SCOTTISH SECLUSION

Going 'Full Walden' on a Scottish Island

Out in the bay, a skein of honking Geese took to the air over a Seal basking on a tiny island in the first light of morning.

As the first visitor to stay at Cragaig Bothy on Ulva this year, I was news to the wild congregation of animals who had inhabited this rugged stretch of Scottish coastline over the winter.

During a week of unseasonably warm weather, I had the south side of the island to myself, save for a couple of hikers, who I invited in for tea.

I ate breakfast while watching Sea Eagles hunt, read by the light of a Candelabra in the evening, and gazed at dark skies from my hammock at night.

I felt like Sam Gribley in the Children's book My Side of the Mountain—I just needed to befriend a Sea Eagle, and my escape from the grown-up world would be complete.

Of course, these wild escapes come at a price: a two-hour hike carrying a week's worth of food and supplies over the hill from the ferry quay.

To help transport my food, I bought a lightweight festival trolley, which I struggled to drag along the muddy and rutted track (Ulva has no roads). I must have looked more like a homeless wanderer than a sojourner in nature. I shouldered my Lidl bag and stashed the trolley behind a rock to collect on the way back. (Note to self: buy a bigger rucksack)

Once at the Bothy, I had to live without electricity, boil all my water to make it safe to drink, and master the eccentricities of the wood burner to keep warm at night.

Of course, stripping back the luxuries of life is entirely the point of an escape like this. It provides perspective on modern life and leaves us open to receive what the writer Thoreau describes as ‘the tonic of wildness’.

My Ulva adventure followed on from my first solo retreat in the Nevada Desert last year, which lasted for 2 weeks and was a profound experience. I want to experiment with more solo retreats to explore how solitude in nature affects me, and how different cultures perceive it.

While I’ve always journeyed through deserts and mountains to get my fix of wildness, a retreat is different—there is no physical effort required, only the invitation to drop familiar habits and urgencies to experience the stillness and silence of nature.

As the days of silence mounted and distractions faded, I tuned in to the wildness around me. While my Zen meditation practice complements these retreats, the only real requirement is to make a little space to let the peace, stillness, and mystery in.

Walden, Thoreau’s book about living a simple life in a cabin in the woods is surprisingly relevant to anyone taking a sojourn in nature today.

I wonder what Thoreau would make of the digital noise and AI slop that we are subjected to today? I would wager he might be writing "Let us spend our days as deliberately as nature, lest we fritter our time away on illuminated screens".

On Ulva, the daily scroll was replaced by the daily seal watch, news updates were where the resident flock of Sheep had wandered off to that day.

I came away from the island with a deep sense of peace.

Photo credit: The Edwinstowe Historical Society

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