We Stayed in an Off-Grid Cabin by a Scottish Loch. Here’s What It Was Like.

A lantern on a floating hand comes towards me in the gloaming. It is my husband.

Determined to go off-grid for three nights, our phones are switched off and hidden away. Our reliance on our mobile devices is apparent in our both forgetting to bring a torch. Hence the lantern - a single tea light in a white metal and glass receptacle.

Standing on a rocky track, gazing at dim echoes of village light draped across the loch, I feel like I’ve gone back in time. There is no podcast that can match birdsong.

Embracing the Wild

Later, we walk through the rain. An ethereal spirit of mist cloaks the forest then sweeps on - an aurora light display of drizzle and wind. When we return, we don our swimsuits and run into the storm, careering downhill, throwing shoes off, and plunging into a high tide.

We become the water.

Cloud above and loch below, wind careers over our heads and through the waves until we emerge, renewed. Though shivering, I no longer feel cold as I run then slow to a walk up the hill.

I feel wild, like my true soul has awoken once more. I want Peter to take a picture, to capture the feeling in a frame. But then I realise that a wild moment cannot be tethered and go instead for a warm shower in the shed on the hill.

Off-Grid Cabin Facilities

Back inside the cabin, all is still but for the crackling of the fire. There is no running water here, nor is there internet or electricity. There is a bed, a wood burning stove, some basic crockery, a kettle, and a pot. But that is just about all.

Outside, there is a composting toilet. A wee walk through a field - normally the domain of a herd of cows we are told - is a shed made of an old shipping container. On one side is a sink and a large gas camping stove.

On the other is a gas powered shower that gets surprisingly warm. I can’t help but to keep peeking outside the shower curtain to take in the view.

The Location

So where is this off-grid cabin, and how did we discover it?

This particular cabin is located on a farm near Dalmally, by the edge of Loch Awe.

We began with the West Highland Railway Line. Knowing it to be one of the most beautiful railway journeys in the world, we started by looking at the station names and searching Air BnB for accommodation nearby.

I had visited Loch Awe for a day trip a year before, and had also hiked my first Munro in the area, so was keen to return. Soon enough, we stumbled upon “Bird Hide”, an off grid “romantic getaway”, and decided to book it.

Our hiking bags sat packed by the door. Bicycle tires all pumped up, and panniers filled with books. We rose early, aiming to arrive in the Highlands by lunchtime.

I’m sure we would have, if it wasn’t for the the announcement.

Days of heavy rain had submerged railway tracks across the country. Everything cancelled. The one bus still running was booked out in moments.

There was nothing to do but wait for the flooding to subside. Thankfully, our host kindly offered to book us an extra night free of charge to make up for our delay.

So, the next day, we were finally off.

We boarded the Oban-bound train from Glasgow Queen Street, happily trussed up our bikes, and seated ourselves for a scenic ride. What we didn’t factor in was a mad dash along the Crianlarich station platform mid-journey! If you plan to take this journey, it’s worth noting that the train often splits up with half the carriages going to Oban and the other half to Fort William and Mallaig.

Within two and a half quick hours, we arrived into the eclectic Dalmally Station. Descending onto the platform, then crossing the track to where the exit seemed to be, we stood for a moment with our bikes. Where to now?

We needn’t have worried.

A gentleman in an earthy olive toned kilt and hiking boots emerged from the station house.

“Where you headed?” To the point.

“A cabin in the middle of nowhere we think!”

“Oh! Will that be Rachel’s* then?”

Peter and I glanced at each other. “Yes, it is actually!”

“Out the station to the left, over the bridge and keep going up the track.”

There’s a busy country road that would take you directly to the cabin within 10-15 minutes. For us, we cycled the Old Military Road via the Duncan Ban McIntyre Monument.

This comprised an uphill cycle, lunch with a view, an unexpected bog, and a scary wrong turn into the A85. At last, we arrive.

What It’s Like to Stay in an Off-Grid Cabin

I send one last message to family, then turn off my phone.

Boredom descends.

“So quickly?” I wonder to myself.

I’m not permanently on my device in general, so such sudden feelings of boredom were unexpected.

I go for a walk.

Peaceful. But bored.

A little antsy.

Tea.

Now what?

I look at the view again, feeling strangely emotional at the way the golden light shines on the loch.

Yellow tits in murmuration pass overhead. I think I see a pair of Ospreys.

Not so bored anymore. I read a little.

Then I pick up my pen and write.

The next day we walk to Dalmally, planning to have lunch in a hotel restaurent. Deserted. Big red signs are plastered to the doors:

“Due to staff shortages the restaurant is

not open to the general public.”

Due to the empty car park, we deduce that not only is the restaurent closed, but the hotel itself.

The same story repeats at another establishment up the road. A large, posh looking hotel. The downstairs dining and sitting rooms are empty of customers, or even furniture. I feel sad to see it, and not only because we’re hungry.

Stocking up at the village store, we head home in the rain and go for a swim.

In the evenings we curl by the fire, roasting marshmallows on skewers.

We read a bit. We write a lot. We drink tea.

On our last night, the clouds clear. I go outside, look up, and my heart near-implodes within me. The stars are unveiled like a bride on her wedding day. So I lie on a bench, freezing cold, and cry. I am so happy yet so sad, feeling this to be only a glimpse of heaven, and longing to stay here forever.

But of course, the next day, we must go home.

One day, I suppose, we will go home for good. Until then, I will catch heavenly glimpses when I can.

*Name changed for privacy reasons