This place brings the world back to life, for us. We could spend an age ranting about the depravities of our concrete mecca of a city, but sat here, listening to the murmur of the river as it tumbles over rocks on its way to the loch, or the gentle breeze sighing through the trees; or watching the sunset red fade to blue to grey to black, or busying ourselves creating stew or baking bread, we cannot care too much about the place we’ve come from: how is it meant to compare to the vital, immediate fact that there are pine martens that will come right up to the house to eat the food we leave for them, or the wild deer that will nibble the plants around the window, or the family of sea otters playing on the beach below, or the unbelievable truth of precisely how many different shades of gold, like a good malt, can be seen on the hills across the loch when the setting sun casts its light like a cloak before it retires for the night. These are facts, essential and incontrovertible, they are everything that defines this place. There is that one moment with the sea air in your face like the very breath of God.

Well. Too deep for a little stone cottage on the shores of Loch Torridon? Then you've never been here. All we can say is that it doesn't matter what god, if any, you believe in, or what version of reality you subscribe to: there is power in this place amidst the very edges of the world. We could write another gospel without ever beginning to crack the secrets of what this place does, and we think that is how it was meant to be: this wild world sends you back a little cleansed. Come and try it out yourself sometime, would be our only advice: experience what it feels like, even for a second, to approach this mess of a world with the spark of the divine written in thunder and air across your face. We recommend it.