern Scotland, and Clyde-style cairns derived from comparable monuments in south-west Scotland.  The problem with this two-fold system, as it is employed in our current understanding of the cairns from the Outer Hebrides, is that it is derived from culture history and specifically relates to the explanatory and interpretative framework of culture-historians.  
Whilst labels such as ‘Clyde cairn’ may provide an insight into the possible geographical influences of these monumental traditions, with our present terminology the presence of Clyde style monuments in the Outer Hebrides can only be explained according to the explanatory schemes of Piggott, Daniel, Childe and their contemporaries.  Kinnes has hinted at a toning down of regional labels, instead focussing on the broad relationships between different architectural features over Scotland such as, for example, facades, a feature present in both passage and gallery grave monuments (Kinnes 1985, 36).  This would certainly be one avenue for discussion and may shift attention away from the monument groups (and therefore by inference ‘cultures’) of culture history that I feel hinder our contemporary understandings of the chambered cairns from this region.  But can we move towards constructing different kinds of typologies altogether, typologies that shift away from studying the origin and evolution of monument styles towards typologies that consider the social interpretation of these styles (Fleming 1972; 1973; Kinnes 1975; 1985; J. Thomas 1988).
The problems with architecture
"Architecture is the art of how to waste space."
Philip Johnson (b. 1906), American architect, historian
It is convenient when examining megalithic monuments to focus study on the architecture of these sites.  After all, it is ultimately their architecture, set in stone, which is responsible for their enduring presence and therefore their accessibility as subjects of study in the present.  Architecture also provides an easy means for comparing monuments over time and space through examining the relationship between different stylistic and technological elements.  But I propose that there are problems with monument typologies and chronologies that are constructed solely on the basis of architecture.  
Many studies, particularly those that have considered the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides, have tended to concentrate the history of individual monuments into a two-dimensional view, primarily as sites survive today and in plan form.  In the Outer Hebrides, excavation has been focused on the chamber and forecourt of a handful of sites, meaning that we have only rarely been able to examine multi-phase developments in architecture.  This has led to the study of these monuments almost purely in terms of how their architectural forms relate to developments and styles in other regions rather than how and why specific architectural forms were employed within the region.  At Clettraval, for example, what, as Piggott asked, was the “significance attached to specific forms of architecture” (Piggott 1954, 231)?  These questions are unfortunately rarely asked of the evidence.
A two-dimensional study of architecture means that the cairns tend to be viewed predominantly as finished products in the present rather than as places for ongoing processes in the past.  As well as considering the significance of particular architectural forms, we must also consider why these were more appropriate than others to the people who built and used them and how this significance may have changed through the life history of particular sites.  Ours must be an analysis of the social implications behind monument form rather than an explicit focus on the origins and development of architectural styles and by inference the movement, by whichever medium, of particular groups of people.  
It might be argued that Henshall, after Jack Scott and Corcoran (see Selkirk 1972 for a broader discussion), wanted to move away from a two-dimensional study of chambered cairns through identifying and describing multi-period examples (Henshall 1972, 249-51; table 6).  But rather than use multi-period cairns to help understand the changing use of monuments, multi-period cairns were identified to fill in ‘missing links’ within the perceived evolutionary sequences for chambered cairn architecture at the time (Kinnes 1985, 32).  Henshall failed to consider the complexity and choice involved in the development of particular monument traditions, with an assumed inevitability in the progression of certain architectural forms.  In all stages of their history, from conception to construction, through use, to abandonment, development and re-use, monuments are subject to complicated systems of negotiation, interpretation and reinterpretation.  An emphasis on architecture reduces these stages to a series of physical outcomes rather than the processes involved in their creation, with the exception of only generalised observations for cultural change.  
In fairness Lindsay Scott had been interested in the use of cairns as well as the architecture that framed this use, and his attention to the ritual use of chambered cairns was commendable for his time.  It is certain that his emphasis on the ritual activity at tombs had significantly influenced Piggott’s, and to some extent Henshall’s, interpretation of the Hebridean Neolithic.  But in reality the contents of cairns merely served to reinforce the prevailing models of the Neolithic that had been based on architectural forms, for Piggott the movement of monument forms along the Atlantic façade and for Lindsay Scott the regional identity and importance of the Hebridean monuments, rather than to help construct new typologies or challenge or refine existing ones.
Barrett has hinted at the problem with emphasising architecture in the study of monuments, suggesting that particular forms of monumentality “originated in neither the idea nor the plan, but rather in the practice and the project” (Barrett 1994, 23).  What Barrett is suggesting is that too often in archaeological discourse the emphasis is on what we as archaeologists expect monuments to look like rather than the function and significance of particular monument forms and how these are employed in different ways at each site at different times: “the building program was not founded upon a pre-set plan.  It was created more in the tradition of bricolage, the reworking of the available resources by those with a competent and inventive understanding of particular orders of spatial practice” (Barrett 1994, 24).  The uniformity in scale and construction between many of the Hebridean chambered cairns highlights, like Piggott highlighted, that there must have been a significance attached to particular traditions or styles of monument form.  But what Barrett suggests is how these traditions would have been susceptible to subtle negotiations at individual sites. 
This idea has been paralleled in the work of Pollard and McFayden on the Cotswold-Severn cairns of southern western Britain (McFayden and J. Pollard 2002), suggesting that the emphasis of study on the ultimate constructed (i.e. complete) forms of these cairns does not consider the often complicated and subtle processes apparently involved in their construction.  This offers an interesting point of reference for the interpretation of the Hebridean cairns if we consider that certain elements of cairn construction may not necessarily indicate multiple phases, as Henshall argued, but rather belong to a more complicated ongoing construction process for the monument.  For example, the internal peristalith Henshall identified at Oban nam Fiadh on North Uist (figure 5.5a) may have been an integral element of the initial monument construction rather than the relic of a secondary expansion of the cairn.  Similarly, the extending ‘tail’ of the long cairns from the region, argued by Henshall to be later additions, may either have been an intended part of the original cairn design or added as part of an ongoing process of construction.  
There are further sites in the region where we may develop this argument.  Some sites were noted by Henshall to be unusual in that the cairn material either extended beyond the peristalith, as at Loch a Bharp and Barp Frobost on South Uist, or never appeared to have filled the peristalith, as at Garrabost on Lewis and Craonaval on North Uist.  At Guala na h’Imrich, Henshall noted that “the cairn does not fill the interior of the stone setting, and gives no indication of ever having done so” (Henshall 1972, 518).  At some sites, even despite the presence of later structures, the cairn would probably never have been especially high.  At Unival, although severely disturbed by the later construction of an Iron Age house, it seems unlikely that the cairn would ever have covered the three metre high back-slab to the chamber.  The ‘unusual’ cairns at these sites cannot adequately be explained through taphonomic disturbance, and although multi-phase developments may provide one answer this often seems to avoid rather than explain the complexities displayed by these sites. 
Whilst these monument histories would be difficult to demonstrate without excavation, I would suggest that by examining features of the chambered cairns aside from architecture, or perhaps through attempting new ways of thinking about architecture, we may be able to challenge existing typologies.  Two ways of achieving this may be through phenomenological and landscape studies. 
A phenomenology of monuments
Phenomenology, as I would like here to use it, involves a study of the structuring of experience and knowledge (Merleau-Ponty 1962; 1964; Heidegger 1977; Tilley 1994; Ingold 2000, 168-70).  In terms of archaeology, and specifically chambered cairns, this involves identifying the material ways in which this structuring takes place, both through the structuring of experience (being) and the structuring of practice (doing).  Experience may be structured through physical forms, as for example the control of bodily movement by architecture, whilst practice may be structured through the knowledge of the specific ways of doing things (tradition) and of restricted contexts for certain activities.
There are two ways we can access these in terms of the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides.  First, we can consider the specific use of monuments through examining excavated materials such as pottery, lithics, and human and animal bone, and the treatment of these materials within the monument.  Unfortunately the small number of excavated examples means that we can only briefly consider the specific mortuary use of the Hebridean cairns.  Our second option would be to reconsider architecture, not as a typological comparison based on style and design, but rather through considering the framing role of particular architectural forms and how these may have been employed to encourage particular experiences of the monument and structure certain kinds of practice (J. Thomas 1988; 1990; 1992; 1993; Kirk 1993; Richards 1993).  Thomas has considered Neolithic monuments in terms of a ‘spatial text’ (J. Thomas 1988) or ‘spatial narrative’ (J. Thomas 1996a), where architecture is employed to define and constrain certain rights of access to the monument interior, supported in Squair’s phrase ‘architecture of inconvenience’ used to illustrate the claustrophobic experience of entering a Hebridean passage grave (Squair 1998, 503).  Discussing the monuments of Late Neolithic Orkney, Richards (1993) has referred to a ‘monumental choreography’ which is not only found at chambered cairns but in a broader “cosmologically-based sense of ordering” (Richards 1993, 175) also employed at the Stones of Stenness and the settlement site of Barnhouse.  In this sense architecture not only structures experience and practice but through a particular system of reference, repeated in different realms of life, it reinforces and reflects particular ways of viewing the world and the place of the individual in it.  
If we are to attempt a phenomenology of the Hebridean monuments then we must examine the specific and different ways architecture may have been employed to engender specific experiences of the cairns and activities at them.  This would, I feel, provide a useful alternative to the rigid typological studies that currently dominate our understanding of these monuments.  I should also add that this approach does not preclude consideration for larger scales of contact, communication and influence.  Instead it presents a complementary means for understanding the movement of architectural traditions.  Rather than purely concern ourselves with the movement of architectural designs over time and space, an approach which carries with it the baggage of culture historical explanations such as migration, diffusion and colonization, it requires us to consider also the movement of, and perhaps motivation for, particular architectural functions.  This approach then forces us to address not only the significance attached to specific forms of architecture, but the significance of these forms to the ritual activities and people (both dead and alive) which the monuments were designed to accommodate.  
Landscape studies
Another approach that might enable a shift away from traditional concerns with architecture and style is landscape studies.  I have already discussed a phenomenology of monuments but most archaeologists would be more familiar with the term phenomenology through its use in archaeological and anthropological landscape studies, most notably in the work of Christopher Tilley among others (Bender 1993; J. Thomas 1993; Tilley 1994; 1996; Nash 1997; Topping 1997; Cummings 2001).  For British Neolithic studies consideration of phenomenology has largely been concerned with the particular landscape locations of Neolithic monuments.  If we consider, as I have just done, that rather than just a structural design architecture provides a means for structuring experience and practice then landscape location is as much a part of the architecture of specific Neolithic monuments as their chamber, passage and cairn.  
A consideration of the landscape setting of chambered cairns is not new in archaeology.  Childe had used the different landscape locations of the Clyde and Solway groups of monuments to argue for a later, secondary movement into the uplands (Childe 1934) whilst Lindsay Scott noted the similar locations at Unival and Clettraval and used this, along with the material remains and ritual evidence from these sites, to argue for a close relationship between these monuments despite typological differences (W. L. Scott 1942, 305).  Henshall in particular was keen to consider the location of the Scottish chambered cairns and noted that most cairns were situated on what she called ‘marginal land’, usually on a hillside, which she used to suggest the predominance of a pastoral economy during the Scottish Neolithic (Henshall 1972, 113-24; Selkirk 1972, 312).  More recently, Fraser (1983) and Müller (1988) have employed statistical analyses to examine the relationship between monument location and particular soil types, geology and land-use capabilities.  But most of these studies have considered the landscape location of monuments either in terms of the economic or functional properties of certain landscape locations or to justify existing explanatory models.  Until recently few archaeologists had attempted to examine the social importance of particular landscape locations and how these might have been employed as an integral component of the chambered cairns themselves (Tilley 1994; Cummings 2001; 2002).  .
There are a number of ways we may try to achieve this.  One method has been to examine the viewsheds available from individual sites.  A viewshed is a record of the extent of visibility from particular points in the landscape.  This approach considers the visibility from specific locations and the structuring of views by landscape setting (Cummings 2000a; 2000b).  The use of viewsheds shifts attention away from the location of monuments towards the experience, or rather the structuring of experience, of particular landscape settings.  This approach permits us to make broad comparisons between sites but also to situate specific sites within their own landscape contexts.  Thus far there have been three different ways of recording viewsheds of archaeological sites.  
 
Figure 6.3 Example of photographic panorama (after Cummings 2000a, 18)
The first method involves photographing a full 360° panorama at each monument (Cummings 2000a; 2000b; 2001; Cummings et al. forthcoming).  The photographs can be ‘stitched’ together within a computer package (figure 6.3) so that the results can be viewed on a computer through a web browser or other compatible software (Cummings 2000a; 2000b).  This enables the viewer to see those particular landscape features (and other monuments) visible from each site and also where particular views are restricted by local topographic features.  From this photographic record a sketch can be made highlighting or accentuating visible and non-visible aspects from a particular monument (Cummings et al. forthcoming).  Whilst this has provided a useful means for comparing the landscape context of different sites, giving a good impression of the views from them, it is a laborious and expensive method.  Around 10 photographs are required for each site so with over 40 chambered cairns in the Outer Hebrides, over 400 photographs would be required to provide 360° panoramas for all the sites. 
 
Figure 6.4 Pictorial representation of landscape around Bedd yr Afanc chambered cairn, Pembrokeshire (after Cummings 2001, 96)
Cummings has developed an additional method to supplement photographic panoramas, recording schematically the proportion and particular features visible from any site within a simple diagram (Cummings 2001).  This method involves the reduction of a 360° view into a single two-dimensional image recording views through the compass.  Standing at any point in the landscape local, intermediate and distant topographic features are recorded along with other landscape features such as lochs and the sea, and other archaeological sites (figure 6.4).  Although this method does not really portray what it is like to be at a site, it does enable quick reference to what specific features can be seen as well as highlight where views are restricted and in which directions.  
Both these methods inherently carry certain problems and their success is dependent on a number of different factors: visibility when the record is made; restriction of views by modern features such as buildings and vegetation; and the issue of any substantial or significant landscape changes since the Neolithic which would have affected particular views.  These are all issues that need to be addressed when employing these methods.  A further problem is the subjective limitations they present.  Two people could carry out these methods at the same site and achieve different results, certainly for the latter method where subjective representations of views are created and particular interpretations have to be made, as for example on what defines a ‘closed’ view.  These criticisms or problems highlight some important issues when employing these methods but then, as Kinnes suggests for architecture, perhaps the point is not to discuss and compare specific landscape locations but rather to provide themes for consideration, namely how were particular landscape locations appropriate for specific cairns and how were these employed as a part of the architectural role of these sites.  Specifically, how might the decision to locate a site within a specific landscape setting have been designed to provide a certain experience of that site?
 
Some of these issues may also be addressed through the use of GIS (Geographical Information Systems) based applications, certainly in the provision of supposedly ‘more-objective’ viewsheds.  Using digital elevation models (DEM) of the landscapes concerned, the location of specific monuments can be plotted to show the areas of the landscape that are (and are not) visible from specific sites, irrespective of modern features, weather, etc (figure 6.5).  The theoretical and methodological limitations of GIS applications in archaeology are well rehearsed in the literature (Gillings and Goodrick 1996; Lake et al. 1998; Wheatley and Gillings 2000; Cummings 2001, 102-4), notably considering issues such as the presence or absence of palaeovegetation (otherwise known as ‘the tree problem’ Wheatley 1996), inadequate consideration for factors affecting visibility such as the curvature of the earth (Wheatley and Gillings 2000), the problems with using GIS for archaeological applications (Lake et al. 1998), and the reduction of sites to data sets.  There are further problems with the resolution of the data employed to create digital viewsheds, very often too crude to identify subtle variations in topography observable in the field.  
But once more, that GIS applications may help us to identify broad themes between sites rather than necessarily show specific observations from particular sites need not be hugely problematic.  Rather than use GIS alone to examine the landscape location of the Hebridean cairns, my intention has been to employ it as an additional means for examining viewsheds from sites and how these may have been important in the use and role of specific monuments.  Using GIS applications in conjunction with ‘more subjective’ field records, and in turn combining this with a rethinking of monument use and function, we may not be able to avoid some of the theoretical limitations that these methods present but we may perhaps go some way to better understanding these monuments and the significance attached to their location in the landscape. 
With these particular observations in mind I now want to reappraise the monument evidence from the Outer Hebrides.

Chapter 7
Chambered cairns: New approaches and ideas

In this chapter, I will examine the chamber cairns of the Outer Hebrides in light of the criticisms raised above.  I will first reappraise the architectural features exhibited by the cairns through examining the varying degrees of access reflected in their architecture.  I then want to consider their landscape location, specifically in terms of an extension to this architecture.  I will show through an examination of the location of sites within the landscape and also a consideration for landscape views from particular sites, that location represents an important part of the processes integral to the use and understanding of the monuments.  Finally, through considering the few excavated examples in the region as well as reference to excavated sites from outside the region it will be possible to propose the particular kinds of practices that are likely to have taken place at individual sites.  Through attention to the architecture, location and use of the chambered cairns I hope in chapter eight to provide a chronology and function for the sites here and ultimately situate them within broader social developments in the region.  
As a final note this section will consider, through analysis of published material and field visits, the chambered cairns from Lewis, Harris, North Uist, Benbecula and South Uist.  Because of time and financial restrictions, I was unable to visit the sites from Barra but reference will be made to examples from these areas as appropriate.  Further more I will not here be considering the chambered cairns from the west coast of Lewis.  These sites are all intimately related to the monumental complex at Callanish and will be discussed independently with reference to this complex in chapter nine.
Architectural elements of the cairns
Our first subject of attention will be the physical form of the chambered cairns, situated in an attempt to understand the functions that particular architectural forms served.  Particularly I want to examine the various ways in which architecture was employed at chambered cairns to encourage or discourage particular kinds of access.  This will be achieved first through an examination of the internal architecture of the cairns, then through the different kinds architectural forms used to define access to the interior, and finally through the particular techniques of construction used to contain and define the cairns themselves.
Interior spaces: chambers and passages
I want first to consider together the chambers and passages of the cairns.  Rather than regard chambers as completely separate from passages, I want to consider both as a single entity involved in defining the access to and significance of the monument interior at each cairn.  Through a basic distinction between passage and gallery graves we are left with very little diversity within each of these type-groups and therefore very little understanding of the functional, and perhaps therefore chronological, differences between the different architectural forms employed.  To move away from this basic two-fold distinction I would like to attempt a categorisation of chambers and passages according to the differing degrees of access they display.  
 
Figure 7.1 Different degrees of accessibility provided by chambers and passages
(A: relatively open B: neutral C: relatively closed)
I want to suggest that the chambers and passages of cairns may together be regarded according to the degree of closed or openness that they exhibit (figure 7.1).  I propose five distinct categories of monument form on this basis: closed, relatively closed, neutral, relatively open and open.  Whilst this kind of analysis is largely subjective, it provides a different way of viewing the diverse architectural elements of cairn interiors.  The three that concern us are the relatively open, neutral and relatively closed forms.  Both closed and open interiors feature a chamber that is entirely distinct from the monument exterior, without a passage or portal, usually in the form of a cist or cist-like megalithic chamber.  The distinction between the two is whether the chamber was once covered by a capstone or cairn material - closed - or left open.  
 
Figure 7.2 Leaval chambered cairn under excavation
The monument of Leaval on South Uist (UST 21) may once have exhibited either of these two forms (figure 7.2).  The absence of a capstone and uncertainty concerning the original extent and height of the cairn material (Cummings and Sharples 2000) means that we cannot be sure that the chamber was once entirely covered.  However, the former existence of a capstone has been suggested (Henshall 1972, 520) and if we accept that the four orthostats that define the chamber may once have supported a capstone then this would mean that the chamber was almost entirely closed and inaccessible.  
Relatively closed cairns feature a chamber that is reached by a long, frequently narrow and low, passage.  These cairns are represented in the Outer Hebrides by at least four examples: Barpa Langass (UST 6) and Marrogh (UST 24) on North Uist, Stiaraval (UST 29) on Benbecula, and Reineval (UST 26) on South Uist.  At Marrogh, a large round chamber is reached by a narrow passage almost four metres long whilst at Barpa Langass one has to crawl for four metres  along a low, narrow passage before reaching the chamber.  Low roofing and narrowing of the passages serve to accentuate the ‘closed-ness’ and inaccessibility emphasised in the construction of a long passage, ultimately functioning to further delay access to the cairn interior.  This architecture reduces the potentials for movement within the monument (figure 7.3), resulting in what Squair refers to as “an architecture of inconvenience” (Squair 1998, 503).  It is interesting that all of these relatively closed forms are incorporated into substantial round cairns.  
Neutral forms are more frequently observed with at least ten examples: Caisteal Mhic Creacail (LWS 2) and Garrabost (LWS 6) on Lewis, Airidh nan Seilicheag (UST 2), Carinish (UST 10), Oban nam Fiadh (UST 25), Loch Glen na Feannag (UST 23) and Unival (UST 34) on North Uist, Dun Trossary (UST 17), Glac Hukarvat (UST 19) and Loch a’ Bharp (UST 22) on South Uist, and potentially Barpa nam Feannag (UST 7) on North Uist.  All these cairns feature a chamber joined to the exterior by a brief passage, for most of these sites around two metres long.  The chambers from these cairns vary in form, some - as at Glac Hukarvat and Unival - displaying round or polygonal chambers, but generally the neutral forms feature an elongated lozenge-shaped chamber which almost seems to provide an extension to the passage rather than being particularly separated from it.  In these cases, the chamber and passage do seem to be a single entity and in this sense it would seem that the chamber form as well as the length  of the passage, at around one to two metres, together make these monuments more accessible than the relatively closed examples.  But we must remember that these are not open forms.  In the cases of Loch Glen na Feannag (figure 7.4) and Unival the passage is only around a metre long but this is sufficient to distinguish the chamber from the cairn exterior.
 The relatively open forms at Dun na Carnaich (UST 16), Clettraval (UST 12) and Geirisclett (UST 18), all previously identified as Clyde-type cairns, feature a chamber reached directly through the monument façade (figure 7.5), as well as Craonaval (UST 13).  At all these sites upon passing through the entranceway one is immediately in the chamber area although at Geirisclett and Clettraval, the two excavated examples, there was some internal division of the chamber space through the use of low lintel stones.  These cairns, contrasting significantly with the relatively closed forms and to some extent the neutral forms, embody an accessible and open chamber, although it is perhaps the entranceway itself, rather than passage, that provides the main threshold to the monument interior.  
There is a great degree of variability within these groups but these categories do serve to suggest and highlight varying degrees of access depicted by the cairns in the region and draw attention to broader patterns, without necessarily conforming to the problematic labels that have previously been employed.  The relatively closed forms are all situated within large, round cairns whilst neutral forms are incorporated into small round, square or long cairns.  Relatively open forms on the other hand are almost entirely represented by those cairns previously identified as Clyde-type cairns.  These patterns to some extent do support a broad distinction between the Hebridean passage graves, exhibiting a relatively closed form and the relatively open form of the Clyde monuments.  However, a simple two-fold distinction conceals some of the complexitities revealed at individual sites.  Furthermore, it is not just chambers and passages that determine the degree of access to monument interiors.  This must also be considered in terms of the entrance to the interior.
Access to the interior: facades, forecourts and entrances
Entrances at chambered cairns, the various architectural forms that serve to frame and punctuate access to the monument interiors described, can be defined in a variety of quite different ways.  This may be through the construction of a forecourt or façade, or through delineation of the entranceway by portal or lintel stones.  All of these serve to define, through the control of space, a threshold between the interior and exterior of the cairn, and therefore further structure the degree of access to the monument interior.  
Facades, through their form, may define varying degrees of access to a monument.  In most cases the façade serves to frame the space in front of the monument creating a forecourt.  The shape, scale and nature of the façade defines certain types of forecourt and therefore certain degrees of access to the monument interior.  I would like to consider the three main types of façades found in the region; funnel-shaped; horned and convex facades, and the different types of spatial access they represent.
 
Figure 7.6 Example of funnel-shaped façade at Marrogh, North Uist (after Henshall 1972, 523)
Funnel-shaped façades (figure 7.6) focus movement and attention towards the cairn interior but in doing so establish spatial boundaries that may ultimately restrict rather than encourage access to the interior.  It is a space that on the one hand draws attention towards the cairn entranceway but on the other hand is, through architecture, a part of the monument interior.  It is therefore a controlled part of access to the monument, preparing, punctuating and perhaps ultimately postponing or even preventing progression into the monument itself.  
Funnel-shaped façades are found at Glac Hukarvat (UST 19) and Loch a’ Bharp (UST 22) on South Uist, Marrogh (UST 24) and Barpa Langass (UST 6) on North Uist.  These are all sites featuring a substantial round cairn and most feature what I have above defined as relatively closed interior forms.  Henshall observed that the presence of a funnel-shaped facade in round cairns could be explained in technological terms, enabling the construction of overall larger cairns (Henshall 1972, 141).  However, we should also envisage the funnel-shaped façade, and resulting forecourt, as a deliberate manipulation of space and of the experiences and activities that could take place at chambered cairns.  
 
Figure 7.7 Horned façade at Carinish, North Uist (after Henshall 1972, 505)
The horned façade (figure 7.7) is similar to the funnel-shaped façade but larger, projecting out from the monument to frame a concave forecourt.  There are in the Outer Hebrides at least two examples of long cairns that may once have featured a horned façade: Carinish (UST 10) on North Uist and Dun Trossary (UST 17) on South Uist.  Unfortunately both these examples are so poorly preserved that it is difficult to reconstruct the specific nature of the façade but in contrast to the small funnel-shaped forecourts of the round cairns, a large forecourt is defined.  In these cases, the forecourt is completely exterior to the cairn rather than being a part of the monument interior, although the horns still serve to frame a particular area for attention.  Reference to horned cairns elsewhere in Scotland, as for example in the case of the numerous examples from Caithness, would suggest that these forecourts provided a focus for activity and ceremony at these sites.  
At Camster long, Caithness, a long cairn was constructed in the early fourth millennium BC enclosing two earlier round cairns (Masters 1997).  At either end of the long cairn, dry-stone walling provided a horned façade framing and designating a forecourt area.  In both these forecourts excavation revealed a series of deposits, including ceramics and flint, and evidence for burning.  At the Caithness sites of Tulach an t’Sionnaich, South Yarrows North and South Yarrows South (Sharples 1986; Davidson and Henshall 1991), and the two examples from the Outer Hebrides, the horned façade frames movement into the monument interior, like the funnel-shaped forecourts, demarcating a particular space associated with access to the monument interior.  
 
Figure 7.8 Concave façade at Garrabost, Lewis (after Henshall 1972, 465)
Similar to the horned facades are the concave facades (figure 7.8) found at some of the square cairns in the region, notably Guala na h’Imrich (UST 20) on North Uist and Garrabost (LWS 6) on Lewis.  The former site is difficult to consider because of its dilapidated condition, but at Garrabost we can clearly identify a concave façade framing its entranceway.  This façade, like the horned examples, seems to define a specific area for activity, extending from the cairn body itself, rather than punctuating progression into the monument interior.
Convex facades may also be seen to frame access but, like the horned facades, do so through defining an area that is outside of and separate from the monument interior.  This is through the delineation of the façade by the use of orthostats, in the case of Unival (UST 34) and Clettraval (UST 12), or dry stone walling, as at Geirisclett (UST 18).  At Unival the façade projects forward to frame the entrance to the monument interior, its orthostats increasing “in height towards the portal” (W. L. Scott 1948, 9).  These serve to frame and accentuate the entrance to the interior but also construct a boundary that highlights the distinction between inside and outside that is represented by the entranceway.  
 
Figure 7.9 Paving leading to the entrance at Clettraval, North Uist (after W. L. Scott 1935, 490)
This process was more evident at Clettraval (W. L. Scott 1935, 488-91).  Like Unival, large orthostatic stones defined a projecting façade but these were fronted by paving stones.  These stones had no apparent technological function and instead seem to have been used to emphasize the façade of the monument.  The large orthostats used in the façade would have served to frame the entrance and, like Unival, accentuate the distinction between inside and out yet at the same time define a particular access to the interior.  This juxtaposition of boundary and threshold was reinforced through the construction of a dry-stone path leading up to the cairn portal (figure 7.9) that, like the funnel-shaped façades, seems to define a particular route of approach and access to the monument interior.  On the one hand then, the forecourt and associated paving would have prescribed an arena for attention that would have been readily accessible, but on the other hand the path serves to punctuate and define a particular progression towards the chamber that is alienating and exclusive.  This would have been enhanced by the framing of the entrance with large upright stones.
In talking about access to monuments, and the different degrees of accessibility afforded by architecture, this is most apparent at the entrance to the site.  I have shown how the interiors of cairns may embody a degree of closed or openness and how their façades may serve to accentuate this accessibility.  But it is the entranceway that defines the point of access to the monument interior.  Entranceways at the cairns from the region are frequently defined through closely erected uprights, restricting but not preventing access to the interior.  As mentioned, at both Clettraval (UST 12) and Unival (UST 34) a narrow entranceway provided the focal  point of the façade, framing access into the cairn interior.  At most sites featuring a funnel-shaped façade the two orthostats which define the culmination of the façade serve to frame and restrict access to the passage.  For many of these sites one has to squeeze oneself through the entranceway in order to gain access to the cairn interior.  These embody a restrictive threshold to the interior, limiting access to the internal space even where neutral or relatively open internal forms are present.  Furthermore, these portal stones both visually and physically signify and define the threshold to the interior, the point where inside meets outside.  
At some sites this threshold is further defined through the construction of a low upright sill-stone, marking the boundary between internal and external space.  The state of many of the cairns in the Outer Hebrides, concealed by cairn material and peat development, means that this particular architectural feature is difficult to detect but at three excavated examples; Unival, Geirisclett and Clettraval, sill stones were found.  Entranceways then, through the demarcation of boundaries, construct and emphasise two different spaces: interior space and exterior space.  More so the manipulation of these thresholds through particular architectural elements seems to have been deliberately employed to accentuate and distance these two spaces.  To understand this better we must now turn to the boundaries that these thresholds at once interrupt and reinforce.  
Exteriors and boundaries: cairns and peristaliths
The interiors of the cairns, and the thresholds and entrances to them discussed above gain value through the boundaries they promote.  Primarily this is a boundary concerning interior and exterior space but also relates to boundaries of inclusion, exclusion and accessibility.  So far the architectural forms discussed have concerned the thresholds which mediate these boundaries and there has been little discussion of the nature of the boundaries themselves.  These are provided by the cairn material and the peristalith that define and contain the monument.  These, as we have already seen, may take a variety of shapes and forms and traditionally the cairns and peristaliths of chambered cairns have been studied according to a these shapes: long cairns, round cairns, square cairns, and in other regions heel-shaped and double-horned cairns (Henshall 1972; 1974).  Using this typology, broad patterns have been observed between different cairn forms but limited consideration has been given to the function of these specific forms.  In the context of the discussion so far I wish to argue that all forms share the same function but to differing degrees: the definition of the cairn itself and the establishment and perpetuation of boundaries.  
 
Figure 7.10 Elaborate peristalith at Clettraval, North Uist (after W. L. Scott 1935, 493)
The peristalith (from Greek peristellein, to wrap around) of the Hebridean sites predominantly consists of large orthostats, sometimes interspersed with dry-stone walling, defining the exterior perimeter of the chambered cairn.  In most examples the peristalith not only functions to spatially define the body of the cairn but might also act as a revetment to support and contain the cairn material that it encloses.  However, in some cases their function is more than technical.  At Clettraval, Lindsay Scott’s excavations revealed a sophisticated tripartite peristalith along the southern edge of the monument (figure 7.10).  Large upright stones against the cairn material were abutted by horizontal slab in turn abutted by a ramp of relatively smaller slabs (W. L. Scott 1935, 492).  Lindsay Scott stated that this was not a sophisticated technological feature designed to support the cairn because the dramatic slope immediately south of the excavated peristalith would prevent the slab ramp from providing any support to the innermost uprights (W. L. Scott 1935, 527).  Rather this would seem to have been an elaborate definition of the monument exterior.  This may be argued for many of the cairns in this region, most notably through the scale of the orthostats employed.  
Beveridge noted that the chambered cairns from North Uist had many parallels but were distinct through their larger general dimensions and “outer boundaries [marked] by large stone slabs placed on end at intervals” (Beveridge 1911, 244).  We can see today that this feature is not unique to the Outer Hebrides but that in terms of scale some of the most impressive peristaliths can be found in this region (Henshall 1972, 245).  At Reineval (UST 26) twelve orthostats survive to define the round cairn, some projecting over two metres from the present ground surface.  If we consider the extent of peat development and the collapse and spread of cairn material at the majority of cairns in the region it is probable that many of the orthostats at these sites are likely to be somewhat larger.  Certainly the now prone slabs at the inter-tidal site of Sig More (UST 27) on South Uist range in height from two to three metres.  
 
It is, in most cases, the peristalith rather than the cairn that defines the ‘cairn shape’, especially where the cairn does not fill the peristalith entirely or conversely where it extends out from the peristalith.  Peristaliths then may take a number of shapes, essentially defining the typological forms employed by Childe, Piggott, Henshall and many others.  But the disparity between cairns and peristaliths at some monuments (figure 7.11) has led to confusion, not neatly fitting into the available typological schemes.  Henshall’s solution was to consider such disparities as representing composite monuments, in other words multi-phase developments, “the component parts being of different dates and sometimes different origins” (Henshall 1972, xv).  Despite this observation, Henshall noted that it is rare for the peristaliths of square cairns to be entirely filled with cairn material (Henshall 1972, 130).
 Henshall’s conclusion was that square cairns represented multi-phase monuments (Henshall 1972, 242).  Similarly, she argued that the long cairns of the Outer Hebrides represent multi-phase constructions with the long element of the monument a secondary extension to a prior round cairn (Henshall 1972, 216).  In other regions Henshall’s hypotheses are supported through well-excavated examples of multi-phased monuments but in the Outer Hebrides such evidence is absent.  More so, Henshall’s suggestion for multi-phase construction at Unival (UST 34) - based on the lack of correspondence between peristalith and cairn (Henshall 1972, 242) - loses value when we consider the comparable site at Balvraid (INV 51), near Skye (figure 7.12), its excavator regarding the whole structure as derived from a single phase of construction (Henshall 1972, 201).  
Henshall’s argument is problematic because it regards the cairns and peristaliths of chambered cairns purely in technical and typological terms.  However, the evidence available from this region makes comparison difficult and the relevance of applying models based on evidence from the Scottish mainland should not be assumed.  It would be better to evaluate these elements of the cairns, as I have attempted for other architectural elements, in terms of the possible function or role that they served.  In this context, we may highlight the role of the cairn and peristalith in the construction of boundaries within the fabric of the chambered cairns, as is perhaps the case in the elaborate peristalith at Clettraval already described.  This is not to reject the presence of multi-phase monuments in the region, nor to deny the long history experienced by specific monuments.  Rather, it requires that we are more sensitive to the purpose of different architectural elements.  
The function of a cairn is to contain the chamber and, where present, passage.  But why cover a chamber?  It has been suggested that the cairn material is designed to support the orthostats used in the construction of the interior (Henshall 1972, 141).  I would highlight two alternative explanations.  First the cairn might reference established forms in the landscape and history of the people who built them and secondly its function or value may derive from the act of covering and containing that it provides.  
It is possible that the form of the cairn may represent a monumental reference to traditional or ancestral architecture and natural forms.  Bradley (1998a) and Hodder (1990; 1994) have considered the long barrows of continental Europe to reference in form the ruined remains of long houses, whilst Bradley (1998b) and Tilley (1998) have suggested that the portal dolmens of south-west England might reference natural geological formations from the region.  More locally, Jack Scott (1969) has suggested that the chambers of Clyde-cairns probably represent monumental stone versions of earlier wooden-built structures.  The form of the long cairn at Camster has been related to local glacial erratics (A. Jones pers. comm.) and it is plausible that there may be some association between the round cairns of Scotland and earlier monumental shell middens such as those found on Oronsay (T. Pollard 1996).  Cummings has also noted how the capstones of portal dolmens in south-west Wales could possibly be referencing the form of local topographic features (2001, 149-61).  But many of these observations are not reflected in the monuments of the Outer Hebrides.  Can we then envisage a more active role for the form of the cairn?
Although tradition might provide one explanation for the form of cairns it does not necessarily explain the varying extent of cairn material between individual sites and the elaborate peristaliths evident at many of them.  Peristaliths may serve to reinforce the kinds of boundaries referred to earlier, further distinguishing between inside and outside, or perhaps providing part of a stepped or staggered series of boundaries.  Façades, as part of the peristalith, construct and reinforce this boundary through their definition by large stones or dry-stone walling.  As denoting and framing the entranceway to the site, façades also very often represent the most substantial and impressive elements of the peristalith accentuating the importance of this boundary.  Particularly at sites featuring a horned or convex façade, the front of the monument is that most elaborately defined.  Interestingly these sites all feature neutral or relatively open interior forms (table 7.1).  
Interior form	Access/façade 	Cairn form 	Cairn size	Peristalith
Relatively closed	Concave or funneled	Round	Large	No emphasis or emphasis on rear
Neutral	Any	Any 	Any	Any
Relatively open	Convex	Trapezoidal	Small	Emphasis on front
Table 7.1 Different architectural elements at the cairns
In contrast at the more substantial chambered cairns from the region, for example Reineval (UST 26) and Glak Hukarvat (UST 19) on South Uist, Marrogh (UST 24) on North Uist and Dun Bharpa (UST 15) on Barra, the most substantial and closely spaced orthostats in the peristalith were towards the rear of the monument (figure 7.13).  These are all large round cairns with relatively closed or neutral internal forms and where apparent, funnel-shaped façades.  Why then was it appropriate at these sites to define the rear of the monument so spectacularly?  Is this just a question of survival and visibility or does defining the rear of the monument at these sites in such a way hold some importance to the constructors of these particular cairns?  
  
