Welcome to our 600-acre island. Population: just us

Times

3 days ago

There are two kinds of people. There are those who see a rental cottage on a private island with its own boat and think 'wow' — and then there is my wife. 'No way,' she says. 'I like boats — I just don't want to be in one when you're driving.'
Which is why, weeks later, I am baffled to find ourselves two-thirds of the way along the Ardnamurchan peninsula at Laga Bay — the launch spot for the crossing to the Isle of Carna where our cottage (and boat) await.
The good news before our descent to Laga Bay is that no one is worrying about the boat on Carna any more. The bad news is that's because all any of us can think about is the alarmingly steep drive down to the water. 'This can't be right,' says one of the kids, peeping over the dashboard like he's at the top of the Big One in Blackpool. 'I'm getting out,' says my wife. 'It'll be fine,' I say, while simultaneously wishing I could join her.
Turns out it's a doddle — but as private island arrivals go, it's not exactly Richard Branson saying 'Welcome to Necker'. It's more like, 'Toughen up, townie — west coast rules now.' Unloading the car, I try hard not to meet my wife's gaze.
We are greeted by the friendly Carna caretaker, Andy Jackson, who helps lug our bags and food boxes across the wobbly pontoon to his boat. He ferries us 20 minutes across Loch Sunart to Carna. A seal pops up beside the prow; terns dance in our slipstream; and Highland summits glower above the water in all directions.
Reaching Carna, we lug the bags across another pontoon and load them into an ancient Land Rover, which Jackson drives the short distance to our cottage while we walk. It's taken less than four hours to get here from central Scotland — but it feels a hell of a long way from home.
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The cottage, Carna House, is a time warp of tradition: tongue-and-groove panelled walls, antique chests and gas lamps. It had its last serious refit in the 1920s and boy, does it show, though only in the best possible way. No wi-fi, no phone signal — just an old-money fantasy of hardbacks and board games, wood by the stoves, well-thumbed guides to Britain's birds and flowers.
Jackson shows us how to light the lamps and then he's off. It's just us, the island and a bunch of books on mallards and moss campions. 'What shall we do?' asks the 21-year old, checking his phone for a signal for about the 19th time.
So what do you do on a roughly one-square mile island with one teenager, three early twentysomethings — and zero Netflix or TikTok? A lot of chatting, it turns out. For an entire afternoon we sit out front, talking rubbish, scanning the bay for otters and saying hi to the curious cows who come over to watch us from across the fence.
It helps that it's one of those boiling mid-June weekends when even the midges give up; but even on a rain-sodden afternoon in November, the unexpected thrill of being here with only your family for distraction would stir the soul and supercharge the serotonin.
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Next day Jackson returns for our boat tutorial — a moment my wife and I have avoided discussing since that first fractious conversation. But is it because Jackson is the local coastguard? Or has 24 hours of island life somehow made my wife forget how inept I can be? Either way, Jackson is suddenly gone and the six of us are chugging up the straits between Carna and the Morvern peninsula in search of a nearby seal colony.
It is a thrillingly Swallows and Amazons moment. We cut the engine and drift past the seals. One pops up beside the boat; others lift a head then go back to basking in the sun. An eagle traverses the skyline. Eventually, reluctantly, we turn and circle back around Carna, one of my sons taking over controls as I join my wife at the front of the boat.
And so the days pass: we paddleboard, take the boat out and occasionally wander five minutes over to the barn to see if we can pick up wi-fi. One day we walk to the wee peak at the top of the island for views across a dizzying foreverness of summit and sea; another day Huw MacBride from SeatrekScotland (seatrekscotland.co.uk) comes over to take us snorkelling in the bay. But mostly we just sit outside the cottage, stare at the view — and talk.
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'How was it? Jackson asks, ferrying us back to the mainland at the end of our stay. 'Special place, isn't it?' I look back to the cottage, to the wee patch of grass where we spent so many hours, to the cows now cooling themselves in the shallows. Special is right.
Details Jeremy Lazell was a guest of Carna (isleofcarna.co.uk). Three nights' self-catering for eight at Carna House costs from £1,462.50; one week costs from £2,250