Every summer I am asked, many times, ‘what is it like to live here in winter?’ With the sun warm on my face and the sounds of gulls being carried on a light breeze, I always find it difficult to answer—because in truth, it is like living on an entire different continent. And it happens every year, the season slips by in a blur of people, volunteers, Saturdays and sun and we are spat back out, it’s November, and we are the only ones who remain on the island.

By this point in the year, we are simultaneously looking back over what has been achieved that season whilst also looking forward, as we begin to plan for the year ahead. Meetings on budgets and to-do lists and wish-lists, days tying up loose ends and tidying up from the years’ work. Often, we feel good in November, the absence of people allows us to get on with our work undisturbed, and have order again in the sheds, yards and store room after eight months of spinning many plates.

And then, a storm arrives.

The island is hit by winds gusting a 100mph, the slates on the 150-year-old roofs clatter, the chimneys roar. The prevailing wind on Enlli comes from the South West, meaning that the buildings and trees have hardened to wind from that direction. This November, Storm Claudia came from the East. The wind gathering behind the mountain before gusting over with violent force. We stayed the whole day indoors, and spent most of the night in interrupted sleep. The morning after the storm, we walked around to assess the damages, Emyr with a pen and paper and me with our daughter on my back, still wanting to keep her close in case any loose slates were still hanging on broken roofs.

We began around our home, then the outbuildings, Llofft Nant, Nant and Hendy and then Ty Capel. Twenty minutes into the two hours we spent that day assessing the damages, and the new to-do list, that didn’t exist 24 hours before, was already very long. Gable-end slates that are meter long slabs, peeled off like banana skin; slates ripped off exposing the inside of roofs, missing ridge tiles, guttering blown off and gates shattered to pieces. Plas Bach’s front door had been blown open, a part of the door frame ripped off at the same time.  

No roofers could come over to do any repairs for a week, and so we spent a day trying to make Plas Bach’s roof watertight, as the forecast for the week was more wind and rain – and by some miracle, no internal damage had been done to any of the buildings, yet.

Those storms are the worst, the storms that bring the ceilings down. Leaving the room you have just cleaned and closed for the winter, covered in inches of lime-plaster and dust!  

But these storms are a part of the island’s life, it’s rhythms and the reality of being custodians of buildings, built right at the edge, facing the Irish Sea. This is our seventh winter as Wardens- we have experienced the worst of the weather and seen first hand the extent of the damage that wind does, but thanks to Colin’s reliable boat service, and the Original Roofing Company’s willingness and hard-work, we manage and deal with these unpredictable damages and extensive to-do lists, one storm at a time.
 

If you can, please donate today to support our work, as we take care of the island and it’s infrastructure- against all odd. Every donation goes directly towards caring for Ynys Enlli, for today and for the future. Thank you.