The magic of Arran, Scotland’s most underrated island

With heady spirits, Scotland’s ‘Big Five’ and rugged scenery that’s straight out of ‘Skyfall’, there’s something about Arran that keeps Robin McKelvie coming back for more…

Weaving through Arran’s cinematic scenery (Robin McKelvie)

There’s something about Arran; there must be. I’ve worked in over 100 countries, but this is the one island I return to every year. I flock to an isle that is eulogised as “Scotland in Miniature” for sanctuary, for escape, for the positivity that many of us crave in these trying times. 

Arran has never disappointed whatever the time of year, but as I stand with my young family on the bow of the MV Caledonian Isles, I’m nervous. In the time of Covid-19, will Arran be enough?

Scotland’s seventh-largest island may be well Kent among Scots like me, but it sails under the radar of many visitors as they bash further north on the fast-track to Skye. More fool them; as I peer into the salt-tinged breeze, Arran’s mountains rise in welcome, striding north of the Highland Boundary Fault, which bisects the island into Highland and Lowland halves as it does the country. 

The north is a wildscape of rugged peaks, plunging glens and surging streams (known as burns in these parts). To the south the hills are more rolling, the land more pastoral and the beaches sweep down towards a sprinkling of smaller islets.

Arran is the only one of Scotland’s isles where you can see all of Scotland’s “Big Five”: red squirrels, red deer, golden eagles, otters and harbour seals. I tell 12-year-old Tara and nine-year-old Emma this as we clamber ashore, instantly regretting it as otters are notoriously elusive. 

But Arran doesn’t disappoint, remember? As we round Merklands Point a sprinkling of seals shimmer into view, sunning themselves just a few metres away from the road. As we pull away a red squirrel – they thrive on Arran given the absence of rival greys – darts across the tarmac, saving me the trouble of even taking the girls to the viewing hide at Brodick Castle.

We do rumble up the drive to the old bolthole of the Hamiltons though. There’s a new virtual tour to check out at Brodick Castle and “Isle be Wild”, the sort of wooden playground oasis in the forest that I wish they’d had when I was a kid, making my annual Arran pilgrimage with my parents. Swirl in a fairy trail, a network of walks, rich flora and ranger walks, and the castle and its grounds are one giant bucolic theme park without the nauseating rides and tacky shows.

We push on north, passing the sinewy strip of sand at Sannox, a Norse name that evokes the island’s eclectic past. There’s a real sense of living history on Arran. People talk about the Vikings, Stuart monarchs and clansmen as if you might meet them around the next bend.  

Once in the Highlands proper, the road struggles to weave through ever more cinematic scenery: think that Aston Martin scene in Bond’s Skyfall, with steep rock walls rising up to craggy, alpine-style ridges. 

We scan the horizon for wildlife and there he is. A towering red stag, the UK’s largest land mammal, in all his jagged antler finery, standing proud atop the ridge. He is in his prime; this is rutting season, when his murderous cries fill the glens. As I’m about to tell the girls to tick deer off their list, number four appears too. A brace of eagles swirl right up above our stag friend high in the thermals, in a moment that would have had David Attenborough waxing lyrical in the back seat.

Dropping down now we pass Lochranza Distillery. As we skim stones on the pebbly beach at Lochranza Castle, we accidentally complete the Big Five – I hear a splash and presume it’s a stone, but turn to find a familiar furry face. An otter is splashing its way along the rock littoral.

It’s been quite a first day on Arran, so we retreat to the creature comforts of the Auchrannie, the only real resort in the Scottish isles. Employee-owned, it’s got a big heart and we’re welcomed – as we are all over Arran – with a warmness that would disappoint anyone seeking “Covid-19: locals versus tourists tension” stories. The resort takes Covid precautions seriously, but measures are unobtrusive and efficient on an island where virus cases can be counted on the fingers of both hands.

You can let nature entertain on its own on Arran, but we seek the help of Bellevue Farm. Not content with producing a world-class blue cheese here (Arran Blue), the farm now offers hands-on tours where you get to meet and greet sheep, pigs, goats, turkeys and, best of all, alpacas. The next day we encounter even more of these South American members of the camel family at Arran Alpacas, a new outfit at Balmichael which takes things a step further with short alpaca treks.

Part of the beauty of such a compact island is that you can enjoy myriad experiences close together, so we cover a lot of ground across our three days. Daddy gets his pick of excursions at the new Lagg Distillery, a striking state-of-the-art oasis in the island’s less-visited southern extremities. Here, the girls join me on a tour that begins with a dramatic audio-visual story of how Arran was forged from ancient rocks. The island has a solid, elemental feel and it’s no surprise that the new spirit I sample suggests that their malts are going to be mighty, taste bud-thrilling, peaty giants.

Our second base is at the Kinloch, a whitewashed dame of a hotel down on the waterfront in sleepy Blackwaterfoot – think Cornwall without the crowds. I chat to owner Robbie whose family have run the Kinloch for six decades. He is stoic in the face of the pandemic: “My family has seen lots of ups and downs over the years. We’ve offered a calm oasis in many storms and that hasn’t changed now, even with the tweaks we’ve had to make to how we work.”  

We feel this sense of calm as we’re cosseted in a world of plump scallops freshly plucked from the Kilbrannan Sound and Arran lamb, surrounded by waters where Viking longships once sailed by. It’s hard to dine badly on an island blessed with distilleries, two breweries, two cheese producers, a chocolatier, an award-winning bakery and Robin’s Herbs, a pioneering business that has been providing the island with Arran-grown organic fruit and vegetables for decades.

At Mara we savour boat-fresh seafood served in sustainable packaging, before paying homage to trendy new drinks producer Arran Botanical Drinks. I visit their wee hideaway and sit on the sands in their deckchairs. In Scotland. In autumn.  

A towering red stag, the UK’s largest land mammal, in all his jagged antler finery standing proud atop the ridge

At the beach we find a dinosaur statue, which has stood here since I was as young as my girls. Emma turns to me, hugs me, and says, “I know what you like about Arran. It makes everyone feel like this.” I may have been writing my way around the world for three decades, but I couldn’t have put it better. Even in these most testing of times, Arran has worked its magic. It always does.  

Arran is in North Ayrshire, which is entering level 3 restrictions on 20 November. This means people from elsewhere should not travel into a level 3 region unless for essential reasons, while residents of a level 3 area should not travel outside their locality. However, those already in North Ayrshire may travel locally, and hotels and holiday accommodation can remain open.

Scottish government regulations vary from those of the UK government. Always check them before booking and travel: gov.scot/coronavirus-covid-19

Travel essentials

Getting there

Return ferry travel to Arran from Ardrossan in Ayrshire with CalMac starts at £55.90 for a family of four with a standard size car.

Staying there

A night at the Auchrannie starts at £107 per night based on a family of four, B&B.

A night at the Best Western Kinloch Hotel starts at £85 per night based on a family of four, B&B (kids under 12 stay free).

More information

For more information on Arran see visitarran.com.