Chanonry was John Clyne's last lighthouse.  It stands on the Black Isle, on the East Coast of Scotland, just north of Inverness.  It is a major lighthouse with a white 13 metre tower, was established in 1846, downmanned to a one-man lighthouse in 1900 and automated in 1985.  It has a white  light occulting (cut off) every six seconds.   

When we visit Chanonry Point, we stay only a couple of minutes walk along the beach from the lighthouse in a Camping/Caravan Site, which is ideal not only for visiting the lighthouse, but also for watching the resident school of Bottlenose Dolphins, which can be seen almost every day at one time or other, from the shore directly under the lighthouse.  Nowadays, quite a crowd of people congregate regularly to see these surprisingly large animals leaping, splashing and playing very close to the shore, occasionally tossing a fish about, while any sensible seals keep themselves at a safe distance.  During the course of the day, they cover considerable distances in their search for food – we have seen them far along the northern Aberdeen coast; on one particular occasion, one was breaching regularly, jumping into the air, and landing with a huge splash on his back.  It is believed that this is a technique used to frighten a shoal of fish and drive them to a spot where presumably they become lunch for the rest of the school!  This school has been around for many years.  My mother used to recall going out in the lighthouse boat, and having them come alongside, and stroking them.  Another of her  recollections of Chanonry Point is how much the beach changed from year to year.  She recollects sandy expanses of beach, which after a series of winter storms,  would simply disappear and be covered with shingle, and vice versa.  Seldom did it look the same in the Spring as it had in the preceding Autumn.

An interesting piece of history connected with Chanonry lighthouse relates to a visit by the Commissioners in 1886, when they found that the local time at the lighthouse was about half an hour different from Greenwich Mean Time, a circumstance which must have been caused by the incorrect positioning of the Sun-dial.  Sun-dials were a vital piece of lighthouse equipment, found at all stations.  It was a requirement that at regular intervals, and at least once per week, the Principal Keeper should check the lighthouse timepiece against the sun-dial – in so doing, if the sundial had been correctly positioned, and in the absence of modern technology,  the lighthouse clock could be relied upon to be accurate when keeping the records of weather conditions, passing shipping and even shipwrecks. (see Chanonry Archives)

My grandparents, together with their two youngest children moved here in March 1914.  Tom had recovered sufficiently from polio, and Ina, aged eight, had until then, never been to school.  However,  she settled well, finished her Primary education and moved on to Fortrose Academy,  which she was able to attend for most of the year, with only a few days off due to weather conditions, unlike at many other stations, where children’s attendance was disrupted much more frequently.  While John and his family were at Chanonry, his brother Robert and family were posted to Cromarty lighthouse, not many miles further up the coast, at the northern tip of the Black Isle. The two families had obviously met up from time to time, but in general, their postings had been far apart.  Here at Chanonry and Cromarty, there was more opportunity than had ever before presented itself to meet together, and Ina became very friendly with her cousin Lizzie.  My mother remembered the area with a great deal of affection.

However, there were some difficult times for the family, mainly due to Wartime constrictions. In 1914, at the beginning of the war, it had been proposed by the Admiralty to install a telephone in the Keeper’s house at Chanonry.  Exactly when it was actually installed is uncertain, but by 1918 it was causing problems to the family.  It seems that at the least, the system was being abused, with the telephone being used at all times of the day or night and sometimes unnecessarily, not only by the Military, but by their wives as well.  John Clyne complained that there was no privacy in his own home. (see Chanonry Archives). To make matters worse, at around the same time, the family were asked to give board and lodging to two members of the Military – one of whom turned out to be the local Battery Commander.  This they agreed to do, but the room which had been agreed by the NLB to be allocated to him, apparently did not suit the aforementioned gentleman, who demanded a larger room, facing the sea.  This was agreed but it meant of course, that the two children, who as John Clyne pointed out in a letter to the NLB, were too old to be sharing a bed, being of different sexes, would have been forced to share a very small bedroom. (see Chanonry Archives).  Fairly obviously,  there was personal antagonism between John Clyne and the local Battery Commander, who  seemed to believe that his duties allowed him to require the PLK to report to him each morning, to let him know the state of the lighthouse.  This John Clyne refused to do, pointing out that he would take his orders and report only to the NLB, or the Senior Naval Officer. (see Chanonry archives).    No doubt all parties were pleased and relieved when the war ended and the blackout paint could be removed from off the inside of the lantern panes.

The following year, on 20^th October 1919,  John Clyne completed his final watch at Chanonry before retirng after 24 years of service with the NLB,  and the family moved to Stranraer, where Ina and Tom would finish their schooling and where they would be near to Isa, their eldest daughter.

 Holy Isle