Figure 7.13 Concentration of peristalith at rear of Glak Hukarvat and Marrogh (after Henshall 1972, 519 and 523) 
We can already see that the boundaries manifest in the construction of the cairn and its enclosing peristalith, enhanced through the restriction of access between interior and exterior, may have ultimately been designed to construct particular spaces and structure specific kinds of activity and experience.  These interpretations remain difficult to substantiate on the basis of architecture alone but with consideration for the location and specific use of the cairns, we can perhaps gain a more complete understanding of the nature and function of some of these boundaries.
The landscape contexts of the cairns 
If we are to account for the architectural forms just considered then I argue that it will be necessary to examine the locations of the chambered cairns and see if these relate to the particular architectural forms discussed above.  This will first be attempted through consideration for the location of the chambered cairns within the landscape.  I then want to go on to consider the visibility of the landscape from the cairns, both from field observation and GIS viewshed analysis.  I hope to demonstrate that landscape location, both in the situation and the views available from specific situations, was a deliberate part of the construction of chambered cairns and as such represents an integral part of the architecture at these sites.

Location, location, location: the setting of the chambered cairns
Beveridge, Childe, Scott and Henshall all referred to the location of the cairns from the Outer Hebrides, most commenting on the preferential location on hill slopes in what has come to be referred to as marginal land, land which is more suited to pastoral than arable agriculture (Selkirk 1972, 312).  But in the light of the discussion so far we can examine the landscape location of the chambered cairns in a different way, particularly in relation to the different degrees of accessibility reflected in architectural forms.   
 
Figure 7.14 Schematic diagram of the six different landscape locations of the chambered cairns
Just breaking down the cairn locations into broad categories we can begin to see patterns in landscape location according to monument form.  I have, perhaps crudely, distinguished six different potential locations for the chambered cairns in this region: hill tops, hill sides, hill bottoms, plain or open location, loch-side setting, or coastal setting (figure 7.14).  This is really just a loose categorisation of individual sites in relation to the overall topography of the region.  Using Henshall’s typological scheme we can see some patterns when we compare cairn shape with location.  Round cairns show a wide range of locational preferences, predominantly associated with hills, whether top, side (as in most cases) or bottom.  This is a pattern shared by the square and trapezoidal cairns but long cairns on the other hand are exclusively located in open or plain settings.  This is interesting because it may imply that the long cairns are not multi-phase monuments, as Henshall suggested, but complete monuments in their own right requiring specific locations that are associated with their overall form.
 
Figure 7.15 Location of chambered cairns according to diagnostic interior forms
Although the sample is low, if we attempt this analysis in conjunction with my  earlier categorisation of architectural forms we can see further interesting preferences emerge (figure 7.15).  Neutral interior forms are represented in all but hill top locations, but are predominantly situated in a plain or open setting.  Relatively closed interior forms on the other hand are restricted to hill sides or hill bottoms.  The restrictiveness and tightly controlled access reflected in their architecture is mirrored in their location in relation to hills all, with the exception of Barpa Langass, tucked into narrow valleys.  
Two of the relatively open cairns, Geirisclett and Dun na Carnaich, are coastally located whereas Clettraval and Craonaval are located on a hillside and hilltop respectively.  Geirisclett and Dun na Carnaich are both Clyde forms, a style of cairn that archaeologists have long acknowledged as preferably situated on the coast (Childe 1934).  In these cases the openness and accessibility embodied through their architecture is reflected in the open and accessible waters they are built near.  Clettraval on the other hand represents a departure from this type of location but its architecture is also distinct from a ‘pure’ Clyde form.  
 
Figure 7.16 Location of chambered cairns according to diagnostic entrances
Similarly, if we examine the entrances to the chambered cairns similar relationships emerge (figure 7.16), although a smaller still sample is available.  The controlled access represented by funnel-shaped façades is also mirrored in the location of these sites, situated against hill-slopes or bottoms whilst conversely the two cairns with horned façades, constructing an open arena for activity, are situated in open landscape settings.  Of the three cairns with convex façades one is coastally located whilst two are on hillsides.  The former, Geirisclett, is a Clyde form and distinguished through the construction of the façade with dry-stone walling rather than orthostats.  Clettraval and Unival on the other hand feature elaborate orthostatic facades, implying a distancing through architecture reflected in their locations high up hillsides at 100 and 75 metres respectively, along with Glak Hukarvat the highest placed chambered cairns from the region.  
So we can begin to see broad patterns of cairn location that may be fundamentally related to monument architecture.  More so, this relationship between form and location may have been designed to enable the monument to perform its role; both location and architecture designed to embody a particular experience of place within specific parts of the landscape.  But there are notable exceptions to these patterns and these may suggest the presence of regional preferences within the Outer Hebrides.  A regional analysis of chambered cairn architecture does not lend itself easily to identifying variability within the Outer Hebrides because the styles employed are paralleled throughout the islands.  However, examination of the landscape location of the cairns reveals some variation (figure 7.17).  
 
Figure 7.17 Location of chambered cairns by island 
On North Uist although five of the six different locations are represented (only a loch side setting is not found), the majority of cairns are situated on hillsides or in plain or open settings.  Similarly, on South Uist the majority of cairns are positioned on hillsides.  For both North and South Uist we can relate these patterns to the architectural forms found there, with relatively closed and neutral forms belonging to round cairns predominantly situated against hillsides and neutral forms belonging to long cairns located in plain or open settings.  
On Lewis, however, this does not seem to apply.  Two of the five cairns are located on hilltops, a further two are in plain settings whilst one is coastally located.  Although the condition of the Lewis cairns means it is difficult to consider their architecture in much detail, their location does not seem to relate to architectural form.  The preference throughout is for open locations, apparently irrespective of monument form.  Henshall related the location of the Lewis cairns to the local geology, situated on moor land overlooking an area of sedimentary rocks that provided fertile soils suitable for both arable and pastoral agriculture (Henshall 1972, 118-20), implying that the cairns are situated on the periphery of these soils.  Sharples agrees with Henshall (1992), pointing out that the location of the Lewis cairns supports an underlying distribution of cairns in relation to the agricultural potential of soils, although he admits that the concentration of cairns on North Uist does not fit this explanatory model.  But if we consider, as I have tried to do, the location of cairns in terms of architecture and boundaries, how do we begin to account for the different landscape location of the chambered cairns from Lewis?  Are we witnessing a reduced degree of control in the construction of these particular monuments though a less restrictive range of site locations?  
Points of view: visibility from the cairns
A recent idea concerning the role of cairns has been that choice of monument location is as much an effort in controlling and structuring particular kinds of experience as architecture (Tilley 1994; Cummings 2001).  One of the ways to consider the role of location is to consider, as I have just done, the specific landscape setting of certain monuments.  Another is to consider the views available from individual cairns, in other words their viewsheds.  In particular, if we consider the degree of access represented not only by architecture but also monument location, viewsheds may provide evidence for the further structuring of access and experience at these sites.
Following on from a preliminary study of the chambered cairns of South Uist (Cummings et al. forthcoming) it was decided to examine in the field the views available from each chambered cairn visited.  This was undertaken to assess particular landscape references and also the degree of visibility that was available from individual sites.  Further investigation was carried out through the creation of viewsheds from each cairn with Arc-View GIS (Geographic Information Systems) software.
The study of the South Uist cairns (Cummings et al. forthcoming) suggested that the cairns from this island had been deliberately located so as to restrict certain views but also to enable or encourage others, as for example of particular landscape features within the South Uist landscape such as specific mountains or the sea.  Control of the views available from individual sites was interpreted as a deliberate action, perhaps designed to distinguish between the landscapes of the dead and the landscapes of the living and constructing certain degrees of accessibility for the sites, the sites located away from and overlooking the likely areas of settlement (Cummings et al. forthcoming).  For example, Reineval, Barp Frobost and Glak Hukarvat are all situated in valleys that constrain (but not restrict) visual access to the coastal plain.  The control of views from these sites, and by inference the views of these sites, could only occur with the quite specific locations within the landscape that had been chosen suggesting that cairn location was deliberate and meaningful, and an important part of their location was the views that they permitted. 
  
Figure 7.18 Field sketch of contrasting viewsheds from Barpa Langass (left) and Carinish (right) chambered cairns, North Uist
Is this pattern then reflected in the rest of the region?  We have already seen that on North Uist, for example, there is a greater quantity and diversity of cairns and these in turn seem to reflect a diverse, although apparently quite deliberate, range of landscape locations.  Do the views permitted relate to landscape location of the cairns and their specific architectural forms?  Figure 7.18 shows the contrasting views from the round cairn at Barpa Langass, featuring a relatively closed interior form, and the long cairn at Carinish, with a neutral interior form, both on North Uist.  The location of Barpa Langass against a hill has resulted in closed views mimicking the closed nature of its architecture whilst the open setting of Carinish enables wide sweeping views in all directions.  This contrast was supported by the field observations with the majority of relatively open and neutral forms featuring relatively open views, whilst those with relatively closed forms likewise featured relatively closed views.  This can demonstrated to some extent by considering the proportion of the compass visible from each site. 
The degree of visibility at each site was examined by recording the proportion of the compass (i.e. from 0 - 360º) enabling relatively long distance views, of around three or more kilometres.  A view which revealed 0º of the landscape would have a completely closed view whilst a view which revealed 360º would be completely open.  From this, specific features could be recorded but also restricted views could be observed, such as for example where local topographic features limit longer distance views.  Most of the chambered cairns from the Outer Hebrides seem to be situated to permit long distance views in most directions, from half to the entire compass (figure 7.19).  Of note, however, is that of the 30 sites that I was able to visit, the majority have views from 180º to 324º, suggesting that there was some degree of manipulation of the views from these sites.  If we relate this to earlier observations some interesting patterns emerge.  Of the eleven cairns with views from 325º to 360º of the compass (in other words near complete long distance views), six are from Lewis (figure 7.20).  
 
Figure 7.19 Proportion of the compass visible from individual sites
 
Figure 7.20 Proportion of the compass visible from sites by island
The three examples from North Uist consists of two long cairns in open settings and one Clyde monument, the Benbecula example is a long cairn, whilst the example from Harris is not a definite chambered cairn.  We can perhaps therefore suggest that the degree of visibility at sites may provide further evidence for control in the construction of the site, relating to particular and intended kinds of accessibility and experience.  Furthermore, we can relate these views to specific regional practices.  Those cairns with a low degree of visibility, from 75º to 160º, are all from South Uist and, with the individual exception of Leaval, represent substantial round cairns.  Glak Hukarvat (UST 19), on South Uist, represents the most restricted view for any site in the region at 75º.  It is interesting that this site is one of the least accessible of all the chambered cairns from the Outer Hebrides, situated in an upland valley at just over 70 metres above sea-level.  As commented on by Cummings et al. (forthcoming) “the cairn is the highest on South Uist and because of this the views are fairly spectacular, although constrained in many directions.”  Furthermore, the architecture of the site is equally restrictive, with perhaps one of the most pronounced funnel-shaped forecourts in the region defining a narrow entranceway to the interior.  
The visibility from the sites may then be intimately involved in the architecture of their form and locations.  Long cairns, for example, predominantly have expansive views in most directions.  However, might this just be a by-product of the preference for these monuments to be situated in plain or open landscape locations as discussed earlier?  I would argue not.  Rather, the views from these sites would seem to be an active component in the choice of location.  Most round cairns, for example, are situated within valleys on hill sides or bottoms.  I have argued that this locational preference reflects the restrictive architecture manifest in their construction, and the views support this.  The views from such sites are equally restrictive, constrained to look down the valleys they are situated in, yet prominent local and long distance peaks are frequently seen emerging over more local topographic features.  Similarly, the relatively open cairns, such as the Clyde monuments, are in open settings that embody their open and accessible architecture.  It is, arguably, no coincidence then that these particular sites have expansive views in many directions from which many landscape features can be seen (cf. Cummings 2001, 222-6), some over 40 kilometres away in the case of Dun na Carnaich (figure 7.21).
 
Figure 7.21 Extent of views from Dun na Carnaich, with Skye visible to ESE
Indeed, the specific landscape references of individual sites seem to reinforce this argument.  At Glak Hukarvat it was noted that “no distant mountains can be seen in any direction” (Cummings et al. forthcoming).  This was arguably a deciding factor in the location of the monument because prominent peaks of hills and mountains are evidently visible on the approach to the monument.  At Oban nam Fiadh (UST 25) the prominent North Uist mountain of Eabhal can just be seen protruding over a local hillock to the east (figure 7.22a).  Situating the cairn a metre up or down slope from its present location would have rendered Eabhal entirely unseen.  This situation seems deliberate when we consider that Eabhal is visible from over seventy percent of the North Uist cairns and is perhaps the most prominent and visually distinctive landscape feature on the island (figure 7.22b).  
A   B  
Figure 7.22 A) Peak of Eabhal just visible over the local hillock at Oban nam Fiadh 
B) Eabhal as seen from Carinish long cairn
There are other features that significantly dominate views from the cairns.  Stulabhal for example, at the centre of South Uist, can be seen from almost seventy percent of the South Uist cairns, although we are dealing with a much smaller sample.  There are six other peaks (Airneabhal, Beinn Mhoir, Easabhal, Reineabhal, Seabhal and Trinneabhal) that can be seen from at least two of the six monuments on South Uist whilst on North Uist there are five peaks (Maireabhal, Li a Tuath, Li a Deas, Uineabhal and Ruabhal) which are visible from over eight of the fifteen independent monuments studied.
Of further interest are those landscape features from other islands, and indeed other islands themselves, that are and are not visible from particular sites.  Hecla and Beinn Mhoir on South Uist are both visible from a significant number of the North Uist cairns whilst conversely, none of the North Uist peaks can be seen from the South Uist cairns, with the notable exception of Sig More on the northern tip of South Uist.  The island of St. Kilda can be seen on a clear day from Glak Hukarvat whilst Skye can clearly be seen from at least four of the North Uist cairns.  The mountains of Harris obviously dominate the view of the cairns from this area but can also be seen from seven of the North Uist cairns as well as one from Benbecula and one from South Uist.  Additionally, the sea is visible from over seventy percent of the cairns from the region.  
Whilst it may be argued that this is unsurprising given that the Outer Hebrides itself is a group of islands, surrounded on all sides by water, we need only consider the five sites from which the sea is not visible to realise that once again, specific reference to the sea could have been avoided in the location of the cairns if desired or appropriate.  In a GIS visibility study of the chambered cairns from the Orkney archipelago, Woodman has shown that despite working in an island environment, the cairns are preferably located to have sea views available compared to random samples (Woodman 2000, 97).  GIS provides one method of objectifying some of the subjective observations highlighted above.
GIS viewsheds
GIS presents some advantages for considering the views available from individual chambered cairns in the Outer Hebrides that may not be observable in the field.  It does have its limitations, however, and very often the specific views observed in the field for individual sites were not supported by the GIS viewsheds.  The way that Eabhal emerges from a local hillock at Oban nam Fiadh, for example, could not have been identified through GIS techniques.  This has large implications for the validity and applicability of such techniques, particularly in interpreting individual sites.  However, GIS viewsheds did help to convey an impression of the degree of visibility available at some sites and as a result GIS provided a useful tool for reinforcing existing observations, to consider sites which I was unable to visit in the field and sites where visibility was especially poor when visited.  GIS viewsheds were constructed with Arc-View GIS software, using contour data from the Ordnance Survey at a scale of 1:50,000.
In figure 7.23, two GIS viewsheds are contrasted, one featuring expansive views with long distance references in many directions, the other featuring restricted and immediate views with long distance views in only a limited direction.  In these two examples, the field-observations are supported by the GIS viewsheds. 
  
Figure 7.23 Contrasting GIS viewsheds from two chambered cairns, Airidh na h-Aon Oidhche, North Uist and Barp Frobost, South Uist
So we can see how the views from cairns may provide further evidence for the structuring of accessibility at these sites.  Certain sites reveal open and accessible views, often referencing large parts of the landscape and a broad number of landscape features, some quite far away.  Other sites feature restricted and constrained views where reference to specific landscape features is minimal, although rarely entirely so.  These visibility preferences can perhaps be seen, as argued for South Uist (Cummings et al. forthcoming), to represent control of the experience of such cairns but also the control of space and place that is also reflected in their architecture and their location within the landscape.  I now want to consider how these themes of access and control were played out at the sites through examining the few excavated examples we have from the region and the use of the cairns.
Practise what you preach: finds from and the use of the cairns
The limited amount of excavation of chambered cairns from the region presents huge problems for understanding their chronological and functional relationships.  However, I would like to refer in some detail to the two excavated examples by Lindsay Scott on North Uist: Clettraval and Unival.  I wish to suggest that the evidence from these sites, excavated over sixty years ago, may provide strong evidence in support of the arguments so far proposed.
 
Figure 7.24 Clettraval chambered cairn, North Uist (after Beveridge 1911, 254-5)
Clettraval
The site of Clettraval (figure 7.24) was excavated in 1934 by Lindsay Scott, having been recognised as a chambered cairn by Beveridge in his survey of North Uist earlier that century (Beveridge 1911).  Despite considerable disturbance of the site, predominantly through the construction of an Iron Age house into the cairn itself, excavation revealed an elaborate range of architectural features and a detailed sequence of activity within the chamber.  I have already referred to Clettraval a number of times but it would perhaps be worth outlining the structures as they related to the evidence for use found there.  Although much of the site was cleaned and recorded, detailed excavation was restricted to the chamber and forecourt. 
 
 
Figure 7.25 Plan of Clettraval chambered cairn (after Henshall 1972, 616 and W. L. Scott 1935, plate one).
Excavation of the chamber (figure 7.25) revealed an elongated single chamber with no passage, or alternatively a chamber with one or two antechambers and a brief passage (W. L. Scott 1935, 535).  The interior of the cairn was divided along its length into five sections (figure 7.25, sections I-V) by small upright (septal) slabs set into the floor, with an additional section (figure 7.25, section VI) defining the entranceway or portal to the interior.  As already mentioned, the use of septal slabs and overlapping chamber orthostats in the construction of Clettraval related it to a Clyde or gallery-grave tradition of cairn construction, but other elements shared different parallels.  As Lindsay Scott noted in his report: “in its method of construction the cairn is clearly a near relation of the Clyde type of chamber cairn…in what is generally regarded  as its earliest form, best represented in Arran” (1935, 521-2).  He continues “Clettraval agrees with the type as represented in Arran in its peristalith wedge-shaped in plan, its overlapping and inward leaning walls, its septal slabs and, probably, in its roofing.  It disagrees in having section I of its chamber, and to a lesser degree section II, much wider than the remaining sections, and in having a rectilinear façade set backward from the forecourt axis” (W. L. Scott 1935, 525).  These elements displayed a much greater affinity with a passage-grave tradition of construction, as represented in northern Scotland.
Lindsay Scott’s excavations at Clettraval exposed a large quantity of Neolithic pottery (around 460 sherds from 45 vessels) as well as two granite balls, an irregular lump of pumice, charcoal, sea-shells, burnt human and animal bone, split pebbles of jasper and several water-worn quartz pebbles (W. L. Scott 1935, 495).  Excavation revealed three distinct layers or strata: stratum A, an upper layer that post-dated the Neolithic activity; stratum B, an upper layer of deposits; and stratum C, a lower layer of deposits.  All the bones, except for a single fragment, were found in the innermost section (I) in stratum C, although these were heavily degraded and calcined due to the acidic nature of the soil.  The animal bones were thought to be derived from sheep or goat (W. L. Scott 1935, 499), whilst the human bone was restricted to a few examples: “the shaft of a metacarpal, and part of the left interior articular surface of a vertebra…the other small fragments are quite consistent with a human derivation, being fragments of ribs, of shafts of long bones, of the cancellous tissue in the extremities of long bones, etc.” (Tildesley in W. L. Scott 1935, 499).  All the human remains showed evidence of burning, from which Tildesley suggested that they had been cremated, and had definitely not been dry bones when subjected to burning (Tildesley in W. L. Scott 1935, 499).  The burning of the bones was thought to explain the charcoal found throughout strata B and C in all the sections except section IV.
The pumice was found in stratum C of section I whilst the sea-shells, limpet and winkle shells, were found in stratum A of section II suggesting that they were a later addition to the chamber, probably by the occupants of the Iron Age structure (W. L. Scott 1935, 495).  The two granite balls, which Henshall later interpreted as hammer-stones (Henshall 1972, 511), were found in a pit within which a collapsed façade orthostat had originally stood.  Numerous water-worn quartz pebbles were found across the site, two atop the north wall of section IV, one in the pit of the same façade just mentioned, whilst three more were found on the floor of the forecourt.  At the southernmost corner of the façade two more pebbles were found, one ‘battered’ (W. L. Scott 1935, 498).  The jasper pebbles were also found in the forecourt.
  
   
Figure 7.26 Ceramic vessels from Clettraval (after Henshall 1972, 308)
Pottery (figure 7.26) dominated the finds from the sites, almost half derived from the upper layer (stratum B) of the innermost section of the cairn (section I).  A number of vessel forms and decorative elements were represented in the assemblage, but the majority could be related to earlier Neolithic styles from western Scotland, Piggott’s Neolithic A (Windmill Hill) pottery (Piggott 1931).  Of the reconstructed vessels, an undecorated cup (figure 7.26, 16) and bowl, two necked bowls (e.g. figure 7.26, 4), an Achnacree bowl (figure 7.26, 2) and seven collared jars (e.g. figure 7.26, 10 and 5) were identified.  Lindsay Scott noted the similarities between the Clettraval assemblage and vessels from the Clyde-type cairns of south-west Scotland, reinforcing the links observed in the site’s architecture (W. L. Scott 1935, 529).  
From the (limited) mortuary and ceramic evidence, Lindsay Scott attempted to reconstruct the nature and sequence of practices that took place at Clettraval.  The quantity and quality of human bone found suggested to Lindsay Scott that rather than the result of primary cremation elsewhere, the burning of the bones represented secondary burning of the human remains in situ, shortly after being deposited in the cairn but prior to decomposition.  He related this to the evidence from Mycenaean cairns in the Late Helladic and suggested this as a form of purification rite, possibly to drive out spirits or ghosts (W. L. Scott 1935, 530).  The concentration of bone in section I led Lindsay Scott to suggest that this section was the focus for burial, each individual accompanied by one or more pots as grave goods.  The presence of vessels outside of section I was argued to represent the clearing out of this section to facilitate new burials.  Interestingly, Lindsay Scott also noted “that all the vessels represented were originally deposited whole is not necessarily to be assumed” (W. L. Scott 1935, 496), hinting at the selective deposition of sherds as part of the mortuary process.  
Henshall reassessed the pottery from Clettraval as part of her survey of the Outer Hebridean chambered cairns (Henshall 1972), but had little to add to Lindsay Scott’s observations except to suggest that the total number of vessels represented was more likely to be 33 (Henshall 1972, 508-11) than the 45 proposed by Scott (Scott 1935, 496).  More recently, Squair investigated the Clettraval assemblage, but was more cautious than Lindsay Scott and Henshall had been in estimating the specific number of vessels deposited at the site (Squair 1998, 252-3).  Squair's reluctance to quantify the assemblage was quite deliberate, stressing that not only had the selective deposition of sherds (rather than complete vessels) taken place but it was probable that some sherds, perhaps large numbers, were also selectively removed from the chamber (Squair 1998, 269).  The selective deposition of specific sherds seemed to be attested by substantial fragments of vessels recovered from cavities beneath the floor in sections III and V (Squair 1998, 290).  Squair also noted the significant quantity of sherds that had been subjected to abrasion and re-burning (Squair 1998, 271) suggesting a high degree of disturbance within the chamber, perhaps the result of the mortuary rites advocated by Lindsay Scott.  
 
Figure 7.27 Unival chambered cairn, North Uist (after Beveridge 1911, 252)
Unival 
Lindsay Scott was ultimately able to test his interpretations of Clettraval with the excavation of the nearby cairn, Unival (W. L. Scott 1948).  Unival (figure 7.27) had originally been identified by Beveridge (Beveridge 1911, 252) and the Royal Commission survey of the Outer Hebrides (RCAHMS 1928, 76-7) as a chambered cairn, although the insubstantial nature of the cairn led to the site being interpreted as a stone circle containing a small chambered cairn (Beveridge 1911, 261).  However, Lindsay Scott realised that the stone circle was in fact the peristalith to the cairn and therefore an integral part of it (W. L. Scott 1948, 2).  Like Clettraval, Unival had also been subject to considerable disturbance through the later construction of an Iron Age house, many of the façade and peristalith orthostats removed, some broken up, and the chamber used as a cooking pit.  Despite this disturbance however, Lindsay Scott's excavations revealed a considerable quantity of Neolithic pottery, a stone ball, a pumice pendant, two flakes of flint, several flakes of quartz, charcoal and numerous fragmentary pieces of human bone.
Before considering this material in detail, it will be necessary to outline the structure of the site and the context these materials derived from.  Lindsay Scott considered Unival as a passage grave in a short cairn, contrasting with Clettraval which he identified as a "Clyde type segmented gallery in a long cairn" (W. L. Scott 1948, 30).  However, the similarity between the deposits, use and construction techniques between both sites led Scott to dispute the validity of typological analyses, at least at these examples.  
 
Figure 7.28 Plan of Unival chambered cairn (after Henshall 1972, 529)
Unival featured a square cairn defined by a peristalith of large orthostats and a slightly convex façade of equally large orthostats (figure 7.28), resting on the cairn material behind and secured by a tight paving of horizontally set slabs.  A narrow portal, no more than half a metre wide, punctuated the centre of the façade, leading into the cairn interior via a brief passage or antechamber.  The passage itself was paved, only one and a half metres long and punctuated at either end by low sill stones.  It was as narrow as the portal, broadening out only slightly towards the chamber.  The chamber was small and polygonal, around two by two and half metres, built of large orthostats tilted slightly backwards to rest against the cairn material, and within the south-western part of the chamber a small, shallow paved cist was built into the floor (figure 7.29).  
 
Figure 7.29 Stone lined cist in Unival chamber (after W. L. Scott 1948, Plate III)
The cist provided the source for almost all of the human bone from the site.  Despite their fragmentary and decayed state, a consequence of the acidic local soils, the bone remains were in considerably better condition than those found at Clettraval, enabling Lindsay Scott to attempt (with greater conviction) a reconstruction of the mortuary activity at the site.  The majority of the bones were fragments of ribs, long bones, vertebrae, metacarpals and parts of a scapula.  Of particular interest, however, were several bones apparently derived from a single individual, including a mandible and parts of a skull, attributed to an adult female over 25 years old (Cave in W. L. Scott 1948, 37).  This particular individual had apparently been laid in the cist on the right side with the head facing the west.  Further rib fragments were identified as belonging to a younger individual, probably under 21 years old (Jackson in W. L. Scott 1948, 37).  All the bones were heavily calcined suggesting burning, a factor responsible for their preservation in the acidic soils of the chamber, although the degree of calcinations was not consistent with cremation as such (Cave in W. L. Scott 1948, 38; Shipman et al. 1984).  Lindsay Scott concluded "though much distorted by fire these bones had not been cremated, and their condition must be due to the piling of burning charcoal on them as they lay in the cist" (W. L. Scott 1948, 13-4).  This would seem to be supported by the soil accompanying and immediately overlying the bone, strata 3 and 4, which was rich in charcoal derived from willow, hazel, oak, pine and possibly birch (W. L. Scott 1948, 12).
      
Figure 7.30 Ceramic vessels from Unival (after Henshall 1972, 309)
Fourteen Neolithic vessels were identified by Lindsay Scott, with a further three Bronze Age vessels plus sherds from an undetermined number of additional vessels (W. L. Scott 1948, 15).  All were restricted to the chamber and were in varying condition, although one vessel was complete and Lindsay Scott was able to reconstruct the form of another twelve of the vessels.  With the exception of an undecorated cup (figure 7.30, 1), the majority of the Unival vessels were significantly more decorated than the Clettraval examples, five vessels featuring a completely decorated exterior (figure 7.30, 11 and 12), as opposed to the singular example from Clettraval, and an additional one almost entirely decorated (figure 7.30, 6).  There was also a greater range of vessel forms represented at Unival, with a preference for more open vessels, as opposed to the closed, collared vessels from Clettraval.  Comparisons between reconstructed vessels from the two sites also show that the pottery from Clettraval displays much more variety in volume (figure 7.31).
 
Figure 7.31 Comparisons between vessel size at Clettraval and Unival
Of discernible styles from the site, shouldered bowls (e.g. figure 7.30, 6), deep necked jars (e.g. figure 7.30, 9) and flanged bowls (e.g. figure 7.30, 11 and 12) are all represented but perhaps most interesting is the single, almost complete Grooved Ware vessel from the site (figure 7.30, 14; W. L. Scott 1938, 336-7).  This vessel is closely paralleled in decoration by sherds from Rinyo on Orkney (Childe 1939, 25; Henshall 1972, 181), although of higher quality construction (W. L. Scott 1948, 26).  It is of note that this vessel is one of only a handful of flat-bottomed Neolithic vessels from the region and with the exception of unpublished examples from Callanish (Squair 1998, 134) is the only Grooved Ware vessel from the region.  
Two further flat-bottomed vessels were found, although these were later deposits in the chamber and almost certainly derive from Beaker reuse of the site.  Lindsay Scott had residues from two of the vessels from the site examined.  Although unable to discern their specific contents, it was concluded "that they are certainly not from cinerary urns owing to the absence of phosphate and of calcium in any quantity, and they are probably therefore the remains of food" (Plenderleith in W. L. Scott 1948, 24). 
 
Figure 7.32 Pumice pendant from Unival (after Henshall 1972, 309)
Of the other materials from the excavations, the stone ball, possibly a hammer-stone, was found overlying the clay floor that predated the construction of the cairn.  This was argued as a deliberate foundation deposit associated with the creation of the site, with a similar argument presented for the stone balls from Clettraval (W. L. Scott 1948, 29).  The pumice pendant (figure 7.32) was argued as a representation of an axe or adze, perhaps influenced by similar objects in Ireland if not itself a direct import, notably an example from Harristown, County Waterford (Hawkes 1941, 130 cited in W. L. Scott 1948, 29).  Lindsay Scott thought the pendant to be a representation of a metal axe or adze, which he related to a similar example from Kerlescan, near Carnac, although this analogy probably owed more to the culture historical explanations of the time than any direct relationship.  It should also be noted that the pendant accompanied the latest deposits in the cairn, notably the Beaker period flat-bottomed pottery, so was probably a later intrusion into the monument.  Also found were several struck pieces of quartz and two struck pieces of flint, all associated with the funerary deposits (i.e. within the cist).
 
Figure 7.33 Distribution of pottery at Unival (red: vessel) (after W. L. Scott 1948, 16)
Altogether, the excavated evidence from Unival allowed Lindsay Scott to clarify the history of use at the site with much greater authority than had been possible at Clettraval.  The first stage of the mortuary rituals taking place would have been to clear out the cist, the remnants of pottery, charcoal and bones from the previous burial spread out in the rest of the chamber and against the northern chamber wall.  This would seem to be supported by the distribution of the pottery from the site, with the majority of vessels found in the cist or concentrated up against the northern wall (figure 7.33).  The next stage would be the burial of an individual in the cist accompanied by one or two pots, and perhaps an additional pot placed against the chamber wall.  The moderately articulated nature of the female individual, and the presence in the chamber of small bones such as metacarpals, vertebrae, ribs, carpals and a chip of astralagus (ankle bone), confirm that the human remains had originally been buried in the cist whole rather than brought into the cairn as a secondary burial.
At some point after burial, when the body was partially decomposed, burning charcoal was added to the cist which Lindsay Scott thought was aimed "to drive the now disembodied ghost from the cairn" (W. L. Scott 1948, 23).  The degree of calcination in the bones supported this argument, calcination resulting from exposure to heat rather than flames (Shipman et al. 1984).  The inconsistent burning of the bones, and the degree of calcination, meant that it was likely that the bones were probably somewhat decomposed when exposed to scorching, although some flesh is likely to have remained.  The cramped condition of the chamber led Lindsay Scott to believe that the charcoal had to have been brought into the chamber already burning (W. L. Scott 1948, 14).  The relative absence of charcoal in the northern part of the chamber despite the presence of burnt bone (W. L. Scott 1948, 12) suggested that the burning charcoal had exclusively been added to the cist, and that the burnt bone and occasional patches of charcoal outside of the cist resulted from the clearing out of the cist of an earlier burial or burials.  The condition of the bone meant that reconstruction of the specific sequence of burials was practically impossible, although the remains of the 25 year old woman were thought to represent the last use of the cairn, with the ribs of the younger adult thought to be the remnants of an earlier burial.  
Henshall and Squair both reassessed the ceramics from Unival, Henshall identifying twenty two different vessels (Henshall 1972, 531-3) and Squair suggesting no fewer than 19 and no more than 26 vessels (Squair 1998, 271).  The assemblage from Unival also confirmed Squair's observations from Clettraval that some sherds may have been deliberately deposited whilst others may have been deliberately removed, an observation hinted at in Lindsay Scott's interpretation of the ritual and funerary practices at Unival, where: "sherds, and perhaps bones also, might [have] be[en] taken away as amulets" (W. L. Scott 1948, 23).  
 
