The boldest swingers in Stonhaven
December 2009
Smaller than the average meteorite: Swinging a fireball is, as you might imagine, demanding. It requires dexterity, strength and concentration.
photo: newsline scotland
by Gary Sutherland
Edinburgh’s street party may seem to command all the attention at Hogmanay, but for a really impressive sight, get yourself to Stonehaven.
Since the mid-19th century they have been swinging fireballs in Stonehaven to welcome in the New Year. Constructed from fencing wire filled with rags, twigs, cardboard, coal, pine cones, old jumpers – whatever combustibles come to hand – the balls are doused in paraffin and set alight, then swung in a grand procession through the streets of the town, offering onlookers and supporters a spectacular sight.
Like a lot of the old customs still kicking around in Scotland – the Burry Man in North Queensferry, Whuppity Scoorie in Lanark, or possibly the world’s most violent ball game, The Ba in Kirkwall – the keepers of the tradition don’t truly know what it’s about, but there are a few fireball theories flying around.
It might be the old routine of burning off the bad spirits, or another midwinter festival beckoning the sun.
Burning away the old year was a fishing tradition and Stonehaven was once a thriving fishing community, back when Scotland had thriving fishing communities. There’s the tale of a shooting star once streaking across the night sky, preceding a good harvest. Since the people could not command shooting stars, they set about mimicking them with home-made fireballs.
20 lbs hanging on a wire handle three feet long
Slightly smaller than your average meteorite, but still a hefty piece at anything from 10 to 20 lbs, on a wire handle between two and three feet long (depending upon how confident the swinger and how worried they are about getting hot ears), swinging a fireball is, as you might imagine, demanding. It requires dexterity, strength and concentration.
“It’s quite tiring,” said Martin Sim, a veteran swinger of 33 Fireballs ceremony and vice-chairman of the organising committee, “but you want to perform to a reasonable standard. The adrenalin pushes you. You prepare yourself for it, but it doesn’t matter how many trial runs you have. That thing has a life of its own!”
Around 45 swingers – although the number of participants varies year by year – parade up and down the High Street at midnight in the Old Town of Stonehaven before chucking their fireball into the harbour. The swingers are men and women, ranging from teenagers to pensioners – entire families take part in the ceremony – and if you have been involved on the sidelines, maybe as a volunteer steward, you are eligible to put your name forward to swing.
It used to be that you had to be born in Stonehaven, but they don’t bother about that now, although you do have to stay in the local area. New people come in. Some will stop and others will start. And the tradition continues. It is not about one person. It’s about the mass.
“The guy ahead moves off… and then it’s your turn,” says Martin. “The flickering flames on the walls… it’s a wonderful thing to be involved in. It’s amazing.”
The fireballs burn for about half an hour before ending up in the harbour. In previous years the swingers would whirl their fireballs for a few yards before stopping at a friend’s house, leaving their fireball burning quietly on the doorstep and popping inside for a New Year dram. They would then pick up where they left off, quite literally.
Enthusiasm for the fireballs had dampened somewhat by the 1960s when very few swingers were prepared to get their hands hot, but there remained a few die-hards who eventually persuaded others to take part in the ceremony and the numbers were brought back up again.
The fireball ceremony has never been cancelled, no matter how dire the weather, and it has never been so popular. The event regularly attracts over 10,000 visitors from all over the world, and now you don’t even need to be in Stonehaven to see the fireballs – a webcam means you can watch the whole procedure over the Internet.
Stonehaven Pipe Band
But Stonehaven is still the best place to see it. By 11 o’clock the harbour area is already heaving with people vying for the choicest vantage sites from which to see the fireballs being hurled into the water.
The sound of the Stonehaven Pipe Band keeps spirits up in the cold dark night. Metal barriers and volunteer stewards line the High Street to keep the crowds back and prevent people from getting their hair singed.
A great roar goes up – the fireballs have been lit, the bells ring for midnight and people wish each other happy New Year as the swinging commences.
Soon the first swinger struts down the slipway to the harbour, swinging his fireball in an almost nonchalant manner and giving it one last flourish before firing it into the dark. The fireball sails through the blackness like a comet and splashes down into the water. It is an incredible sight – mesmerising and beautiful.
Over the next 20 minutes or so, fireball after fireball arcs into the harbour until, as the last one disappears into the blackness, fireworks explode in the sky over the town, brightening the dramatic cliffs. It is a fantastic way to welcome in the New Year.
“It certainly went very well,” said Martin when I spoke to him afterwards. “There were no problems. The weather was perfect. There was a bit of confusion before the start, but it all came together. It was very, very busy. That’s a huge crowd, bigger than I think it’s ever been. But we would do it anyway.”
I’d heard his sentiment many times when I was researching Great Balls of Fire. In communities across Scotland the people keeping traditions like the fireballs alive had said the self same thing.
“You feel part of something,” Martin said. “There’s a tradition here that people like – and it won’t stop now.”
Scotland is worth celebrating, and that is what the many different festivals all round the country are for – celebration.
Raised in Hopeman on the Moray Firth, Gary Sutherland has sold everything from candyfloss to books, shaped shortbread and young minds as a teacher, and worked as a sports journalist and travel writer. He is the author of Hunting Grounds, a season-long travelogue around each of Scotland’s league football stadiums.
This is an article from the December 2009 edition of Leopard Magazine. To read much more like this every month, see our subscription details.