Despatches from remote places

I’m writing this from a lay-by in a forsaken area of the West Coast of Lewis. The wind is a monotone chant, the rain beats out an irregular rhythm, the light is background only, a faint descant. What on earth am I doing here? The writer Michel Faber once...

Extract from Catalogue, written by Michel Faber

Painting the volcanic crags and swirling seas of St Kilda is not a job for the easily discouraged. The archipelago, famously abandoned in 1930 by its inhabitants, is only accessible on days when gales don’t force the helicopter to cancel the sixty-mile flight over the...