Figure 7.34 Finds from Barpa Langass (after Beveridge 1911, 248f)

Other sites
Aside from Clettraval and Unival, Beveridge conducted some brief excavations at a number of sites on North Uist; Geirisclett (UST 18), Barpa Langass (UST 6), South Clettraval (UST 28), Loch Glen na Feannag (UST 23) and Airidh nan Seilicheag (UST 2).  However, the sherds found at Airidh nan Silicheag, South Clettraval and Loch Glen na Feannag are most likely to represent Iron Age examples (Henshall 1972, 496, 503, 522, 527; Squair 1998, 248).  At Barpa Langass burnt bone, assumed to be human, was found along with several sherds of pottery, five flakes of flint, a barbed-and-tanged arrowhead, a flint scraper and a thin disc of mica (figure 7.34) (Beveridge 1911, 247).  Most of the sherds derived from beaker vessels (Henshall 1972, 503) although a single example probably comes from an open, carinated Neolithic bowl (Squair 1998, 248).  The arrowhead almost certainly represents a later deposit whilst the mica disk remains unparalleled.  The cairn of Leaval on South Uist was cleaned to reveal a large assemblage of lithic material, including quartz and flint (Cummings and Sharples 2000).  However, it is likely that the lithics derived from later activity at the site, rather than being contemporary with the cairn.
 
Figure 7.35 Geirisclett, North Uist (after Dunwell 1997, figure 2)
At Geirisclett Beveridge found sherds from several vessels as well as a chert scraper and a broken hammer-stone, but most of the sherds probably derived from beaker vessels, and therefore later use of the site (Henshall 1972, 516-7).  However, recent excavation of the site (Dunwell 1997) revealed further deposits under a layer of paving that Beveridge had identified as the primary floor of the chamber (Dunwell 1997, 12), the paving turning out to be from later reuse of the site, probably during the Beaker period or Iron Age.  Under this layer were a series of deposits, containing pottery, cremated bone, quartz and three flint flakes.  Most of the in situ deposits were restricted to the inner compartment (figure 7.35) with further unstratified finds in the outer compartment.
 
Figure 7.36 Old ground surface (OGS, context 020) underlying Geirisclett cairn (after Dunwell 1997, 9) 
The initial use of the chamber was defined by patches of paving associated with burnt bone, followed by secondary deposits including most of a single vessel containing fragments of burnt bone.  Above this stratum was a disturbed secondary fill containing a mixture of pot sherds, heavily abraded.  The pottery assemblage consisted of 234 sherds, all of these with the exception of a single beaker sherd Neolithic in date, representing a minimum of eleven vessels (Johnson in Dunwell 1997, 14).  The vessels all seem to be carinated bowls, most of which are decorated, although none are illustrated.  The human bone from the excavations was predominantly burnt and interpreted as cremated remains, although some unburnt bones had survived the acidic conditions: "both inhumation and cremation rites are represented within the chamber deposits" (Dunwell 1997, 16).  The excavator concluded, regarding the use of the monument, that "pottery vessels and quartz lumps, the latter probably decorative or ritualistic, appear to have been the two principal types of artefact deliberately introduced to the chamber" (Dunwell 1997, 16).  Interestingly, excavation also revealed pre-cairn deposits, a greasy sandy clay layer underlying the structural elements from the site (figure 7.36).  
Within the outer compartment of the chamber, this layer contained charcoal and the excavator suggested that this might represent an area of older activity or foundation deposits associated with the construction of the cairn.  At both Clettraval and Unival, underlying the structural elements of the site was a fine, green clay (Scott 1935, 486; 1948, 11), although this was interpreted as natural.  However, Ashmore noted that the laying down of clay immediately prior to constructing the cairn at Callanish was probably deliberate (Ashmore 1995, 32).  Plant remains underlying the cairn at Geirisclett included charcoal from birch, hazel and heather, as well as fragments of hazelnut (Church and Cressey 1999).  This was interpreted as the result of middening the ground surface immediately prior to the construction of the cairn, possibly with domestic hearth refuse.  This would certainly be consistent with the plant remains from the Neolithic settlement site Eilean Domhnuill (Grinter 1999), just over two kilometres away.
Of further interest at Geirisclett were fish bones found in the chamber deposits (Cerón-Carrasco 1999).  The species identified were entirely consistent with the diet of coastal otters and as most derived from stratified contexts of cairn use, it would suggest that the cairns had been left open and unused for periods of time. 
We can see then, like Lindsay Scott originally highlighted, that despite varieties in monument form and location, all the excavated chambered cairns of the region reveal comparable burial practices.   Burning was clearly an important part of funerary rites with charcoal-rich deposits present at Clettraval, Unival and Geirisclett, and burnt human bone also found at each.  Charcoal underlying the cairn at Geirisclett might also suggest burning, or at least the deposition of burnt material in the form of hearth debris, in preparation of the construction of the monument.  Pottery was also significant and vessels dominated the finds from all the sites.  Stone implements featured, particularly quartz but also flint and more exotic lithic materials such as jasper, pumice and mica. 
At both Clettraval and Unival we can see a deliberated and drawn out process of burial which is closely related to the architectural forms discussed earlier in this chapter.  In the next chapter I will attempt to bring together these different strands of evidence; the form, location and use of monuments, and consider the possible functions of each as well as attempt to provide a chronology for them. 

Chapter 8
Chambered cairns: Interpreting function and chronology

So how are we to understand this broad corpus of evidence from the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides?  I have considered the particular architectural forms represented at these sites, their location and references within the landscape and the evidence of use we have from a few examples.  From these can we begin to construct a chronological sequence for the cairns and attempt to understand their function and meanings within the lives of Neolithic people?  A recurrent theme throughout discussing the cairns has been the particular kinds of accessibility that they represent, in form, location, and use.  I want now to pursue this idea before proposing the sequence that this may reveal.
Boundaries and the role of the dead
Considering the degree of accessibility represented at the cairns, much of the discussion has concerned the role and presence of boundaries in architecture.  Through notions of accessibility we can begin to see, as many recent archaeologists have done, the role that architecture may have played in framing and structuring the experience of monuments.  We can envisage that this structuring of practice and experience was a deliberate and intended part of the monument.  For example, I earlier referred to the role of low and narrow passages and entranceways in restricting access to cairn interiors for human participants.  Similarly particular landscape locations, and the views available from or to them, might equally have been a deliberate exercise designed to create a particular experience of, and structure rights of access to, individual sites.  Furthermore it is possible that these rights of access were perhaps governed by, for example, knowledge, identity or social status.  However, I want to consider this accessibility in relation to the dead and particularly how, through architecture, location and use, boundaries may have been constructed between the living and the dead, between the outside world and the cairn interior, its contents, and the processes that were understood or believed to be taking place in them.  
Chambered cairns have long been accepted in British Neolithic studies as social places for the living, as well as burial places for the dead (Fleming 1972; Fleming 1973; Bradley 1984).  For example, Bradley comments that "[some] monuments helped orchestrate a series of public and private experiences that were absolutely central to the ways in which the living approached the dead" (Bradley 1998a, 53).  In this sentence, the emphasis is on the attitudes and experiences of the living in relation to the dead.  Bradley argues that this attitude to Neolithic monuments results from the different conception of time that is inherently associated with Neolithic people through their adoption of agriculture (Bradley 1998a, 51-4), the dead providing fixed points in time and space for people to relate and attach meaning to.  Certainly, the abundance and scale of chambered cairns and long barrows in the British Neolithic, and their role as providing the primary evidence for the Neolithic given the relative paucity of settlement remains, mean that the importance of the dead has featured significantly in interpretations of this period.  
As social places, chambered cairns have become embedded in the landscapes, lives and activities of Neolithic people and in recent years, this has been most notable through reference to 'ancestors' or 'ancestry', a term which has become synonymous with discussions of Neolithic Britain where ancestors have been related to architectural traditions (Bradley 1998a, chapter 3), materials (Edmonds 1999) and the landscape (Tilley 1994).  Yet, as has recently been pointed out (Whitley 2002), ancestors are very rarely explicitly defined in British Neolithic studies.  Furthermore, I would like to express some concern with the view of the dead that such a perspective encourages.  
In our recent study of chambered cairns there has been only limited discussion of the funerary rites at such sites.  We have returned to a perspective that, like the culture-historians, privileges the study of architecture and examines architecture in relation to the living.  This is unfortunate given that chambered cairns are partially defined by the treatment and deposition of the dead at them.  In this sense, I would argue that the dead have been interpreted and portrayed as essentially passive in recent studies, and limited attention has been given to the potentially active properties and abilities which the dead may possess, or specific attitudes to human remains and the perceptions and beliefs concerning the processes involved in the transition from life to death.  
It is, I would argue, problematic that British Neolithic studies have painted a picture of the dead that on the one hand - through rather vague notions of ancestry - sees them as valuable and important, but on the other hand - through emphasising the social function of chambered cairns - tends to regard them as passive and impotent.  I believe that in order to understand the function of the chambered cairns from the Outer Hebrides, and the specific purposes of their architecture, location and use, we must embrace a more active role for the dead at these site, a role that requires us to once more consider these sites as burial places for the dead and not just social places for the living.  To achieve this I wish to highlight some themes that emerge from anthropological studies of attitudes to the dead in non-western societies.  
The powerful dead 
The first thing I want to highlight is that for many societies, including our own, the dead are regarded as polluting.  In modern western society this is through the threat the dead present for spreading contagious diseases, primarily because of the polluting properties of the physical remains of the dead, the corpse, but also because we do not like to be reminded of our own mortality.  The historian Michel de Certeau has related differing attitudes to the dead to fundamentally different conceptions of time and history (Certeau 1988).  In the present, the study of the past is considered to be the study of the ‘other’, essentially because it is the study of the dead.  This can be linked to attempts in our society to distance the present from the past as part of a broader attempt to distance ourselves from death.  An increased quality of life along with a longer life expectancy has meant that we have become increasingly detached from death.  Yet Certeau highlights societies for whom the past is not ‘other’ but rather an active part of the present and where an entirely different relationship with death exists (Certeau 1988, 4-5).  For such societies, the past becomes part of the present through, for example, the construction of myth and the dead become and active and integral element of daily life through the physical incorporation of the remains of the dead within the realms of daily life, and also through the perceived agency of the deceased within that life.
For many societies this agency is perceived in terms of the active threat that the dead present to the living, particularly of spreading death itself.  For example, when an individual of the Berawan society in Malaysia dies, the widow or widower of the deceased is housed in a small cell or house accompanying the corpse, which is displayed for several days (Metcalf and Huntingdon 1991).  The confinement of the widow is not an act of mourning, but designed to protect the community from the corpse.  As Metcalf and Huntingdon point out, "the widow is not simply in 'quarantine' so that she cannot spread her pollution…it is hard to see how this prevents the spread of pollution.  She suffers not because of the corpse, but because of the vengeful soul of the deceased" (Metcalf and Huntingdon 1991, 93, original emphases).  In this example the dead are not only polluting but also threatening, in other words the dead have power.  Furthermore, through such notions of power we can see the ways in which societies attempt to distance themselves from the dead.
This idea of the dead being polluting and threatening - of the powerful dead - is mirrored in Parker Pearson's observations of southern Madagascan funerals: "the tsimahaivelo [funerary priest] must take on the pollution and moral blame of death by organising the rites and protecting the living during this dangerous time.  In the proceedings to come, he must ensure that the living are finally separated from the dead by cutting a thread which is attached at one end to the cairn and held at the other by the mourners.  The possessions of the deceased and the house in which death occurred are also polluted; the house, with items inside, is burnt at the end of the funeral sequence" (Parker Pearson 1999, 10-11).  Although Parker Pearson does not elaborate on why the dead need protecting, nor why this is a dangerous time, it is clear through the particular funeral rites taking place that the dead are regarded with fear, respect, and superstition.  We can highlight further examples.
The Buid of Mindoro in the Philippines (T. Gibson 1985), believe that the souls of dead individuals persist after death in the form of ghosts, selfish and greedy entities “lacking in respect for proper social behaviour” (T. Gibson 1985, 400) who periodically demand gifts of meat from their living descendants due to the absence of animals in the underworld.  Tensions between the living and the dead, through the constant threat of illness or death that the dead present, are appeased through offerings but in particular through funerary rituals designed to appease these tensions.  Similarly, the Mbeere of Kenya (Glazier 1984) also regard the dead as powerful and potentially harmful ghosts or shadows that offer constant threat to humans and their animals.  They are despised and feared by the living as “frequently arbitrary but powerful adversaries” (Glazier 1984, 140) but because of the threat they present, they are respected and satisfied through animal sacrifices or libations of beer.  
In these brief examples, the dead inherently possess powers that are perceived as threatening to the living.  This threat can be manifest in a number of different ways and for a number of different reasons.  The spirits of the dead may often threaten death to others, illness, misfortune, or attack people, animals or property.  This can be because the dead are jealous of the living, because they are in a state between life and death - limbo - or they may be angry that specific funeral rituals were not carried out properly.  For the Nyakyusa of Tanzania there is a substantial fear at funeral rites that the funerary ceremonies are performed properly, specifically because the "spirits of the deceased are believed to have the power to send misfortune and insanity upon the surviving kin" (Metcalf and Huntingdon 1991, 54-5).  Here, the threat of the dead is not something that is only manifest at the funeral but remains a constant threat.  However, the funeral provides a context where individuals or communities can act against the potential threat of the dead in future periods, hence the importance the Nyakyusa attach to getting it right.
I wish to argue that specific funerary rites such as these might help us to understand the role that attitudes to the dead may have played in the form and location of the chambered cairns from the Outer Hebrides.  
Controlling the dead: the role of architecture 
I devoted much of my earlier discussion on the chambered cairns to considering the degrees of accessibility which they reflect.  The architectural elements of the cairns seems to involve the structuring and control of space within the monument interior and progression into this bounded space.  In recent years, particularly through phenomenological approaches, archaeologists have tended to interpret this in terms of the role of architecture in structuring people's experience of these monuments.  But I want now to consider this in terms of the boundaries manifest in these architectural forms and the role these might have played in containing and distancing the dead, rather than the opportunities these presented for the movement and experiences of the living.  To understand this we have to regard the dead as active agents in the social world of the people who built the monuments and buried their dead in them, agents with the potential to inflict harm, misfortune, and perhaps death on these people.  In this sense, architecture is employed not purely to punctuate progression into the interior of these monuments, but rather to control progression outside from their interior. 
This can be seen in the control of space within the architecture of the cairns.  The chamber is predominantly, and quite deliberately, the deepest and innermost part of the cairn, and this provides the focus for burial.  In the relatively closed examples, the chamber is quite distinct from the passage and the passage itself is often long, low, narrow, and in some cases bent, constructing a series of spatial punctuations between inside and outside.  These architectural features restrict progression into, and out from, the chamber.  For example, at Barpa Langass, the chamber is separated from the outside world by a long, low passage where it is difficult to see outside the cairn, a situation emphasised by the facing of the monument directly into the hillside on which it is situated.  There is the sense that the outside is quite far away and this seems to have been a deliberate effort by its constructors.
 
Figure 8.1 One of five sill stones (highlighted in red) dividing the chamber of Clettraval into compartments (after W. L. Scott 1935, figure 6)
At Loch Glen na Feannag the portal to the cairn cannot have been higher than half a metre so that for people to have entered the cairn they would had to have crawled on their bellies.  It would appear in this example that the portal and low passage were not designed to control and structure people's access to the interior but rather to constrain this as a medium between the interior and exterior of the cairn.  At the relatively open cairns, such as Clettraval, despite the accessibility reflected in the architecture the chamber is punctuated along its length with low orthostatic sill-stones (figure 8.1).  In such cases each sill-stone serves to further distance the innermost compartment of the chamber from the outside world.
As I argued earlier, the entranceway of a monument defines its threshold, the point between the inside and the outside.  Can we perhaps suggest that this threshold defined the point between the living and the dead?  Embellishments and elaborations of this threshold, through narrow entranceways, lintel stones, and forecourts, were designed to reinforce the distinction between these two different areas at the point where this boundary was at its weakest.  The elaborate façades at some of the cairns may represent a further embellishment, or definition, of this threshold and at Clettraval this was reinforced through the deposition of specific materials within the fabric of the façade, such as the jasper pebbles and granite hammer-stones found in the socket for one of the façade orthostats.  
We can also suggest that the cairns and peristaliths were designed and intended to emphasize these boundaries.  That the cairns do not fill the peristaliths entirely in some examples implies that the function of the cairn was not to fill the peristalith but to cover, or rather contain, the chamber.  The cairn seems to provide insulation for the chamber, and potentially therefore insulation from the dead and the threat they may present to the living.  This series of boundaries would have been further defined through the elaborate peristaliths frequently occurring at the cairns from the region, the large orthostats intended to delineate and define interior and exterior space.  The architectural features cited by Henshall as evidence for multi-phase monuments may have been original and intended parts of the monument, acts of reinforcement within its fabric strengthening these distinctions.  
The nature of the afterlife and transition to it, as well as processes of decay and decomposition, are not easily understood outside the confines of modern western society (and not even then), leaving the resting places of the dead places associated with fear, superstition and respect.  It is risky to draw haphazardly on ethnographic and anthropological examples and I am not proposing a particular attitude to the dead as a universal rule.  But an appreciation of these attitudes may go some way towards explaining the boundaries I have observed in the chambered cairns of the Neolithic.  The boundaries manifest in the construction of a cairn and its enclosing peristalith, enhanced through the restriction of access between interior and exterior, may then ultimately be designed not to structure and control the experience of the living, but to contain and restrict the agency of the dead, and limit the potential threat and harm that they may present.  
Placing the dead: the role of location
So are these boundaries - and their function - reflected in the location of the chambered cairns from the region?  In proposing, as I have tried to, that the landscape location of the cairns provides an additional component to the architecture of these sites - their structural grammar - can we then see the setting of these sites as reflecting a further attempt to distance the dead?  Surprisingly they do not.  Although chambered cairns are frequently isolated and inaccessible to the modern observer (Henshall 1972, 116), this probably owes more to their relation to the present settlement in the region than a genuine liminality in their location.  On the contrary, given the predominance of pastoralism - and associated forms of mobility - during the Neolithic as argued in the previous section, the chambered cairns would seem to be located within parts of the landscape that were probably frequently, if not habitually, exploited by the people that built them.  
However, it is my argument that the dead did not have to be distanced through location because that function was served by the architecture of these sites.  In most of the anthropological examples quoted above, the dead are regarded as powerful and treated with fear but this is rarely reflected in the location of funerary sites.  In Parker Pearson's Madagascan work he notes that tombs are normally placed "on east-facing hillsides or along roadsides where they form prominent monuments" (Parker Pearson 1999, 12).  In this case monuments are not only located so that they can be seen, but so that they must be seen, although situated away from settlement and fields.
We can perhaps envisage a comparable scenario for the cairns of the Outer Hebrides where monuments were deliberately situated within parts of the landscape that were both familiar and regularly used.  This may have been specifically to place the dead within view of the living but may also have been to relate these sites to places or locales of significance, places which may have been associated with ancestral entities, myths and particular histories.  We can perhaps see this in the views from individual cairns where visual reference was frequently made to specific landscape features, notably particular hills and mountains.  I noted earlier that Oban nam Fiadh appears to have been deliberately located in relation to views of Eabhal, whilst the deliberate situation of monuments in relation to topographic features had already been observed at sites on South Uist (Cummings et al. forthcoming).  
The symbolic value of these particular features should not be underestimated.  The more substantial and distinctive hills along the east coast of the region, particularly on North Uist, Benbecula and South Uist, provide prominent landmarks visible from many of the chambered cairns.  They appear to construct a visual boundary that separates the region from the waters of the Minch and the islands and mainland beyond.  Field observations suggested that Skye, for example, is only visible from two of the sites, one on North Uist and one on Benbecula.  The cairns then would seem to have been located so as not to have views of the distant mainland, although this could quite easily have been achieved.  The prominence of some hills meant that they could have provided potent metaphors; providing the eastern edge of the visible world, it was from behind these hills that the morning sun rose (figure 8.2).  
 
Figure 8.2 Sun rising behind Eabhal, North Uist
Reference to solar cycles would certainly seem to be significant in the construction of the cairns given that almost all are aligned to the east (Henshall 1972, 151).  In some examples this might genuinely have been to observe solar phenomenon.  At Clettraval, for example, the passage/chamber is aligned due east upon a sky-lined natural quartz outcrop (figure 8.3) 
 
Figure 8.3 Alignment of Clettraval on quartz outcrop
Bradley has suggested that rock outcrops may be considered as places that mediate between the mundane world of the living and the underworld of the dead (Bradley 2000, 12), an idea perhaps given value in this example by recent suggestions for the association between quartz, the dead and the transformation of the dead (Fowler 2002).
Yet at Barpa Langass, although the site is aligned east it faces directly into a hill.  We can perhaps then argue that with some sites an easterly alignment may have been significant and this significance might have derived from the movements of the sun and the visibility of such movements, as has famously been observed at Newgrange and Maes Howe.  With other sites, however, it would seem that an easterly alignment was more a part of the metaphysics of chambered cairn architecture, a part of the grammar which enabled them to function and to be understood.
If we pursue this line of argument then we must also consider the significance of the sea.  In contrast to the bounded east coast of the region, together with the Minch providing a potent border to the region, the seas to the west seem endless.  It is the sea where the sun completes its daily cycle, often in breathtaking fashion (figure 8.4).
 
Figure 8.4 Dramatic sunset off Lewis
Discussing Later Prehistoric domestic structures, Parker Pearson and Richards have considered the significance of the daily solar cycle and its symbolism in the cosmological ordering of architecture (Parker Pearson and Richards 1994).  Drawing on a broad range of analogies they propose that later prehistoric house doorways tend to be aligned east as this direction symbolised birth and life - the direction that denotes the daily birth of the sun.  The west, in contrast, symbolises death as it does the death of the sun.  The almost exclusive alignment of chambered cairns to the east may also reflect this cycle; and the symbolism of life and death is equally potent.  Although I have argued that tombs are not exclusively concerned with the dead, they provide a primary concern for these sites, and the cosmological ordering of space according to the movement of the sun may have been integral in the processes and boundaries I have argued for at the chambered cairns.  In some examples the sun might have shone down the passage of the cairns as it rises in the east, its rebirth reinvigorating the deceased within and enabling their passage to an afterlife.  Yet as one heads towards the chamber of such monuments one is also literally walking towards death, towards the remains of the deceased in the direction that the sun takes towards its own death.  
Such an argument might seem largely conjectural but it may be supported by the evidence from the excavated sites.  At both Clettraval and Unival the focus for burial was apparently the deepest - and therefore most westerly - point of the chamber.  If we look at the distribution of pottery at Clettraval, we can see that through the history of the monument the deepest part of the chamber increased in significance as the focus for deposition (figure 8.5).  Vessels were relatively evenly spread throughout the lower deposits from the chamber but in the later deposits vessels were largely concentrated in the deepest section.  It is this section that provided the focus for the burial of human remains at the site.
  
Figure 8.5  Distribution of pottery in Clettraval chamber
We can see then a series of associations in the location of chambered cairns within the landscape and I have hinted at some possible significances for them.  Ultimately, the landscape location of the cairns is likely to represent a combination of the sacred - or symbolic - and the mundane - or domestic -  although we must be cautious when employing such distinctions.  The cairns were most probably situated in relation to parts of the landscape that were being exploited by people through the particular lifestyles that they practised.  It is through their association with known and frequented places that the cairns would have gained and maintained a specific value to the communities of the Outer Hebrides.  But these places would probably already have had value through prevalent perceptions and knowledge of the landscape.  Part of this perception would undoubtedly have involved myths, stories, and histories bound up with certain places, notably certain natural places.  What the cairns achieved was to cement these associations within the world which people dwelt, and the processes and ceremonies that punctuated their lives.  It would be over-simplistic to suggest that the funerary rites which took place at the chambered cairns were designed to facilitate the transition of the deceased into an ancestral realm per se.  But in distinguishing between the architecture of the monuments and their location we can perhaps begin to see how a number of different roles were being served in the construction and use of chambered cairns.  Our next task will be to identify if and how this changes through time, by developing a sequence and chronology for the cairns.
A chronology and history for the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides 
Can we use some of these ideas to help to construct a sequence for these monuments?  I would argue so.  Furthermore, by constructing a sequence according to the function and location of specific sites, rather than purely on architectural forms alone, we can perhaps avoid some of the pitfalls of typological sequences which I highlighted earlier in the thesis.  This will have to be situated within an understanding of monument sequences elsewhere (primarily based on architectural developments and available radiocarbon dates), but by examining the changing function of particular architectural forms and developments in landscape context, we can begin to suggest a shifting role and nature for the cairns of the Outer Hebrides through the Neolithic.
The earliest cairns
It seems likely that the earliest cairns in this region relate to the undeveloped Clyde form from southwest Scotland.  Geirisclett is probably the only example of such a site in the region, although the unexcavated site of Dun na Carnaich may provide a further example.  In this case, the boundaries inherent in cairn architecture are minimal.  In other words, it is probable that these sites are not necessarily involved in distancing the dead, or that distancing the dead was less important at this time.  The entranceway at Geirisclett was not particularly narrow, nor was it framed by large stones, although a low lintel stone defined the portal, and the façade at this site, a low dry-stone wall, was equally insubstantial.  There was some degree of control in the use of sill-stones to punctuate the interior space of the cairn but this was brief, essentially only creating an inner and an outer compartment to the chamber.  This does not seem to be a place where the dead were feared, distanced, or controlled.  Rather it seems to reflect a particular attitude to the dead and the treatment that was appropriate for them.  Here we are beginning to get a sense of what Piggott meant when he asked for us to examine 'the significance attached to specific forms' (Piggott 1954, 231).  
Considering the location of the cairn, Geirisclett may have provided a fixed and highly conspicuous monument at a time that is perhaps otherwise characterised by some degree of mobility.  This mobility probably related to particular subsistence practices and this may explain the emphasis or preference for a coastal location at this kind of site.  I earlier suggested that the openness and accessibility that these cairns embody in their architecture might relate to the openness and accessibility of the seawaters that they are built close to.  It is possible that these sites may reference or are situated in relation to particular parts of the landscape exploited by the living, in this case the sea and perhaps the sea as a source of marine resources or as a medium for contact and communication with broader worlds.  It is perhaps no coincidence that at the similar cairn of Crarae, Argyll, some 5000 shells were laid down as foundation deposits immediately prior to the construction of the cairn (J. G. Scott 1961, 16).  
However, an association between the coastal location of these sites and subsistence is not supported by recent isotopic work which has stressed a relatively rapid change in diet (and therefore by inference subsistence practices) at the onset of the Neolithic (Schulting 1998; Schulting and Richards 2002).  With such a scenario it is unlikely that these places would specifically relate to the diets of the people who built them, but we can envisage that through referencing the sea in the location of these sites, their constructors might be referencing places associated with practices and lifestyles from perhaps only a few centuries earlier.  Tony Pollard (T. Pollard 1996), for example, has considered the close parallels shared between the early chambered tombs and Mesolithic shell middens of western Scotland.  Both, Pollard argues, may have served comparable roles in the society and cosmology of the communities that built them.  However, whilst the location may have been based on tradition - an established way of acting in and referencing the world - the form was novel and reflected new kinds of dwelling and new ways of treating the dead.  
With the absence of isotopic data from the Outer Hebrides we cannot necessarily assume that there was a rapid shift to terrestrial resources in this region at the onset of the Neolithic.  However, evidence for the exploitation of marine resources during the Neolithic of the islands is relatively small, despite its considerable significance in the livelihoods and diets of later periods and into recent times (Martin 1999, 207).  The similarity in form and location between the North Uist example and those sites from the Inner Hebrides and southern western Scotland suggest a comparable series of mentalités between the two region at this time, though this is difficult to demonstrate given the absence of radiocarbon dates. 
Time for change
We might regard the cairn at Geirisclett, and possibly also that at Dun na Carnaich, as imports into the Outer Hebrides.  Although it is doubtful that this was the product of colonisers, as argued by Childe, Daniel and also Piggott, I have argued it represents the arrival in the region of a new idea in the construction of chambered, megalithic monuments.  Yet this form was short-lived in the region.  The perspective and ideology represented by Geirisclett became redundant for the communities that required it and although this single site continued to provide a focus for activity through prehistory, a new form of cairn was required.  
These new requirements are reflected in the construction of a new cairn several kilometres away at Clettraval.  Although the form of Clettraval adheres to similar principles of construction as other Clyde cairns, it differs greatly in its ultimate form and in its location.  The permeable, unbounded and accessible form of Geirisclett could no longer satisfy the requirements of the communities of North Uist.  A greater degree of control and a more prescribed access to the monument interior were required.  This results in a longer chamber divided into several sections by sill-stones, and an elaborate façade.  As noted by numerous authors, Clettraval can perhaps only be interpreted as a combination of passage grave and gallery grave traditions (Childe 1935, 40; W. L. Scott 1935, 521; Daniel 1941, 44; Piggott 1954, 225).  In its architecture, its builders seem to have constructed a cairn within the context of a technology and grammar that was appropriate for a Clyde-form.  But greater attention and effort was ultimately invested in distancing the interior as was appropriate in the passage grave form.  
The boundaries and manipulation of space inherent in passage grave architecture were crucial to the builders of Clettraval and the desire to distance and distract from the interior seems foremost in their intentions.  Access to the interior was not only restricted but also highly structured, the path leading to the portal determining a particular means of access, perhaps for a privileged few.  The length and curve of the chamber seem to have been an architectural effort to further distance the cairn interior from the outside world, accentuated in the chamber through its punctuation with sill-stones.  This latter feature was observed at Geirisclett, and indeed at most Clyde-type cairns, but at Clettraval it was executed in monumental fashion, creating five separate interior sections, each punctuating progression to - of from - the innermost section.  
It was this innermost section that provided the focus for burial at the site, all but a single fragment of human bone found there (W. L. Scott 1935, 495) as were the majority of Neolithic vessels from the site (figure 8.5).  As a focal point for deposition, this section represents the emergence of particular attitudes to the dead that involved their detachment through architecture and practice and this may be reflected in the broader use of boundaries in the architecture of this site, notably the substantial façade and the elaborate peristalith.
The location of this site also suggests other ways in which control to the monument and its interior space may have been attempted.  However, like Geirisclett, we might also relate the location of Clettraval to particular subsistence practices or to a significance attached to certain landscape locales.  Clettraval's situation may reflect the emerging importance attached to a pastoral economy.  Indeed, rather than being situated within marginal or liminal land - as has been suggested for the majority of Hebridean cairns (Selkirk 1972, 312) - it may specifically be located within areas that were frequently visited through movements with sheep or cattle.  This choice of location may reflect the exploitation of new areas within the landscape, or alternatively a more intense exploitation of these areas, but in either case we can suggest that these locales had become significant in the ideologies and landscapes of the living, and the construction of chambered cairns within these areas highlighted this significance.  
This view might be supported by the later evidence for occupation and activity at the chambered cairns.  Hingley (1996) has argued for the deliberate exploitation of Neolithic cairns as locales for Iron Age settlement.  The recurrent interpretation of this has been in terms of the availability of building stone presented by the cairns.  However, it is possible that the very reason why Neolithic cairns are often associated with later structures is that both are involved in comparable uses of the landscape.  Considering more recent subsistence practices in highland Scotland, Stewart reveals that "the main event of the year was the annual migration of the women and young people, with the cattle, to the upland pastures - the shielings.  They usually set off in early summer and stayed till near harvest time.  The men would go up a few days beforehand to repair the shieling huts…simple stone structures, thatched with turf or heather, with a central hearth and heather beds." (Stewart 1996, 21).  This account, although derived from relatively recent times, provides a constructive analogy for thinking about the use of the landscape during the Neolithic.  
New forms
However, as highlighted by the changing focus for burial at Clettraval (figure 8.5), it became increasingly apparent that despite the changes in form and location attempted at this site, a Clyde form could not satisfy the needs of the cairn users.  At Clettraval people were already trying to perform new practices within the context of an existing architectural framework.  Ultimately, however, an altogether different architecture was required.  These needs would have been satisfied with the earliest forms of passage grave from the region, probably contemporary to the latest use of Clettraval.
These are likely to be the small, round cairns featuring neutral interior forms, as defined earlier.  Sites such as Loch Glen na Feannag, Coir Fhinn and Unival, are all likely to fall into this category of cairn use, all involving the definition of a distinct chamber and passage (although in some cases the passage and chamber may appear to be single entity), the passage usually being quite short.  The passages are often so short that they seem to be embellishment of the entranceways and antechambers noted at some Clyde cairns rather than outright passages, an elaboration in architectural form of the spatial punctuation between inside and outside.  The concentration of activity in the innermost parts of the chamber, as can be seen in the later activity of Clettraval, can be seen at Unival through the construction of a cist, the focus for burial and deposition at the site.  
It is in the architecture of these sites that the greatest effort seems to have been made in distancing the interior, through the entranceways and facades, and in some cases the peristalith.  The ceremonies associated with these sites may also have served to reinforce the function of the architecture.  Lindsay Scott interpreted the use of fire in the mortuary rituals at Unival as purificatory rites aimed at driving out the spirits of the deceased, and to ensure their transition to the afterlife (W. L. Scott 1948, 32-5).  Could this be interpreted as providing another act aimed at distancing or controlling the dead, or as part of a long complicated burial rite designed to facilitating the departure of the deceased?  
Some interesting evidence for the changing function of the cairns may be provided by the changing nature and function of the pottery found at these sites.  It is difficult to interpret the role of the pottery at the cairns, a situation brought about by the limited number of excavated cairns from the region, although deposits in vessels from Unival were thought to represent the remains of food (Plenderleith in W. L. Scott 1948, 24).  We can perhaps observe broad changes in the styles of vessels deposited in cairns and this may provide further evidence for the changing function of the chambered cairns.  At Clettraval the earlier deposits are characterised by partially decorated, neutral and closed jars whereas more heavily decorated and open vessels dominate the later levels.  This is supported at Unival by a predominance of heavily decorated open vessels, most notably elaborately decorated bowls.  Can this shift in vessel form and decoration tell us anything about broader changes in the use of these cairns?  With this broad (and unfortunately unavoidably crude) transition from partially decorated, deep, closed forms to more open, yet more heavily decorated forms we can perhaps observe a shift in emphasis from vessels associated with storage to vessels associated with consumption.  Squair proposed that many of the vessels from both Clettraval and Unival, a greater proportion at the latter site, had shown evidence of being used (Squair 1998, 294) and I have mentioned the food deposits on two vessels at Unival (Plenderleith in Scott 1948, 24).  Do these represent vessels that were owned or used by the deceased or are these evidence for use in the ceremonies associated with the mortuary practices of the dead?  If the latter, can this suggest that these vessels were now employed by the living as part of the ceremonies concerned with the treatment of the dead?  
To return to the anthropological literature, feasting is very often associated with funerary activities but for quite specific reasons.  For the Nyakyusa, whom I referred to earlier, feasting is a necessary part of the ceremonies associated with both the fear of the dead and the acts designed to distance them: "The Nyakyusa, like many other peoples, seem to feel the need to confront death with an assertion of life…a realization of present life in its most intense quality, to the war-dance, to sexual display, to lively talk and to the eating of great quantities of meat" (Metcalf and Huntingdon 1991, 57).  In other examples food is often left for the deceased.  If we envisage the vessels from Unival and the later deposits at Clettraval as representing consumption, whether these are interpreted as representing the remains of feasts by the living, or food for the dead, is perhaps irrelevant.  What they depict is the role of foods in the mortuary practices taking place at the cairns, designed both to facilitate the swift and unproblematic transition of the deceased, and to protect the living from the potential harm that accompanies and may follow this transition.  
The earlier vessels, representing storage vessels, can be associated with the very function of the cairns they were deposited in: the ultimate storage places for the dead.  These were places where the dead came to be deposited to mark the end-product of funerary rites, a notion embodied by the presence of cremated human remains in a vessel at Geirisclett (Johnson in Dunwell 1997, 14).  In the later examples this changes to vessels that represent consumption.  Could we suggest then that the cairns themselves had now come to represent processes of consumption?  Consumption implies processes of transition and transformation; the consumption of food and drink involves the transition from hungry to full, or from sober to drunk.  These cairns reflect this in that they are places to facilitate the transition of the deceased.  These may be supported by the burial rites observed at Unival, with the consumption of the corpse, initially through decay and decomposition, and eventually consumption by fire through the introduction of burning charcoal to the cist. 
With this change in funerary rites and an associated change in the architecture of the cairns (designed to accommodate this change in funerary rites), there is limited change in the location of the cairns, most situated on hillsides or bottoms.  I would argue that these new monument forms (and practices) continue to be embedded within the same landscape framework as Clettraval, a framework given value by the perception of particular landscape features and the history of human use within the landscape.  In this framework, particular importance was attached to certain natural features, particularly notable hills, and also particular routes of movement.  We continue to see the association of sites with natural outcrops, most notably at Bernera on the isle of Berneray off North Uist (Figure 8.6).  Here, in its present state, the cairn seems to be a very part of the outcrops on which it is situated, and if covered with a cairn (now absent, if it ever exhibited such a feature) it would undoubtedly seem to provide a passageway into the earth itself.  Natural features are also referenced through the views available at these cairns, often encompassing significant hills and mountains.
 
