[ skye solitude ]

For as long as I can remember, I’ve sought solitude in the remote edges of north west Scotland and the islands.

A croft. A cabin.

A place to dip out of the noise and recharge.

Childhood memories of visiting my grandparents in Ardnamurchan are no doubt embedded deep in my nervous system.

My great grandfather came from Ardnamurchan.

My great grandmother from Skye.

No wonder I feel such a pull to this land.

The landscape. The wild weather.

Single track roads, sheep having a wee lie down in the middle.

The bakery closed today ‘due to Murdo’s accident’.

A quiet reminder that life happens.

Remote living asks you to slow down.

To take your time.

To realise how little is actually in our control.

I’ll never tire of looking out across Loch Dunvegan to the Cuillens.

The ever changing light. The shifting landscape.

Even on the dreichest of days, the beauty of this place takes my breath away.

Eagles and gulls sweeping the sky.

Rabbits darting through the hedgerows.

Rain battering the windows.

Wind howling through the eaves.

The smell of the sea.

The taste of salt on your lips.

Skin alive with wind and rain.

I’m noticing my chronic neck pain easing.

My eating is better. Simpler. Nourishing. Local produce.

No bingeing chocolate or Doritos

My sleep is deeper. I wake earlier with the morning light, feeling refreshed and energised.

I’m reading more. Not doom scrolling or binge watching.

I breathe deeper.

My thoughts settle. My shoulders drop, my jaw unclenches.

Tension and bracing I wasn’t even aware I was holding begins to soften.

I come here to regulate and rest…for now.

While I care for my 90 year old Father back in Edinburgh.

But when the time is right, Skye will call me home.