View from a hotel path down to the shore in late November.
St Andrew’s Day arrives gently in the north-west this year: soft winter light on the water, a trace of warmth in the mid-day sun, and our hardy native “warrior” birds hopping contentedly over the soil as we clear the spent foliage. My thoughts drift to the significance of Scotland’s patron saint, and the long tradition of welcome that lies at the heart of this former manse.
The stories of St Andrew are older than Scotland itself. A fisherman by trade, known not for status but for kindness, he became the patron saint of travellers, those who seek refuge, and those who offer hospitality. He is woven through centuries of Highland life — not through grandeur, but through the simple belief that every guest should find warmth in the welcome at the door.
That feels close to the spirit of Eddrachilles.
For much of its life, this house belonged to the Church of Scotland, whose emblem placed the burning bush on the cross of St Andrew. In another chapter of our family story, the same saltire cross formed the base of the badge worn by the Scottish Horse regiment on the far fronts of the First World War — a quiet invocation of national identity and the protection of their patron saint as they travelled to Gallipoli, Egypt, Jordan and Jerusalem. In those years, there was no contradiction between the Saltire on the uniform and the “lucky” sovereign or half-sovereign carried in a pocket, bearing St George, patron saint of England, on horseback. That coin reminded its bearer of Great Britain, of King and of the United Kingdom for whom they fought — loyalties that steadied men in difficult times.
Today, in the peace of this landscape, we can remember St Andrew for the welcome he represents: the generosity that comforts and nourishes a traveller, the shelter found in a remote place, the hospitality offered without fuss.
From Badcall Bay, we wish you a peaceful St Andrew’s Day — and the warmth of a house that was once built to welcome its congregation and strangers alike, and still hopes to live up to that calling
Fiona Campbell Trevor is co-owner of Eddrachilles Hotel, a former Church of Scotland manse overlooking Badcall Bay. She writes occasionally about the heritage, landscape and quiet rhythms of life in the far north-west, and the traditions of welcome that continue to shape this place.