Figure 8.6 Bernera chambered cairn situated within natural stone outcrops
We can see in this phase an elaboration of the architecture, location and practices manifest at Clettraval, all designed to distance the dead and control the processes of the deceased.  This phase is also characterised by a proliferation in monument construction, especially on North Uist.  It became increasingly important for the commmunities of this time to build chambered cairns, and such sites were becoming increasingly social places that served more than just the burial of the dead, very much constructed for and located within the lives and landscape of the living.  
Monumental monuments
The next phase is characterised by the monumental elaboration of previous passage grave forms, most notably the round cairn.  The proliferation of monuments ultimately led to increasingly restrictive architectural forms in efforts to control not only the processes of death and decay at these sites but now also the experiences of the increasingly large audiences that these sites were beginning to serve.  In this period extremely large round cairns were built featuring relatively closed interior forms.  Sites such as Glak Hukarvat, Reineval, Barpa Langass, Marrogh and Loch a' Bharp all probably represent the culmination of chambered cairn architecture in this region, with the exception of the single Orkney-Cromarty cairn at Callanish which I will discuss in a later section.  All feature large orthostats in their passages, chambers and peristaliths, and most are covered with a substantial cairn.  The passage is frequently long and/or narrow, reached through a low, narrow entranceway within a funnel-shaped forecourt.  The chamber is usually oval, circular or polygonal defined by large orthostats.
 
Figure 8.7 Large orthostats in peristalith at Dun Bharpa, Barra.  Note figure to right for scale. (after Henshall 1972, plate 23)
At these sites we can see an elaboration of the architectural features exhibited in the previous cairn forms, designed to construct and embellish boundaries within the fabric of the cairns, containing and separating the interior of the cairn in monumental fashion.  This can be seen in the numerous large orthostats that make up the peristalith (figure 8.7), the substantial cairns that cover the passage and chamber, and the elaborate passages and entranceways that govern access to the interior.  Together these represent a pinnacle in the form and function of boundaries at the chambered cairns from this region, a prescribed and defined grammar that seems to have been primarily concerned with separating interior from exterior and exercising control over the people both living and dead that these sites were built to accomodate.  
The increasing social role of these sites may be suggested by their more accessible locations, most built at hill bottoms.  These sites were still located in relation to existing conceptions of the landscape but made more obvious, ostentatious and visible.  The one exception might be Glak Hukarvat, situated high in the mountains of South Uist.  However, rather than an effort aimed at distancing the dead we may alternatively suggest that this site may represent an expansion of the areas exploited by Neolithic people at this time, possibly due to the environmental developments at this time which I will discuss in the next section.
 
Figure 8.7 Barpa nam Feannag, North Uist (after Henshall 1972, plate 24)
The uncertain case of the long cairns
The one form of chambered cairn that does not appear to fit into the scheme presented is the long cairn (figure 8.8).  These share similar neutral forms to earlier passage graves but differ from their situation within a very long cairn and their location in relatively open settings.  Cummings has noted that the long cairns of south-west Scotland are located in relation to natural passes within the landscape, perhaps functioning as visible marker points within a seasonal round (Cummings 2001, 257).  She goes on to suggest that "these monuments may have been conceptually quite different to the other monuments, and may not have been built for either the burial of the dead or for ceremonies for the living" (Cummings 2001, 257-8).  
This argument would seem to be comparable to the long cairns from the Outer Hebrides.  Their location seems to embody movement across the landscape, both in the linearity inherent in their form but also in their location.  The four long cairns of North Uist and Benbecula are all centrally located in low-lying areas and may together form part of route ways through the islands.  All the long cairns from this region are situated to enable long distance views in a variety of directions, usually elevated on natural rises in flat(ish) moorland or valley bottoms.  This contrasts with the location of - and views from - the other chambered cairns in the region, arguing against their interpretation as developed, composite monuments (Henshall 1972).  Their unusual alignment in contrast to the predominantly eastern alignment of the other cairns (Henshall 1972, 151) also points to an altogether different set of appropriate landscape references.  
Although there are unfortunately no excavated examples from the Outer Hebrides, the ephemeral 'settlement' remains associated with Carinish long cairn on North Uist may support the fact that the long cairns were distinct from the other cairns in their function.  Although interpreted as a domestic site the remains, discussed in the previous section, would probably be better understood as a series of temporary encampments associated with the cairn, possibly related to movement across the landscape.  This assocation may be reflected in the evidence from Camster Long, Caithness.  At Camster Long, activity accompanying the old ground surface underlying the tail of the cairn provided a terminus post quem for its construction of around 3800 to 3600 BC (Masters 1997).  This activity, however, can potentially be dated back to the Mesolithic, as suggested by the presence of microliths (Wickham-Jones in Masters 1997, 170).  The location of Camster Long adjacent to the Camster Burn, potentially a natural routeway in the Caithness landscape, is particular interesting and may imply a significance attached to this place as part of movement within the landscape long before the construction of the cairn there.  
This location perhaps reinforces the point that the landscape location of chambered cairns may derive from particular histories of landscape use.  This is played out in greater detail at the long cairns where not only were they situated within frequented parts of the landscape but were perhaps designed to be an active part of movement within the landscape.  
Sequence and dating
As there are no radiocarbon dates for chambered cairns from the Outer Hebrides it is difficult to provide an absolute chronology for the sequence I have just attempted to propose.  The insular nature of some of these developments also hinders the construction of such a chronology through analogy.  However, consideration of excavated sites from the Scottish mainland may highlight some broad temporal framework in which to allot our sequence.
  
Figure 8.9 Glenvoidean and Crarae cairns (after Henshall 1972, 408 and 325)
 
Figure 8.10 Radiocarbon dates from early Clyde cairns
It is difficult to suggest a date for Geirisclett and the earliest form from the region.  However, consideration for the form and accessibility of this particular monument rather than strict architecture might highlight comparable sites elsewhere in Scotland, notably the early Clyde cairns (figures 8.9 and 8.10).  A single date from charcoal found underlying the small chamber at Glenvoidean, Bute, (I-5974: 4860+115 BP; Marshall and Taylor 1977) dated construction of the cairn to the early fourth millennium BC.  The usefulness of this date is questionable when we consider its large range.  However, recent AMS dating of human bone from the cairn of Crarae, Argyll, provides a broadly similar though more refined determination from the mid-fourth millennium BC (OxA 7662: 4735+40 BP; Schulting and Richards 2002).  However, this dates the deposit of bone within the chamber and not the construction of the monument.  A single date from a large marine shell deposit underlying the sites (OxA 7880: 5545+35 BP; Schulting and Richards 2002) suggests an early construction for this monument at the start of the fourth millennium BC.  This date only provides a terminus post quem for cairn construction and could potentially derive from earlier activity, though the construction of a cairn upon an area of previous activity seems significant.  Together, these dates might provide an analogous date range for Geirisclett somewhere in the first half of the fourth millennium BC.
Turning to the later forms such as Clettraval, which I argued to represent an adaptation of the Clyde form with passage grave elements, we experience further complications on account of the lack of available parallels.  However, we may draw analogy from dated monuments that embody a comparable sense of accessibility (figures 8.11 and 8.12).  Monamore on Arran perhaps provides the closest parallel to Clettraval with an elongated Clyde chamber (although with only three sections rather than Clettraval's five) set within a trapezoidal long cairn.  A hearth in the forecourt of the cairn, argued to post-date the construction of the façade, derived from sometime between 4250 and 3650 BC (Q-675: 5110+110 BP), although this date has been argued as too early when compared with the excavated evidence (Selkirk 1972, 304).  This date may be supported however by the dates from Port Charlotte, Islay, and Lochhill, Dumfries.  Port Charlotte, also featuring an elongated Clyde chamber, had pre-cairn activity dated to the early to mid fourth millennium BC (HAR-3487: 5020+90 BP, HAR-3486: 4940+70 BP; HAR-2836: 4660+115 BP), whilst at Lochhill a timber structure preceding the construction of the cairn provided a comparable date (I-6049: 5070+105 BP, Selkirk 1972, 298).  With these dates then we can perhaps situate Clettraval shortly after Geirisclett, perhaps in the century or centuries prior to 3500 BC.
  
Figure 8.11 Monamore and Port Charlotte Clyde cairns (after Henshall 1972, 379 and 433)
 
Figure 8.12 Radiocarbon dates from developed Clyde cairns (after Henshall 1972, 379)
The use of Clettraval, as originally intended, was probably short-lived and we can not only see a shift from earlier traditions and attitudes concerned in cairn construction, but I have tried to suggest we can also see changing traditions and attitudes spanning the use of the monument itself (figure 8.5). 
This shift represent a development in the requirements of the chambered cairns and these requirements ultimately lead to the construction of new monumental forms, the earliest passage graves.  Again, the dating of this period of cairn construction and use is uncertain, as unfortunately there are no available parallels for the cairns which I have placed in this category.  However, the decorated closed jars from the early use of Unival may be related to Beacharra ceramic forms (Henshall 1972, 169) thought to derive from the mid-fourth millennium BC (Sheridan 2000, 9).  From this we might cautiously place these cairns within the last centuries of the early fourth millennium BC, from around 3700 to 3500 BC, broadly contemporary to the determinations for Clettraval.  Radiocarbon dates from the Loch Calder cairns in Caithness may support this date.  The round cairns at Tulach an t'Sionnaich and Tulloch of Assery B, although architecturally quite different from the Outer Hebridean examples, may be interpreted as embodying similar practices and attitudes to the cairns from this phase.  These seem to represent early passage graves with simple chambers and passages, although both are later subject to elaboration (Selkirk 1972, 281-3; Henshall 1972, 550-8).  The radiocarbon dates from these two sites relate to the mid-fourth millennium BC (figure 8.13).  A single date from Tulach an t'Sionnaich (GU-1334: 4685+60 BP) provides a date of 3500 BC for the chamber floor whilst a series of four dates from Tulloch of Assery B date the construction and early use of the monument to a century either side of 3500 BC (GU-1332: 4965+60 BP; GU-1333: 4670+65 BP; GU 1336: 4655+60 BP; GU 1339: 4840+65 BP).  This date range may be supported by the presence of shouldered bowls under secondary paving within the chamber (Corcoran 1966).  From these dates we can perhaps envisage a similar date for the Outer Hebridean examples just discussed, although this relationship is tentative.
 
Figure 8.13 Radiocarbon dates from passage graves in Caithness
In terms of the more developed passage graves, there are no real parallels available to provide absolute dates.  However, if we consider that these sites represent the culmination of a trajectory of Neolithic attitudes to the dead and their treatment then we can perhaps suggest that these sites emerged around 3500 BC.  They probably continued to be in use for some centuries after this time, as to some extent did the earlier cairns already discussed.  Indeed most of the cairns in the region seem to have been valued by the people of these islands into the Later Neolithic, Beaker, Bronze Age and Iron Age periods, although the specific nature of this value was probably quite different.
So where do we situate the long cairns in relation to this sequence?  The absence of excavation once again causes several problems in situating these sites within an absolute chronology.  Long cairns elsewhere span the majority of the fourth millennium BC.  Material pre-dating the construction of the long cairns at Camster Long (Masters 1997, 133) and Tulach an t'Sionnaich (Shrarples 1986) date to around 3800 to 3700 BC (figure 8.14), whilst the 'settlement' at Bharpa Carinish discussed in the previous section (Crone 1993) dated to around 3300 to 3000 BC.  Such a long, and admittedly vague, period for these monuments need not be problematic as they do not seem to relate to the shifting attitudes and practices I have argued to be reflected in the other cairns from this region.  Rather these cairns seem to straddle many of these developments and may indeed, as the Camster example might suggest, have roots in practices and lifestyles preceding the Neolithic.  
 
Figure 8.14 Radiocarbon dates from long cairns in Caithness
As a final note, in offering a sequence for the cairns of this region I have not meant to imply that after any particular phase, previous monument forms go out of use.  I have already suggested that most of the cairns in this region continue to provide subjects for attention into the Bronze and Iron Ages.  It was, however, the way people related to these cairns that changed, as I have tried to argue for Clettraval.  It is highly likely, despite shifts in attitude, that many sites continued to be important places.  
Summary
I have presented a sequence for the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides that has tried to consider the function of particular architectural forms and highlight the significance of certain landscape settings.  In this sense I have tried to show that the architecture of the cairns from this region might reflect changing attitudes to the dead through the Neolithic, and a changing significance for these sites.  The earliest cairns are concerned with storing the dead and little more, they are the final resting places of the dead.  Later forms however are concerned with facilitating the increasingly dangerous and threatening transition of the deceased from life to death, and the architecture of the cairns would appear to be designed both to safeguard the deceased, through ensuring this transition, but also to safeguard the living, through spatially distancing this process.  In this change, we can perhaps see a shift from cairns as containers for the dead, vessels of the ancestors, to cairns as places concerned with processes of transforming and consuming the dead, vessels for the ancestors.
On the other hand, I have tried to argue that the location of cairns was not related to these processes or shifts in attitude.  Rather the location of cairns explicitly related to appropriate places in the landscape, whether through physical association or through visibility, places that were both used by people but also that had a historical relevance to them.  The location of the cairns highlights an increasingly social role for these monuments and a deliberate attempt to situate and integrate them within the everyday realms of Neolithic life.  
Together, new ways of thinking about architecture and consideration for the landscape setting of the cairns as an extension of this architecture, have enabled me to construct a chronology or sequence for the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides.  Although this chronology is not dissimilar to that originally proposed by Henshall (1972; 1974), the kind of history it portrays for this period is fundamentally different, dependent on new forms of interpretation.  This history ultimately stands apart from that of the previous section.  More so than the settlement evidence, it provides a glimpse of longer distance influences and yet also more insular developments.  In the context of monument use it provides a tantalising glimpse of the value invested in the treatment of specific individuals upon their death, and the role of such ceremonies to the communities who used them.  Yet it also enables the identification of slower, longer term changes in the practices and cosmologies of these Neolithic communities of the Outer Hebrides.  Such developments do not stop at the chambered cairns of the region and ultimately result in the construction of an altogether new form of monument with altogether new functions, the stone circle. 


Chapter 9
Stone circles: The emergence of new forms

The third millennium witnesses the construction of a new monumental form in the Outer Hebrides, the stone circle.  In contrast to the chambered cairns the stone circles have received little archaeological attention, with excavation limited to the single site of Callanish on Lewis and only a handful of publications regarding the other sites from the region.  However, like the chambered cairns they involve the construction of large-scale megalithic structures that continue to dominate in the landscapes of the present, and feature an uneven distribution across the islands with two notable concentrations, one on North Uist and the other on the west coast of Lewis.
In this chapter I want to consider in turn the two concentrations of stone circles in the region and situate them within the chronology and interpretation of the chambered cairns from the previous chapter.  As for the preceding discussion concerning chambered cairns, I want to briefly provide an overview of work to date on these two different concentrations before considering the monuments from each in light of this earlier critique.  
The long forgotten shows: the stone circles of North Uist
In his 1911 survey of the archaeology and topography of North Uist, Beveridge noted the presence on the island of a number of stone circles.  These he thought to represent a Bronze Age phenomenon, usually associated with burials (Beveridge 1911, 240), and observed four examples: Pobull Fhinn, Loch a’ Phobuill (also known as Sornach Coir’ Fhinn), Carinish and Leacach an Tigh Chloiche (also known as Unival).  Unival, after excavation by Lindsay Scott (W. L. Scott 1948), was later realised to be a chambered cairn, but the other three sites have been confirmed as stone circles along with an additional site, Cringraval.  
Since Beveridge there has been surprisingly little mention of the North Uist stone circles, predominantly considered only briefly within broader surveys of Scottish and British megalithic circles and alignments (e.g., Thom 1967; Burl 1976; Thom et al. 1980; Ruggles et al. 1984; Barnatt 1989).  In his survey of British stone circles, Burl noted the association of the North Uist examples with chambered cairns, and highlighted their apparent east-west alignment, with emphasis on the easternmost part of the circle (Burl 1976, 147-8).  Burl went on to emphasise the location of the stone circles in relation to sea inlets which he thought underlined the importance of sea trade at this time, supported by the presence of Irish group IX axes in the region (Burl 1976, 140).  Burl also suggested that the fragmentary nature of the region “militated against any large-scale gatherings” (Burl 1976, 141) which he argued to be reflected in the form of the stone circles (figure 9.1).  
 A
 B
Figure 9.1 Pobull Fhinn (A) and Loch a’ Phobuill (B) stone circles, North Uist 
(after Curtis 1988, 367 and 369).
The North Uist stone circles were perhaps more thoroughly considered in a survey of the megalithic astronomy of over 300 western Scottish megalithic sites by Ruggles et al. (1984).  Detailed statistical analysis for the topographic setting and alignment of individual sites were provided and these were in turn related to a range of astronomical events (Ruggles et al. 1984, 99-120).  From this analysis, Ruggles et al. have argued for a lunar significance in the alignment and orientation of the Scottish megalithic sites considered (Ruggles et al. 1984, 303-10), supporting earlier suggestions by Burl (1981).  However, despite a detailed statistical account of the monuments from this region, there is no specific discussion of them and neither is there consideration for any diversity between them nor their broader relationship to a west Scottish megalithic tradition, if one can be argued to have existed.  Rather, the North Uist examples would seem to have been employed as data to help demonstrate a broader argument for the western Scottish seaboard that is predominantly concerned with the mainland. 
 
Figure 9.2 Pobull Fhinn stone circle, North Uist, with prominent local mountain Eabhal in the background
A more detailed survey of the North Uist monuments has been provided by Curtis (1988).  Here, along with monuments from western Lewis, Curtis has provided a detailed geometric survey for three of the stone circles of North Uist: Pobull Fhinn, Loch a’ Phobuill and Carinish.  At the flattened circle of Pobull Fhinn, Curtis notes the monument to be aligned WNW towards the chambered cairn of Unival and also ESE, which is suggested to provide “a portal through which to view the conical hill Eabhal up whose left hand slope the sun rolled on Mayday morning” (Curtis 1988, 369) (figure 9.2).  Unival is also referenced in the alignment of the nearby flattened stone circle Loch a’ Phobuill, as too apparently is the cairn at Craonaval (Thom et al. 1980, 313; Curtis 1988, 370), although this latter alignment was not observable in the field.  Also surveyed by Curtis was the dilapidated elliptical stone circle at Carinish, situated “near the top of a low rise with good views of the North Uist and Benbecula hills” (Curtis 1988, 370).  Curtis’ survey is useful and provides a level of detail for the individual sites that had previously been unavailable.  However, once again, there is no attempt to provide a synthesis for this work, offer explanation or interpretation for the sites, or situate them within a broader discussion of stone circles in general.
In the context of such criticism, a more useful survey is perhaps provided by Barnatt’s investigation of the stone circles of Britain (1989).  In this work, Barnatt constructs an elaborate regional typology for Britain comprised of fourteen classes of stone circle, constructing twelve regions with similar trends of stone circle architecture (Barnatt 1989, 141).  In this synthesis the Outer Hebrides (incorporating as well the monuments from Lewis) represented one part of a broader tradition of stone circle construction spanning the Inner and Outer Hebrides that consisted of irregular circles (class C), larger open circles (class G) and occasionally small circles (class K) (Barnatt 1989, 143).  The scale and density of the stone circles from the region were argued to suggest, like Burl had done, that the monuments from North Uist were indicative of small-scale social groups, with this largely shaped by the underlying regional differences in terrain (Barnatt 1989, 226).  We might criticise some of Barnatt’s underlying assumptions, notably that the capacity for social hierarchy was determined by landscape and available resources, and also his preoccupation with supposed ‘core’ areas, particularly the concentrations of stone circles in Wessex and the Peak District.  However, Barnatt’s work provided a refreshing shift from the astronomical investigations that had preceded it, and whereas the work of Burl, Thom, Curtis and others had emphasised a universal dimension to the study of stone circles, as through suggestions for a ‘megalithic yard’ (Thom and Thom 1978; Ponting 1988), Barnatt’s proposal for a regional study of stone circles continues to be of crucial relevance.
Since Barnatt’s work there has been only the occasional mention of the North Uist stone circles within broader reference to the Neolithic of the region, and even then tending only to provide a brief footnote to the Callanish stone circles which I shall be discussing later (e.g. Armit 1990b; 1996).  Yet here we have a relatively large concentration of monuments - four within a few square kilometres - all in broadly comparable locations and potentially reflecting the earlier concentration of chambered cairns on this island.  So how can we understand these enigmatic and unexcavated monuments, especially in the context of their limited discussion to date and my critique of chambered cairn studies in chapter six?  To situate these sites within a broader discussion of Neolithic monumental traditions in the region we must first attempt to understand their chronological relationship to the sites already discussed in the thesis.
Chronology 
With no excavation of the North Uist stone circles it is difficult to provide a date for them.  There is no artefactual evidence to situate them within a relative sequence, nor radiometric dates to provide absolute dates.  Barnatt has highlighted the paucity of dates for stone circles in general (Barnatt 1989, 155), a situation which has not improved in the years since his study (Bradley 1998a, 128-9).  Burl argued that larger stone circles were likely to be earlier in date than their smaller equivalents, the former belonging to the later Neolithic whilst the latter, often containing burials, could be dated to the Early Bronze Age (Burl 1976, 46).  Barnatt, however, felt Burl’s model too simplistic and suggested that it failed to consider regional diversity in stone circle form (Barnatt 1989, 155-6). 
Using the handful of radiocarbon dates available at the time and his regional model for the stone circles, Barnatt proposed that the majority of British stone circles could be dated to the period 1800-1000 bc, essentially spanning the second millennium BC (Barnatt 1989, 157 and figure 55).  This chronology is complicated by the fact that many of the radiocarbon dates from stone circles derive from associated burials which are likely to represent secondary use of the monument (Barnatt 1989. 160; Bradley 1998a, 128-9).  However, the stone circle classes which Barnatt has highlighted in the Outer Hebrides, namely the class C and G examples from North Uist, can be related to comparable dated sites from Ireland which he states as having Later Neolithic origins (Barnatt 1989, 160), although specific date ranges are not supplied.  The only evidence cited by Barnett to suggest a particularly early date for northern British stone circles is the passage graves incorporated into the stone circles at Callanish, which will be discussed later, and Clava.  Interestingly both these examples have recently been demonstrated to be later through excavation and absolute dating (Ashmore 1999; Bradley 2000).  
If we are to acknowledge Barnatt’s model then we can suggest a date for the North Uist stone circles around the latest Neolithic, post-dating the construction of large passage graves - although these are likely to have continued to be used into later periods - yet preceding the Beaker period, their construction and use then dating to the first half of the third millennium BC.    So how do these sites relate to the chambered cairns?  Can we relate the emergence of stone circles to the sequence I have provided for the chambered cairns and what can this tell us about their role in late Neolithic North Uist?
Outing the passage grave: the function of a circle 
To return to the chambered cairns of the Outer Hebrides I suggested that the latest chambered cairns to be built would have been the largest passage graves such as Marrogh and Barpa Langass on North Uist, and Reineval on South Uist.  These were sites whose emphasis in construction lay in distinguishing between the interior and exterior of the monument.  A similar sequence has been observed at Orcadian chambered cairns where in the later monuments the exterior becomes  the focus for ceremony and deposition (Sharples 1985, 69), whilst Bradley has highlighted comparable developments for the large passage graves of Ireland, the henges of southern central England, and the Clava Cairns of Inverness-shire (Bradley 1998a, part ii).  At these sites it was initially the internal architecture of the monument that served to distance the interior of the monument, but with time new architectural elements had to be employed to accentuate this distinction.  At Maes Howe on Orkney, a bank or wall was constructed to mark the edge of the monument, whilst at Knocknarea in Ireland the chambered cairn was later surrounded by a rubble bank (Bradley 1998a, 111-3).  These, Bradley argues, were designed to accommodate an audience, and provide a context for those people that had become alienated through the increasingly elaborate control of access to the monument interior (Bradley 1998a, chapter 7).
Bradley compellingly argues for a shift from passage grave to stone circle, or henge, as the development of a certain perception of space in the construction of monuments which “reflect a shared perception of the world – a prehistoric cosmology” (Bradley 1998a, 108).  Examples from Newgrange, Knowth and Stonehenge highlight, for Bradley, the juxtaposition between this continuity of form – the circle – and the discontinuity of the places, rites and practices associated with these forms, namely the development from closed to open monuments.  This development is preceded in the chambered cairn sequence by the shift in attention towards the exterior of the later passage graves of Scotland and Ireland (Bradley 1998a, 114), a shift from constraining access to the interior to enabling experiences at the exterior of the monument. 
 
Figure 9.3 Inconspicuous peristalith at Geirisclett, North Uist
Analogous examples to those cited by Bradley are absent from the Outer Hebrides, but we can propose that certain elements of the Hebridean chambered cairns might represent a similar shift in attention to the monument exterior.  The peristalith of the chambered cairns is perhaps most impressive in the later examples, and it is not surprising that some sites with only a minimal cairn, whether intentionally or through later robbing, have previously been interpreted as stone circles (Beveridge 1911; Thom 1967).  At the Hebridean sites it was not initially important to elaborately define the exterior of the monument.  At perhaps the earliest chambered cairn from the region, Geirisclett on North Uist (Henshall 1972, 515-7; Dunwell 1997), the cairn edge is defined by a kerb of low orthostats and dry-stone walling (figure 9.3).  In later monuments the peristalith was defined more elaborately, culminating in the substantial orthostats that frame the edge of the large round cairns at Dun Bharpa on Barra (see figure 8.7), Loch a’ Bharp and Reineval on South Uist, and Barpa Langass and Marrogh on North Uist.  In the case of those monuments where the cairn material was unlikely to have completely filled the peristalith, as at the square cairns (Henshall 1972), there was an accessible arena without the chamber and passage that anticipated the form, if not necessarily the function, of the stone circles.     
 
Figure 9.4 Standing stone to rear of Unival chambered cairn
The shift of emphasis away from the monument interior would have been accentuated at some sites, such as Marrogh and Unival (figure 9.4), through the erection of an accompanying standing stone, usually towards the rear of the monument, or perhaps also through the elaborate definition of the peristalith towards the rear of the cairn, as for example at Reineval.  Bradley has discussed the shift in location of megalithic art at the Boyne passage graves from the interior to the exterior of the monuments, the later carvings predominantly upon the kerb of the cairns (Bradley 1998a, 110).  Although decoration is absent from the Neolithic monuments of the Outer Hebrides, the embellishment of the exterior through larger orthostats would have served to emphasise the distinction between inside and outside and ultimately highlight the public and accessible role for the exterior of the monument.
Evidence for continuity is not, however, restricted to the architecture of these sites.  The landscape location of the sites would also seem to reflect a close relationship in the development from chambered cairn to stone circle.  After Burl (1976, 147-8), we might note the location of the North Uist circles close to chambered cairns.  Furthermore, the stone circles are situated in locations comparable to those of the chambered cairns.  The open setting of Carinish stone circle, situated upon a low rise, is comparable to the open setting of the nearby long cairn that shares the same name (figure 9.5, A and B), both sites featuring expansive views in all directions.  In contrast, Pobull Fhinn’s position upon an artificial platform excavated into the hillside of Ben Langass reflects the hillside location of the nearby cairn of Barpa Langass on the other side of Ben Langass (figure 9.5, C and D), with restricted views to the north in the case of the stone circles, and to the east at the chambered cairn.  In both these examples then we might also highlight the location of these sites as significant in the development of the stone circles, providing continuity and familiarity in a monument that otherwise would seem to represents a discontinuity of practice.
    
Figure 9.5 Contrasting landscape viewsheds from two stone circles and their neighbouring chambered cairns (top left: Carinish stone circle, top right: Carinish chambered long cairn (UST 10), bottom left: Pobull Fhinn stone circle, bottom right: Barpa Langass chambered round cairn (UST 6))
The location of the stone circles in relation to sea inlets also seems important.  Burl noted this locational preference for the North Uist sites (Burl 1976, 40), later highlighted by Sharples (1992, 327).  This location reflects the situation of the larger passage graves near lochs, but also alludes to a broader series of connections, the accessibility of their location echoing the accessibility of their architecture, not only through the lack of boundaries inherent in the stone circle structure but also through the recognisable appearance of the stone circle form itself, “they [the stone circles] display the contacts and communication of the community at their widest” (Armit 1990b, 90).  This is not to suggest a universal norm for these monuments.  I have already referred to subtle variations in location between individual sites, and this variability would also be employed in their constructed form, as highlighted by Curtis (1988).  
Rather, like suggested for the chambered cairns discussed earlier, we might note the localised expression of a practice that extended beyond regional boundaries.  That the ultimate form and location of the site, and possibly also the specific nature of the practices and performances that would have taken place there, were particular to the places in which they were built and used, need not exclude them from a broader system of associations that would have been recognisable to others.  In fact it may have precisely been the accessibility of this form, both visually and conceptually - “a shared perception of the world” (Bradley 1998a, 108) - that led to its proliferation across northern and western Britain in the Later Neolithic.
We may note then in the third millennium BC that the existing mechanisms which had for so long encouraged the construction and use of chambered cairns lost their relevance.  The practices - and possibly also people - that the chambered tombs had come to accommodate, perhaps quite different to those practices that the first chambered cairns of the region had been intended to serve, could no longer be achieved through the increasingly restrictive and closed form of the chambered cairn.  An opening up of architecture was required which in turn enabled or encouraged the opening up of new worlds.  There is perhaps nowhere in the Outer Hebrides that represents this shift more than the stone circles at Callanish.  
 
The circle that wasn’t: Callanish and the west Lewis stone circles
Callanish, at the head of the sea inlet East Loch Roag on Lewis, is perhaps the most cited and well known archaeological site in the Outer Hebrides.  It is also perhaps the earliest mentioned Neolithic site from the region, noted in Martin Martin’s accounts of the seventeenth century: 
“The most remarkable stones for number, bignes, and order, that fell under my observation, were at the village of Classerniss, where there are thirty-nine stones set up six or seven feet high, and two feet in breadth each…I enquired of the inhabitants what tradition they had from their ancestors concerning those stones; and they told me, it was a place appointed for worship in the time of heathenism, and that the chief druid or priest stood near the big stone in the centre, from whence he addressed himself to the people that surrounded him”
Martin 1999, 17-8
In the twentieth century Callanish has come to hold a fascination for archaeologists (e.g. Somerville 1912; Heggie 1981; Ashmore 1984; 1995; Curtis 1988; Ponting 1988) and the public alike that is arguably only paralleled by the megalithic structures of Orkney, the henge monuments of Wessex and the passage graves of County Meath in Ireland.  As such a focus for attention it is the only Neolithic monument from the region to have been subject to substantial excavation with modern techniques (Ashmore 1980; 1997), and subsequently the only one to have available radiocarbon dates (Ashmore 1999).  
 
Figure 9.6 Stone circle and alignment at Callanish, Lewis
Callanish itself (figures 9.6 and 9.7) is comprised of a stone setting comprising a ring of standing stones with central monolith, a northern stone avenue and eastern, southern and western stone alignments (Ashmore 1980).  Set within the central stone ring, abutting the large central monolith is a small chambered cairn with a tripartite passage and chamber (Henshall 1972, 461-2) unparalleled in the region (figure 9.8).
 
Figure 9.7 Stone circle, alignment and cairn at Callanish, Lewis (after Hadingham 1975, 103)
 
Figure 9.8 Callanish chambered cairn (after Henshall 1972, 461)
Excavation at Callanish has revealed an interesting sequence that has challenged some earlier assumptions about the date and chronology for the site.  Although it had previously been acknowledged that the cairn was a secondary addition to the stone setting (Henshall 1972, 462), the association with a passage grave had been assumed to provide an early date for the site (Barnatt 1989, 157).  This was, however, not to be supported by the radiocarbon dates from the site (figure 9.9) with construction of the stone setting between 2900 and 2550 BC (Ashmore 1999) and the chambered cairn built a few generations after this (Ashmore 1995, 32; 1999, 129).
 
Figure 9.9 Radiocarbon dates related to the construction of the stone circle and cairn at Callanish, Lewis (after Ashmore 1999, 129)
So how are we to interpret this site and these dates in the context of the earlier discussion concerning the North Uist stone circles?  The radiocarbon dates from Callanish fall into the period suggested, after Barnatt, for the North Uist circles.  But discussion of the degree of continuity at this site is problematic.  The west coast of Lewis lacks earlier chambered cairns so it remains difficult to explain it as a local elaboration of a circular monumental form, as had been argued for the North Uist sites.  Callanish is also an exceptional form of monument and is difficult to interpret as a stone circle per se.  The avenue and alignments of stones leading from Callanish in the four cardinal directions is unparalleled in the stone circles of Britain and Ireland and its chambered cairn, most closely paralleled by the tripartite passage graves of Orkney, Caithness and Sutherland (Henshall 1963; Davidson and Henshall 1989; 1991), has no comparable equivalent in the Outer Hebrides.  In order to remove these problems surrounding the interpretation of Callanish we must reconsider our view of the site, and situate it within an extensive range of contacts and communication that extends beyond our region of study.  
Interpreting form
Firstly, I suggest we cannot interpret Callanish as a stone circle.  It has a stone circle as a constituent part of its overall construction, but this is just one of several integral parts to the site.  I would like to argue that rather than struggle to interpret Callanish as a stone circle we must consider it as the embodiment - in form - of a developed, i.e. late, passage grave.  Müller suggested that the cruciform alignment at Callanish and the chamber at Maes Howe on Orkney may represent intermediate stages in the transfer of technological information between the Boyne valley of Ireland and the chambered cairns of Shetland, both featuring cruciform chambers (Müller 1988, 34-5).  But we can go further by suggesting that Callanish itself may be a representation of the cruciform chambers of the large passage graves from the Boyne and at Maes Howe, and possibly monuments further afield such as Barclodiad y Gawres on Anglesey (Lynch 1973).  We might, with this perspective, interpret the ring of Callanish as representing the chamber of such monuments, with the avenue signifying the passage and the three alignments the cruciform sub chambers.  
 
