Grimsay (Scottish Gaelic: Griomasaigh) is a tidal island in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland.
Grimsay is the largest of the low-lying stepping-stones which convey the Oitir Mhòr (North Ford) causeway, a five-mile arc of single track road linking North Uist and Benbecula via the western tip of Grimsay. Until it opened in 1960, a ferry linked Carinish (on North Uist) with Gramsdale (on Benbecula), but could only operate at high tide. There was also a ford which could only be crossed close to low water, usually only with a guide. For significant parts of each day the North Ford was too wet to ford and not wet enough to cross by ferry. East of Grimsay lie several smaller islands including Ronay which was inhabited until 1931.
The island's population was 169 as recorded by the 2011 census a drop of over 15% since 2001 when there were 201 usual residents. During the same period Scottish island populations as a whole grew by 4% to 103,702. The main settlements are Baymore (Bàgh Mòr) and Kallin (Ceallan) at the eastern end of the island. Grimsay has a harbour at Kallin, which is the base to a sizeable shellfish industry, the island's main industry, mostly for lobster, prawns and scallops. Also in Kallin is The Boatshed, a marine repair facility which promotes traditional skills, and employs a full-time boatbuilder and trainee. Three generations of Stewart family built as many as 1000 boats from three sheds on Grimsay. Grimsay is encircled by a single-track road that links most of the island's small croft and fishing settlements together.
Grimsay may refer to several islands in Scotland:
See also:
Grimsay, south east of Benbecula is a tidal island of the Outer Hebrides. It is connected to Benbecula by a causeway which carries the B891. In the 2001 census, Grimsay had a population of 19 and 20 in 2011.
An extension to the B891 now connects Grimsay to Eilean na Cille to the south east via a causeway. The road was built at a cost of £1,800 to service the pier at Peter's Port, which was constructed in 1896 at cost of £2,000 - although the anchorage is awkward and should not be used without local knowledge.
Coordinates: 57°24.3′N 7°16.6′W / 57.4050°N 7.2767°W / 57.4050; -7.2767
Land of treason-waste no reason-
we are breathing fire
We're packs of dogs-
we're enemies of men-we are not desired
Our face show-
we've grown cold-but
have not conspired
Old hearts gone-
the future's on-mother nations mired
I like a recepticle for the chosen dead,
we find our bodies clawed
And with the scent of death,
we find that we are not so very awed
Loyalties burned-
the words our blurred-overturn your own
Walk like dogs and watch the doors-
have your other stone
Stop the toys that match disordered-
calculate the thrones
Feel the pulse descending-
decaying hallowed tomes
In the starving sense you worship-
the nations of debris
You wear a cost of sewage-
that you've never ever seen
The time is now-the vicious here-
a stolen dinner code
The license of the savage land-
that you've always sold
So bite the hand that needs you
and bless another coal
The virus never issues-
from a cotton so very old
As the lights come down
You wash your hands and start to climb
the ladder that you stole
Slip the hatch-and spin the sword-
the money lords are poor
Push the tan-that rolls downhill-
their sense of dream absorbed
Still the cat that breaks the night-
tie him to the core
Chase the viruses that believe-
that what's right is scored
It's a senseless cash in of right for right-
what's wrong is never gone
And left is just a bassion for the fools