And boy, was I right.Įvery morning, I don Wellington boots and walk the Fletchers’ two dogs. For a freelance writer on a tight budget, I figured two weeks working on a farm at the edge of the sea was a great way of getting an authentic taste of island life. For a long time, the Scottish islands had intrigued me - their remoteness, their austere beauty. I’d stumbled across it on the UK website of Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms, which connects volunteers with opportunities to work on British farms in exchange for food and lodging. The 25-mile journey northwards gives me a sense of the island: moors and peat bogs, secluded bays, the soaring breast-shaped Pap mountains, an occasional cottage.įinally, about two-thirds up this narrow finger of an island, I reach Ardlussa: a deer-stalking estate and working farm owned by Andy Fletcher and his wife, Claire, with a large, ancient manor at its heart. I board the vehicle when it returns an hour later, one of only a handful of passengers - mostly children who attend the high school on Islay. Only once it has departed and there’s no sign of any other vehicle that I realised that must’ve been it. There’s a minivan with “Corporate Tours” emblazoned on the side that I assume is there to collect tourists. And then another, much smaller ferry that battles swift currents to deposit me at the lonely jetty at Feolin.Ī bus is meant to take me to my final destination on the island, but I can’t spot it. Then the big CalMac ferry to Port Askaig on Islay - which is little more than a pier, a pub and a hotel. First, a large bus winding along moody lochs and around mountains to Kennacraig. Not having one of those at my disposal, though, it takes me most of the day to get there. From Glasgow to the Scottish island of Jura it’s half-an-hour by helicopter.
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