I saw it first by accident through the rain-blotted lens of my binoculars. I was reluctantly watching Oystercatchers on the behest of my partner when to my sheer delight (because buildings are far more interesting than birds!) I noticed a square shape on the horizon. Almost entirely swallowed up by cloud I could just make out a ruined mansion and beside it another hollowed out structure. I gasped – the last thing I expected to see on the northern edge of North Uist was a romantic spectacle such as this. I eagerly consulted the map and there it was as if out of a Tolkien wonderland: Vallay.

According to some frantic researching I did via the sporadic phone signal, the Baronial residence I could see through the binoculars was built in 1902 by Erskine Beveridge, a Scottish textile manufacturer, historian and photographer who passed the house onto his son. His son, however, drowned and from there the trail of Vallay House goes quiet. So, with my imagination at full throttle and with a few days left of our holiday we decided to check the following day’s tides and attempt the walk to the island.

So the next day we set off from the boggy edge of the strand – a seemingly infinite stretch of sand disappearing into mist – sometimes giving way to sparkling slivers of stream and tidal current. Because of the height of the water it seemed impossible to do the walk other than in bare foot and so we began our fast-paced and slightly nervous walk across. Our toes were numb from the icy water, but the hard sand felt lovely and it was wonderfully soothing to plod here and there through stream and river…interesting too to trace the movement of the tide…a rare chance to actually be in the midst of lunar gravity. This really was a thrilling experience as the weather seemed to throw everything at us at 5 minute intervals. First it was bright blue skies and dazzling sunshine, next ferocious wind and battering hail – downpours that whipped your skin turning clothes to rivers in seconds. In the Outer Hebrides soggy clothes and wind-whip are close companions.

Passing little islets and large stones covered in slippery seaweed and barnacles, the island, still engulfed by billows of cloud, drew ever closer. As if by magic as soon as we reached the edge of Vallay the sun made a brief but dazzling appearance. Eager to get exploring before the bad weather returned, I hobbled across the pebbles and weeds and once on the island I raced toward the Gothic ruin. The path leading up to it was dramatic in itself – the entrance had two turreted stone structures either side with an old farm gate half-open. I felt like a heroine in a Gothic novel racing up the path to meet her secret lover! Usually derelict buildings are boarded up and surrounded by fences and barriers – but not Vallay House. The doorways and window hollows were open and if one dared it was possible to go inside – to move among the broken walls, bits of fallen-in roof and general damage and detritus. I didn’t dare. The rain returned and so I circled the building – swooning and sighing and taking as many photos as I could. Parts of the old fireplaces were still intact, as were the original tiles and bits of coloured wall. I was devastated and enthralled in equal measure – what a tragedy to let such a beautiful building fall into disrepair, yet there is something so alluring about the process of decay. I felt like an intruder, a voyeur spying on something in the final throes of dying.

We only had an hour or so to explore the island until the tides would start coming in. So we briefly explored the other buildings and generally enjoyed being there on Vallay – entirely alone – surrounded by water, rock and carpets of entangled Machair. Given more time we would have explored the pristine stretch of beach we could see over the verge of a rolling hill. Given more time I would have lingered more in and around Vallay House. Reluctantly we made our way back across the strand, turning every so often to see the island grow ever smaller and bury itself ever deeper into the clouds. Visiting Vallay was the highlight of my trip to Scotland, an unexpected hidden jewel, and a place I hope to return to again and again.