A 20-inch telescope under a roof that rolls away.
Mhairi, our resident astronomer, runs the dome every clear night from ten. Saturn's rings, the Orion Nebula, and whatever she's in the mood for. No experience needed, just warm socks.
A twelve-room retreat on a small Hebridean island, where the nearest streetlight is a ferry ride away and on a clear night you can see your breath and the Milky Way at the same time.
Slept in, and written about, by
Skerrach has no streetlights, no mains-lit roads and a population that goes to bed early. We measure the dark every evening from the roof of the kitchen, and it has not let us down yet.
Bortle class. The darkest rating a sky can get.
Streetlights on the island. We checked. Twice.
Stars visible to the naked eye on a good night.
Average sky quality reading, measured nightly.
Everything on the croft is built around one idea: keeping your eyes dark-adapted from supper until sunrise.
Mhairi, our resident astronomer, runs the dome every clear night from ten. Saturn's rings, the Orion Nebula, and whatever she's in the mood for. No experience needed, just warm socks.
Supper at nine. Porridge at three for anyone still out on the machair.
Every lamp on the croft turns red after dusk, so your eyes stay open for business.
Cedar, woodfired, ten metres from the Atlantic. Watch the stars come out through the steam.
It's in the kitchen if you need it. Most people forget by the second night.
Keep scrolling. The sky will do the rest.
A Land Rover, a flask of tea, and eleven minutes of single-track road. Your phone signal goes somewhere around the second cattle grid.
Langoustines from the pier, bread from the Aga, and a table of strangers who will be friends by the time the Plough rises.
Mhairi opens the dome. Your first look at Saturn through proper glass tends to get a noise out of people. It's usually a swear.
If the aurora shows, we knock. If it doesn't, the Milky Way is doing its best impression of weather, straight overhead.
The quietest hour. Porridge in the kitchen for the stubborn, a hot water bottle for everyone else.
The stars go out one at a time. Breakfast is whenever you wake up, which is usually lunchtime.
All rates are per night for two, with supper, breakfast and the dome. Made-up prices for a made-up island.
Longest nights, best aurora odds.
Sleeps 2 · 6 on the croft
Sleeps 2 · 4 on the croft
Sleeps 4 · 2 on the croft
| Feature | Bothy | Loft | Dome Suite |
|---|---|---|---|
| Supper and breakfast | |||
| Shared dome sessions | |||
| Aurora alerts | Standard | Priority | Priority |
| Private telescope | · | · | |
| Sauna slot | On request | Nightly | Nightly |
| Cloud cover promise | · | · |
A bright moon washes out the faint stuff. This is tonight's real moon, worked out from today's date, and the darkest week coming up.
"I've lived in Glasgow for thirty years and I didn't know the sky had that many layers."
"They knocked at two in the morning. I have never been so happy to be woken up."
"Cloudy for two nights. Third night, Saturn. Worth every grey hour."
It's the Hebrides, so it might be. We run talks, films and a very competitive pub quiz in the kitchen, and Dome Suite guests get a free night if we lose three in a row.
Not a thing. Most guests can't find the Plough on arrival. By the second night they're pointing it out to the new arrivals.
Maybe. We see some aurora on around one in five dark-season nights. Nobody can promise it, and anyone who does is selling something.
Train to Oban, then the ferry. We meet every boat at the pier. If you drive, leave the car in Oban. You won't need it.
No. Neither is Mhairi, sadly. This whole site is a demo built to show off a web design toolkit. Press the green button in the corner to see how.
Every library and pattern on this page came from the Supasites design resources repo. Hit Show the kit bottom left and each section labels itself.