Eilean Shona, Scotland

The low rumble of a boat engine carries on the wind across the glassy waters of Loch Moidart in Scotland’s Inner Hebrides. Harmony, Eilean Shona’s RIB, drifts into view as the floating check-in post and boardable portal to the Branson-owned island that inspired J.M. Barrie’s Neverland, a west coast wilderness where lost boys (and girls) can wholeheartedly lose themselves in its natural beauty through a series of outdoor pursuits that indulge the inner child.

While summering on Eilean Shona (‘Sea Island’) in 1920, Peter Pan’s creator wrote to his secretary, Lady Cynthia Asquith, of his admiration for this remote, coastal landscape, “A wild rocky romantic island it is too…it almost taketh the breath away to find so perfectly appointed a retreat on these wild shores.” Wild is the word for this forest-swathed, fauna-abundant isle, with its moss-clad rocks, towering Scots pine trees dripping in lichen, and seal-strewn shoreline. Shona’s former custodian, seafaring Captain Swinburne, collected pine trees on his travels, and planted what is now one of Europe’s most diverse pinetums—an emerald-hued haven for Scotch Argus butterflies, which flit between fragrant branches with their chocolate-brown, velvety wings, and free-roaming deer which descend from craggy peaks to roar and rut come autumn.

One evening, a young stag taps his fuzzy antlers on our living room window, as he grazes on the grassy slopes just beneath the island’s old schoolhouse. This off-grid, stone-hewn property is still a (done-up) dormitory of sorts, running without electricity or WiFi, with wood-burning fires to keep the water in the roll top bathtub piping hot, and gas lanterns to light with matches once dusk settles over the valley. Coupled with the loch views at every turn, the whitewashed wood panelling which covers the floors, walls, and ceilings creates the illusion of sleeping on a ship that charts its course entirely by the stars—no signs of modern technology here, or digital devices to disrupt board games, reading time, and sticky toffee pudding on the sofa. Our wake-up call each mist-draped morning is a chorus of birds and the gentle pitter-patter of rain.

Old crofter’s cottages, a sawmill, and the main hunting lodge have been similarly converted to self-catering stays dotted in leafy pockets around the island, with screen-free interiors and sea-framing windows encouraging a proper switch-off. The latest buildings to be given a new lease of life stand right on the main harbour. The triangular, red metal roof of the Sail Loft peeps above the treeline, housing two bedrooms, a private Nordic sauna, light-flooded living and dining areas, and a freestanding tub at the foot of the Hästens bed, all spread across what was once a working boat house used to organise yacht sails after vessels were brought out of the water. Just across the gently curving bay, puffs of smoke rise from the chimney of a charming, white Edwardian hut—where the lodge’s fishing equipment was stored—which warms wild swimmers in a waterfront sauna, built by hand using beech cut from Shona’s woodland. An afternoon slips by as we repeatedly run and jump off the jetty into the breath-snatchingly cold water, swim as fast as we can back to the sauna, stoke its fire, and thaw out overlooking the ruins of Castle Tioram—the 12th-century stronghold of Clan Ranald of the MacDonalds.

Days on Eilean Shona revolve around Loch Moidart, which, together with Morar, Arisaig and Knoydart, forms part of the Rough Bounds—an almost impassible, unbridled corner of the Highlands that’s thought to be Scotland’s last true remaining wilderness. With no cars on the island, we rely on our mud-spattered hiking boots to carry us up fern-hugged, rocky pathways, over the island’s saddle, to a blue lagoon known to locals as Shoe Bay. Not marked on any map under this nickname, which is said to come from the powdery white sand that many a shoe has been lost to over the years, it’s easy to imagine mermaids combing their hair on these glistening rocks as white-tailed sea eagles soar overhead. Still barefoot as the tide begins to roll in, we put off strapping our boots back on to the very last minute, and plan to return the next day by sea kayak to shuck oysters, shell langoustine, and spot dolphins, minke whales, and basking sharks.

Though this magic-imbued tidal isle is a Neverland we never want to leave, the journey back to the mainland still feels like an adventure ahead. A trailer-towing quad bike to collect and trundle our bags to the harbour, one last hike along the North Channel coast path to bid farewell to the heron keeping watch over the lily pond, and a final gaze across the water from Harmony. We feel very much attuned to our vessel’s moniker after flying, Tinker Bell-style, well and truly under the radar this past week.

THE DETAILS

How to book… Each of the eight cottages on the island can be rented individually, or taken over in entirety when reserving the main house (with extra bells and whistles thrown in like bagpipes on arrival, boating excursions, and seafood dinners on the beach). Newly available is the Sail Loft (£3,000 per week, sleeping four), which laps against the waters of Loch Moidart itself — the only property on the island with its own sauna. The Old Schoolhouse (£2,500 per week, sleeping four) is a luxurious conversion of the long-gone island community’s school. Wonderfully isolated, this two-bedroom idyll is situated over a mile along the North Channel coast path and a 45-minute walk from the jetty where you’ll disembark. One of the prettiest available is Tioram Cottage (£3,000 per week, sleeping eight), set right on the shorefront with its own private bay area, a campfire pit and picnic table, and large, sea facing windows with stunning views over the loch to Tioram Castle.

What to pack… Firstly, the choice of luggage itself needs to be made with a boat and mud-spattered quad-bike in mind, as this is how both you and your bags will reach your cottage once you’ve parked your car on the other side of the loch. Bring a waterproof duffel bag, and fill with (yes, more waterproofs) a powerbank (no electricity in some cottages, remember), waterbottle, backpack, and sturdy shoes for hiking, water shoes for wild swimming, and enough books to see you through the week (though the shelves in each cottage are filled with page turners). Basically, whatever you would take camping, minus the tent and sleeping bag.

As this is a self-catering set-up, you’ll also need to stock up before arriving on the island with all your essentials. There is a tiny shop which sells some provisions and delicious frozen homemade meals, like venison casseroles and sticky toffee puddings to stick in the oven, but nothing fresh — so if you want your five-a-day, you’ll need to stop by a farm shop or supermarket en route (House of Bruar’s food hall is a great option if you’re coming from Edinburgh).