The Catacol Apostles – A Story in Stone and Light
Tucked along the scenic west coast of the Isle of Arran lies a quiet row of cottages with a story as striking as the view behind them. The photograph I took of the Catacol Apostles captures not just a peaceful coastal moment, but a piece of Arran’s layered history – the neat white houses lined up beneath a hillside, gazing out over the waters of the Kilbrannan Sound.
These 12 small cottages, built in the mid-19th century, are known collectively as the “Catacol Apostles.” Each one has a unique upper window shape, a charming detail that folklore says allowed fishermen’s wives to signal to their husbands out at sea – each window pattern acting as a visual signature. Whether that story is myth or truth, the image of these whitewashed cottages facing the sea with quiet resolve evokes a deep sense of connection between land, people, and water.
But there’s a deeper, more somber tale beneath their postcard beauty. The Apostles were built during the Highland Clearances, a time when many tenant farmers across Scotland were forcibly removed from their land to make way for sheep farming. Here in Catacol, families were moved from the fertile glens of the interior – places like Glen Catacol – to this coastal strip, where they were expected to take up fishing. For people who had worked the land for generations, the sea was unfamiliar and unforgiving. Many struggled, and some refused the new way of life, ultimately leaving Arran altogether.
When I framed this photo, I wanted to show more than just the cottages. The wide sweep of the hillside behind them – the very land their builders had once worked – tells part of the story too. And in the distance, the glimmering sea stretches out, a symbol of the hope and hardship these displaced communities faced. Together, the land, water, and cottages hold a kind of quiet resilience – a testament to lives uprooted but not forgotten.
Arran is rich with stories, but the Catacol Apostles always bring me back to the human scale of history – ordinary lives etched into the landscape. Every time I visit, I feel that past ripple through the present, and I hope this photograph lets a little of that story shine through.
