Once upon a time in the west...

It was late January on Sanna Beach. The day was cold and the sea was calm, with nothing to hear but the wind and the waves. We walked together through the dunes and rock pools, well wrapped but unrushed, in no hurry to get anywhere, our footprints dwarfed by the landscape. Aedan searched for seashells in the soft sand, his little hands clutching his treasure tightly. In all directions were the rugged greens and deep blues of the west coast.

Over the space of two hours, on one of the UK’s most beautiful beaches, we saw not another soul. It was a moment in time that felt gifted to the three of us, a young family of windswept wanderers exploring the most westerly point of the mainland. In this early part of the year – a time for reflection, and for the gift of solitude – the wild sea air felt therapeutic.