MONTY: Goes native in the Scottish Highlands

I am, at least for the next six months, Monty of the North. Through some judicious pitching of ideas for a new television series, I find myself perched at the very northwestern edge of the British mainland, directly opposite the Isle of Skye.The idea is to do up an old crofter’s cottage, set up a smallholding and watch the seasons (and the sea) change right under my sunburnt nose. The plan is also to explore the archipelago of the Western Isles in a combination of a kayak and a RIB (as in two separate vessels, not some Frankenstein version of a canoe with a 150hp Evinrude on the stern).

The bay itself is so beautiful that it beggars description – not a terribly good thing for a so-called wordsmith such as myself to say, but true. When I first drove over the brow of the hill leading to the beach, I just stopped the car and stared through the windscreen, totally silent, with the director shouting at me to say something (I think the expression ‘muppet’ was used at one point). The cottage sits on a peninsula next to a crescent of white sand, with two streams chuckling their way through peat and around stones before meandering across the beach into the sea. Opposite the channel – a deep blue quite unlike the normal green of our temperate waters – loom the great, dark mountains of Skye, still topped by a dusting of snow. It is riotously, extravagantly, crazily beautiful.

As a British diver, I am happiest in British waters. The sea that laps at the dark stones and white sand, metres from my door, is crystal clear, and home to some of the most exciting marine life in Europe. I hope to see basking sharks, several whale species, orcas, otters, dolphins and sea eagles, as well as the usual suspects. This particular diver is, quite frankly, in heaven.

For now, though, there is work to be done. To say the croft is run down is an understatement – it looks as though it’s been on the wrong end of a fairly sustained naval bombardment. It’s time to roll up the sleeves and get stuck in – putting a roof on being the number one priority. Once this is in place, I can move in and work from the inside out.

This does mean living a simple life for a few weeks while the basic amenities are sorted out. I’m happy to say, though, that as an ex-Bootneck, there is no problem with going feral for a while. I shall periodically emerge blinking into the sunlight to gather shellfish, before loping back to the croft like some sort of baboon, stuffing mussels into my mouth en route, all the while glancing wildly around and snarling at gulls.

Fortunately, the weather is being kind right now. The coast is bathed in spring sunshine, creating golden mornings and hazy evenings. The animals all around have started to shake off the slough of winter, and everywhere are the first glimpses of furious activity as the summer boom begins. For me, it has meant a heart-stopping glimpse of an otter, sculling past the cottage to peer curiously at the activity onshore, before rolling elegantly beneath the surface to leave me staring open-mouthed at the ring of bright water in its wake. Seals have been abundant – I haven’t quite figured out which ones are the common seals and which are the greys, but then again, they are probably having a similar conversation: ‘Which one is the presenter and which one is the cameraman?’ ‘Hmm, I think you can always spot a presenter as they have a far larger head than the rest of the species.’

I will, of course, keep you posted over the next few months. There should be lots of diving going on – certainly lots of snorkelling – and frequent updates on the activity and marine environment around me.

On a personal note, I shall end up either with a feeling of supreme contentment and a growing wonder at what our own waters can offer, or alternatively beginning a slow descent into madness brought on by malnutrition, midge bites, loneliness, and excessive consumption of traditional west-coast beverages. Two potential outcomes, of which ultimately – as the saying goes in this neck of the woods – there can be only one.

Either way, it should make for an entertaining read.