Scots’ dreams made on its rugged isles
Years ago, I met a dear man on a deserted roadside in the Scottish Highlands. I was making a TV show about the area and, as if placed there by heaven’s Central Casting, this tender giant of a man was bagpiping to the birds, the passing clouds, and the occasional motorist.
Whenever I want a taste of traditional Scotland, I come to its northernmost reaches, where wild, severely undulating terrain is punctuated by lochs (lakes) and islands. The Highlands are filled with magic and mystery. And the islands, in particular, are where Scottish dreams are set — mountainous, uninhabited, scenic and romantic. On these remote outposts of Scottish life, mist drifts across craggy hillsides, grizzled islanders man the drizzly ferry crossings, and midges make life miserable (bring bug spray). Here you’ll find Scottish culture distilled to its most vivid and traditional.
One of my Scottish friends compares the Hebrides Islands off Scotland’s west coast to malt whiskies — they’re all made of the same ingredients but each has its own captivating character. The most accessible are the Inner Hebrides: Mull, Iona, Staffa and Skye — all easily reached by a day trip from the low-key port town of Oban.
The Isle of Mull is Scotland’s third-largest, with 483 scenic kilometres of coastline. With steep, fogcovered hillsides topped by cairns (piles of stones, sometimes indicating graves) and ancient stone circles, it has a gloomy, otherworldly charm right out of Game of Thrones. Bring plenty of rain protection — Mull is a place of cold, wet, windy winters and mild, wet, windy summers.
Another island getaway is Iona, famous as the birthplace of Christianity in Scotland. Though it’s just 4.8 km by 2.4 km, it was a centre of art and learning back when most of Europe was rutting in the Dark Ages mud. While the present abbey, nunnery and graveyard go back to the 13th century, much of what you’ll see here was rebuilt in the 19th century. But with sparklingwhite crescents of sand and huge rocks that double as lookouts to the sea, it’s a place perfect for meditation. The island’s only real village, Baile Mòr, has shops, a restaurant/ pub, a few accommodations, a tiny heritage centre — and no bank.
Those more interested in nature than history will enjoy trips to the wildly scenic Isle of Staffa, with the famous basalt columns of Fingal’s Cave — and, in summer, a colony of puffins. Uninhabited (except for seabirds), Staffa is a knob of rock draped with vibrant green turf. It feels like a nature preserve.
The Isle of Skye, the largest of the Inner Hebrides, is Scotland’s second-biggest island, but it has only about 13,000 residents, roughly a quarter of whom live in the main village, Portree. Skye, with a name that comes from the Old Norse for “the Misty Isle,” has some of Scotland’s best scenery: a coastline ruffled with peninsulas and sea lochs curving around craggy, black, bald mountains and rolling fields scattered with stony homes. You can walk across a desolate bluff to a lighthouse at the end of the world, visit a distillery to sample a peaty dram of whisky, and learn about the sordid clan history of Skye — where the MacLeods, MacDonalds, Mackenzies, and Macraes tussled for centuries.
While it takes some effort to reach the Orkney Islands off the north coast of Scotland, it’s worth the trouble. The Orkneys are alluring to adventurous visitors seeking a contrast to the rest of Scotland — with no real tradition for clans, tartans, or bagpipes, these islands feel more Norwegian than Highlander. For the sightseer, Orkney has two draws unmatched in Scotland: some of the finest prehistoric sites in northern Europe, and the harbour called Scapa Flow, with fascinating remnants of the German fleet scuttled here in the aftermath of the First World War. Orkney’s landscape has a wind-scrubbed, pastoral appeal: dramatic sea cliffs ring a mostly flat, bald island, with few trees and lots of tidy farms.
As my friend puts it, in Scotland “the farther north and west you go, the more spectacular it becomes.”