Stoic locals, free beer and venison on tap: life in Britain’s most remote village

“Inverie was always going to be a bit odd – we are literally sandwiched between heaven and hell,” grinned the boatman, John, as we narrowly avoided running over a pod of dolphins to arrive at a pier beneath a Tolkien-esque amphitheatre of Highland massifs. On board, a normal cargo for Inverie: seven stoic locals – a pivotal Knoydart number it turns out – in T-shirts heaving luggage, a headless stag on his way to dinner and a bemused Danish couple draped in wet weather gear.

I was just glad not to be walking in – it is a rough, 15-mile yomp from Kinloch Hourn, betwixt the lochs of Nevis (Heaven) and Hourn (Hell). If anything, new arrivals find John was understating it. Inverie, the only village on Knoydart – the most remote inhabited peninsula in the British Isles – is deeply strange, a world where almost every aspect of life exists outside the norm.

This bolthole of little over 100 souls endures beyond where Britain’s road and rail network surrenders. Survival is largely thanks to the 1999 buyout that allowed the community to generate its own electricity, brew its own beer, cull Knoydart venison and build an impressive village hall amongst a myriad of projects.

Things were not always so rosy. Gazing out over glens battered by history from The Old Forge, the British mainland’s most remote pub – owned by the locals, and which is giving out free beer this summer to reward those who make the long journey – Davie Newton, a director of the Knoydart Foundation, explained: “For centuries Knoydart had a succession of poor landlords and it’s been a fight to get to where we are today.”

It is tempting to see Knoydart as a sort of wild paradise, the stuff of gushing Ben Fogle TV shows, a charming shortbread-tin Highlands. That frustrates Newton, and Knoydart forest ranger Finlay Greig too: “Knoydart is no untouched wilderness, it’s very much a man-made wilderness over 2,000 people used to call home, but the Clearances put paid to most of them.” That seismic upheaval hit Knoydart hard, with harrowing tales of women torn from their homes to miscarry in the night, of torched crofts, burned lives.

The fightback did not begin with the buyout, but decades earlier. With that number seven. Lord Brocket ruled Knoydart with a tight grip back in 1948 when the ‘Seven Men of Knoydart’ made a daring land raid, standing up to Brocket literally, in the courts and – perhaps most importantly – across newspaper headlines. A memorial in Inverie still marks the revolt.

Those embryonic struggles paved the way for the buyout when the Knoydart Foundation was set up, defying many critics, transforming an estate on the verge of bankruptcy. The population has mushroomed from seemingly terminal decline to over 120; the school roll doubled last year. Shorn of all our pan-UK worries about energy supply, they generate their own electricity through Knoydart Renewables’ 280kW hydroelectric scheme, and channel revenue from forestry projects back into planting more commercial trees and indigenous reforestation.

The community shop is a microcosm of the changes. You snare hulking haunches of local venison on one side, as well as fruit and vegetables grown on communal plots. Next door is a shop selling souvenirs created on Knoydart to a steady stream of summer boat trippers and exhausted hikers.

All are welcome too in the Wee Hooses. This trio of coorie (think Highland ‘hygge’) abodes were built by the community this year. Pre-assembled just across the water in Mallaig, the wood cladding comes from Knoydart. A far cry from crofting privations, they have a wee deck with views, a bunk bed for the kids and a double bed, all warmed by a wood-burning stove and walls insulated with Knoydart wool.

Ownership issues do, though, still haunt Inverie, most dramatically with the fiery tangle over The Old Forge. The community became increasingly frustrated with Belgian owner Jean-Pierre Robinet and the erratic opening times of this social hub, so much so they built their own ‘sitooterie’ outside. But The Old Forge has been in community hands since last spring. “It’s great to be open again,” beamed the barman as he poured me a pint of Inverie Pale Ale. “I heard our visitor survey revealed people come to Knoydart for three things – community, mountains and the pub!”

As I headed for the ferry I met Stephanie Harris, a local woman who recently returned after tiring of Glasgow. She works with the SCOTO (scoto.co.uk) initiative, which aims to help visitors be “more temporary locals than tourists”, to dig beyond the postcard gloss. Harris is excited by links being fostered between Knoydart and the Hebridean island of Eigg, which beckoned on the horizon behind us.

Her last words echoed beyond the pier as I boarded along with a couple of now beaming Danish tourists: “Knoydart’s community stretches well beyond the peninsula – we get support from all over the world. Inverie might seem a little strange at first, but with our own electricity and much of what we need, maybe we’ve got a few lessons for the outside world too.”

How to visit Knoydart

Western Isles Ferries (westernislescruises.co.uk) sails from Mallaig. The train from Glasgow (scotrail.co.uk) takes you right to Mallaig harbour. For everything you need to know about Knoydart – including accommodation – see visitknoydart.co.uk.