On the islands of northwestern Scotland, get lost among windswept cliffs and crumbling ruins.
A fire crackled in the drawing room.
In front of it, I found my host serving tea.
From left: The Callanish Stones, on the Isle of Lewis and Harris, are thought to be more than 5,000 years old; Monkstadt 1745, a once-derelict home of a clan chieftain that was recently repurposed as a boutique hotel.Carol Sachs
Patricia moved here, to the Isle of Lewis and Harris inScotland’s Outer Hebrides, 20 years ago.
She arrived feeling anxious about trading her busy life in London for one of Britain’s most remote places.
The long, empty lines of the landscape looked as if they had been carved by the winds.
From left: The undulating roads near Kilmuir, on the Isle of Skye; a view from the North Room of Skye’s Dunvegan Castle.Carol Sachs
Far out on the ocean, beyond a tumult of dark thunderheads, pools of silver sun sailed northward.
The year had been full of noise, of argument, of claim and counterclaim.
This archipelago forms the northwestern extremity of Great Britain.
From left: A seagull lands on lobster traps on the Seaflower, a catamaran that tours the waters around Skye; a lunch of lobster, langoustine, salmon, and shrimp aboard the Seaflower, just off the island of Rona, near Skye.Carol Sachs
Just 14 of its 119 islands are inhabited.
Their combined population is less than 27,000barely enough to constitute a single town.
I took the Caledonian Sleeper north from London.
From left: Whisky barrels at the Isle of Raasay Distillery; the restaurant at the Ferry Inn in Uig, on the Isle of Skye, focuses on local meat and seafood.Carol Sachs
As the train hurtled northward through the darkness, we ordered a dram of whisky.
“I go because I want to lose myself.”
“They may be small islands, but it is a world that feels bigger than any I know.
The crenellated towers of Dunvegan Castle, with Loch Dunvegan below them.Carol Sachs
I go because I want to lose myself.”
Bursts of sun splashed across Skye’s green hills as cloud shadows chased one another down the channel.
Some people say that Skye is all of the Scottish Highlands distilled into a single island.
From left: Harris tweed weaver Donald John Mackay outside his workshop; bagpiper Malin Lewis on the Isle of Skye.Carol Sachs
But Skye has outgrown its Victorian aesthetic.
In the past 10 years, the island has undergone a renaissance.
Gone are the tired old hotels and the dreary cafes where fish-and-chips dominated the menus.
From left: Ruins of a traditional peat-roofed blackhouse at Arnol, on Lewis; on a Caledonian MacBrayne ferry in Scotland’s Outer Hebrides.Carol Sachs
Enterprises are blossomingfrom artisanal bakeries to beekeepers, from design studios to brands creating skin-care products from seaweed.
Up twisting island roads, beneath sharp-toothed cliffs, all sorts of people are making dreams come true.
Off the neighboring island of Ronapopulation twowe lunched on lobster and langoustine, caught the previous night.
“No one locks their doors here,” he shrugged.
Returning to the place that evening, I found it transformed.
“It is one of the finest houses on the island,” MacQueen said.
“It was my late father’s dream to restore it.
I think he would be proud of what we have done here.”
I found a monument to Flora atKilmuir Cemetery, on the Trotternish Peninsula’s wild northern coast.
Birds flew up from the hawthorn scrub and tumbled away in the wind.
Sheep were scattered across stone-walled fields like pieces of windblown paper.
Across the sea below, whitecaps marched toward the headland of Rubha Hunish.
The population of Lewis and Harris is just under 22,000.
Sheep outnumber people by almost eight to one.
There are ghosts herethough no one seems to agree on how many.
Some say two, others four.
But then I guess that is the thing with ghosts: they don’t do roll call.
You might see the northern lights here, their fluorescent trails filling half the sky.
Somehow the idea of the ghosts at Duntulm helped me locate myself.
There was something hauntingly familiar about these islands.
It helps that the history fits.
Here, the stories are of chieftains and clans, of castles and princes and dungeons.
It is a place of childhood imagination, where anything can happenand much of it will.
These are the most remote and most traditional of the Scottish islands.
The population of Lewis and Harris is just under 22,000.
Sheep outnumber people by almost eight to one.
Older than Stonehenge, older even than theGreat Pyramids, theCallanish Stoneswere probably erected sometime around 3000 B.C.
Further off, scattered across the landscape, are up to 20 smaller satellite sites.
No one really understands their meaning, or their purpose.
I looked across the moorlands toward the sea, and was struck by how little must have changed here.
Of course, Harris is famous for Harris tweed.
Weaving remains a cottage industry of artisans working in their own homes.
I met Donald John Mackay in his house overlooking Luskentyre Beach.
Weaving is a family tradition.
Of course, Harris is famous for Harris tweed.
Weaving remains a cottage industry of artisans working in their own homes.
At the beginning of the 20th century there were 1,000 weavers working on Harris.
And then, in 2004, Nike came to call.
Mackay had never heard of Nike.
His wife received an e-mail asking for samples.
They sent them off and, for some time, heard nothing.
Then suddenly, a second message arrived.
Nike’s shoes revived the tradition of weaving on this island: Harris tweed was fashionable again.
Converse and Clarks shoes have both since put in large orders.
Designers began using Harris tweed for upholstery and cushions.
Ralph Lauren used the cloth, as did Patrick Grant of Savile Row tailor Norton & Sons.
Even Harris tweed jackets came back in vogue.
Today there are 200 weavers on Harris, and the cottage industry that made this island famous is flourishing.
On these islands they say if you don’t like the weather, just wait five minutes.
Storms ride in from the ocean.
Landscape may be the delight of these islands, but their history has often been painful.
They wanted to give the land over to sheepmore lucrative in those days than people.
They are connoisseurs of the winds, these islanders.
Through the winds, the Hebridean people read the mood of each day.
It was clear they felt I didn’t really belong there.
Day’s end brought me to Scarista House, the white hotel overlooking the beach in Harris.
Spectacular white-sand beaches are one of the many revelations of these islands.
The tide was out and the wet sands shone with the reflections of clouds and distant hills.
As twilight gathered, I watched curlews dance away from the incoming waves.
Far off, a couple of solitary figures walked the beach.
Dwarfed by the scale of this place, and by its vast skies, they seemed tiny and insubstantial.
They are connoisseurs of the winds, these islanders.
They will tell you the character and import of each one.
Through them, the Hebridean people read the mood of each day.
This is what I was looking for.
The adjoining pub has cozy log fires and views of Uig Bay.
(Doubles from $525.)
Monkstadt 1745: This beautifully restored laird’s house has five elegant guest rooms.
(Doubles from $590.)
Edinbane Lodge: Chef Calum Montgomery presides over one of the best kitchens on the island.
(Tasting menu $110.)
Dunvegan Castle: The seat of Clan MacLeod since the 13th century is a must-visit.
(Doubles from $385.)
(Doubles from $275.)
(From $10,500 per person.)
