Blowing the cover on Scotland's secret island escape
Ever found somewhere so peaceful that it feels wrong to tell others about it? The Isle of Luing is exactly that sort of place.
Chances are you've never even heard of it. Less than three minutes from the Isle of Seil, on one of Scotland's shortest ferry crossings, the island isn't even as famous as its cows. A hardy, handsome breed now found across the world, Luing cattle were originally bred on this 5.5-square-mile dot in the Firth of Lorn.
The island is owned by the Cadzow family, who started breeding cattle here in 1947. Nearly 80 years on, with the slate quarry closed, the primary school mothballed after Covid and the population down to fewer than 200, Jack Cadzow is trying to bring more people to the island. If anyone's to blame for letting the secret out of the bag, it's Jack.
While living in Kenya, Jack and his wife, Emily, were inspired by the set-up at the country's safari lodges, where groups would gather for meals in a large communal space, then sleep in separate pods. Over the winter of 2022 the couple created WildLuing, an island escape comprising eight luxury self-catering pods and a communal lounge and dining room — all with wonderful panoramic views over Torsa Bay. They've since added a wooden sauna, which opened last month; a pontoon will open any day now.
Each pod is slightly different: some have a rolltop bath positioned so you can look out over the bay; ours (named Losal) has a wooden shower bench where you can wash with a view of the hills and listen to the deep lowing of Luing cows passing by. A bag of firewood has been left at the back door and the fridge is full of home cooking, including Luing beef lasagne, local pheasant in tarragon sauce, and crumble made with Luing apples.
I visit during a gap between WildLuing's programme of yoga retreats, whisky tastings and pop-up feasts, so my son and I have the entire place to ourselves. Wandering about with only the black 'woolly bear' caterpillars in the long grasses and an occasional swooping swallow for company, it feels as though that three-minute ferry ride has delivered us through a portal into another season. Having left Leith hanging under a cold grey haar, I'm now peeling off my mohair scarf in Luing's warm glow, stopping to gawp at sleepy blue dragonflies soaking up the afternoon rays.
I tiptoe one minute down the hillside, carefully dodging cowpats as I go, sliding into the bay for a seaweedy dip while my son piles shards of slate and crab shells into a tower. Later, the sunset is one of those knockout west coast ones — the sky reminds me of a pale bottle of 1980s Anaïs Anaïs perfume, then peach clouds gather into a deep corally blaze and a vertical rainbow pokes through.
Next morning I borrow binoculars and fixate on the bay. According to our visitors' book, others have seen porpoises and seals out there. On my second coffee I get lucky and watch an otter doing slippery corkscrews in our watery front garden. There's a patient heron too — he'll still be in the same spot when we return hours later from our island walk.
And what a walk it is. We pass a hand-painted honesty box with fresh eggs, then another labelled 'Luing Locker', selling baby cucumbers, jars of chutney and plastic-wrapped tiffin. The walk to the village of Cullipool takes about forty minutes, past banks of purple hydrangea, neatly stacked slate walls and a petite post office — the island's only shop — selling local beers, smoked cheese and Luing lamb chops.
At the Atlantic Islands visitor centre we discover an upstairs library lined with titles on the Slate Islands, puffin spotting and Hebridean poetry. We pore over digital maps of the seabed, showing the underwater mountains and ridges that create the famous Corryvreckan whirlpool, in the narrow strait between Jura and Scarba, just south of Luing. It's a treasure trove of rare treats and unexpected finds — a lot like this magical island itself.
Claire Sawers was a guest at WildLuing (one night self-catering for two from £195, wildluing.com)
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