Figure 9.10 Maes Howe, Orkney (after Richards 1996, 196)
Richards has suggested that we may interpret the considerable passage grave at Maes Howe (figure 9.10) on Orkney in terms of a system of cosmological ordering that is shared by the settlement at Barnhouse and the Stones of Stenness henge monument (Richards 1993; 1996; Parker Pearson and Richards 1994).  Though there are fundamental distinctions between the three sites, they are all broadly contemporary, dating to around 3300 to 3000 BC (Richards 1998), and abide to similar structural principles in their construction and layout: 
“a recognizable cosmologically-based sense of order is manifest in the architecture of all the monuments. This facilitates the necessary metaphorical links between everyday contexts of life and the contexts of ritual and religion”.
Richards 1993, 175
If we accept Richards’s argument then it is irrelevant that Callanish is not a passage grave.  Rather, the principles of ordering that are inherent in the construction of the Maes Howe passage grave and embed it within a broader cosmological scheme are reflected in the Callanish stone setting.  This is not restricted to the cruciform layout of the stones.  Richards has noted the atypical use of standing stones in the construction of Maes Howe (figure 9.10), with four standing stones used to construct the chamber and a further four employed in the construction of the passage (Richards 1996, 196-7).  These stones are consistent with the shape and size of the large orthostats employed in the construction of the stone circle at the Stones of Stenness henge monument and may represent another dimension to this cosmological scheme.  Furthermore, Richards points out the socket of a standing stone discovered during excavation of the platform upon which Maes Howe is built, suggesting that this platform may once have contained a stone circle (Richards 1996, 197).  If this was the case then we have at Maes Howe the amalgamation of two distinct forms of monumental construction that is reflected at Callanish:  the passage grave and the stone circle.  
If there is any doubt, as I have tried to argue here, that the stone setting of Callanish embodies a passage grave form, and that form can be said to reference comparable principles of architecture from as far afield as Orkney, there can be no doubt as to the references in the chambered cairn built into the central ring of stones.  This chambered cairn (figure 9.8) can best be described as a tripartite chambered cairn, a variant of the broader Orkney-Cromarty tradition of monument construction in northern Scotland (Henshall 1963; 1985; Davidson and Henshall 1989; 1991).  Although the Callanish example has no direct parallels in northern Scotland, it “clearly derives from the tripartite plan” (Henshall 1972, 279) and is unmatched in the forty-five or so other chambered cairns from the region.  Müller has suggested that it was not only the form of the Callanish cairn that was derived from northern Scotland but also its technique of construction: “the use of projecting orthostats within the chamber was a feature developed for the sandstones of Orkney and Caithness and not for the gneisses of Lewis” (Müller 1988, 34).  
So why, some generations after the initial construction of the Callanish monument (Ashmore 1995), was a chambered cairn constructed in the central stone setting and why, specifically, the tripartite variety?  Both Henshall (1963; 1974; Davidson and Henshall 1989) and Sharples (1985) have argued that the tripartite form is one of the earliest in the Orkney-Cromarty sequence, preceding stalled and Maes Howe types, although Henshall has also noted that because the cairn at Callanish was secondary to the main stone settings this particular example would be unusually late in the sequence (Henshall 1974, 162).  Even if we accept, as has been argued (Richards 1998; Ashmore 2000, 306), that the prevalent chronological schemes are too simplistic, and acknowledge the problems with generalising typologies based on monument form (Ashmore 2000; S. Jones and Richards 2000; Pannett forthcoming), the association of those excavated examples with round-based pottery (Henshall 1963; 1985; Kinnes 1985) would seem to place them early in the sequence, although it is likely that both Orkney-Cromarty and Maes Howe types of monuments were in use concurrently for a period of time (A. Pannett pers. comm.).  Therefore, at Callanish there is a tradition of monument construction derived from northern Scotland that would seem to appreciably predate the construction of the cairn found there.  
The construction of the Callanish tripartite chambered cairn on Orkney at this time would be problematic.  But situated on the west coast of Lewis we can perhaps dispense with the problematic typologies of the Orkney-Cromarty monuments, and the uncertain chronologies that they have subsequently generated.  Instead, we should view the construction of this tripartite chambered cairn as an extension of the cosmological schemes embodied in the stone settings of the site.  In placing a chambered cairn whose construction is perhaps synonymous with one of the earliest forms of Orcadian monument construction, within a monument that is designed to represent what becomes perhaps the ultimate form of monument construction in Orkney, Maes Howe, the builders of Callanish were able to embody more than any specific architectural forms or cosmological schemes from Orkney.  They were able to add a legitimacy and historicity to this monument that would otherwise have been impossible.
Maes Howe gains its importance not necessarily from the scale or form of its construction but through the context within which it is constructed, and the history of monument construction that preceded it.  This history was absent at Callanish.  Evidence for contact between northern Scotland and the Outer Hebrides prior to the construction of Callanish is relatively scarce, with long-distance contacts in this region instead concentrated towards the south (Henley 2004), and there is no compelling evidence for an enduring human presence in the west coast of Lewis until this time.  Additionally, although I have argued that the cruciform element of the Callanish stone settings was deliberately conceived to reflect similar architectural principles to the cruciform element of Maes Howe, this would not have been immediately recognisable.  The tripartite cairn made visible this association and constructed a sense of history, as well as legitimacy for the site.  Furthermore, like the location of Maes Howe upon a ditched platform reflecting the form of the henge, the construction of a chambered cairn within the centre of the stone setting at Callanish made explicit the crucial connection between earlier and later forms of monumental practice in a way that had not been possible with the cruciform element of the stone setting alone.
The series of associations between Orkney and Lewis, and between old and new forms of monumental construction, that are reflected in the stone setting and chambered cairn at Callanish become more potent if we consider the broader landscape context of the site.
Interpreting context
In an influential article, Richards has suggested that not only is the architecture of the Late Neolithic monuments of the Stenness basin in Orkney interlinked in their architectural reflection of a certain cosmological order, but that this scheme is itself a reflection of the world in which these monuments are situated (Richards 1996).  Richards argues that the large henge monuments of Stenness and Brodgar are situated in relation to, yet are also constructed to represent, certain elements of the surrounding topography.  In particular the bank of the henge and the large stone orthostats of the interior are suggested to imitate the surrounding hills, whilst the ditches of these henges, susceptible to flooding, would have reflected the lochs that surround the Stenness promontory and perhaps also the ‘island world’ of Neolithic Orkney itself (Richards 1996, 203).  The erection of a number of standing stones on the facing slopes that enclose the Stenness basin serve to reinforce these associations and to monumentalise the landscape, yet also inscribe the landscape into the form and fabric of the monuments:
“effectively ‘within’ the confines of the surrounding hills, [the standing stones] recreate the image presented by the stone circles within the henge.  Here monument and landscape fuse in a series of transformations involving concentric order and representation of the natural world”
Richards 1996, 206
 
Figure 9.11 Distribution of megalithic sites around Callanish, west Lewis (after Ponting and Ponting 2000, 6)
We can perhaps note a comparable situation at Callanish, although not necessarily for the same reasons.  Surrounding the central stone setting at Callanish is a series of around twenty stone circles and standing stones (Ponting and Ponting 2000) (figure 9.11).  The landscape setting of the Callanish monuments has long been appreciated (Somerville 1912; Thom 1967), as too has the close relationship between the ‘main’ Callanish stone setting and the surrounding sites.  However, the relationship between landscape and monument in the Callanish area has usually been considered in terms of the role of both architecture and location in studying certain astronomical or celestial events (Ponting 1988; Ponting and Ponting 2000).  That the Callanish sites are located and orientated in reference to particular astronomical events is unquestionable (Ponting 1988; Ashmore 1995).  However, rather than being the sole or main function of these sites as has previously been suggested (Thom 1967; Ponting and Ponting 2000), in the context of the current argument these associations are more likely to have been an integral part of the cosmological framework within which they were built.  It is interesting, however, to note that the passages of Maes Howe and Newgrange are both aligned on the mid-winter solstice (Hadingham 1975), a phenomenon only visible at the Callanish setting from the northernmost point of the avenue (Ponting 1988, 430).
So does Callanish, like has been argued for the Stenness monuments, reference its surrounding landscape?  The similarity between the Stenness and Callanish landscapes is quite striking.  Both are situated at the head of a sea inlet on a peninsula or promontory that divides freshwater and seawater lochs, on Orkney lochs Harray and Stenness, on Lewis Loch Roag and loch Ceann Hulavig.  Although East Loch Roag and Loch Ceann Hulavig are both currently sea lochs, it is likely that the sea level rise anticipated for the region (discussed in detail in the next section) would have separated these two lochs, the Calanais peninsula dividing them.  Standing at the centre of both sites the feeling is of being at the centre of the world, with views framed immediately by the lochs, then neighbouring hills and then distant mountains (figure 9.12 and 9.13), while the standing stones of both sets of monuments paradoxically frame and at the same time enable these views (Bradley 1998a, 122-5).
 
 
Figure 9.12 Panoramic view from centre of Callanish
 
Figure 9.13 Landscape viewshed from Callanish 
 
Figure 9.14 Main Callanish setting visible from Callanish II
This would not have been achieved at any other location, for at many of the satellite sites around the main Callanish setting attention is drawn towards this central monument.  At the flattened or ellipsed stone circle of Callanish II, Cnoc Ceann a’ Ghàrraidh (Curtis 1988, 356-8), the main Callanish stones are sky-lined upon the Calanais peninsula to the north (figure 9.14), also the case at Callanish III stone circle, Cnoc Fillibhir Bheag.  Even from these sites the feeling is still that it is the central monument which is central to perceptions of the landscape, centre to human engagement with the world.  This is nowhere more apparent than on the approach to the monument from East Loch Roag, illustrated in a nice anecdote from Thom: 
“On the 1933 cruise in the sailing yacht Hadassah, with my son and four friends, we had finished a long days sail in the North Atlantic.  Having left the Sound of Harris that morning, we arrived in East Loch Roag, a beautiful secluded inlet in north western Lewis.  I was seeking a quiet anchorage for the night, and navigating with care between rocky islets and promontories, I finally made up my mind to anchor as far up East Loch Roag as my chart allowed me to go with safety.
As we stowed sail after dropping anchor, we looked up, and there, behind the stones of Callanish, was the rising moon.  That evening, since I had been concentrating on the navigation as darkness was approaching, I did not know how near we were to the main Callanish site”
Thom cited in Ponting 1988, 423.
This anecdote does more than demonstrate the place of Callanish in the landscape.  It illustrates the likely avenue of approach to the site during the Neolithic.  If we envisage, as I have tried to argue, that Callanish is influenced in form and function by comparable monumental settings on Orkney, and possibly also those of the Boyne valley of east-central Ireland.  It is nothing new to suggest contacts between these regions.  Piggott had highlighted the strong connections between the Maes Howe-type chambered tombs of Orkney and the passage graves of the Boyne, both in the form of their chambered tombs and in the megalithic art carried out at these sites (Piggott 1954, 372).  Daniel took this connection further emphasising that the Moray group of passage graves from northern Scotland “must be derived directly from eastern Ireland” (Daniel 1941, 17).  
 
Figure 9.15 Example of Müller’s transfer of technological information 
(T1: wide corbelling, T2: projecting orthostats, source: Müller 1988, 35)
More recently, Müller has suggested a direct series of relationships between Ireland and northern Scotland with Callanish situated along routes of information transfer between these areas (Müller 1988, 34-5).  Interestingly it is only certain aspects of this transfer - such as cruciform chambers and wide-corbelling - that are incorporated into the monuments of the Outer Hebrides, and only then at the site of Callanish (figure 9.15), whilst other transfers - for example megalithic art and the earlier passage grave forms of these two regions - bypass the Outer Hebrides entirely.  
We might also note connections in material culture between the regions.  Simpson and Ransom (1992) have highlighted the relationship between Orkney and Ireland reflected in the decoration of maceheads and Grooved Ware pottery, noting that most Grooved Ware in Ireland has been recovered from substantial ceremonial sites such as Knowth and Newgrange (Simpson and Ransom 1992, 230), although Eogan has expressed reservations concerning the relationship between Irish and Orcadian Grooved Ware, particularly those associated with the Maes Howe type of passage graves (Eogan 1992, 126).  The situation of Callanish in this relationship between Ireland and Orkney is strengthened by the recovery of Grooved Ware during excavations there (Kinnes 1985, 50), the only site from the Outer Hebrides to have produced Grooved Ware with the exception of a single vessel from Unival, North Uist (W. L. Scott 1948; MacSween 1992, 269).
If there were connections between Orkney and Ireland, as seems likely, then Callanish would have been ideally situated along the route ways employed.  Furthermore, its situation in the sheltered inlet of East Loch Roag would have provided one of the only locations for safe anchorages along the storm ravaged western coastline of Lewis.
Timing and associations
So if we are to suggest connections between Callanish and the Boyne and Orkney, how do the radiocarbon dates from Callanish relate to these other regions?  Radiocarbon dates are available from both Maes Howe and the Stones of Stenness on Orkney (figure 9.16).  Three radiocarbon dates are available from Maes Howe, one from soil underlying the bank (SRR-791) and two from peat deposits within the ditch (Q-1482 and SRR-505).  Richards has expressed reservation about the reliability of these dates (Richards 1998), with SRR-791 supplying a terminus ante quem for the construction of the bank and the other dates providing a terminus post quem for the cutting of the ditch.  SRR-791, dating to the early fourth millennium BC, probably relates to an old ground surface (Historic Scotland 2004) and therefore likely predates the construction of the monument.  However, the two determinations from peat - dating to the early third millennium BC - are both derived from basal peat within the ditch section of the monument and can usefully be related to the use of this monument.  A suite of seven radiocarbon determinations from the Stones of Stenness provide a similar date range to these latter two samples from Maes Howe (Historic Scotland 2004).  Two samples dated in the 1970’s, one from charcoal associated with a central feature of the site and another from cattle bone within ditch deposits (SRR-350 and SRR-351, J. Ritchie 1976), yielded a date range of 3300 to 2600 BC for the site.  Five more recent determinations, all taken from animal bone within ditch deposits, have refined this date range from 3270 to 2700 BC although uncertainty has been expressed about OxA-9762 that is notably later than other samples from broadly contemporary contexts (Historic Scotland 2004).
The dates from the Maes Howe are strikingly similar to, and statistically indistinguishable from, those from Callanish (figure 9.16), although the determinations from the Stones of Stenness suggest that this monument predates the construction of Callanish by up to five hundred years.  This discrepancy is reflected in those dates from the Irish passage graves (figure 9.17).
 
Figure 9.16 Radiocarbon dates from Orkney and Callanish (Historic Scotland 2004)
 
Figure 9.17 Radiocarbon dates from the Boyne monuments and Callanish (sources: M. O’Kelly 1969; 1982; Eogan 1991; Ashmore 1999)
  
Figure 9.18 Radiocarbon dates from sites associated with Grooved Ware in Orkney (above) and Ireland (below) (Scotland: Historic Scotland 2004; Ireland: Brindley 1999; Bronk Ramsay et al. 2002; Burleigh et al. 1976; Eogan & Roche 1997; Eogan 1991; Hedges et al. 1993; King 1999; Lanting & Brindley 1998; O’Kelly 1972; 1982; O’Kelly et al. 1983; Smith et al. 1971; Sweetman 1985; 1987; Vogel & Waterbolk 1972)
Like the dates from the Stones of Stenness, the Boyne valley passage graves markedly predate the construction of the ring at Callanish with a date range from 3450 to 2900 BC.  Yet this does not necessarily contradict the developed argument.  We might, after Brindley (1999), note the situation of these dates in relation to a significant plateau in the radiocarbon calibration curve.  However, even if we accept the acontemporaneity between the Orkney sites, Callanish and the Boyne monuments, the argument developed above need not be rejected.  Communication between Orkney, Callanish and the Boyne would not have been one-way and the early dates for the large passage graves in the Boyne can be contrasted with the comparably early dates for Grooved Ware in Orkney (figure 9.18; Bradley 1984; A. Jones 2002), predating its arrival in Ireland by four to five hundred years (MacSween 1992).  Influence from each region upon the other is therefore clearly a two-way process.  What we can suggest is that interaction between the regions in the first few centuries of the third millennium BC is contemporary to the construction of the Callanish setting and in the context of this thesis I would not suggest that this was accidental.  
Summary
I have argued for a series of connections between the monumental complexes of the Boyne and Orkney, and the stone alignment and settings of Callanish.  This connection should not be restricted to the architecture of these sites but rather examine the cosmological schemes that this architecture embodies, and how this cosmology is rooted in perceptions of landscape and the role and use of particular kinds of material culture.  I have not proposed a universal rule for Late Neolithic monuments in northern and western Britain but have tried to stress that Callanish cannot be understood in isolation and that to meaningfully understand this site we must reinterpret the architectural form that we see today and relate it to developments occurring elsewhere at this time.
The structure built at Callanish represented a shift from the preceding forms of monumental architecture in the region, the practices that such forms embodied and the spectators that these could accommodate.  The emergence of the stone circle around the turn of the third millennium BC enabled the opening up of new worlds, with greater accessibility to the performances of ritual that had become so important, yet so alienating at the chambered cairns.  At Callanish this is ultimately reflected in the construction of a cruciform stone ring, avenue and alignments emulating the architecture of the passage grave and particularly the cruciform passage graves of Orkney and the Boyne.  The addition of a small, atypical chambered cairn to the centre of this monument would only have served to accentuate this association.  The stone setting at Callanish then opened up new worlds in ways that had not previously been possible.  This was achieved in terms of the audiences that it could now accommodate, yet more significantly through the long distance connections with far off places that it came initially to reference, and ultimately to reflect.  
So what brought about this reworking of monumental architecture and reference to new and different places?  Why do new chambered cairns, which had been so dominant for almost a thousand years, cease to be built after 3000 BC and why was it necessary, in the case of the stone circle, for there to be new contexts and forms of monumental architecture that confronted the inaccessibility inherent in the form of the chambered cairns?  Furthermore, how do these developments relate to the settlement history of the region which commenced our history?  Why do the settlement locales of North Uist such as Eilean Domhnuill cease in significance around the same time that stone circles start to be built and why is there a geographical shift from North Uist to Lewis as foci for the construction of large complexes of megalithic monuments?  To understand these developments, and to attempt to provide answers to the questions above, I want now to examine our third history for the Hebridean Neolithic, the longue durée of environmental history.


Section III
The role of the environment
Changing worlds of the Neolithic 

 

 
Introduction
If you were to interview a butterfly standing on the branch of a sequoia tree - now a butterfly lives only for a few days and a sequoia tree lives for over a thousand years – if you were to ask the butterfly “do you perceive the object on which you are standing as being alive?”, the butterfly would say “of course not, I’ve been here all my life” which is all of 5 days, “and it hasn’t done a thing”.
Well it’s the same problem with the human being.  If you were to ask a person, perhaps one that’s lived for over one hundred years, do they perceive the earth, which is really five billion years old, as being alive they’d say “of course not, I’ve been here my whole life and it hasn’t done a thing.”
Excerpt from ‘Lucidity’ by Kinobe 
This section is the last of our three histories of the Outer Hebrides of Scotland during the Neolithic.  This particular history, that of the longue durée, considers the environmental conditions of this region.  However, rather than provide a static backdrop against which human history takes place my intention is to, as Braudel put it, “convey a particular kind of history” (Braudel 1972, 23).  In other words, I wish to convey a history which acknowledges the active role that the environment plays in the two histories already provided.  I have tried to emphasise this by making this the last of the three sections, taking a step back to consider the broader history of this region beyond the Neolithic and how this might relate to the archaeology examined.  By considering this history last I want to emphasise that the environment does more than provide an introduction or preamble to the archaeology, it is as important to the human history of this region as the pots that we excavate or the chambered tombs that we visit.  
Traditionally, archaeological interpretations that have considered in detail the relationship between the environment and human history have been criticised for determinism, reducing human behaviour to a series of responses to external conditions.  As discussed at the start of this thesis, this was one of the chief criticisms of Braudel’s history, particularly his concept of the longue durée.  In this section then I want first to propose why an investigation of the environment is justified in my consideration for the Neolithic history of the Outer Hebrides.  Chapter ten will examine the problems with the environmental determinism critique - at least in Neolithic studies - highlighting the perspective of Braudel and others.
Chapter eleven will then examine the complex and dynamic mosaic of different environmental niches and conditions in the Outer Hebrides.  Conventionally, to make sense of the diversity in this region, archaeologists and environmentalists have divided the region into three different characters or zones: mountainous uplands, peatlands and the machair (Armit 1996; Gilbertson et al. 1996a).  To take a different approach - and in an attempt to move away from environmental history as longue durée - I would like to consider in turn the various aspects which have gone to make up the environment in this region, each according to their own temporality.  I will commence with the slow, almost timeless, history of the geology of this region, examining how geomorphology and glaciation have over millions of years provided a particular shape and character for this region.  I then want to examine the history of water and how over a smaller period of time water has come to envelop, define and divide this region through rising sea-levels and the formation of lochs.  I will then consider the two key landscape features of this region today, the machair and the peat, and how over the past ten thousand years or so these have come to form and dominate this archipelago, particularly in relation to vegetation history, and the widespread and sometimes irreversible vegetation changes which took place during the Neolithic.  
Overall I hope rather than provide purely descriptive accounts to consider the temporal rhythms of these environmental features during the Neolithic and the influences that they, through their character and these rhythms, may have had on the people of this period.  All of these then will provide not only an environmental basis but also a temporal framework with which to understand the archaeological evidence already discussed in previous sections.  
As a final note, dates used in this section are provided in terms of years Before Present (BP), the means of citation used for most environmental studies, although approximate date ranges in BC are provided based on the OxCal calibration curve.
 
Figure iii.1 Location of main environmental sites mentioned in text


Chapter 10
An environmental perspective

“If we are to attempt to understand the nameless peoples of antiquity…we must consider them in relation to the lands in which they lived, and to the landscapes they helped to shape.”
Piggott and Henderson 1958, 1
I wish to commence by stating that a detailed understanding of the environment is necessary if we are to try and fully understand the historical developments of the Outer Hebrides during the Neolithic.  This statement in itself is nothing new.  Archaeologists have since the mid-nineteenth century appreciated the relationship between human activity and the environmental settings for that activity (Trigger 1989, 247-50, 280-2; Gosden 1999 53-4, 94-9) and today it is common place to consider the landscape and environment when writing about the past.  I have begun with this statement because recently, particularly in Neolithic studies, it has become unfashionable to place significant emphasis of study on the environment or to suggest that the environment may have in some way influenced human behaviour.  In the introduction to this thesis I noted how the longue durée had been criticised within archaeology for determinism (Bradley 1991; J. Thomas 1996a) and also for limiting the role of the individual in our archaeological narratives.
As an exercise in a Braudelian multi-scaled archaeology, this thesis demands a consideration for the history of the environment, not only as homage to Braudel’s approach but because I will argue that it provides an integral component to the histories discussed in the two previous sections.  Although I have already discussed Braudel’s work in chapter one I think we can gain more from examining his attitudes and approaches to the environment within history.
Braudel’s environmental history
“To tell the truth, the historian is not unlike the traveller.  He tends to linger over the plain, which is the setting for the leading actors of the day, and does not seem eager to approach the high mountains nearby…and yet how can one ignore these conspicuous actors”
Braudel 1972, 29 
This above quote, also cited in my introduction, demonstrates how in Braudel’s history of the Mediterranean during the sixteenth century (1972; 1973) environmental conditions provide not only a focus for study but signify a particular historical perspective.  As actors in the history he is trying to write aspects of the environment such as the mountains and the sea are not only a contextual backdrop for human history but themselves constitute the history which Braudel is trying to write.  His history is shaped in a number of ways and at a number of different levels by the geographical elements that historians (and archaeologists) traditionally consider as background to the stuff of human history.  The sea and mountains provide barriers and yet also conduits for interaction and communication within this expansive area, yet they also provide potent metaphors for the particular kind of historical approach Braudel attempts to provide.  For Braudel, the longue durée was the slow and undulating rhythms analogous to the deep waters of the sea, underlying and carrying the more ephemeral surface waters and the ‘flotsam’ of individuals and events.
By focusing on the almost inanimate (although not immobile) spans of time which exceed those of societies and individuals Braudel hoped to access aspects of the past which had been felt, after the Annales school, neglected by traditional history’s favour for events and the individual.  It also provided the means for avoiding a history dependent on texts because a history which focused on the longue durée demanded that attention be paid to other sources such as folklore, geography, material culture and statistics, a history which was dependent on other disciplines for its own progress.
Ultimately, however, Braudel’s preference for the longue durée over shorter time spans led to criticisms of environmental determinism (Burke 1990, 40) and although Braudel acknowledged these criticisms, his prevailing view was that geography constrained human action, a view perhaps influenced by his own experiences of imprisonment during the second world war: 
“For centuries, man has been a prisoner of climate, vegetation, of the animal population, of a particular agriculture, of a whole slowly established balance from which he cannot escape.”
Braudel 1980, 31
“…when I think of the individual, I am always inclined to see him imprisoned within a destiny in which he himself has little hand.”
Braudel 1973, 1244
It is not difficult from these quotes to see why Braudel has received criticisms of environmental determinism.  However, in defence of Braudel’s approach and his focus on the environment we should consider two things.  Firstly, rather than determinist we may regard an environmental perspective as ‘potentialist’ and secondly, that there may be fundamental problems with employing environmental determinism as a mode of critique in our studies of the Neolithic.  
Potentiality vs. determinism
Relating humans to animals in evolutionary terms, Stephen Jay Gould stressed this does not mean that human behaviour is determined by genetics (Gould 1986, 251).  But neither does this mean that human behaviour acts independently of our biological nature.  Rather, Gould points out that human behaviour results from the playing out of particular capabilities which our genetic makeup enables: “we may need to emphasise our difference as flexible animals with a vast range of potential behaviour” (Gould 1986, 259 emphasis added).  In other words, what is important is the potential behaviours which are afforded us rather than how behaviours may be determined by external (or internal) factors.  I have raised this example because Gould stresses potentiality versus determinism, for Gould this was particularly important because he suggests that determinism assumes certain political beliefs and defends certain social arrangements and prejudices (Gould 1986, 258).  
It is the assumed politics behind a determinist perspective which I believe has brought about a critique of environmental determinism within recent archaeological discourse.  Environmental determinism may be seen to provide a particular view of history which maintains certain prejudices, namely suppressing the role of the individual.  Equally, criticisms of environmental determinism have mostly come about because of particular political opinion.  These, I would argue, have come about through shifting attitudes to the individual in the modern Western world.  This explanation in itself could suggest a form of determinism, the emergence of a particular paradigm brought about by external factors such as the political and academic climate.  If, however, we consider potentiality rather than determinism, the Western intellectual environment of the late twentieth century provides the potential for people to think about archaeological remains in different and new ways.  It is certain that without shifting views in the modern world the ideas of post-processualism would probably not have emerged but equally the paradigm would not have arisen were it not for the negotiation of these potentials by individuals such as Hodder, Tilley, Shanks and Pearson. 
In a similar way the physical environment may provide the potential for people to act in new and different ways and to illustrate this we do not have to go back to the Neolithic or the sixteenth-century of the Mediterranean.  In these early years of the twenty-first century human beings have been subjected to the influence of environmental forces in a number of different ways.  Earthquakes in north-west India and central America, flooding in Bangladesh, foot and mouth in Britain, have all been highly influential to the human societies in these areas.  This is not to posit determinism but to highlight the potential that the environment has to affect human activity.  
What I am suggesting is that by focusing on the environment we do not have to suggest that it determines human activity but we do have to be sensitive to the potential influences that it may once have had.  Even Braudel became sensitive to these ideas in his later works.  In his The structures of everyday life (1981), although concerned with a global approach to human history, Braudel devoted considerable effort to writing a history of everyday life, examining how people and things through the routine of daily life contribute to broader social and economic processes.  Although Braudel still often stressed environmental constraints as causal factors for geographical (and historical) diversity he was also keen to highlight that the historical outcome of these constraints were brought about by the interpretation and negotiation of those constraints by people.
I would therefore stress that a view which considers the role and impact of the environment on human societies is not equivalent to a view which suggests that the environment determines the activity of those societies.  Rather the environment has the potential to shape human activity but such activity is ultimately determined by human decision making and negotiated through cultural and social practices.  This idea was central to the writings of the early Annales historians Bloch and Febvre: “does the physical ever affect the social, unless its operations have been prepared, abetted and given scope by other factors which have already derived from man” (Bloch 1992, 21; Febvre 1966; xi).
The nature-culture debate
A further problem I would raise with a critique of environmental determinism is whether this is a valid argument when looking at the past and in particular prehistory.  This is because, like the emergence of the environmental determinist critique itself, the ideas which it presents may be inherently modern.  Such a critique revolves around the assumed role of the individual in decision making processes so that by labelling an approach as environmental determinist we are saying that human action - the agency of individuals - is reduced to or determined by its environmental context.  Critical to this argument though is the assumption that the environment and people, nature and culture, are perceived as separate entities and through suggesting that nature has an impact on culture that these two are observably distinct.  It is with an assumed nature-culture dichotomy, and from this the idea that one may exclusively impact upon the other, that I feel lies the fundamental problem with the environmental determinism critique.
Glacken (1976) has tried, through an examination of the history of Western thought, to show that the nature-culture dichotomy results from two thousand years of intellectual and theological debate and development.  Since Greek times, Western society has followed the idea that “final causes have been applied to the natural processes on earth…the idea of a designed earth, whether created for man or for all life with man at the apex of a chain of being” (Glacken 1976, 707).  From this view, humans have for at least two millennia seen themselves as distinct from nature, mostly through notions of superiority over nature.  In other words, the notion of nature as separate from or outside of culture derives from a modern Western perception of the world and of the place of humans in it, “products of an historically located mode of thinking” (J. Thomas 1996a, 18).  From such a mode of thought emerges the idea of the human (cultural) “conquest of nature” (Ingold 1996, 17), examples of which would include colonial expansion, the industrial revolution and Darwin’s classification of the natural world.  Once more determinism may be seen to provide a legitimisation of particular social arrangements and prejudices.
Citing Godelier (1986, 2) however, Ingold has suggested that “for most non-Western people ‘the idea of a transformation of nature by human beings has no meaning’” (1996, 15).  In other words, ideas of human impact upon the landscape, culture upon nature, mostly derive from modern anthropocentric attitudes to ourselves and our surroundings.  This has been illustrated with reference to agriculture in the anthropological literature where it has been argued that people do not make domesticated plants or animals but rather are involved in establishing their conditions for growth (Ellen 1996).  This relationship is at once natural and cultural, or rather it is neither: 
“we can no longer think of the former [human beings] as inhabiting a world of their own, over and above the world of nature in which the lives of all other living things are contained.  Rather, both humans and the animals and plants on which they depend for a livelihood must be regarded as fellow participants in the same world.”
Ingold 1996, 22 original emphasis
Ingold’s paper, cited above, is mostly intended as a critique of the concept of domestication and the associated notion of human detachment from - and superiority over - the natural world (1996, 12).  Ingold argues that perceptions of people as being separate from their environment, culture as being separate from nature, derive from the relatively modern distinction between food production and food collection (Ingold 1996).  Considering four ethnographic examples Ingold proposes that indigenous perceptions of food production in these societies are not distinct from their perceptions of collection with this distinction deriving from Western notions of domestication as a social appropriation of nature (1996, 21).  In non-Western contexts plants, animals, people and the landscape may all be perceived as fellow participants in the same world, continually coming into being each in relation to the other.  This attitude is reflected in much of Ingold’s work (1995; 1996; 2000) but especially in his ‘temporality of landscape’ (1993), a work that I feel is very sympathetic to Braudel.  Here Ingold, like Braudel has done, considers human life as embedded within longer term processes: 
“The rhythmic pattern of human activities nests within the wider pattern of activity for all animal life, which in turn nests within the pattern of activity for all so-called living things, which nests within the life-process of the world.”
Ingold 1993, 164
Similar attitudes may be observed in a study perhaps more pertinent to this thesis, Martin Martin’s A description of the Western Isles of Scotland circa 1695 (1999), an account of Martin Martin’s travels in the region late in the seventeenth century.  In the introduction to Martin’s book Charles Withers comments that “his [Martin’s] accounts do not easily separate, then, the natural from the social, and neither do they clearly distinguish between the facts of everyday life and the beliefs which sustain that life” (Withers in Martin 1999, 10).  What Martin’s book highlights is the different perception of the environment held by the inhabitants of the Outer Hebrides in the seventeenth century; to both the contemporary people of mainland Britain but also the inhabitants of this region in the present.  Martin stresses on numerous occasions the differences between the people he is writing for, the English-speaking people of late seventeenth century Edinburgh, London and elsewhere, and the people he is writing about; ‘the credulous vulgar’.  It would be easy to explain Martin’s views of these people as a result of these differences and a perceived difference to them, but Martin was also sensitive to these differences, himself native to Skye and fluent in Gaelic.  As such Martin was keen to highlight the credibility of the people he was writing about, a “people as capable to acquire arts or sciences as any other in Europe” (Martin 1999, 200).  
In Martin’s chronicles of this region over three hundred years ago perhaps the natural and the social do not easily separate, as Withers observes, because they may not necessarily have been perceived as distinct categories.  Human attitudes to the environment in the Outer Hebrides of the seventeenth century were not of superiority but of respect and fear, people and the environment existing in a sensitive system of mutual influence.  One could criticise Martin’s accounts for the primitive and idealistic view which it seems to present, but this is not a society in a natural state of equilibrium with the environment.  Rather Martin’s accounts are of a society that has the “intimate knowledge of nature and the local environment that comes from being dependent on one’s natural resources” (Withers in Martin 1999, 8).
The unsuccessful simplicity of the nature-culture distinction is highlighted by the customs and superstitions of the people of the Outer Hebrides.  Where do we situate the supernatural and superstitious beliefs and practices when they are clearly neither natural or cultural?  Magic and superstitious beliefs are evidently widespread in this region during the seventeenth century of the Outer Hebrides despite the universal presence of Christianity.  Although Martin often denounced such practices, indeed frequently finding them laughable, these were for the islands inhabitants, to quote Withers, “ordinary social conduct” (in Martin 1999, 9).  To quote further “nature and the natural world are being interpreted differently and we are afforded valuable insight into how people in the islands used natural portents and Nature’s rhythms to make sense of their lives” (Withers in Martin 1999, 9).  This is precisely what is implied in Ingold’s consideration of magic and superstition in his critique of domestication: “if food were the only object of people’s activities, there would perhaps be no need for magic.  But for practitioners, growing crops and raising animals are not just ways of producing food; they are forms of life” (Ingold 1996, 24).  Magic and superstition are not means for people to impact directly onto nature but rather are means for people to come to terms with the environment within which they are already situated.  
Recent anthropology studies have fuelled this debate on the assumed opposition between nature and culture (e.g. MacCormack and Strathern 1980; Ellen and Fukui 1996; Latour 1993):
“The point to extract is simple: there is no such thing as nature or culture.  Each is a highly relativised concept whose ultimate signification must be derived from a specific metaphysics.”
Strathern 1980, 177
“The very notion of culture is an artefact created by bracketing Nature off.”
Latour 1993, 104 
For Strathern and Latour the nature-culture dichotomy derives from a problematic assumption that nature is universal as opposed to culture which is particular and relative: “it is impossible to universalise nature as it is to reduce it to the narrow framework of cultural relativism alone” (Latour 1993, 106).  This has been elaborated by Glacken who has suggested that both nature and culture are hugely diverse and exist only as convenient titles, “shorthand to express far more complex sets of ideas” (Glacken 1976, xi).  In other words the term ‘nature’ exists only as a means of understanding and defining.  Nature is therefore itself a cultural concept.  If this is the case can nature be distinct from culture if the former is a construct of the latter?  
This is not however to boldly state that the nature-culture dichotomy does not exist.  As quoted above, Strathern understands nature and culture as highly relativised concepts derived from a certain metaphysics.  It is clear then that for many people, ourselves included, nature and culture do exist as opposites and are an integral part of the particular way in which they view the world.  But neither am I supporting a notion that for all human beings nature and culture exist as constants, part of a universal system of classification (e.g. Lévi-Strauss 1979).  What I am trying to highlight is that for some people, and in particular for those people which have not derived a system of beliefs from the last two thousand years of Western thought, nature and culture might not be observably or perceptually distinct categories.  So if we consider that the distinction between nature and culture is a false one, or at least exists within our discourse as a modern Western construct, part of our own metaphysics, can we claim the impact of one over the other in prehistory ?  
Summary
There is - I propose - scope in archaeology for considering the environment and specifically for considering the role it may have played in the unfolding material histories of the people that lived within it.  Our first priority must be to move away from a view of the environment that presents it as a static backdrop, against which human history takes place.  In this sense, I have deliberately considered the environment as the third of my three histories and not merely provided an introductory background to the environmental setting of the Neolithic archaeology.  Equally important must be the archaeological setting to the environmental history at this time.  Such an approach is not, as I hope to have argued here, to posit environmental determinism but rather to acknowledge the intimate relationship that co-exists between people and the world in which they are situated.  Until we are prepared to embrace this relationship our archaeologies can only suffer.

