Towards the end of last year I spent six weeks alone in remote Western Scotland writing, reading, swimming, walking, thinking and enjoying a slower pace of life. I decided to stay on after a family holiday with my husband and three teenagers after the October half term. The Knoydart peninsula is often called Britain’s last great wilderness: cut off by the mountains, there is no vehicle access to reach Inverie, the main village there and the only way to arrive is by boat or by walking in which takes 2-3 days.

While I was staying there, autumn gently rolled into winter and brought with it snow drifts and sparkling ice. I built a quiet routine of swimming, reading, pulling on my waterproof trousers and heading out along the coastal path or into the mountains with my binoculars, a thermos of tea, a sandwich and some paper to scribble notes on. My mobile phone also broke while I was there (I dropped it on some rocks whilst taking a photo of a spectacular view and it smashed) and this, I decided, was meant to be. It helped me to sink deeper into the land, the silence and the steady rhythm of the days.

While I was there, I stayed in the cosy annexe of Janey de Nordwall’s home in the heart of the village. Janey is author of the brilliant memoir From a Wonky Path to an Open Road in which she charts her life from film producer to hitting the road in a VW camper van with her cat Kenny, finishing up by chance in Knoydart. She couldn’t have been more welcoming, and is now opening up and offering Ivy Retreat for six weeks for those seeking a quiet space to write over the quieter autumn and winter months. I loved the peace and tranquility of being there off-season with the added benefit of not a midge in sight! There were some really mild autumn days, some glorious sunshine and the peninsula looked stunning covered in a blanket of snow.

Knoydart is such an interesting, inspiring place – last year (2024) marked the 25 year anniversary since the community buyout following years of mismanagement from the former Knoydart Estate. It now has a thriving pub (which often hosts live music, quizzes and other events), a community shop, generates its own renewable electricity through its hydro plant and manages local woodland through the Knoydart Forest Trust. I was really struck by the fact that, even though the population of Knoydart is small (around 110 in Inverie itself and more in other small settlements), there is a strong community sense of people working together and bringing their skills to this wonderful, remote corner of Scotland.

Knoydart is also known for a fascinating slice of resistance and history, where in 1948 the ‘Seven Men of Knoydart’ staked a claim of the land from oppressive landowners and land use for a place to live and work. One of these men was still alive to witness the community buyout.

It is such a special thing to gift ourselves time and space to ourselves and the things we love doing. You could equally go there to paint, or to mountain bike, or whatever it is that fills you. I’d never even heard of Knoydart this time last year, but due to a chance conversation with my neighbour who had recently been there, my interest was piqued and now, looking back, it almost feels like I couldn’t have gone anywhere else.

You can see from this map below how close Ivy Retreat is to the pier where the boat comes in. If you like swimming, even better (I’m pretty sure the locals thought I was a bit bonkers, but once you’ve got the cold swimming bug, that’s it!) The memory of swimming while it was snowing will never, ever leave me.

So, did I get a lot of writing done? I wrote countless poems, journal entries and letters (yes, really, old-fashioned snail mail. So thank you, Knoydart, for having a post office.) And although I didn’t quite start the next novel, which is what I thought I might do, I realised that maybe the next novel wasn’t quite ready for me yet. Composting and reflecting is so important as part of a writer’s process, and I honestly can’t think of a better place for this to happen. I also know deep in my bones that no writing is ever wasted, that every word matters.

Here is one of the countless poems I wrote while I was there. I don’t very often write poems in shapes, but this was really fun to play around with:

Tempted?

Well, here are a few more photos I took to tempt you a little further. Knoydart is a truly special and unique place, steeped in history and the language of ancient mountains, folklore and wildlife. Maybe it’s time for you to treat yourself and unlock some of the words that are waiting in you.

With my family in front of The Old Forge, Britain’s most remote pub, before they left me for six weeks

Taken from an Instagram post I made after my trip:

Thank you Knoydart.

Thank you for the walks and the swims,
for the deep silence and space,
for a broken phone in the second week
so that I could sink even further into the peace,
for the woodland trails
and coastal roads,
for the day of planting trees and
the weeks of planting unexpected friendships,
for the sunsets and snow,
the flow of mountain burns,
for the hidden work
of minerals, mycelium and microbes
and the deep embrace from land and loch.

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