Villages, like people, come into the world and must eventually leave it. Some last longer than others, and the manner of their passing varies. Some die dramatically, their houses and halls shattered by war; others, their life oozing away with every resident who despairs and leaves, cling hungrily to crumbling factories or unsafe mines. But some, like the Scottish village of Ferryden, die quietly, in a way that few outsiders would notice.
Ferryden, a former fishing village of eight hundred people that now hosts an offshore oil-support base, is not dying for want of people or houses, but for want of community. For the past fifty years, in ever-increasing proportions, newcomers have replaced the fisherfolk who once were Ferryden's sole inhabitants. Ferryden has been changing from a village community into a suburb, a disturbing distinction for the fisherfolk who remain.
I first visited Ferryden in 1975 to study the social impact of offshore oil development on a Scottish community. A riverside village in the Angus District, it lies thirty miles to the south of Aberdeen (a city long renowned as a fishing port but then known locally as "the Houston of Scotland") on the North Sea coast. In 1973, the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company built its Sea Oil Services offshore-supply base on Ferryden's northern flank. The harbor formed by the mouth of the South Esk River separates both village and base from the old port town of Montrose.
To the outsider, Ferryden resembles an outflung suburban arm of Montrose more than it does a traditional village. Generally thought of as a fishing village, it offers little visual evidence to confirm this description. On my first journey through the village, I saw only a few rowing boats drawn up on the shore and some lobster pots stacked by the side of the road. The few local commercial fishing crafts were drawn up on the Montrose side of the harbor. By 1975, only one village family actually depended on fishing, although a few others fished for pleasure or as a minor supplement to family income.
The western half of the village abuts upon the offshore-oil base: A conglomeration of sheds, warehouses, and docks ringed by a high chain-link fence dominates the view. The village houses facing this end are uniform, two-story structures of white concrete, built as low-rent subsidized housing by the local government. However, in the middle of the village, the dwellings are smaller and older, narrow structures of stone and stucco that cluster in terraces and squares as they climb the lower levels of the steep hillside rising from the road. The road east leads to the North Sea and to Scurdyness Lighthouse, a striking symbol of Ferryden's fishing heritage. The agate-studded rocks surrounding the lighthouse once claimed fishermen's lives with frightening regularity.
There was also a curious anomaly in the way people spoke about the location of the Sea Oil Services base. Montrosians clearly perceived Ferryden as a distinct place with a special (though not very desirable) character; yet the oil base on the village shore was sometimes referred to as being located in Montrose, and at other times was identified with Ferryden. This suggested an ambiguity about Ferryden's status as a separate community. At times it "belonged" to Montrose, but at other times, not. Ferryden today is a dormitory suburb. It is identified as a fishing village because it once was a fishing village. Its past still has
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