In the hushed, misty summer morning on this speck of land off the west coast, I feel something I'm not quite sure I've experienced before: complete solitude. Walking around Easdale Island, it's as if the shroud-like haar has glided over the sea and ferried everyone else away.
I have made a detour here on the well-worn path to the Isle of Skye. Round these parts, you won't have to elbow your way past hordes of tourists, or much of anyone, except for one highly anticipated weekend a year. This car-free island, which takes all of an hour to walk around, is home to the World Stone Skimming Championships.
A Scandal-Plagued Competition
Don't let its wholesome nature nor its idyllic setting fool you; the event is fiercely competitive and attracts global interest, though, like me, you may have never heard of it until recently. The 2025 games were mired with scandal. A handful of participants admitted to cheating with the aid of "suspiciously circular" stones. Although I live in Glasgow, I learned of the event from a New York Times headline that blared: "A bucolic stone-skimming contest in Scotland is infiltrated by cheaters". As a result, an expert geologist is slated to anonymously oversee this year's event.
Easdale Island (population: 60) has hosted the championship every September since 1997. Over 2,200 people from 27 countries attended the spectacle last year. Participation is by ballot and people of all ages and abilities around the world are encouraged to enter the draw that selects 400 participants.
Getting to the Island
Although it may seem like I'm at the end of the world, Glasgow is less than three hours' drive away. Travelling to Easdale requires getting to the Isle of Seil, which itself is a mere hop from the mainland via the charming 200-year-old hump-backed Clachan Bridge. Standing at the pier of the rugged coastal village of Ellenabeich, the island is a stone's throw away. A mere 200 metres off the coast, Easdale is the smallest permanently inhabited island of the Inner Hebrides.
Freezing water notwithstanding, I wonder if you could swim across, but the sea here is more dangerous than it is cold. Powerful tidal currents lurk beneath the surface. One of the UK's most dangerous stretches of water is nearby. Coincidentally, a 'seafari' departs from the same dock to the Corryvreckan Whirlpool, the third largest in the world.
Slate and Stone Skimming
I would rather kick rocks, and that I do — famous ones. Easdale is part of the Slate Islands, an archipelago that "roofed the world". The championship is intrinsically linked to its origins as the centre of the Scottish slate industry. Contestants choose the stones used for their three attempts but they must be from Easdale. Judges use a measuring device dubbed the "ring of truth" to check the stones are not more than three inches wide.
So I endeavour to see the tiny island with its quirky competition that has drawn so much attention. The Easdale ferry runs on demand. To hail it, you must enter a wee hut by the pier and press two light switches at the same time. This triggers a piercing klaxon across the narrow channel that summons the next crossing on the timetable.
Life on the Island
The voyage in a small motorboat is so quick it's almost over by the time I'm finished fumbling with the contactless payment. I'd been prompted to enter the PIN and your guess is as good as mine, so it's all very 2026, until the first thing you see on arrival — Easdale's answer to cars. A colourful array of upturned wheelbarrows are strewn on the grass beside the jetty. Residents push them to and fro to transport their shopping and belongings. On this sleepy morning, I see more wheelbarrows than people.
Despite my trepidation about how I'd fill 90 minutes on this tiny isle, the maximum amount of time I can allow for this pitstop, I somehow lose track of time and end up dashing across the isle to get the ferry back. I meander around the white-washed homes and their requisite slate roofs and have a nosy at the honesty boxes. One is full of eggs, both chicken and duck, and another with handcrafted soaps.
Following the sound of water, I scrabble down and around the craggy shore, and looking down, it's true — the beach is full of remarkably flat and smooth stones, perfect for skipping. The drama and crash of the waves against the rocks is mesmerising. The only souls I see are one dog walker and another from a distance. At one point, I investigate a squawking bird in the hopes of it being a puffin (unfortunately not). All the while, gentle rain patters down, so by the time I begin the ascent to the highest point of the isle, toes squelching in my trainers, I turn around in search of somewhere to dry off.
Although I've spent all of an hour alone, stepping into The Puffer, the island's only pub and restaurant, is a bit startling. But a warming cup of tea in hand, I'm soon happily eavesdropping on the waitstaff and a group of three OAPs at the next table over. With 10 minutes to go, I realise with a jolt I haven't seen the most famous thing about Easdale. Quickly settling the bill with the young French waiter (another stranger in a strange land), one souvenir at the till — a keychain with a handpainted Easdale stone — is too tempting to pass up. On an island full of rocks, I manage to buy one for £7.
The clock is ticking and I scurry to the site of the games that attract visitors near and far. I stand beside the flooded sea quarry where Jonathan Jennings, last year's winner and the first American, skipped stones for a cumulative 155 metres. Alas, the water is choppy and I'm not able to best him. Gazing out over the empty quarry, I feel a bit underwhelmed, but like any good tourist, I snap some pictures, and go home.
