Moving further away from home to the Western Isles in the middle of a global pandemic was perhaps a bit of a surprising decision to some people, but after feeling trapped in a city for months of lockdown I didn’t have to think too hard about it. I did worry about the potential isolation, but as it turned out, that wasn’t an issue at all.
Before moving I’d made it as far as Barra for a weekend camping, but had never been to any of the other Western Isles. I knew a few people who had been there either as students or foundation doctors though, and they all said it was a wonderful place to work. One person did describe it repeatedly as ‘bleak’ but after a quick search online I didn’t think I would agree.
Day one of my arrival brought me down with a bump, with enough rain that I could barely see across the car park, as I sat by myself in a temporary room I couldn’t unpack in, feeling alone and wondering why I’d decided to leave a perfectly happy life behind me. Following that came a month of sunshine, where I spent every spare moment on a beach, getting to know both the island and new friends, and being dragged into the sea on a regular basis. Very quickly I remembered why I was there and couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.
From white sandy beaches and turquoise waters, to unspoiled hills, to machair-covered ground, the Western Isles have everything you could ask for if you’re looking for some time outdoors. Compared to the busy cities most of us in medical training are used to, the island offered a peaceful space, where I quickly found myself surprised if I saw another group on any of our days out.
My six months on the island allowed me to discover a love/hate relationship with cold water swimming. As someone who frequently complained to friends that I thought I would “never be warm again” after getting a little chilly, I didn’t think regularly throwing myself into cold water would be my thing. This quickly changed, when another CDF (Clinical Development Fellow) had an infectious enthusiasm for it, and before I knew it, I was constantly on the lookout for opportunities to get out in the sea. This was helped, I’m sure, by the chance in the late summer to go and spend time on the stunning beaches, but no amount of wind, rain, snow or lack of sunlight was going to stop us from carrying on into the winter. We swam in rainbows, in storms, alongside seals, in bright sunshine or moonlight, and rang in the bells at New Year with plenty of screaming as we ran into the water (and very quickly out again).
On the days where I couldn’t face the cold of the sea, there was plenty of other things to keep me busy; keeping watch for whales and dolphins off the coast, walks up through the hills, going to visit historic sites, and jumping in my car at any mention of an aurora so that I could get away from the lights of the town to try and catch a glimpse of them. Most of these options still did admittedly involve getting pretty cold, but they were always entirely worth it.
It wasn’t perfect; whose experience of a lockdown was? But I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else for those six months, and my only complaint was that I wasn’t able to share the magical feeling of the island with more of my friends and family.
Dr Catherine White (Cat) is a Clinical Development Fellow currently based at Caithness General Hospital in Wick.