Chapter 11
An environmental history of the Outer Hebrides

I want in this chapter to provide an account of the environment in the Outer Hebrides during the Neolithic.  This history, like that of the previous two sections, is informed by a long legacy of investigation in the region.  The Outer Hebrides have perhaps benefited from the most intensive series of environmental investigations in the British Isles, covering a wide range of environmental aspects spanning most of the Holocene.  In this history I would like to consider these different aspects according to their different temporal rhythms.  I will begin with the slow geological changes in the region, covering the millions of years that have gone to shape the island as it is today and has been for thousands of years.  From this timeless history I will consider the gradual impacts of water upon the region and how through sea-level change and the filling of lochs the island archipelago of the Outer Hebrides came to be formed.  A more rapid history is provided by the history of peat formation in the region, a feature that dominates most of the Hebridean landscape today.  The formation of peat is closely related to the vegetation history in the region, and during our period of interest we can begin to see dramatic changes in vegetation, most notably a reduction in woodland species.  I will finally consider the most rapid environmental changes, the formation and development of the coastal sand plains in the region known as the machair.  
 
Figure 11.1 Gneiss formation 
 
Figure 11.2 Geology of the Outer Hebrides (after Johnstone and Mykura 1995, 8) 
Geology 
“There is a valley between two mountains on the east side [of South Uist] called Glenstyle, which affords good pasturage.  The natives who farm it come thither with their cattle in the summertime, and are possessed with a firm belief that this valley is haunted by spirits, who by the inhabitants are called the great men; and that whatsoever man or woman enters the valley without making first an entire resignation of themselves to the conduct of the great men will infallibly grow mad.”
Martin 1999, 61.
The scenery of the Outer Hebrides, and many more of its characteristics, owe much to its geology and the glacial and geomorphological processes which have taken place there over the past 3000 million years.  The region is dominated almost entirely by coarse-grained metamorphic Lewisian gneiss (figure 11.1), some of the oldest rocks in the world formed between 2300 to 2900 Ma (million years ago) through the metamorphism and deformation of the earth’s crust (Johnstone and Mykura 1995, 6-28).  By 1100 Ma this area became uplifted to form a land surface which included the western part of present-day mainland Scotland.  By 200 Ma however, compression in the earth’s crust caused the development of the Minch Fault, fragmenting this land surface to cause what is known as the Outer Hebrides Thrust Zone, the continental shelf or rock platform which the Outer Hebrides is now situated on.  This thrust zone is responsible for the E-W sloping of the archipelago, most notable in the Uists, and is also responsible for the prevalence of gneiss in this region, where lower-lying land to the east of the Minch Fault was subjected to the formation of sedimentary rocks whilst continuing compression along the Moine Thrust Zone caused volcanic activity, forming the igneous rocks of Skye and the Inner Hebrides (figure 11.2), both overlying older metamorphic rocks. 
The predominance of gneiss also owes much to the limited glaciation of the region compared to mainland Scotland.  The last glacial maxim of twenty two thousand years ago had a limited effect on the region.  This was due to the presence of an ice-dome on Skye which deflected the north-west movement of mainland ice so that the Outer Hebrides itself only supported a small ice cap on the highest land of southern Lewis (Ballantyne et al. 1998).  After a period of warming during the Windermere Interstadial (15,000–13,000 BP), the glaciers of the Loch Lomond advance (13,000-11,500 BP) did not even reach the Outer Hebrides, despite covering much of northern Scotland (Johnstone and Mykura 1995; Lambeck 1995).  After this period much of the oceans waters were still held up in ice sheets and with a sea level of up to 70-90 metres lower than at present the Outer Hebrides was then a single landmass, separated from the Scottish mainland by the deep trough created by the Minch Fault.  Gradually rising sea level, which I will discuss in detail below, filled the valleys and foliations which had been created in the gneiss by retreating ice from earlier glacial action, dividing the landmass into the numerous islands which we know today.  Earlier glacial impacts are also suggested by the occasional presence of extremely localised outcrops of different geologies.  There is a sandstone formation at Stornoway, an igneous complex in southern Harris and meta-igneous complexes in the eastern half of South Uist (Johnstone and Mykura 1995), in addition to some exotic geologies derived from mainland Scotland including Cambrian quartzite and Torridonian sandstone, although these are restricted to a few isolated examples.  
So where does this brief geological history help us in considering the Neolithic?  Whilst most of the processes I have discussed took place thousands, if not millions, of years before the prehistoric occupation of these islands, the geology and geomorphology of the Outer Hebrides has significantly determined the shape and character of the region.  The prevalence of gneiss has led to the presence of relatively few mineral resources and, in conjunction with climate and topography, is responsible for the predominance of shallow acidic soils and the rocky, loch-dotted terrain which graces most of this region today.  Meanwhile, the geological processes which created the archipelago are equally responsible for its characteristic longitudinal division, with gently sloping coastal plains in the west and dramatic uplands defining the eastern coast of this region, up to almost 800 metres at the peak of An Cliseam on Harris.  These uplands in particular would have provided dominant features in the physical and cognitive landscapes of the islands’ inhabitants.
We can use this particular history as a ‘baseline of permanence’ (Ingold 1993, 166) to consider the environmental history of the Outer Hebrides.  With such a baseline we must now move down the slopes of these rocks to see how in much more recent times they themselves have been subjected to change through the seas temporal rhythms and the formation of lochs since the last ice sheets settled upon these islands over twenty-two thousand years ago. 
The role of water
“The island of Lewis is so called from Leog, which in the Irish language signifies water, lying on the surface of the ground; which is very proper to this island, because of the great number of freshwater lakes that abound it.” 
Martin 1999, 13.
As mentioned in the introduction to this section, conventional discussions on the environment of the Outer Hebrides have primarily focused on three aspects: the uplands, the peatlands and the machair.  However all these focus on aspects of the land.  Limited attention has been paid to the water which dominates the landscape in this region, through the sea which envelops and defines it and the many lochs which scatter and dissect it.  This seems quite surprising then when water is so important in determining both the shape and character of much of the Outer Hebridean landscape but also features so significantly in the lives of the people that have lived on these islands.  In its very name and nature an archipelago is defined by the sea.  Indeed, as quoted above, the name of Lewis is gained from the prevalence of water on the land and not vice versa, mirrored in an extract from a tourism leaflet for North Uist stating that “the sea is all islands and the land all lochs.”  I would now then like to turn attention to these waters and see how these have contributed to the environment of this region.
 
Figure 11.3 View of North Uist from the Minch
The sea
“The first injunction given after landing [on the Flannan Isles], is not to ease nature in that place where the boat lies, for that they reckon a crime of the highest nature, and of dangerous consequence to all of their crew; for they have a great regard to that very piece of rock upon which they first set their feet, after escaping the dangers of the ocean.” 
Martin 1999, 22
Whilst the foundations of the Outer Hebrides were established through geological processes, the creation of the archipelago as it has existed for the past several thousand years owes much to more recent glacial changes.  After the deglaciation which followed the Loch Lomond advance of eleven to ten thousand years ago, the melting of the ice-sheets which had covered much of mainland Britain caused the sea levels to gradually rise.  This process is known as eustatic sea level change.  Landmasses that had been covered with ice during the last glacial maximum underwent vertical rebounding to compensate for the vast weights of the ice that had previously been upon them in a process known as isostatic adjustment.  For the Inner Hebrides and much of mainland Scotland isostatic post-glacial rebounding far exceeded eustatic sea level rise so that the present coastline is now up to 30 metres above what it would have been at the last glacial maximum, most noticeable in the case of raised beaches.  However, not having been under the vast sheets of ice experienced by mainland Scotland during the Loch Lomond advance the Outer Hebrides have not experienced the necessary rebounding to compensate for rising sea levels.  In fact this region, like Shetland and south-west England, are likely to have experienced isostatic subsidence rather than rise during the Holocene as materials beneath the earth’s crust adjusted to changes in loading on the Scottish mainland and elsewhere (Gilbertson et al. 1996c).  These changes have severely impacted upon the shape and form of the Hebridean landscape.
The inter-tidal location of the Neolithic monuments of Sig More on South Uist (Cummings et al. forthcoming) and Geirisclett on North Uist (Dunwell 1997), the latter frequently flooded, demonstrate that there has been a steady, although not constant, rise in sea level during the Holocene.  The specific processes and rates of sea level change in this region are much debated (Gilbertson et al. 1996c; Gilbertson et al. 1999; Lambeck 1995; W. Ritchie 1966; 1985; Sissons 1980) although general consensus is that the sea level in this region has risen significantly in relation to landmass.  Coring of submarine deposits near St. Kilda has suggested that the sea level in this region has risen, relative to landmass, around 50 metres in the last 13,000 years.  The eustatic rise in sea level would have been quite rapid from this period until about 8000 BP/7000 BC when water depths approached present-day values (Lambeck 1995, 85).  From Lambeck’s work we can postulate that around 5000 BP (the early fourth millennium BC) the sea level would have been approximately 5 metres lower than at present (Lambeck 1995, 85).  
This figure has been reinforced by studies of inter-tidal and sub-tidal soil profiles in the region by W. Ritchie (1966; 1985).  Profiles from Benbecula, Harris and Lewis revealed submarine organic deposits over 3 metres below the present sea level, the plant species found in these deposits suggesting a rise in mean sea level of about 5m since 5000 BP.  This is best exemplified in the work at Borve on the island of Benbecula where organic peaty deposits radiocarbon dated to the early fourth millennium BC (SRR-1222: 5164+45 BP) were discovered 3.7 m below the mid-tide water level (W. Ritchie 1985, 165).  These deposits would originally have been around 1.5m above mean sea level and some distance inland suggesting a “substantial landward movement of the machair coastline” (W. Ritchie 1985, 167).  Older deposits were found at Pabbay, off Harris, where a core of basal peat suggesting a freshwater marsh environment was found almost 3 m below mean sea level, dated to the first half of the eight millennium BC (SSR-1223: 8330+65 BP).  This date is paralleled in submerged organic deposits found at Holm, east of Stornoway on Lewis (Von Weymarn 1974).  From these we can suggest then that there has been a submergence of at least 4 to 5 metres since 8800 BP, around 8000 BC (W. Ritchie 1985, 174).  Given the shallow land shelf off the western coast of the Outer Hebrides this change in sea level is likely to have significantly decreased the landmass of the region, perhaps submerging a contemporary coastline that may have been up to 2 kilometres further out to sea, and also would have fragmented the single Hebridean landmass of the late-glacial into the numerous islands we see today.  
Like the mountainous uplands of this region then, the seas are likely to have featured significantly in the perceived landscapes of the islands inhabitants: “though the sea is more intractable than the land when it comes to physical modification, it is not immune, and is subject to elaborate forms of cognitive restructuring” (Ellen 1996, 7).  The sea in this region is dramatic and unpredictable, certainly given the numerous and potentially hazardous shallow stretches of water that divide, define and encompass the islands of the region, most famously highlighted by the sinking of the S.S. Politician off Eriskay, popularised in the novel and film ‘Whisky Galore’.  
 
Figure 11.4 Lochs visible from Unival cairn, North Uist 
Lochs
“There is such a number of freshwater lakes here as can hardly be believed.  I myself and several others endeavoured to number them, but in vain, for they are so disposed into turnings that it is impracticable.  They are generally well stocked with trouts and eels, and some of them with salmon; and which is yet more strange, cod, ling, mackerel, etc., are taken in these lakes, into which they are brought by the spring tides.”
Martin 1999, 45
As an island group it would be easy to focus upon the sea as those waters which have shaped and defined it, situated in contrast to the lands which rise above.  But as highlighted in the above quote and earlier reference to the origin of the name of Lewis, this region is perhaps as much defined by the waters which are situated on it as around it.  The abundance of lochs in the Outer Hebrides derive chiefly from a combination of the geology and soils of the region, and the geomorphological changes outlined above.  The inland lochs are the result of water collecting in depressions within the gneiss which due to the poor drainage afforded by its geology and soils forms lochs, channels and bogs.  The accumulation of water and sediments in these lochs, in conjunction with the poor drainage they experience, provide good conditions for the formation of peat which I will discuss in detail shortly.  Freshwater lochs, bays and harbours mostly derive from the eustatic, and possibly isostatic, submergence of the Hebridean landmass since glaciation where valleys formed by glacial and geological action have become filled through a relative rise in sea level (W. Ritchie 1966).  
We have now looked at the sea and how this too has its own temporality, its waves beating against the coast of this archipelago over several thousand years, advancing over and encroaching upon its shores.  We have also considered the lochs of this region and how these have come over a similar period to fragment and break up the land.  I now want to look at a finer temporal rhythm still in examining the landscape features which dominate this region today and how these came to form upon and eventually take over the landscape.
 
Figure 11.5 ‘Saturated’ peat landscape on North Uist 
Peat formation and vegetation change
“The natives are very much disposed to observe the influence of the moon on human bodies, and for that cause they never dig their peats but in the decrease: for they observe that if they are cut in the increase they continue still moist and never burn clear, nor are they without smoke, but the contrary is daily observed of peats cut in the decrease”
Martin 1999, 111
The origins of peat formation and the absence of wood in the Outer Hebrides are closely related.  The highly acidic local geology and the poor drainage that it affords, combined with the local climate and oceanic influences from the Atlantic (featuring high precipitation and low evaporation), have together created ideal conditions for the formation of peat which has come to cover most of the Outer Hebrides today.  Peat, however, has not always dominated the region and palaeo-environmental studies demonstrate that the Outer Hebrides was once considerably more fertile, displaying a broader variety of vegetation, than at present.  This section will consider the history of peat formation and vegetation change in the Outer Hebrides and examine their chronological and causal relationships.   
Peat development
To understand the influence of peat in the Neolithic we must examine its origins and history.  This is not straightforward however as there are a number of problems encountered when interpreting peat development.  Firstly, we may identify a number of different types of peat each representing a number of different processes and secondly, our understanding of peat chronology may be complicated by the diversity of signifiers that are being used to identify the presence of peat during the past.  
Godwin has suggested that there are numerous different types of peat but that these can generally be reduced to one of two types: low-lying mires or fens and upland bog or mosses  (Godwin 1981).  Peat formation in mires commences with the slow deposition of organic matter in a flooded valley or basin where water accumulates in poorly drained depressions of the local geology.  The slow build-up of mud and inorganic sediments facilitates the growth of submerged water-plants, reeds and sedges, their detritus bringing about peat growth.  This type of peat is known as topogenous (place-fed) peat, in other words it is dependent on the landscape for water and nutrients.  Importantly, this type of peat is not necessarily infertile.  Water derived from surface drainage tends to bring with it large quantities of inorganic nutrients so that even with thin soils and acidic geology, mires can support a number of different plant types.  Shrubs such as sallow (Salix cinerea), brown birch (Betula pubescens) and alder (Alnus glutinosa), and even tree species including oak (Quercus robur) and ash (Fraxinus excelsior), are frequently associated with this type of peat (Godwin 1981, 4).  
Bog or moss peat is different in that it is ombrogenic (rain-fed), in other words it is dependent on precipitation for water and nutrients.  As a result this type of peat tends to form in oceanic climates which feature high precipitation and low evaporation.  These climatic conditions encourage the growth of acid-loving species of plant, especially those with high water-retaining properties such as the bog moss Sphagnum, and also cross-leaved heather (Erica tetralix), purple heather (E. cinerea) and ling (Calluna vulgaris).  Further distinction can be made between raised bogs and blanket bogs.  Raised bogs occur in less oceanic conditions and usually in flatter areas where the peat rises above the local drainage system.  Blanket bogs tend to develop in more undulating regions.  It is blanket peat that dominates the Outer Hebrides today. 
The history of peat formation and development in this region has been complicated by the lack of differentiation between these different types of peat.  Mires probably represent the earliest peat in the region, filling the cracks and niches of the geology and surrounding, sometimes eventually covering, the inland lochs I discussed earlier.  Such peat is always likely to have been a feature of the Hebridean landscape since vegetation colonized the region after deglaciation.  Basal peat discovered in inter-tidal deposits off Pabbay in the Sound of Harris has been dated to 8330+65 BP (SRR 1223, W. Ritchie 1985) whilst similar deposits were dated to 8802+70 BP (SSR 396) at Holm, off Lewis (Von Weymarn 1974 cited in W. Ritchie 1985), around 8150 to 7500 BC.  Pollen analysis of loch sediments from Loch Buailaval Beag on Lewis revealed expansions of ling (Calluna vulgaris) and an associated reduction in trees and shrubs around 7800 BP, c6650 BC, which has been interpreted as blanket peat formation (Fossitt 1996, 188).  Macrofossil remains of willow (Salix) found in peat cuttings have been dated to 9140+65 (Q-2287, Wilkins 1984) and 8040+75 BP (Q-2681, Fossitt 1996).  But despite the early presence of peat does this represent blanket peat formation as some of these studies have taken this data to infer?  
We should be critical of how representative these studies are of broader landscape conditions and changes.  The desire to find deep deposits in order to examine long-term vegetation sequences means that the majority of palaeo-environmental studies in the region almost exclusively focus on lochs, which may only tell us about extremely localised developments.  Furthermore, where peat development is identified in these contexts it may only signify the formation of localised valley peat or mires.  This criticism is not however to deny that the formation and occasional spread of valley peat would have had a significant impact upon parts of the landscape.  That macrofossil remains of wood are contained and preserved in some of this peat is likely to indicate the expansion of such soils, sometimes fairly rapidly, to the detriment of existing vegetation.  Certainly substantial areas of valley/mire peat may have existed around 8500 BP, c7550 BC, if not earlier (Wilkins 1984; Bennett et al. 1990).
Our second problem with providing a peat chronology is the diversity of signifiers that may be used to infer peat formation.  There are three kinds of evidence which may be used to signify the presence of peat in palaeo-environmental studies: wood or plant macro-fossils preserved in peat, specific pollen ‘assemblages’, and peat or peat-like sediments themselves.  Whilst macrofossils preserved in peat certainly indicate peat development, probably quite rapid, this may still only be suggesting localised peat growth.  The preservation of the exceptional hafted axe from Shulishader, Lewis (Sheridan 1992) can only be attributed to relatively rapid peat formation, the wooden (probably hawthorn) haft dated to 4470+95 BP (c3500-3000 BC, OXA-3537).  However, the remarkable condition of the artefact meant that it must have been deposited in wet conditions (Sheridan 1992, 200), probably a shallow pool which suggests that the artefact was preserved in mire peat rather than a broader spread of blanket peat.  Similarly peat, or peat-like sediments, preserved in soil-profiles may only be suggesting extremely localised processes, especially when themselves found in lochs.  Inter-tidal peat deposits found off Borve, Benbecula, probably derive from an inland loch-shore (W. Ritchie 1985), once again suggesting mire formation. 
Pollen diagrams and vegetation sequences however may provide a more useful and reliable signifier of broader peat developments.  Given the windy conditions and high precipitation of the Outer Hebrides, 80-90% of pollen is probably regionally derived reflecting local vegetation zones but not the immediate catchment (Brayshay et al. 2000; Fossitt 1994).  This means that despite the predominant focus for pollen cores at lochs, the sequences that they reveal are likely to reflect broader developments rather than the extremely localised situation.  This is supported by Godwin who has stressed that “plant communities themselves, responding individually and collectively, are the best ultimate indicators of the prevalent habitat conditions and thus also of the major mire types” (Godwin 1981, 8).  In order to understand the origin and spread of the different types of peat in the Outer Hebrides we should therefore examine the available pollen sequences and consider the chronological and spatial relationships between peat formation and vegetation history.   
 
Figure 11.6 Low stand of trees on Lewis.  This photo was taken in calm conditions
Vegetation history
 “Both hills and valleys in the forest [on Harris] are well provided with plenty of good grass mixed with heath…there is not a shrub of tree to be seen”
Martin 1999, 33-4
Examining the pollen sequences available for the Outer Hebrides can not only inform us about the expansion of peat-favouring species, and therefore the expansion of various types of peat, but will also tell us about woodland decline and also the possible relationships between these two.  Attempting a palaeo-environmental reconstruction for the Outer Hebrides benefits from the large number of environmental studies that have been carried out there.  At least 25 pollen sites have been examined in the region, 18 of which have been dated and published in suitable detail to permit a comparative vegetation history.  After Lomax (1997), I have tried to reduce each pollen diagram to a series of key developments.  This will enable a broad comparison between different sites over the past twelve thousand years.  Each of these key developments is outlined in table 11.1. 
Site	Pre-woodland/ Developing woodland	Developed woodland	Declining or sparse woodland	Heathland	Grassland	Sequence end	No. of radiocarbon dates
Loch Bharabhat, Lewis	10500	9500	5500	3900		0	8
Loch na Muilne, Lewis	10500	9750	5900			3500	3
Loch na Beinne Bige, Lewis	10500	9150	5000	2100		0	6
Loch Buailaval Beag, Lewis	10500	9500	8000	700		0	5
Callanish 3, Lewis		8500	7500				
		4900	3750	3250		0	9
Little Loch Roag, Lewis				10000		0	6
Borve 3, Benbecula		8900	8100	7650	6600	5850	7
Loch a' Phuinnd, South Uist	11600	10200	4800	3300		0	5
Reineval, South Uist	10000		9500	4750		0	*
Loch Airigh na h-Aon Oidhche, South Uist	11000	10000	3400	1600		500	*
Loch Lang, South Uist	11000	10000	4100	1200		0	6
Loch an' t-Sil, South Uist	12100	10600	8400		7400	900	5
Port Caol, Barra	11800	9800			9050	8300	3
Upper Borve, Barra	9050	8700	3600		2600	0	10
Lochan na Cartach, Barra	7800	7300	6200	4000		0	8

