A holiday in the Outer Hebrides is not for everyone. I’ve been coming here in July for quite a few years, so the islands have a familiar summer home-from-home feeling. I know where to go for the supplies I need, and what to expect from the weather. I don’t have to survive the queues and crush at airports; or the claustrophobia of St Pancras Eurostar terminal. Most of all I don’t have to suffer heightened anxiety about travel delays and cancellations as the travel is mostly under my own control.

If you want to be assured of heat and sun, then the Outer Hebrides is not for you; but if you might be pleasantly surprised if you stay here long enough for changes in the waves of weather that sweep in from the Atlantic. There were some days and nights of torrential rain lashing against the windows of the cottage I stay in. I could hear the roof creaking in the wind and was thankful for solid Hebridean construction. But it’s not always like that.

There are also days of bright sun, blue skies and suntanning on stunning sandy beaches. The sea is turquoise when the sun shines and an endless variety of subtle shifting shades of blue and grey as the weather changes. Be warned though, the water temperature is in the ‘bracing’ category. I brought my swimming costume but didn’t get further than sunbathing on the hotter days – I’m going to need to get braver to reap the benefits of wild swimming.

I come here for the peace and other worldliness of the islands. From the window of my cottage I can watch red deer browsing and sea eagles being chased by seagulls. When the storms come I light the wood burning stove to make everything warm and cozy, and read a book with a cup of tea. 

On the days when I don’t run the risk of being blown away, I walk along the beaches in bare feet across the hard sand ripples, or through the wildflowers of the machair, or up into the mountains. Marked paths for walking are few and far between away from established tracks, so map reading skills and a keen watch for descending cloud are needed. I’ve walked the hills here often enough to be guided by the main landmarks, but it’s easy to take the wrong ridge when visibility is low and end up in a boulder-strewn valley where every step is treacherous; or follow a compass bearing to the edge of a cliff with no way down.

Here's a stanza from the poem ‘Ultima Thule’ by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow that gives a flavour of the Hebrides:

Whither, oh, whither? Are not these

The tempest-haunted Hebrides,

Where sea gulls scream, and breakers roar,

And wreck and sea-weed line the shore?

I’ll be back again next year, whatever the weather. Did you manage to have a holiday this year? What is your favourite place and things to do? 

Rowan on the Moor

A Moodscope member