Fortified by bacon, beer and stoicism, Tom Hodgkinson sets off in the footsteps of JM Barrie to Eilean Shona.
It looked like the dream holiday. A week in a remote cottage on a wild Scottish island, just two and half miles long. A newly decorated house with no Wi-Fi, no phone signal and no electricity, just a wood-burning stove, gas lamps and views of wild moor, purple heather and sea across the bay. A welcome retreat from the hurry and bustle of the modern world. But who would come with me?
I asked my 16-year-old son. "I . . . am . . . NOT . . . going with you to a Scottish island!" he shouted, before slamming the door and storming up to his room.
All other friends and family were busy. So I'd be on my own. A retreat, if you like. Can't complain. In fact I am in love with this part of the world, the Inner Hebrides, and when younger I used to visit the Isle of Eigg, a wild and free place where you climb volcanic outcrops by day and drink crates of McEwan's beer and smash crab claws at night.
The overnight sleeper from Euston is an absolute hoot. I dined on haggis and ale before retiring to my cosy bed somewhere slightly north of Watford Junction. At 7am I pulled open the blind to see red deer bounding across the mossy wastes of the Highlands, and a station sign: Upper Tyndrum. It is mind-blowingly beautiful. I breakfasted in the dining car, which has an appealing Eighties vibe, and at Fort William I stocked up on beer, bacon and bread before getting a lift with Al the taxi driver to the port.
An hour later we arrived at a tiny jetty where Paul, the island's estate manager, a giant of a man, was waiting. He buzzed me across the bay in a tiny boat called Harmony to the island (a five-minute journey) where we climbed on to a quad bike and Paul drove me the 2.5 kilometres down a bumpy track — past the village hall, a couple of polytunnels, a large manmade lake covered in water lilies and along the coast. It rained.
The Old Schoolhouse is gorgeous. Recently renovated, it is all space, light and white wooden floors, ceilings and walls, and furniture from Loaf in London. There is a big wood-burning stove which, I am happy to report, I kept alight during my whole stay.
Eilean Shona is owned by Vanessa Branson, sister of Richard, and her husband; they bought it 20 years ago. It has seven holiday cottages, and there are four staff, two of whom live on the island. A couple from Tring moved here two years ago, bringing the full-time population to four. It is not wild like Eigg: it is very quiet, and there are no cars.