Table 11.1  Summary of vegetation developments for principal environmental sites mentioned in the text (values in years BP; * = extrapolated from sequence)
It must be stressed that this is a subjective exercise based on interpretations of individual site pollen diagrams.  The categories listed do not reflect absolute values of particular species, but rather they are a reflection of relative changes within each individual sequence.  This is mainly because of the inconsistent chronological frameworks that have been employed in presenting pollen sequences.  Whilst most pollen sequences are represented as cored, with radiocarbon dates listed at their relevant depths (e.g. Fossitt 1996; Lomax 1997), many have no radiocarbon dates listed with pollen sequences instead plotted against extrapolated years BP (e.g. Edwards et al. 1995).  This immediately causes problems for a comparative vegetation history because such pollen reports rarely supply the radiocarbon determinations derived from these profiles or state how these extrapolated dates were achieved.  A further problem encountered is that some pollen sites have only had their summary pollen data published (i.e. trees/shrubs/heaths/herbs) rather than listing specific species.  This proves especially problematic when examining the origins of peat formation because as I have noted, specific plant species may signify different types of peat (Godwin 1981, 8).  Therefore sites with only summary pollen information were not included in the analysis.  Similarly, although well-published, the South Uist sites at Peninerine (Edwards et al. 1995; Edwards et al. 2000), North Locheyenort (Brayshay and Edwards 1996) and Loch Hellisdale (Pyatt et al. 1995; Brayshay and Edwards 1996) were excluded because of the limited plant taxa information provided in the case of Peninerine and North Locheyenort, and the paucity of radiocarbon dates to substantiate the sequence at Loch Hellisdale.
With these criticisms in mind, pollen diagrams from 15 pollen sites were examined.  The sequences for Loch Bharabhat, Loch na Muilne, Loch na Beinne Bige, Loch Buailaval Brag, Callanish 3 and Little Loch Roag were adapted from Lomax (1997) with reference to the original reports whilst sequences for the remaining 9 sites were estimated from their respective pollen diagrams.  Summary information on the sites examined is presented in table 11.1 and figure 11.8 (situated as a fold-out sheet on page 312).  I now want to consider the evidence according on a regional basis, beginning with the samples from Lewis and Harris, the Uists and lastly the evidence from Barra.    
Lewis and Harris
The western coast of Lewis has benefited from a long history of environmental studies with the six studies from Lewis all focused in a relatively concentrated area around the stone circles of Callanish.  Unfortunately no published pollen studies are available for Harris, although a vegetation history has been supplied for Northton, inferred from analysis of snail remains (Evans 1971).  The first detailed environmental study of vegetation in the Outer Hebrides was undertaken at a valley mire near Little Loch Roag, Lewis (Birks and Madsen 1979).  Coring revealed that, with the limited exception of Birch (Betula) and some hazel (Corylus), trees had always been scarce, with tree pollen from other species such as pine (Pinus), oak (Quercus) and elm (ulmus) argued to be the result of long-distance pollen dispersal from the Scottish mainland by rain.  Rather, high quantities of ling (Calluna vulgaris), herbs and Sphagnum was taken to mean that the Outer Hebrides, or at least western Lewis, had always featured peat and associated vegetation due to intensive exposure to westerly gales and persistent human activity after 4000 BP, around 2500 BC (Birks and Madsen 1979, 840).  
However, it was soon realised that the Little Loch Roag study had clearly under-estimating the presence of trees.  Wilkins published an extensive survey of macrofossil tree remains that had been found within peat-cuttings on Lewis (Wilkins 1984) where eleven radiocarbon dated samples revealed that willow (Salix), birch (Betula) and pine (Pinus) had all been a feature of the Outer Hebridean landscape in the past (Wilkins 1984, 251); willow ranging from 9140 to 8550 BP (8250 to 7600 BC), birch from 7980 to 5030 BP (7000 to 3900 BC) and pine from 4870 to 3910 BP (3600 to 2450 BC).  However, as these dates suggest, the origin of a treeless landscape in this region may have been quite early and Wilkins observed that all the macrofossil remains of trees found were situated within 50 cm of the base of the peat in which they had been preserved.  The relative absence of tree pollen in the Little Loch Roag core may then probably be explained by the setting of the deposits studied, situated “in a steep-sided rock channel within the Lewisian gneiss” (Birks and Madsen 1979, 827).  It is likely that this setting would have provided an early context for the formation of mire peat, fed by water running off the steep local geology.  The presence throughout the Little Loch Roag sequence of aquatic species, Sphagnum, bog-asphodel (Narthecium ossifragum), and the relatively low proportion throughout of ling suggests that this location was always especially wet and therefore that mire peat is represented  throughout.
The particular type of peat and peat formation processes which are being signified by these macrofossil remains poses a crucial question because it forces us to consider whether the macrofossil remains are reflecting local or broader environmental processes.  The willow and birch macrofossils may arguably have been engulfed by localised mire formation.  Both species are especially suited to the damp conditions presented by fen or loch edges and could have become inundated by the expansion of mire-peat around a loch or similarly damp environment.  Pine however tends to favour drier conditions so its preservation in peat may suggest broader blanket peat formation.  This may be supported by the later dates for the pine macrofossils than for either willow or birch.  There may, however, be an additional explanation for the pine macrofossils.  Some palaeoecologists (Birks 1975; Bennett 1984; Tipping 1994, 26) have highlighted a widespread reduction in the abundance of Scot’s pine (Pinus Sylvestris) in Scotland between 4500 and 4000 BP (around 3250 to 2500 BC), dates which are broadly supported by the date range of 4870 to 3910 BP for the macrofossil pine remains from Wilkins’ (1984) study. Further macrofossil remains of pine, discovered by Fossitt (1996), also date from this period (Q-2737: 4175+30 BP; Q-2741: 4275+45 BP; Q-2743: 4885+55 BP).  Whilst the cause for this reduction is uncertain, a matter of continued debate (see Tipping 1994, 26-7 for a summary of the arguments), we must consider that the preservation of pine remains in peat as macrofossils may result from a broader decline in the species rather than specifically representing destruction through peat formation. 
Fossitt (1996) has taken further Wilkins’ vegetation history for the Outer Hebrides based on the discovery of further macrofossil remains of wood and detailed examination of lake sediment cores from Loch Buailaval Beag on Lewis and Loch a’Phuinnd on South Uist.  Thirteen radiocarbon dates taken from macrofossil remains and ten dates from sediment samples provide a chronological framework for the vegetation sequences discovered.  At Loch Buailaval Beag a relatively sudden reduction in birch-hazel woodland took place around 7900 BP, roughly 6650 BC, replaced in a relatively short period of time by ling, grasses, sedges and other heathland species.  The woodland never recovered although tree and shrub frequencies in the pollen diagrams from Loch Buailaval Beag suggest some limited localised tree growth after this time (Fossitt 1996, 190).  The sequence from Loch Buailaval Beag does seem to be indicative of the spread of blanket peat, although mire peat may be suggested by the high proportion after this date of quillwort (Isoetes lacustris), a species which favours still water in upland settings (Clapham et al. 1958, 6).  But again this does not necessarily reflect broader landscape changes in vegetation.  Loch Buailaval Beag is situated 50 metres above sea level in steep, undulating topography with shallow soils and numerous rock outcrops.  This is the kind of location likely to experience early blanket peat formation, unsuitable for substantial tree growth and most susceptible to the oceanic climate due to its situation on the western façade of the island.  More sheltered valleys at a lower altitude are likely to have supported woodland and avoided blanket peat formation until much later.
This would seem to be the case with the pollen sequence from Callanish (Bohncke 1988), contrasting strongly with those from Little Loch Roag and Loch Buailaval Beag by demonstrating a long history of woodland species.  The sequence from column 3 shows that up until around 7500 BP, or 6400 BC, the Callanish area supported substantial woodlands, predominantly featuring birch but also hazel, willow and some oak.  After this time expansions in ling and other heather moor/grassland species coincide with a reduction in birch, although hazel and other tree/shrub species persist.  High instances of charcoal at this time led Bohncke to suggest impacts through deliberate burning by Mesolithic hunter-gatherers (Bohncke 1988, 451).  Certainly high charcoal concentrations are associated with periods of reduced woodland in the Callanish profiles although we cannot be certain whether these charcoal concentrations represent the cause of impeded woodland through human management or are a result of the increased susceptibility to fire of heathland species.  However, by 4800 BP, circa 3500 BC, birch had regenerated so that there would once more have been significant amounts of woodland species, probably concentrated in sheltered valleys.  From 3900 BP/2500 BC, the quantity of birch and other tree species, namely willow, had once again fallen this time accompanied by expansions in ling, grasses, crowberry, and for the first time plantago-type species which point to the spread of blanket peat.  The woodland never recovered and this can be seen in the low frequencies of tree pollen in columns 1 and 2 from Callanish with a reduction in birch and hazel in column 2 around 3800 BP. 
Three further pollen studies have been carried out on Lewis by Lomax (1997) at Loch Bharabhat, Loch na Muilne and Loch na Beinne Bige, all concentrated in western Lewis.  All three share similar profiles although Loch na Muilne does not have information for the past three thousand years.  At Loch Bharabhat birch-hazel woodlands establish around 9600 BP/9000 BC and continue to prosper until around 5500 BP/4350 BC, after which they experience a steady decline, gradually replaced by peat species such as ling, heather, plantago and sphagnum.  By 3750 BP/2200 BC the woodlands had become almost entirely replaced by blanket peat.  Similarly, at Loch na Muilne birch-hazel woodlands are fully established by 9600 BP/9000 BC.  This woodland continues for three and a half thousand years before beginning to decline shortly after 6000 BP/4900 BC, gradually replaced by shrubs and heathland species through to the top of the profile c3500 BP/1900 BC.  Loch na Beinne Bige provides a close parallel to the previous two studies, with woodland establishment around 9500 BP, with woodland decline around 5500 BP.  Within one thousand years the tree species had become almost completely replaced by grasses, sedges, heather/ling and sphagnum, and although birch, hazel and some other species continue to be represented these are only in small quantities, possibly the result of pollen rain.  
This relatively dramatic shift in vegetation corresponds with a massive concentration of charcoal suggesting that a large-scale fire event brought about the destruction of woodland here.  Such a large-scale event should be mirrored in other pollen profiles from the area and a high charcoal concentration in the Callanish-3 profile at around 4800 BP/3600 BC might provide further evidence of this event although it did not significantly impact upon the woodland species there.  Once more, however, we cannot speculate whether this was initiated by human activity as opposed to natural influences although it is interesting to consider that this ‘event’ predates the construction of the nearby Later Neolithic stone circle at Callanish by under five hundred years (Ashmore 1999).
Analysis of snail remains from the Neolithic and Bronze Age site of Northton, Harris, has revealed broad changes in local vegetation from the Later Neolithic through to the Iron Age (Evans 1971; Burleigh et al. 1974).  By 4400 BP/3000 BC fairly established woodland was giving way to open country before some woodland regeneration after 3400 BP/1750 BC.  Although these changes were interpreted as the result of deliberate clearing by people, Evans suggested the reductions in woodland may also have been initiated through overwhelming by wind-blown sand (Evans 1971, 61).
The Uists
No pollen cores are available from North Uist and only one is supplied for Benbecula at Borve (Whittington and Edwards 1997).  Although three profiles were examined, only the Borve-3 profile has been sufficiently dated to help reconstruct a vegetation history.  The Borve 3 profile, although only revealing about three thousand years or so, shows interesting developments with established birch-hazel woodland replaced by Sphagnum and ling between 8110 and 7640 BP (7100 and 6400 BC) before eventual replacement by grasses and ferns after 6600 BP/5500 BC.  Although some peat is suggested throughout the sequence, a shift to mire peat seems to take place between 7600 and 6600 BP (6400 and 5500 BC) with the development of Sphagnum and ling.  This was however short-lived as by 6600 BP machair (see later) arrived at the site leading to an expansion of grasses and other plants favouring drier conditions.  
South Uist, however, has been the subject of numerous pollen studies.  At Loch a’ Phuinnd (Fossitt 1996) birch-hazel woodland flourished from around 10900 BP/11000BC.  Pockets of localised peat had began to develop as early as 8500 BP/7550 BC, featuring ling, various grasses and Sphagnum, but these made limited impact upon the woodland species until around 3400 BP/1750 BC.  After this time tree and shrub species were reduced to under a third of their previous values within a few hundred years, giving way to the spread of ling, grasses, brackens and other blanket-peat species.  
At Reineval (Edwards et al. 1995; Edwards et al. 2000) small quantities of tree pollen persist throughout the sequence but rarely of significant value to suggest considerable woodland in the area.  Of interest though is the absence of peat species until shortly after 5000 BP/3750 BC, namely ling and other peat-signifying taxa.  The fairly dramatic expansion of ling has been related to increases in the rate of charcoal accumulation to suggest human management of the landscape at this time, possibly as a grazing resource (Edwards et al. 1995, 247-8).  Loch Airigh na h-Aon Oidche (Edwards et al. 1995) reveals a long history of woodland species although equally it also reveals an antiquity of heathland species such as ling and Sphagnum.  Like Reineval, only selected taxa from the site have been published but these can tell us something about the vegetation history at the site.  Arboreal species establish around 10500 BP/10500 BC and continue along with shrub and heath species until around 3500 BP/1850 BC.  A sudden reduction at this time is followed by a decline in tree species, gradually replaced by ling, grasses and sedges.  Overall, the pollen sequence from Loch Airigh na h-Aon Oidche probably represents a mixture of mire-peat and pockets of woodland which come to decline after 3500 BP/1850 BC, probably by the broader spread of blanket peat.  
Loch Lang (Bennett et al. 1990) shares a similar sequence to the other sites already examined from South Uist, especially Loch Airigh na h-Aon Oidche.  Birch-hazel woodland persists from 10000 BP/9500 BC until decline sometime after 4100 BP/2600 BC where it is replaced by expansions in ling, grasses and sedges.  Ling and sphagnum, however, were a constant feature throughout the sequence once more suggesting the presence throughout the Holocene of localised pockets of mire-peat, probably in and around lochs and depressions within the local geology.  In contrast to the longevity of peat-signifying species at Loch Lang, Loch an t-Síl is notable for the limited number of peat-signifying taxa (Edwards et al. 1995; Edwards et al. 2000).  Birch-hazel woodland, established after 10500 BP/10500 BC, declines shortly after 8500 BP/7550 BC.  This, however, is not necessarily to the benefit of, or the result of, peat formation as ling and Sphagnum quantities remain low throughout the sequence.  Rather the sequence from Loch an t-Síl seems to represent the replacement of birch-hazel woodland by open grassland, probably explained by the westerly location of the loch, 1.5 km inland and less than 10m above sea-level.
Barra
Three environmental sites have been examined on Barra: Port Caol, Upper Borve (not to be confused with the Borve site on Benbecula) and Lochan na Cartach.  Port Caol (Brayshay and Edwards 1996; Edwards and Brayshay 2000) only reveals a brief sequence spanning from 12000 BP/12000 BC to around 8750 BP/7750 BC but in that time displays a shift from developing to established birch-hazel woodland through to open grassland.  Like Loch an t-Síl, the coastal location of the site means that peat development was unlikely to occur, reflected in the extremely low quantities of ling and Sphagnum, save for a brief period preceding established woodland, around 9800 BP.  Similarly Upper Borve, in the Borve valley (Brayshay and Edwards 1996; Edwards and Brayshay 2000; Ashmore et al. 2000), shows limited peat-signifying taxa with open grassland and mixed birch-hazel and pine, and later oak, woodland throughout the sequence and no ling recorded.  However, caution must be stressed when considering the Upper Borve profile.  Ashmore et al. (2000) have highlighted the inconsistent dates from the site suggesting that mass-movement of material from the adjacent hill-slopes has become interspersed with the local deposits to create an inaccurate profile.  Further caution must be made as the two-published sequences display disparate taxa frequencies with arboreal pollen in significantly greater quantities in Ashmore et al. (2000) than in Edwards and Brayshay (2000).  Even then, the absence of ling and only limited amounts of Sphagnum demand explanation.  Ultimately, like Loch an t-Síl and Port Caol already discussed, the coastal location of the Borve valley probably explains the low quantity of peat-favouring vegetation in the sequence, “exposed and west-facing” (Edwards and Brayshay 2000, 310).
Lochan na Cartach (Brayshay and Edwards 1996; Edwards and Brayshay 2000), in contrast, shows a steady shift towards blanket peat although, like Borve valley, the radiocarbon dates would seem to reflect contamination of older material early in the sequence.  Excluding those dates which seem to be erroneous, birch-hazel woodland seems to have established by 7400 BP/6250 BC, continuing until around 6100 BP/5000 BC, after which steady woodland decline sees its gradual replacement by ling, grasses and Sphagnum.  By 4000 BP/2500 BC blanket-peat vegetation predominates, accompanied by rising charcoal concentrations, which continue to the present.  That Lochan na Cartach experiences peat development whilst the other Barra sites do not is probably explained by its location on the eastern side of Barra, in a sheltered valley some distance inland.
Previous syntheses 
Although limited consideration has been made of the palaeo-environmental sites from the Outer Hebrides as a whole, groups of sites have been incorporated into ‘sub-regional’ syntheses, notably Lomax’s study of western Lewis (1997) and surveys of South Uist (Brayshay and Edwards 1996) and Barra (Brayshay and Edwards 1996; Edwards and Brayshay 2000).  I would like now to bring together the various interpretations offered for the vegetation history of the Outer Hebrides before making my own conclusions based on the studies discussed above.
Birks and Madsen’s model for a treeless Outer Hebrides based on the pollen core from Little Loch Roag was short-lived.  Following the discovery of numerous macrofossil remains of tree species in the region, Wilkins proposed a two-fold deterioration in woodland as had been suggested for the Penines in England by Tallis and Switsur (1983).  Macrofossil remains of birch and willow from around 9000-8000 BP (8250/7000 BC) suggest a prolonged period of woodland decline initiated by peat formation, with birch and pine remains from 5000-4000 BP (3750-2500 BC) suggesting a second period of peat formation.  The fact that similar patterns were observable and broadly contemporary from the middle of England and the Outer Hebrides suggested that these changes might have been influenced by wide-ranging climatic changes in north-west Europe.  Such climatic changes were likely to have affected the formation and spread of peat, influential towards the creation of the treeless landscapes apparent today and enabling the preservation of the macrofossil tree remains found:
“If it is assumed that the very conditions which allowed preservation also prevented further tree colonization and that these conditions persisted as long as rapid peat growth continued, it seems that much of the island [Lewis] must have been treeless for the past 4000 years.”
Wilkins 1984, 256
Fossitt has suggested that her findings from Loch a’ Phuinnd, South Uist, and Loch Buailaval Beag, Lewis, support Wilkins’s model for a two-phase decline in woodland species in the region.  Initial reduction in woodland took place around 7900 BP, which Fossitt has argued was due to an “increase in the frequency and intensity of westerly gales over several growing seasons” (Fossitt 1996, 190).  Interestingly Gilbertson et al. (1996) have highlighted several episodes of widespread dune drift brought about by severe storm activity, the earliest of which taking place around 7800-7700 BP (Gilbertson et al. 1996, 463).  Although Birks and Madsen denied that sufficient quantities of woodland ever existed in the Outer Hebrides they argued that this was primarily due to the high westerly gales in the region (1979, 840) and as already mentioned, Evans has suggested that reductions in woodland at Northton, Harris, may have been brought about by the input of wind-blown sand (Evans 1971; Burleigh Evans and Simpson 1973).  That the woodland species from Loch a’Phuinnd were not especially affected at this time need not refute this hypothesis.  Situated in a relatively sheltered location on the east coast of South Uist, Loch a’Phuinnd is unlikely to have experienced the severity of gales which may have affected western Lewis, and indeed some impact may be suggested by the increase in hazel around this time, a shrub species less susceptible to winds than tree species.  
A second phase of woodland reduction is argued to have commenced around 4000 BP/2500 BC.  Although this was not reflected in the sequences from Loch Buailaval Beag this may be because the trees never sufficiently recovered from the earlier impacts of around 8000 BP/7000 BC.  At Loch a’ Phuinnd a continual decline in mixed woodland species corresponds with the expansion of blanket peat-based species after 4800 BP/3650 BC and by 3400 BP/1750 BC tree and shrub pollen had fallen from almost half to less than 15% of the overall pollen found.  Minerological changes from 3400-2900 BP (1750-1100 BC) imply severe catchment erosion around the loch, the most likely explanation for which is a reduction in trees (Fossitt 1996, 188).  By 2700 BP the landscape of Loch a’ Phuinnd was predominantly treeless.
However, Wilkins’ and Fossitt’s model for woodland reduction due to climatic change and peat development has been significantly played down in recent years in favour of models which consider human intervention in this process.  As already discussed, Bohncke explained the decline of woodland species in the Callanish-3 profile, Lewis, between 7650 and 4580 BP (6450 and 3300 BC) as the result of human activity (1988, 451-4).  The sharp and relatively sudden replacement of birch and hazel by other, non-arboreal, species and a coinciding increase in the concentration of charcoal, have been explained as the result of deliberate clearance, probably by burning (Bohncke 1988, 461).  Vegetation sequences at Loch Lang (Bennett et al. 1990) have been thought to suggest that woodland decline was the result of another kind of human impact.  They have argued that woodland decline could not have been initiated by blanket peat formation (but may have been accelerated by it) because reduction in woodland species in their sequence significantly post-dates the major spread of blanket peat. That these vegetation changes were gradual has been interpreted as the result of “slight but persistent grazing pressure” (Bennett et al. 1990, 295).  
However, there are problems with this interpretation.  Firstly, the initial amount of woodland in the region is probably overstated.  The impact of pollen rain upon vegetation sequences is greatly undervalued, primarily in reaction to Birks and Madsen who claimed pollen rain as the source for most tree pollen in Outer Hebridean vegetation sequences.  Bennett et al. support their stance with figures from St. Kilda which suggest 1.6% of total pollen is derived from off-island taxa (1990, 293).  However, work by Fossitt (1994) has demonstrated that rain pollen in the Outer Hebrides may contribute towards almost 14% of the total pollen from any sequence and sometimes as much as 20%.  These figures suggest that Bennett et al.’s estimate for woodland covering up to half of the landscape until 4300 BP is probably exaggerated.  Secondly, as already discussed, the limited impact of peat may be attributed to the lack of differentiation between different types of peat, especially when most environmental studies examining long vegetation sequences focus on lochs that feature deep deposits.  This means that the peat vegetation represented at Loch Lang possibly reflects localised formation of mire peat as opposed to the later, more extensive, spread of blanket peat.  Thus the presence of peat vegetation 1000 years before woodland decline may be explained without rejecting Wilkins and Fossit’s hypothesis.
Edwards, like Bohncke, believes that woodland decline predominantly derives from human activity through acts of burning, focusing on reductions in arboreal pollen as palynological indicators for the presence of people prior to the Neolithic (1990a; 1990b; 1996; Brayshay and Edwards 1996; Whittington and Edwards 1997; Edwards et al. 1995).  Specifically, through examining charcoal concentrations in vegetation sequences, he has suggested that cores featuring large and prolonged accumulations of charcoal may indicate the deliberate burning of woodland by people for clearance but possibly also to encourage grazing by deer as may suggested by reductions in Pteridium aquilinum (bracken) and other tall-herbs.  At Loch an t-Sìl on South Uist, Edwards (et al. 1995) has highlighted the correlation between charcoal peaks and a reduction in tree and shrub pollen from 8500 to 7900 BP.  A similar situation is suggested for Peninerine and Loch Airigh na h-Aon Oidche, South Uist, where charcoal peaks coincide with expansions of ling, also suggestive of a reduction in woodland by burning (Edwards et al. 1995).  Similarly at Lochan na Cartach, Barra, and Kildonan Glen, South Uist, increases in charcoal accumulation correlate to reductions in tree and shrub pollen with ling expansion at the former (Brayshay and Edwards 1996).
However, these conclusions are not entirely convincing.  At Loch Airigh na h-Aon Oidche the only charcoal peak of significance post-dates significantly the main reductions in tree and shrub pollen, and the ling expansion cited at 1500 BP/600 AD is not much more than its values at 5000-4500 BP (3750-3250 BC).  At Peninerine tree and shrub values had always been low, supported by high ling, Poaceae and Sphagnum values at 8000 BP/7000 BC, suggesting that peat was an early feature at this location.  Edwards acknowledges that some expansions of heathland vegetation may be natural, such as at Reineval on South Uist where the spread of ling from 4500 BP/3250 BC has been interpreted as the spread of blanket peat rather than impacts by burning (Edwards et al. 1995, 247).  However, he is reluctant to support peat formation as a deciding factor in woodland reduction.  
Interestingly, the ling expansions that he has correlated with a reduction in arboreal pollen may also suggest a natural origin for woodland decline.  The Outer Hebrides provide some of the earliest occurrences of ling in western Europe at around ten thousand years ago, 4000 years before equivalent levels in the Netherlands, Belgium, northern France and Germany and southern Scandinavia (Stevensen and Birks 1995).  The consistent presence of ling and associated taxa throughout the vegetation sequences from the region may then suggest that peat and associated heathland vegetation was an early feature of the Outer Hebridean landscape, possibly predating even the earliest of human impacts in the region.  Although attempts to identify human activity through charcoal peaks is a valuable bid to locate a pre-Neolithic human presence in the region where other methods have failed, it needs to be more critically considered before conclusive interpretations are made.
Lomax has provided a detailed sequence for the vegetation history of western Lewis (1997).  Woodland development occurs from 10100 to 9500 BP (9750 to 8900 BC) where birch-hazel dominates with secondary woodland components of willow, alder, elm, oak, pine, poplar (Populus) and rowan/mountain ash (Sorbus aucuparia), replacing the crowberry heathland which had dominated the late-glacial.  By 7600 BP/6400 BC the woodland would have given way to ling-dominated heathland, grassland and blanket peat with birch-hazel woodland and extremely localised stands of pine, oak, elm and alder (Lomax 1997, 226).  Woodland decline in the region commences in the fifth millennium BC (Lomax 1997, 242), ranging from 5900 to 5020 BP (4800 to 3850 BC).  Heathland vegetation and blanket peat replace the woodland species so that by 3700 BP/2000 BC woodland was sparse and by 2000 BP/0 AD the landscape was virtually treeless.  Lomax provides a much more complex and sensitive survey, and whilst overall sympathetic to Wilkin’s and Fossitt’s conclusions for a two-fold woodland decline, the earliest between 9200 and 7800 BP (8400 to 6650 BC) the second between 5200 and 3800 BP (4000 and 2250 BC), he is careful not to place too much responsibility on any single causal factor, instead presenting a broad range of possibilities.
Vegetation history: a summary
Like Lomax, and Wilkins and Fossitt before, I envisage a two-fold development in the peat and vegetation of the Outer Hebrides.  Initial reductions in woodland take place in the early-Holocene, probably brought about by changes in climate.  Increased oceanicity, with higher precipitation and stronger winds, would have impeded the growth of new trees and retarded the growth of mature trees.  This would have been most notable on the exposed upland slopes of the region, especially those on the western coasts.  This is reflected in the sequences at Loch Buailaval Beag on Lewis and Loch an t-Síl on South Uist.  With wetter conditions through the reduction of trees, plus higher precipitation and low evaporation, these areas are likely to have supported the early expansion of mire peat within and around lochs and glacial depressions but also witnessed the first spread of blanket peat, restricted to the immediate environs of these contexts.  
By around 4000 BP/2500 BC a more widespread, and ultimately more permanent, reduction in woodland was taking place, encouraged if not initiated by increasingly  intensive human occupation of the landscape.  Further climatic change may be argued with increased wind and precipitation (Lomax 1997, 245).  Interestingly it has been argued that the period 5800 to 4000 BP (4100 to 2500 BC) represents one of the most notable periods of dune drift (i.e. storminess) in the history of north-west Europe (Gilbertson et al. 1999, 463) which I will discuss in further detail later.  The use of wood in all aspects of human life plus the clearing of lands for cultivation and pasture would only have intensified landscape changes.  Soils would have become less stable and less fertile and the hydrological balance would have been upset with reduced vegetation to retard the movement of water through the soil.  Armit argues that intensive use of the surrounding area led to the flooding of the Loch Olabhat, engulfing the settlement at Eilean Domhnuill (Armit 1992).  Throughout our period of interest (5200 to 4000 BP/4000 to 2500 BC), the Outer Hebrides would have been dominated by heathland in the uplands and grasslands in the lowlands, interspersed with sheltered valleys harbouring small pockets of Betula, Corylus and occasionally Alnus, Pinus, Quercus, Ulmus and Salix.  
In conclusion however, all the environmental studies examined demonstrate that there is perhaps no larger influence on peat formation and vegetation change than localised processes.  These changes were neither uniform nor synchronous and local factors would have affected the time, rate and degree of change significantly, as reflected in the disparity between vegetation sequences.  Nor, as already discussed, are these sequences likely to show us the complete picture of the Outer Hebridean landscape because they are – deliberately – focused on loch and deep-mire deposits, so they are predominantly going to tell us about the local environments around these areas.  This situation has not been helped by the concentration of studies in two main areas, western Lewis and central South Uist.  Equally the representativeness of the pollen record for the vegetation during any period varies depending on local conditions, the movement or dispersal and deposition of pollen susceptible to fluctuations according to topography, precipitation, wind and surrounding vegetation, amongst other factors (Fossitt 1994; Lomax 1997, 227).  Overall I envisage that it is peat formation and development which had the greatest impact upon the woodlands of the region and without human activity the Outer Hebrides may still have become as treeless as it is today.  However, it is unlikely that these vegetation changes can ever be attributed to any one process, and it would be naive to assume that any of the authors discussed above believe that woodland reduction was due exclusively to either climate change, peat formation, grazing, clearance or fire.  Rather, specific processes represented in particular vegetation sequences are likely to reflect a combination of factors, not only causal but also local and taphonomic:
“The ambivalent evidence for the role of fire in heathland creation could result not only from the diverse nature of heathlands creation but also the different dispersal, sedimentation, preservation and other taphonomic processes by which pollen and charcoal in lake basins and mor-humus profiles record the environment at different temporal and spatial scales”
Stevenson and Birks 1995, 231
 
Figure 11.7 Machair sands off Harris
The machair
“As I came from South Uist, I perceived about sixty horsemen riding along the sands, directing their course for the east sea; and being between me and the sun, they made a great figure on the plain sands. We discovered them to be natives of South Uist, for they alighted from their horses and went to gather cockles in the sands, which are exceedingly plentiful there”
Martin 1999, 63
Today, the coastal fringes of the Outer Hebrides are dominated by the machair, a relatively fertile sandy plain which adorns much if not most of the western coasts of this region.  This landscape feature consists almost entirely of calcareous sands, made up of crushed marine shells from the Scottish continental shelf (Mate 1992) and brought on land though a combination of rising sea levels and aeolian (wind blown) processes.  It is the shell content which causes the high pH of this material enabling the use of this land for arable agriculture, contrasting significantly with the acidic soils which dominate the remainder of the region and providing a focus for settlement and activity since the Bronze Age.  However, whilst the machair is clearly a dominant part of the modern landscape in this region, the chronological origins and early history of this landscape feature are poorly understood.  Archaeologically, although some Neolithic and Beaker sites are situated within the present area of machair, most are concealed beneath it suggesting that at least in these areas machair formation post-dates these sites.  The earlier Neolithic levels at Northton on Harris, for example, were built upon non-calcareous boulder clay, before initially covered by non-calcareous sands and eventually clean calcareous wind-blown sand (Evans 1971), sometime prior to 5000 BP/3750 BC (Burleigh et al. 1974).  Evans however suggested that the predominance of cockles in the shell-fish assemblage from this site may indicate that contemporary machair banks of shell sand had existed further out than the present-day coastline but had since been submerged (Evans 1971, 72).
This view was shared by W. Ritchie who believed that inter-tidal and submarine organic deposits found throughout the region represented the result of a dramatic shoreward retreat of the Hebridean coastline brought about by rising sea levels (W. Ritchie 1966; 1979; 1985; W. Ritchie and Whittington 1994).  Pollen and macrofossil plant remains found within organic deposits off Borve, Benbecula, and Pabbay, Harris, suggested a wet slack grassland which would have originally been 2 m above mean sea level.  Given the shallow land shelf off the western coast of the Outer Hebrides, the change in sea level that these deposits signify suggests that the contemporary coastline may have been up to 2 kilometres further out to sea.  This is supported by coring of Forvay Reef off Pabbay where organic deposits suggesting a dry terrestrial peat environment were traced to 80 metres from the coast, some 2.8m below mean tide (W. Ritchie 1985, 173).  From these studies, W. Ritchie formulated a model of machair formation suggesting that rising sea levels permitted the shoreward movement of offshore material, namely calcareous sands.  The constant input of sand would have filled existing loch or marsh-filled basins, then significantly west of the present-day coastline, causing the development of marshy grassland.  Initially, woodland vegetation would have retarded this development but a reduction in woodland species (discussed above) would eventually have been overwhelmed by sand, brought about by the disturbance of existing sands through marine erosion and aeolian movement further west.  
W. Ritchie’s work has been developed by Whittington and Edwards who have investigated the Borve sequence in more detail (1997).  A series of seven radiocarbon dates through a soil profile at Borve-3 enabled Whittington and Edwards to construct a detailed history for machair formation at the site.  I have already discussed the early history of the site earlier but of interest here is the onset of machair, dated to 6735 BP/5650 BC, with a fairly rapid accumulation of sand until around 6045 BP/5000 BC where the sand input becomes fairly stable, after which the input of sand is insufficient to restrict plant growth, predominantly grasses, stabilising to form what is by 5990 BP/4800 BC a machair plain.    
The recent work of Gilbertson amongst others (Gilbertson et al. 1996a; Gilbertson et al. 1996b; Gilbertson et al. 1996c; Gilbertson et al. 1999; Grattan et al. 1996; Kent et al. 1996; Owen et al. 1996; Whittington and Edwards 1997) has greatly expanded our understanding of the chronology and processes of machair formation in the Outer Hebrides.  Distinguishing between two types of machair sand: calcareous and quartzose sands, Gilbertson et al. (1999) have pushed the origins of the machair back to 8700 BP/7600 BC on Benbecula and North Uist and around 6800 BP/5750 BC on Barra, with South Uist somewhere between these two dates.  No dates are supplied for Harris or Lewis.  The earliest sand formation is likely to have been by quartzose sands derived from glacial erosion over 10,000 years ago.  With most of the seas waters held up in ice sheets during glaciation, quartz-rich sands on the continental shelf were exposed to aeolian, or wind, erosion.  Most quartzose sands in the region derive from periods of periglacial erosion in the Late Devensian where they became deposited on land, and by the Early Holocene a variety of acid soil types and peat soils as well as lochs and mires had formed upon these sands (Gilbertson et al. 1999, 464).  The familiar shells sands of the machair, however, did not come to be deposited on the Hebridean coasts until around 8700 BP/7750 BC.  
This still significantly predates earlier opinions on the origin of the machair.  Simpson (1976) and Crawford (1996) have posited a Beaker date for the formation of the machair based on underlying Later Neolithic and Beaker deposits whilst more recently Hamilton and Sharples have suggested an earlier origin dating to the Late Neolithic (Hamilton and Sharples nd.).  But these dates to not signal the arrival of the stable machair plains we see today.  Rather these dates herald the earliest of a continuous series of small-scale, dynamic and local shifts in sand.  The formation of soils on the machair, and therefore the stabilization of the sand, Gilbertson et al. argue, result from human activity on the dunes, notably though the discard of organic waste and other forms of soil modification (Gilbertson et al. 1999, 453).  
Human activity on the dunes throughout prehistory is therefore likely to have contributed significantly towards the creation of the suitable conditions for occupation and agriculture presented by this landscape feature today.  With demonstrated settlement of the machair by the Later Neolithic at Northton and by the Bronze Age at numerous other sites in the region, the machair as a stable landscape feature is likely to have originated in certain contexts by around 3800 BP/2250 BC, if not earlier.  Even then however, in addition to the constant reworking of sands through local processes the machair is subject to reworking by ‘dune-drift’, in other words major storm activity.  Dating of carbonate sands, where accompanied by organic material, has revealed concentrations of sand argued as the result of significant dune-drift.  Several of these concentrations have been identified through the history of the Hebridean machair, the most significant of which, it has been suggested, dating 5800 to 4200 BP (4800 to 2800 BC).  This particular period has been argued as “one of the most notable episodes of drift in the Outer Hebrides, as well as elsewhere on the coast of north-west Europe” (Gilbertson et al. 1999, 463).  
It is doubtful that the machair as it is exists today is entirely modern in origin.  However, the machair (or machairs) of the past are likely to have been frequently and dramatically subject to modification by aeolian action and significantly less stable than at present.  The machairs of the past - including those of the Neolithic - are likely to have been a dynamic and constantly changing component of the landscape.  After initial founding events of sand deposition around 8700 BP/7600 BC (W. Ritchie 1979) the calcareous sands of the machair would have been constantly reforming, featuring “spasmodic input, storage and re-cycling” (Gilbertson et al. 1999, 465).   It was not until around 3800 BP/2250 BC that these sands became especially stable, although further instability is undoubtedly a key factor in determining the preservation of so much later archaeology within this landscape feature.  Wind-blown sands would have quickly formed over abandoned settlement remains and may perhaps even have been a deciding factor in their abandonment.  
The machair during the Neolithic would have been a rapidly changing feature of the landscape.  Importantly such changes, in contrast to most of the previous elements of the environment discussed, would probably have been perceptible to the inhabitants of these islands during the Neolithic.  
Summary
I have tried, after Braudel, to present a history for the environment in the Outer Hebrides.  I have considered the main components of the Hebridean landscape and discussed their origins and developments, and attempted to provide an impression of the chronology and character of the natural world during the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides.  However, unlike Braudel’s history, this does not provide a longue durée against which human history takes place.  Many aspects of the region are to some extent determined by the slow, and long-term history of geological and glacial processes that occurred thousands, indeed millions of years before our human history begins.  The mountains, hills and sea all provide constants against which, we might argue, the human history of these islands takes place, Ingold’s ‘baseline of permanence’.  Yet, as we saw in the second section of this thesis concerning monuments, these ‘constants’ still provide active components in the perceptions, the world-views, of the communities who built them, and as such would be subject to changing interpretations.
I have been interested in the more dramatic developments in the Hebridean environment, developments that would have been observed - and in some cases perhaps even brought about - by people in their practical engagements with this natural world.  Woodlands would have begun to decline long before the first human took an axe or fire to them, around the same time that peat began to rise out of the numerous still, freshwater lochs found in the poorly-draining local geology.  
However, human presence in the region during the Neolithic - and arguably earlier - accelerated this inevitable process and by the end of the Neolithic the Hebridean landscape would have been quite different to that of fifteen hundred to two thousand years earlier.  During this time a new and different kind of peat to that found around the loch edges began to spread across the landscape.  A mixture of this blanket peat formation and the increasing human need for timber, fuel and land caused already small woodlands to be reduced to small, isolated pockets.  The west coasts of the region, the primary focus for settlement in Later Prehistory through to the present, would then have consisted of wet, lowland plains, now lost to rising sea-levels and an advancing shoreline.  These, however, were periodically and spectacularly bombarded by Atlantic storms, moving around the sensitive sandy plains that formed their edge.
The forms of dwelling discussed in the first section would have been closely related to this history, and both the environment and the people of this time would have significantly influenced each other.  Peat formation and reductions in woodland would have required new and different interactions with the world yet both these may have been exaggerated by more intensive human use of the landscape and changing ways of life.  At Eilean Domhnuill, Armit has suggested that the periodic flooding of the loch waters around the islet settlement were exacerbated by human impacts on the loch catchment, including exploitation of the soils and a reduction in trees (Armit 1992).  Analysis of hearth remains through the sequence at the site also suggest a reduction in the availability of timber through a shift from wood to peat as the main source of fuel (M. Church pers. comm.).  Lomax has suggested that the increased significance of pastoralism in western Lewis would have exacerbated naturally occurring landscape changes brought about by increased oceanicity in the region (Lomax 1997, 245-7).
The history I have provided in this final section of the thesis may  be criticised for the people-less account it presents, a history without humans.  However, as one of three broader histories of this region during the Neolithic, I believe the loch sediment cores, macro-fossils tree remains and inter-tidal peat profiles provide as much of a glimpse about the Hebridean world during the Neolithic as the pots and tombs upon which our archaeologies have traditionally dwelt.  This section has shown that the Outer Hebrides was a world that was undergoing dramatic changes and I believe such change are, I would argue, closely related to the settlement and monument histories provided in the previous two sections.  This is not to propose environmental determinism, but rather the close symbiosis between people and their world during the Hebridean Neolithic.  
 
 
Figure 11.8 Summary of vegetation developments and charcoal concentrations for principal environmental sites mentioned in the text (stippled = dates estimated)  



Chapter 12
Conclusion: The Hebridean world during the Neolithic

I have attempted to provide, after Braudel, an island history for the Outer Hebrides during the Neolithic.  This island history has considered the various archaeological evidences we have for this period according to the three temporal scales proposed by Braudel in his The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean world in the age of Philip II (1973; 1974): the histoire événementielle of events and individuals which I related to settlement, the moyenne durée of social institutions and traditions which I considered in terms of the megalithic monuments of this time and the longue durée of the environment and environmental change.  Before discussing these individual histories I want to summarise the findings from each.
The settlement history
I began with a settlement history for the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides.  Examining the handful of available sites I tried to reconstruct the character of life during this period.  Throughout the fifteen hundred years covering ‘the Neolithic’ this lifestyle appeared to involve some degree of mobility, probably involving movement with domesticated animals, and perhaps on a seasonal basis.  Alongside this pastoral dimension, there is evidence for some degree of arable agriculture through the cultivation of barley.  However, this does not appear to have been a subsistence crop and its cultivation would probably have been small-scale and occasional.  Wild resources, though used, are surprisingly lacking at most of the sites though this highlights broader questions about the nature of preservation and abandonment for different wild and domesticated foodstuffs in archaeological contexts (see G. Jones 2000). 
In relation to this lifestyle, settlement would seem to have been short-lived, perhaps specifically informed by the modes of subsistence just summarized, resulting in a series of poorly defined sites comprised of only minimal architectural features such as scatterings of postholes and stakeholes, and brief lengths of walling, as well as shallow pits, hearths and scatters of ash and midden material.  These residues are characterised by only short-term attentions to place, occupation concentrated in time and space that would seem to have held only a limited and transient significance to the communities that built and used them, not unlike the nature of settlement in the Mesolithic outlined in chapter 2.  However, I also identified sites that do not fit this pattern, chiefly the sites of Alt Chrisal on Barra and Eilean Domhnuill on North Uist.  At these two sites settlement was anticipated with the preparation of a specific locale and maintained through its repeated occupation over hundreds of years, although in quite different ways at each.  Both sites featured much greater evidence for architecture than at the other sites from the region, although the character of occupation was broadly similar with individual phases at each also represented by relatively transient structures.  However, the deposition of materials at these places verged on ostentatious and it would be difficult to deny the almost ceremonial attention that was invested in these locales over time.  
I argued that these sites could be seen to reflect an increasing significance of boundaries through this period.  These boundaries were not just architectural, although this was one important element, but could also be seen in the kinds of materials found there and in the quantities deposited.  At Eilean Domhnuill a quite restricted range of heavily decorated vessels were found amounting to over 22,000 sherds, along with other decorated objects, polished stone axes, and a number of saddle querns.  Cereal grains were also recovered, again in large quantities, and the relationship between cereals, ceramics and pottery decoration would appear to be significant at this one site.  Although activity was perhaps less concentrated at Alt Chrisal, the site also seems to embody a particularly elaborate attention to place.  At both sites we can see an increase in the role and use of boundaries with time.  At Eilean Domhnuill this resulted in the orchestration of access to the site through an increasingly sophisticated and elaborate causeway and entrance.  The construction and use of boundaries, however, was not by any means restricted to the settlement sites and we can see from out next history, the history of monuments in the region, that the establishment of boundaries was integral to the development of traditions in monument construction.
The monument history
In the earliest monuments from this region, the relatively open and accessible chambered cairns, boundaries do not seem to be important.  I argued that in these examples, influenced by comparable sites in south-west Scotland and restricted to only a few examples, the accessibility of their location and form represented a relatively utilitarian function for these monuments, primarily though not exclusively concerned with the deposition of the dead.  With time however the form and location of the Hebridean chambered cairns changes, as did the needs they served.  We can see through a shift in architecture and the use of this architecture in establishing boundaries within the fabric of the monument, that their builders were becoming increasingly concerned with controlling access to the monument interior.  
These places were, as has long been noted for other monuments in Britain at this time, becoming as much social places for the living as they were places for depositing the dead.  This observation is perhaps exemplified in the long-term, punctuated burial process proposed by Lindsay Scott for Unival.  Whilst such burial practices would initially have concerned the preparation of the deceased for the transition from life to death, this would likely have been a highly public affair worked into the other ceremonies and rites of the living.  With a new role for the monuments new architectural grammars emerged, concerned with insulating and containing the processes of decay and the potentially harmful powers of the dead.  Although the landscape location of the chambered cairns to some extent reflects these new forms of architecture - the more restricted forms frequently located in more restricted geographical locations with an equally restrictive range of landscape references - I have argued that the sites were actually located in relatively accessible locations probably related to the kinds of mobility that their economy and subsistence demanded.  There was an immediacy to these monuments that demanded an accessible location, situated within the existing scheme of landscape references of the people who built them.    
In the later sites the social role of these monuments had arguably superseded their original function as tombs and the heavily restricted range of forms, notably at the large round cairns of Barpa Langass and Marrogh on North Uist and Loch a’ Bharp on South Uist now clearly could not accommodate the growing audiences that were required of them, despite attempts to do so through the erection of accompanying standing stones and the construction of more elaborate peristaliths.  Neither could a proliferation in monument construction, as perhaps suggested by the concentration of over twenty such monuments on North Uist alone, and eventually a new form of monument was required.
I have argued that such a form was provided by the stone circle and initially these were to reflect an elaboration of existing monumental principles within the region.  Four stone circles are known on North Uist and these individually reflect the location of nearby chambered cairns, new forms integrated within an existing cosmological framework.  However, a series of sites on the west coast of Lewis points to an altogether new series of references.  I have suggested that Callanish and its surrounding monuments reference in form the architectural principles involved in the large monument complexes of the Boyne and Orkney and its location, centrally located on the sea route between these two places, may suggest more than technological and ideological connections between them.  
In many studies it would be apt to provide a backdrop for these archaeological narratives, supplying an account of the geographical and environmental canvases against which these particular histories were painted.  However, a close inspection of the rich environmental evidence from this region means that, like Braudel, we must seek a more dynamic role for these ‘conditions’.  In this sense I have tried to make the environment an active element of the histories I am trying to write, as active as the histories provided by the settlement evidence and monumental architecture.     
The environmental history
The period of interest from 4000 BC to 2500 BC in the Outer Hebrides is defined by a series of quite subtle yet ultimately significant landscape changes.  Some of these changes would certainly have been perceptible to the human inhabitants of the region and may even have in some way been brought about, or intensified, by them.  The environment of this region has, I argued, been shaped primarily by its long-term geological history - with a relatively uniform geology and only limited glacial action - and its oceanic location.  This has resulted in a loch-dotted landscape dominated by shallow, low mineral soils.  These soils would originally have been able to support relatively large areas of woodland and scrub but with time the soils became increasingly saturated and peat began to expand out of the lochs, consuming the hazel and willow vegetation that would have grown around these low lying area. 
The natural destruction of woodland species would have been accompanied by the increasing human use of the landscape, possibly from the Mesolithic period but most certainly during our period of interest.  Trees were felled for timber - as a building material and as a source for fuel - but also as part of an increasing management of the landscape.  The growth of particular plants was encouraged whilst others would have been adversely affected through increased grazing and with time an increased importance for arable agriculture.  Gradually woodlands became restricted to small pockets, predominantly in sheltered valleys, and a new, different kind of peat slowly began to form across the landscape, influenced by a combination of natural, anthropogenic and climatic factors.  
Blanket peat may have been the main agent responsible for the lack of woodland that characterises most of the region today, though would not have been the sole factor.  However, continuous human pressure combined with natural developments and the oceanic climate all conspired to limit the regeneration of the trees.  As well as these changes upon the land, the island setting of the region also brought about fundamental and dynamic developments.  In contrast to most of Scotland the sea-levels here were rising and although this was a relatively slow process, these developments may have been perceptible within folk memory.  However, much more significant would be the movements and evolution of the sandy coastal plains that adorn the west coasts of this region.  In later periods this landscape feature was to provide the basis for settlement and agriculture, certainly providing the primary focus for later prehistoric settlement, but in this period it would have been less stable, subject to constant change and movement.  It has been argued that from 5800 to 4200 BP, the mid-fifth millennium to the early third millennium BC, the Outer Hebrides experienced one of its most dramatic periods of sand drift, influenced by increased storm activity in the Atlantic waters off the west coast of the region.
This history then presents a series of developments that would not have merely provided a backdrop to our human history of the region.  The reduction of woodland species, the rising of sea and loch levels, the spread of peat out of the lochs and across the landscape and the shifting sand plains of the coast would all have featured significantly in the lives of the people of this region during the Neolithic. These developments would have been in the foreground of human dwelling in the world.  
 
An island history
Given the emphasis I have tried to place on the environment, an important aspect of our history concerning the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides must be the nature of the archaeology in relation to its setting, particularly in relation to its island setting.  Whilst the decision to focus on the Outer Hebrides for my research was largely dictated by the modern political boundary of the Western Isles local authority, this political boundary itself has largely been determined by the natural boundaries inherent in the archipelago.  It cannot be denied that island chains provide convenient spatial extents when determining a study area but equally one cannot deny the range of connections that extend beyond coastlines, and islands can no longer be regarded as bounded laboratories for studying cultural phenomena in isolation (Broodbank 1993; 2000; Warren 1997; Robb 2001; Cooney 2004).
During the Mesolithic period of western Scotland, which I outlined in chapter 2, it was apparent that people were highly mobile and this mobility involved if not required movements across the sea.  It is undeniable that the ability, technology and desire to traverse extensive stretches of water existed during the Mesolithic and it would be difficult to deny a similar situation for our period of interest.  The arrival of domesticated plants and animals within the region demonstrates that some degree of exchange and interaction if not population movement took place between the Outer Hebrides and mainland Scotland during the Neolithic period.  Specific archaeological evidence for the means of this mobility is currently lacking, although it almost certainly would have involved log or hide boats (Cooney 2004, 147).  A number of log boats dating to the Neolithic period have been found preserved in marine deposits in northern Ireland (Fry 2000) and whilst there are no Neolithic examples from Scotland, two Mesolithic examples from the River Carron and Friarton demonstrate that this technology already existed (Mowat 1996).  We can presume then that the technology and ability to navigate the waterways within and around the Outer Hebrides were available during the Neolithic, supported by a range of evidences that suggest some degree of connection between the Outer Hebrides and the wider Neolithic world.  
Connections 
The clearest evidence for interaction between the Outer Hebrides and beyond is provided by the discovery of exotic lithic materials within the region.  Two bloodstone flakes were found during the excavations at Rubh a’ Charnain Mhoir (Finlayson in Downes and Badcock 1998), a material that could only have come from the island of Rum, whilst several stone axes from the region were made from porcellanite, a stone source quarried from one of two sources in Northern Ireland (Sheridan 1986; Cooney 2000). 
However, such connections are not only evident in the materiality of the archaeological record.  We might also make inferences of contact and/or population movement through particular forms of monument and material culture which, despite local construction or manufacture exhibit strong parallels with areas further afield.  The architecture of Geirisclett chambered cairn on North Uist is clearly derived from a style of monument construction prolific in the Irish Sea zone, the Clyde cairn, with similar references evident in the architecture of Clettraval chambered cairn (Henley 2004).  Likewise, the pottery from these two monuments - including partially decorated and collared round based jars and bowls - share a number of affinities with the Beacharra tradition of ceramics from south-west Scotland (J.G. Scott 1969).  Displaying connections from an altogether different direction, Unstan-type vessels found at a number of the settlement sites from the Outer Hebrides are unmistakably influenced by similar vessels from the Orkney archipelago, despite being manufactured locally (W.L. Scott 1942b).  Cultural connections therefore evidently extended beyond the Outer Hebrides to both northern and south-west Scotland during the Neolithic period.  
It is clear then that the boundaries provided by the shoreline of the Outer Hebrides were not fixed during the Neolithic, with the communities of this period able to negotiate the difficult waters of the Minch in order to interact with communities from the Scottish mainland and even further afield.  It is difficult however to speculate on the frequency of such mobility or the motivations which lay behind them.  Telford has suggested that mobility in the Neolithic of western Scotland not only reflected a continuity of comparable motivations from the Mesolithic period (discussed in chapter 2) but were in fact both “biologically and economically imperative” (2002, 299).  To recap, Telford has suggested that long-distance mobility during the Mesolithic period, as signified by the distribution of artefacts made from particular lithic sources, represents the efforts of Mesolithic groups to establish and maintain mating networks (Telford 2002, 295) along the western Scottish seaboard.  Telford argues that the continuity of such patterns of mobility in the Neolithic period reflects the limited agricultural potential of land in western Scotland and the continued importance of mobile economic strategies, emphasising wild resources but including some degree of transhumance (Telford 2002, 309).
In the face of the Neolithic evidence from the Outer Hebrides I find Telford’s argument persuasive, although I would dispute the extent to which such patterns were geographically or economically determined.  Domesticated animals, particularly sheep, provided an important component of Neolithic subsistence and pastoralism would have influenced both the timing and locality of movements within the landscapes of the Outer Hebrides.  However, we could also argue that movement with domesticated animals represented some degree of continuity with earlier Mesolithic practices through the requirements of being in particular parts of the landscape at particular times of the year.  Cereals, though seemingly less significant, would have required a longer-term attention to specific places although there is no reason why this could not have been incorporated into longer term and more mobile economic strategies (Whittle 1997).  
For the Neolithic communities of the Outer Hebrides the sea not only provided a means of connection to other places, it also provided an important economic resource.  Isotopic analyses from western Scotland suggests a dramatic shift in the Neolithic diet towards terrestrial foods (Schulting and Richards 2002) whilst evidence for marine resources at the Neolithic sites of western Scotland is scarce.  However, for the Outer Hebrides this might largely be attributed to problems of taphonomy with acidic soils limiting the preservation of bone.  The alkaline soils of Northton, however, preserved a sizeable animal bone assemblage with both marine and terrestrial resources represented, hinting at an economy that included hunting, herding and fishing (Finlay 1984, 49).  It is probable then that the sea and its fruits were significant in the economic strategies of these island-dwelling communities and whilst I do not support the economic determinism apparent in Telford’s argument, fish, birds, sea mammals and shellfish would all have provided valuable supplements to terrestrial sources of protein.
We can perhaps, after Andrew Jones’s study of subsistence in the Orcadian Neolithic (1996, 295), provide some degree of temporality to this mobility with a two-fold process of hunting and gathering in the summer and winter months, and farming (for want of a better term) in spring and autumn.  According to Jones, for the Neolithic communities of Orkney spring involved the planting of crops and movement of cattle and sheep into the uplands for summer pasturage as well as lambing and calving.  Activity in the summer months would have concentrated on the hunting of coastal birds, seals and perhaps also red deer, along with the gathering of wild fruits and shellfish.  Autumn would have seen the harvesting and processing of crops along with the movement of livestock to the coastal lowlands where individuals were selected for slaughter, whilst efforts in winter would have concentrated on the hunting of migratory wildfowl and seabirds along with the culling of young domesticates, supplemented by grain stored from the autumn harvest.  
This pattern would certainly seem to be supported by the evidence from the Outer Hebrides.  Evidence of both wild and domesticated resources was present at all sites where preservation permitted, with sheep teeth from both Northton and Eilean Domhnuill indicative of the winter culling of juvenile animals.  Interestingly this character of mobility is a way of life that continued in the region until relatively recently: Martin Martin outlines in great detail the continued importance of wild resources for the communities of the Outer Hebrides in the seventeenth century (Martin 1999) whilst seasonal transhumance provided the foundation for crofting life in the region until the mid-twentieth century (Stewart 1996).  Whilst anachronistic analogies should be considered with caution, the resources available to Neolithic communities of the Outer Hebrides were not significantly different to those of recent history, although the scales of production undoubtedly were.
I have tried to argue then for some degree of mobility within the context of Neolithic settlement of the Outer Hebrides, a mobility that was probably task-specific and related to the procurement and maintenance of certain resources including lithics and marine and terrestrial, domesticated and wild food sources.  This character of mobility, what Whittle has referred to as embedded or tethered mobility (1997, 21), featured a circulating pattern of movement tied to the temporality of the seasons and punctuated by more prolonged and repetitive activity at specific locales (including both monuments and built dwellings).  I have attempted to consider an island character to this way of life without emphasising the boundaries of the archipelago provided by the shoreline.  However, despite the fluidity of settlement that this model presents, and an open reading of islands and their boundaries, we can also observe a developing sense of insularity through the establishment of strong regional traditions of practice.
Misconnections 
Whilst we must guard against the determinism of viewing islands as bounded and isolated places, there is convincing evidence that the physical boundedness of islands and island groups may in some cases and at some times come to influence social and cultural boundaries.  The monument types and pottery styles which are dominant in the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides are ultimately local forms reflecting indigenous variations of a broader theme.  
A strong regional identity for the Outer Hebrides would seem to emerge relatively early in the Neolithic period.  Clettraval chambered cairn on North Uist, I have argued (see chapter 8 and Henley 2004), can only be interpreted as an attempt to build a passage grave but using a technique of monument construction informed by the Clyde cairn tradition.  However, the significance invested in distancing the tomb interior from the outside world - through architecture and practice - as well as in placing the monument away from the coast reflects a significant departure from the motivations which lay behind Clyde cairn construction.  The aim or function of the architectural form provided by the Hebridean cairn may have been comparable to its mainland cousins but its manifestation was ultimately local.  Similarly, the form and decoration of the ceramics known as Hebridean Ware, characterised by heavily decorated, deep carinated bowls and jars, are sufficiently distinct from ceramics elsewhere in Scotland to be granted their own nomenclature (Armit and Finlayson 1995; 1996).  
It is possible that the conceptual boundaries inherent in this regional identity, as well as the material boundaries that it comprises, were exacerbated if not informed by the island setting of the Outer Hebrides.  What is interesting is that the ability to communicate with the broader world was possible during this time but was largely rejected, with mobility focussed on short-distance movements within the islands rather than long distance movements off them.  This idea is reinforced when we examine the regional distribution of monuments and variability in location, architecture and form.
It was clear from my visits to most of the chambered cairns in the Outer Hebrides (excluding those from Barra and one from Boreray, a small island off North Uist), that there was some degree of variability across the region and this was especially noticeable in the location of the cairns (see figure 7.17).  The majority of cairns on North Uist, for example, were located on hills – particularly hill sides or hill bottoms - constructing a controlled and restricted sense of place at these cairns.  On Lewis, however, cairns tended to have very open settings reflected or indeed determined by their location on hill tops, within plain or open contexts or at the coast.  This regional patterning is especially apparent if we consider the proportion of the landscape visible from individual cairns (see figure 7.20).  Here, we can see that all the Lewis cairns were situated to have expansive views, with visibility from individual cairns ranging from 325°-360° of the landscape.  On North Uist however the views were significantly more controlled with this ranging from 181°-360° and almost two-thirds of the sites located to have views of between 181° and 288°.  On South Uist the degree of control is even more noted featuring the most restricted views for any of the cairns from the Outer Hebrides (ranging from 73°-288°.  These patterns of location and visibility can to some extent be explained as a result of variability in monument form.  For example, the two coastally located cairns of North Uist are both Clyde forms.  However, if we consider that chambered cairns were deliberately located to orchestrate particular views or to construct a certain sense of place then this variability provides an important insight into the motivations of the cairn builders.  If this is the case then we can perhaps see some regional variability in those mentalités collectives which informed the location and form of megalithic structures.  
This is perhaps nowhere more evident than in the concentration of monuments on North Uist.  With 19 chambered cairns, just under half of those from the region as a whole, it has been observed by several archaeologists that the number of cairns on North Uist is unusually high, with such a focus unlikely to reflect research biases or preferential qualities of preservation (Kinnes 1985; Armit 1990b; Sharples 1992; Telford 2002).  Why then were a large number of monuments built on North Uist?  In a study of monument distribution in the Clyde, Isobel Hughes has suggested that islands and peninsulas often provided a focus for chambered cairns because they were marginal to the everyday locales of settlement and farming (Hughes 1988, 45).  Hughes argues that the high concentration of monuments on the island of Arran reflects continuity in the significance of this island from Mesolithic ‘routines of seasonal exploitation’, but may also be influenced by the centrality and visual distinctiveness of the island.  Indeed, Hughes concludes that this was a ‘place for monuments’ (Hughes 1988, 52).  Chris Scarre has taken this latter notion forward and considered the symbolic importance of islands in relation to the location of Neolithic monuments on them (Scarre 2002).  Scarre considers the liminality of the coast and its role in the perceived distinction between land and sea.  Islands as places of the sea would have provided strong metaphorical associations in cosmologies which emphasised the oppositions of land, sea and sky (Helms 1988; Bradley 2000) and the transformative nature of the land/sea boundary (Pollard 1996; Scarre 2002, 36-7).  However, whilst Hughes and Scarre provide new ways of reading coastal monumental traditions both their examples largely concern the relationship between islands and the mainland.  Such an argument does not help us to understand the significance attached to specific islands within an archipelago.
Noting the atypical concentration of monuments on North Uist, Sharples proposed that the distribution of chambered cairns in the Outer Hebrides could not be related to the agricultural potential of soils, as had been suggested on Lewis by Henshall (1972, 118).  Rather, he argued that poor soils in the region and on North Uist in particular would have led to increasing pressure on resources; the construction of ever larger chambered tombs, the establishment of settlement on island within lochs and the development of richly-decorated ceramics symbolising an increasing pressure between communities (Sharples 1992, 327).  The impact of external pressures is also implied in Telford’s work (2002) where North Uist represents one of several regional concentrations of chambered cairns.  For Telford, these concentrations served as ritual centres, reflecting an earlier, Mesolithic diversification of social ideology but uniquely Neolithic through localised social and economic responses to the growing significance of agriculture (Telford 2002, 310).  
A recent paper examining the environmental context of Eilean Domhnuill (Mills et al. 2004) would seem to support both Sharples and Telford.  Analysis of loch sediment deposits in Loch Olabhat, the loch within which Eilean Domhnuill was built, has shown increasing human impacts on the loch catchment during the Neolithic period with turf-stripping, cultivation, and possibly also over-stocking of animals causing significant degradation of local soils.  Ian Armit has even suggested that the islet setting of Eilean Domhnuill might come to provide a microcosm of the particular pressures evident on the island of North Uist itself; the continual response of its occupants to rising loch-levels (through deterioration of the loch catchment) reflecting wider environmental changes affecting the island such as rising sea levels and the formation of blanket peat (Armit 2001).  What is clear is that human-derived impacts on the North Uist landscape, together with more widespread environmental changes which I outlined in chapter eleven, would have put considerable pressure on the ability to maintain prevalent economic strategies, as well as invest in novel and more time-intensive strategies such as the growing of crops.  
I do not, as I have attempted to argue in chapter ten, wish to propose the environmental context of the Outer Hebrides as the determining factor in those social histories which unfold. The strong local character of the archaeology on North Uist must be read within a wider context of emerging regional traditions of monument construction and ceramic form (Kinnes 1985; Sharples 1992; Barclay and Brophy forthcoming).  However, the scale and intensity of these traditions vary from place to place and are clearly more marked in some places than in others.  North Uist, arguably along with Arran and Rousay on Orkney (Hughes 1988; Telford 2002, figure 8), is evidently one such place.  
I think an underlying factor behind the concentration of chambered cairns on North Uist is its location within the kinds of mobility and interaction that Telford has proposed.  If we consider maritime mobility within the Neolithic involving a series of punctuated journeys along the western Scottish coastline (see Cooney 2004, 147-50) then the most likely route of contact between the Outer Hebrides and mainland Scotland would have been across the Little Minch between the north-western tip of Skye and the eastern coast of North Uist.  Indeed, this continues to be the most direct way of getting to the region by boat today (figure 12.1).  
 
Figure 12.1 Current ferry routes operated by Caledonian MacBrayne along the western Scottish seaboard (http://www.calmac.co.uk/getimage.aspx.ID-37023.gif)
The presence of the only Clyde cairns from the region on North Uist demonstrates early connections between North Uist and south-west Scotland yet the early development of regionally specific ceramics forms and settlement location, as at Eilean Domhnuill, show that North Uist was quick to turn its back on other Neolithic traditions of practice.  Could the proliferation of Neolithic monuments on North Uist then reflect the concerted expression of a localised identity at the threshold for contact with other peoples from other places?  As Sharples has argued that the increasingly bounded Neolithic archaeology on North Uist reflects a symbolic response of its communities to increasing environmental pressure, we could argue that the proliferation of such bounded archaeology on this one island reflects the efforts of these communities to endure or negotiate such pressures in the face of contact with the ‘outside’ world.  
In this context I think we can move on from Hughes’ idea of islands as ‘place[s] for monuments’ (Hughes 1988, 52) or Scarre’s emphasis on the liminality of islands (Scarre 2002) to thinking of North Uist as a central place; one in which a proliferation of monument construction along with the development of local, bounded forms of settlement and material culture relates to everyday attempts to negotiate the particular stresses provided by island life.  Such a reading forces us to challenge some of the distinctions inherent in traditional readings of, and distinctions between, settlement and monument contexts.  The chambered cairns of North Uist were undoubtedly social places as well as contexts for the burial of the dead whilst the settlement record provided by sites such as Eilean Domhnuill and Eilean an Tighe were clearly more than secular contexts for occupation.  The notion of boundaries reflected in the settlement, monuments and material culture of the Outer Hebrides is one that I have tried to attached particular significance to in this thesis and I think a consideration for boundaries helps us to understand the concentration of Neolithic archaeology on North Uist.  It is at the junction of two different conceptual categories where efforts are most concerted in distinguishing between those categories.  With North Uist providing the most likely interface between the Outer Hebrides and the Neolithic world beyond its shores, the expression of this identity is likely to have been even more acute.  
However, this strong, and ultimately insular, expression of identity comes to lose its significance by the later Neolithic period (after 3000 BC).  Settlement on islets is ultimately abandoned and we witness a reduction in the use of heavily decorated ceramics.  There is also a reduced significance attached to the construction of chambered cairns, though those that had been built remain significant places, featuring continued use into the Early Bronze Age period.  Those social systems which had come to emphasise insularity were failing and required the opening up of contact and communication with the Scottish mainland.  This can best be seen in the emergence of stone circles within the region, not only representing the opening up of contact with other regions through the adoption of a universal and familiar monumental form, but also opening up ceremonial activity through replacing the increasingly bounded spaces of the chambered cairns with an altogether more accessible monumental form.  
On North Uist stone circles were incorporated into existing concepts of place that had been significant in the situation and setting of the chambered cairns (Henley in press).  However, we ultimately see a shift away from North Uist as the focal point for monumental construction in the region with the concentration of stone circles and standing stones around Callanish on Lewis.  Telford has argued that Later Neolithic monumental ‘centres’ such as that at Callanish “were built to facilitate both local and wider social gatherings” (Telford 2002, 309), something that had not been possible at the chambered cairns.  The relative absence of later Neolithic settlement sites in western Scotland suggests a continued emphasis on transient settlement, probably involving mobile subsistence strategies with the exploitation of both wild and domesticated resources.  Indeed, Telford argues that the location of the larger monumental centres of the Later Neolithic period specifically related to the continued importance of wild resources, referencing the cyclical and seasonal nature of such subsistence strategies through their location in places which provided sheltered anchorage (Sharples 1992, 327; Telford 2002, 309) and perhaps also through the specific astronomical references in their architectural forms (Curtis 1988). 
The shifting focus of monumental construction from North Uist to Lewis in the later Neolithic period also denotes a shift in the broader direction of external contacts within the region towards northern Scotland, notably the Orkney archipelago, and the east coast of Ireland.  I have argued that the Callanish monument in particular exhibits strong connections with the monumental complexes of Orkney and Brú na Bóinne in Ireland, with the recovery of a Grooved Ware vessel from the chambered cairn of Unival on North Uist (WL Scott 1948; Henshall 1972, 309) implying that such connections were not restricted to Lewis.
Ours then is a dynamic island history, highlighting a number of paradoxes involved in the study of islands.  The archaeological record for the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides demonstrates that its islands were not always bounded places, closed-off from other worlds through the borders of the sea.  Yet I hope to have shown that at certain times and with certain conditions – social, cultural, historical and environmental – the shorelines of this region encouraged the development of a fiercely Hebridean identity, with localised forms of monument, settlement and material culture.  In an age of theoretical debate which has come to emphasis agency and the role of the individual within the archaeological narratives that are written, we should not be afraid to acknowledge that islands are sometimes difficult places to live which present unique and challenging contexts for archaeological study.  This is not to say that island communities are ultimately determined by the island contexts in which they live, although the boundaries inherent in islands – whether physical or conceptual – undoubtedly influence the character of island dwellers; to quote one archaeologist “the funniest things happen on islands” (Frances Healy pers. comm.). 
A total history
I finally want to consider the relative success of those three different, yet connected histories - summarised above - which I originally set out to explore in chapter one.  Has this exercise worked or do these histories appear, like Thomas has suggested for Braudel’s The Mediterranean, “rather like a wedding cake, in which each of the three tiers is revolving at different speeds” (J. Thomas 1996a, 35)?  Thomas’s criticism is to some extent understandable.  In The Mediterranean Braudel only briefly attempted to bring together the three histories he presented (Braudel 1973, 1238-44).  But it would seem his lack of synthesis was deliberate.  Braudel was attempting to view the Mediterranean through different perspectives to provide what he called a ‘total history’.  For Braudel these views could not be integrated into a whole as each provided a different perspective upon the subject of the historian: “my favourite vision of history is as a song for many voices…reality will not always adapt conveniently into a harmonizing setting for solo and chorus” (Braudel 1973, 1238).  These three histories were ultimately connected without need of synthesis because they each formed part of the same subject or history, to return to Thomas’ metaphor they were each ultimately derived from the same, single wedding cake: for Braudel the Mediterranean during the age of Philip II.  As Braudel noted, the number of tiers to this ‘cake’ was limitless: “there are not merely two or three measures of time, there are dozens, each of them attached to particular history” (Braudel 1973, 1238).  
The selection of these three particular histories by Braudel was upon the basis of three different temporalities.  In this sense Braudel’s history demanded each tier to revolve at different speeds.  I think this history, or rather these histories, work.  They may be moving at different speeds but that was the point to Braudel’s exercise: that the job of the historian was to acknowledge and illuminate these other, hitherto neglected speeds.  Without doubt this is perhaps even more pertinent to archaeology than history and particularly the realm of the prehistorian who is faced with relating the lived out evidence from the archaeological record to a general absolute chronology punctuated by a handful of radiocarbon dates.  It is only in exceptional circumstances, as has been possible with dendrochronology, that we can accurately relate our chronologies to our archaeology.  Braudel’s ideas afford us the opportunity to think about the materials we are faced with interpreting from different angles.  And despite the three different perspectives proposed by Braudel, each is essentially a human history.  His study of the environment is a study of the limitations and opportunities (and not just the former as widely suggested) of the natural world upon the people of the Mediterranean.  His social and economic history concerns the enduring, yet still flexible institutions that provided the backdrop to the political world of traditional history, whilst his political history itself still commands significant attention, though he ultimately dismisses it as ephemeral; “the headlines of the past” (Braudel 1973, 1243).
Perhaps archaeology is ideally situated to adopt or attempt a Braudellian approach because we lack the political history that he had found so problematic.  The settlement evidence I examined, for example, like the events of Braudel’s history are ‘ephemeral yet moving occurrences’ that have to be informed by a broader history of social traditions.  How else are we to understand the scatterings of hearths and pits at Bharpa Carinish, a relatively concentrated series of occupations that provide only a brief snapshot from the fifteen hundred year period I have concerned myself with examining.  Similarly, for all the attempt in recent Neolithic studies to champion the role of agency in the construction and use of megalithic monuments, how are we to understand the relatively comparable forms of architecture over this period except as the product of collective destinies; a shared systems of beliefs that required shared forms of material practice.  These may have been articulated in quite particular ways at individual sites but in emphasising difference and individuality we can too easily forget the overriding similarities shared by different monuments across time and space.  The object perhaps is to highlight, as I have attempted, the slow rhythms of change in these forms, rhythms perhaps imperceptible to the people who built these sites but that were so imperative to their ultimate form and use.  
Finally we are left with our environmental history, Braudel’s longue durée.  This, I believe, is an often neglected part of the Neolithic histories we try to write, and where included usually provides a static and timeless backdrop against which human histories unfold.  But I have tried to highlight an environmental history of the Outer Hebrides during the Neolithic which was anything but static or timeless.  In this sense I have moved away from Braudel, although I owe much to his ultimate perspective.  In Braudel’s The Mediterranean he deliberately focussed on the geographical constants of the region, the timeless realities that provided a ‘baseline of permanence’ for the social, economic and political histories he was to write.  His emphasis therefore was on the sea and the mountains, those elements that are as much part of the character of the Mediterranean today as they were during the reign of Philip II.  Such elements were bound to have held a significance to the people that lived their lives there, yet I wanted to highlight a less timeless dimension to the environment of the Outer Hebrides during the Neolithic.  Through this period we have seen gradual changes that would probably not have been perceptible or significant to people, as perhaps with the changing sea-level, rising around a metre and a half during the Neolithic.  Yet there were other, more rapid and observable developments that would have dramatically impacted upon the lives of Neolithic people, such as the seasonal flooding of the lochs, the ever dwindling availability of timber and the evolution of the coastal machair plain.
With these three histories in mind we can perhaps see a different total history to that proposed by Braudel.  Although elements of the longue durée do indeed seem to go unchanged for hundreds if not thousand of years - the baseline of permanence provided by the mountains, hills and to a lesser extent sea - there are aspects of the environment that would have been rapid and abrupt.  The shifting dunes of the machair provide a classic example of this.  A layer of wind-blown dune sand was found in peat 34 metres above sea-level at Greian Head, Barra, dating a major storm event to the late-fourth/early-third millennium BC (Gilbertson et al. 1999, 462-3).  This dramatic storm activity is not only reflected in other environmental evidence from the region but also from further a field in Ireland and the Netherlands.  The landscape was in flux and it was the environment, rather than political history, that provided what Braudel called the ‘headline events’ of the past.  
This can be contrasted with the Neolithic monuments that, though subject to change over the period, endure for hundreds of years.  It is these that best highlight Braudel’s long-term social or structural history; “the history of groups and groupings” (Braudel 1972, 20).  The survival of these large, stone-built monuments into the present, more or less in their original form, seems analogous to the longer-term histories which they reflect, the chambered cairn lasting for eight hundred to a thousand years in the region, though subject to changes in form and function through this time.  These monuments not only transcend the events and groupings of events which characterise the l’histoire événementielle of Braudel’s micro-history but also highlight the long distance contacts evident at this time.  The specific developments I have argued for in monumental architecture may be unique to this region, but they can also be related to more general trends beyond their shores.  The initially form of chambered cairns in the region referenced comparable monuments from south-west Scotland but with time this shifted to an insular variation of monuments from northern Scotland, witnessing an increasing control of monument architecture and location with time.  Ultimately this control could not be sustained and the stone circle replaced the chambered cairn around the early third millennium BC.  This opening up of monument architecture perhaps heralded a re-opening up of contacts and it may be no coincidence that the stone circle emerged in a number of places at broadly similar times.
Finally we are left with the settlement history which I initially related to Braudel’s l’histoire événementielle, what he called “a history of brief, rapid, nervous fluctuations, by definition ultra-sensitive; the least tremor sets all its antennae quivering” (Braudel 19721, 21).  This initially worked if we consider that settlement reflects the lived-out remains of daily life and just as Braudel equated this history to ephemeral micro-scale events we were faced with interpreting, explaining and understanding ephemeral and micro-scale remains, discovered through chance on account of their relative insignificance.  Yet in addition to these brief and transient sites, reflecting fleeting moments in the total history of the Hebridean Neolithic, were two sites that like the monuments transcended these micro-scale events.  In fact these sites were perhaps more enduring than the monuments, not only in the length of occupation and use that they exhibited but also in their monumentalisation and elaboration of aspects of daily life.  At Eilean Domhnuill and Alt Chrisal elements that would not have seemed out of place in the normally ephemeral character of settlement were embellished through an intensity and duration of deposition and, like with the monuments, the boundaries and degree of control experienced at these sites increased.  
With this final history then Braudel’s total history has almost been turned on its head.  In the face of rapid and dramatic environmental developments, and perhaps because of them, the micro-scale of settlement became monumentalised into a constructed arena that endured for centuries.  It was these settlements, and to a lesser extent the monuments, that provided the ‘baseline of permanence’ that Braudel assigned to the mountains and sea of the Mediterranean.  It is perhaps this reversal of Braudel’s three temporalities that argues against accusations of environmental determinism.  Rather each of the three temporalities were inter-related each informing the other.  It is unlikely that the environmental developments noted would have been as significant had human use of the land not been as considerable.  This was certainly noted at Eilean Domhnuill where it has been suggested that human pressure on resources and destabilisation of soils through deforestation and farming may have brought about the fluctuating loch-levels experienced in Loch Olabhat (Mills et al. 2004).  Yet equally we must consider that the increasing role of boundaries at the monument and settlement sites may have been in direct response to the changing world around them, although it is unlikely that they would have comprehended the cause or reason behind these environmental developments.
The human history of the Outer Hebrides during the Neolithic is one that ultimately shows us a world that was becoming increasingly isolated.  Insular or ‘regional’ forms of settlement and monument architecture and material culture emerged at a time when communities had no control of the world around them.  The result was attempts through material culture and practice to control and articulate social interaction and access to particular, valued resources.  Feasting provided perhaps one means for dispelling these changes, or at least the tensions that such changes would seem to have brought about.  Another was provided by the consumption of exotic and prestigious objects, most notably the polished axes that were quite widely deposited in lochs and mires across the region, as well as within the specific locales of settlement sites as at Eilean Domhnuill.  Boundaries in both settlement and monument contexts escalated for centuries until, by the early third millennium BC, these social systems could no longer support themselves.  Initially the chambered cairns came to be replaced by the stone circles, new forms that contained a more accessible architecture and reflected contact with broader worlds than had been suggested by the increasingly insular forms of chambered cairn architecture.  Gradually this was to impact upon settlement as well and it is perhaps no surprise that the bounded islet settlements of the region ceased to be used into the last centuries of the Neolithic and later.

Summary
I hope then to have achieved in this thesis two things.  First I hope to have highlighted the benefits of a Braudellian ontology in the study of prehistory, and secondly to have presented an interesting insight into the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides, a region that clearly demands higher regard in our current British Neolithic studies.  I hope in some way that I have been able to address Bradley’s concerns for the chronological precision required in a Braudelian archaeology (Bradley 1991).  I would be the first to highlight the paucity of absolute dates for the region.  It has been clear through this thesis that we are currently lacking a clear, coherent and accurate chronological framework for understanding the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides.  We currently have only a handful of radiocarbon dates from settlement sites and barely any dates at all from the monuments, although a well-dated body of environmental work is available.  This situation has been compounded by a reluctance to relate the evidence here to comparable, well-dated developments elsewhere or to construct relative sequences in the region.  However, if our study - after Braudel - is of temporalities rather than chronologies, albeit situated within an appreciation for longer term sequences, then we can engage with a multi-scaled study of the prehistoric past.  
Similarly, I hope to have demonstrated that the application of Braudel’s ideas in archaeology does not, as Thomas suggested, restrict the prehistorian to the study of the longue durée (J. Thomas 1996a, 37).  Lacking the written sources of Braudel’s history I have not been able to consider his three temporal scales as originally intended.  However, I hope that each of the histories I have provided has attempted to consider the different evidences from this region according to different temporal perspectives, as different lenses for viewing the Neolithic of the Outer Hebrides.  The result is not only a history which has tried to embrace these different histories or perspectives but one which has perhaps ultimately tried to engage with a whole series of questions concerning how we engage with these specific evidences in our interpretation of the past.  What is the role of the environment in interpretative archaeology?  How should we view and interpret megalithic monuments aside from the traditional emphasis on architecture?  What are the roles of materials and how does their construction, form, use and deposition reflect and inform the world views of the communities that used them?  These are all questions that I have asked of the material remains investigated in the context of this thesis and ones that must be central to our pursuit of the past.
Lastly, I hope through asking such questions I have been able to highlight to the reader a wealthy and important body of evidence for this period that demands further attention.  The quality of evidence produced through recent excavations in the region with modern techniques has been exceptional, suggesting that the questions and issues raised in this thesis result from a corpus of evidence that provides only the tip of the iceberg in terms of what remains to be found.  The landscape developments which have admittedly led to exceptional qualities of preservation have also, however, affected the potential discovery of such finds.  All of the Neolithic settlement sites from the region were found completely by chance, underlying peat, sand or occupation from later periods.  The location of settlement on islands within lochs may provide one avenue for future investigation and the recovery of Neolithic artefacts from a survey of lochs on South Uist by the author in 2000 demonstrates that the settlement evidence for this period need not be completely elusive.  However, one priority for future research must be a greater understanding of the chambered cairns and stone circles from the region.  It is frustrating that with such a density of monuments we have only a limited number of excavated examples to extrapolate our interpretations from.  It is even more disappointing that there is practically no relative or absolute chronological foundation upon which to build these interpretations.  
Such concerns aside, had this thesis examined any other region of the British Isles it is doubtful that the broad spectrum and quality and quantity of evidence would have been available to engage with the issues considered here.  In addition to an unrivalled wealth of environmental work I have benefited from almost a century of archaeological investigation on the islands that has unfortunately received only marginal consideration within the broader Neolithic literature.  If the reader takes one thing from this thesis, I would hope that it is an awareness of the potential presented by the Outer Hebrides to illuminate and add to our current understanding of this period of human history.  

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