Housesitting on the Isle of Mull Scotland, a Personal Story

Housesitting on the Isle of Mull isn’t your typical Scottish holiday — it’s stone cottages on single-track roads, lochside sunsets, and neighbours who treat you like family. In this story, housesitter Doug Murray shares how one dog-sitting listing on Mull turned into three winters (and a summer) living on this remote Inner Hebridean island, and why house sitting Scotland’s islands might just change how you travel for good.

Mind a Cottage, Lose the Heart: Housesitting on the Isle of Mull

I blame the BBC.

Well, not the entire BBC. Just the series Shetland, the Scottish crime drama set on the islands of the same name. While the adventures of DI Jimmy Pérez (and now DI Ruth Calder) initially pulled me in, it was the wild landscapes of Scotland that had me staring at the TV, gobsmacked. What is this place?

Little did I know that this was the spark that started my love affair with Scotland. Without housesitting, it wouldn’t have been possible. And even though I haven’t been to Shetland (yet!), I have spent a fair amount of time in the Inner Hebrides, mostly housesitting on the Isle of Mull.

The Housesit Listing That Changed Everything

While it was the television series that piqued my interest, it was a listing for a dog sit on the Isle of Mull that set everything in motion. After digesting the details, I jumped on Google Maps. Hmm. Nowhere near Shetland, but it was an island in Scotland. This could work!

At this point, I wasn’t new to housesitting, but I was certainly new to Scotland. I loved the idea of experiencing this timeless corner of the country as a temporary local, not just a traveller frantically ticking off attractions during a far-too-short holiday.

The sit was a long one, from November through February. The listing’s pictures showed a wee house on the west side of Mull. Streetview revealed the area to be rocky, wild, and sparsely populated. Just a few scattered houses and farms making up the neighbourhood. Interesting.

Travelling to Mull: From Ireland to the Inner Hebrides

I was in the middle of a long sit near Galway, Ireland, when I made contact with the Mull homeowner, Mary. She was planning a trip to Central America and needed someone to look after her house and her black lab, Ben. After an introductory call and several emails, the deal was sealed.

Mary planned to leave before I was done in Ireland, but as luck would have it, she already had someone to cover off the first few weeks of her trip. The only other issue was that I likely wouldn’t be able to use the car. Her insurance wouldn’t cover me, and after a brief search, I decided it would be too much of a hassle and likely too expensive.

I was already experiencing the same situation in Ireland. There was a car, but I couldn’t get cover. So, I got around on foot and by bicycle. I figured I could do the same in Scotland. And besides, I just wanted to go!

I knew it wouldn’t be an “easy” sit, but I have a lot of tolerance for places I really want to visit. Mary gave me the lowdown on the weather, shopping, the ferry, and general island life. And not having a car didn’t sound like a big deal.

I started planning. I’d travel by bus from Galway to Dublin and onwards to Belfast. Then I’d hop on a ferry to Cairnryan, Scotland. From there, a bus to Glasgow. Then a train to Oban. And then a ferry to Mull.

And that’s just what I did.

It was a glorious winter day when I made the 45-minute ferry ride from Oban to Mull. Seeing the Inner Hebrides for the first time was an unforgettable experience. I just stood outside on the deck and stared – until I got too cold and ducked into the ferry’s bar for a pint. A short time later, we arrived at the Isle of Mull.

I walked up the dock and met Julian, the interim housesitter, at the ferry terminal in Craignure. He was leaving the next day and was kind enough to stop in at a nearby Spar shop on the way to the house. I grabbed random foods including a Fray Bentos steak and kidney pie, local cheese, and a rubbery-looking cuke.

We continued on, the rugged landscape flying by. Streetview had nothing on reality. Julian explained everything I needed to know by the time we arrived at the house, an old staff quarters for a nearby estate.

I dumped my stuff, toured the house, and then we took Ben, my new canine roommate, for a walk. After a wee rest, we hit the road again. The homeowner’s son and daughter-in-law operated a tiny restaurant about a mile away, so we went there for dinner. There were a couple of main dishes on offer and, since I’d never had haggis, I went for the haggis pizza. Delicious!

The next day, Julian left early, and I just stood there, looking out the front door as his car disappeared in the distance. This was it. The adventure had begun. Just me and Ben and months of time to fill. Luckily, I work online, so I did have to deal with projects and paperwork. I certainly wasn’t going to be bored.

The New Normal: Life at Torloisk Cottage

It’s funny how we adapt to a change of venue. Suddenly, daily life in Canada is replaced by Ireland and then Scotland. You can’t fight it. You have to adapt. And that’s probably the most important skill for a housesitter to have.

The weather was warmer than I expected. It was November, and the grass and shrubbery were still green. A good sign. There were plenty of nearby tracks and trails to walk Ben. And while the parked car taunted me, I had enough food for a few days, and I was confident that I’d figure out everything else.

Of course this is a story, not a book, so I’ll summarize that first year in broad strokes and general impressions. But that first year changed my life.

Located on the remote northwest side of the Isle of Mull, my new temporary home was a classic traditional Scottish stone-built estate cottage, originally built to house estate workers. A rough single-lane road passed directly in front of the house, with Loch Tuath standing between me and the Isle of Ulva, which is home to another BBC series, Banjo and Ro’s Grand Island Hotel. And beyond that, the open sea.

The two-bedroom cottage featured a comfy living area, decent kitchen, standard bathroom (no shower, just a tub), a big yard for Ben, and, of course, an amazing view. There wasn’t a TV, but I had slow-but-functional internet, a radio, a few books, and my e-reader. One thing I didn’t have was mobile phone coverage, but there was a landline for emergencies.

Ben was an older dog. He was friendly, low maintenance, and farted a lot. His only demands: two walks and two meals per day. Ben was instrumental in keeping me company and getting me out of the house for long walks by the sea, no matter the weather. On chilly days, I’d put a rug on the front steps, so he wouldn’t have to sit on the cold stone while we watched the sunset. He absolutely loved long walks in the absolute worst weather, after which I would absolutely have a long hot bath.

Community & Connections: Living Like a Local on Mull

The part of Mull where I lived was quiet, especially in the winter. From the house I couldn’t see any of the other houses along the twisty, hilly road. Ulva was pitch black at night. And apart from the odd passing car or a fishing vessel on the loch, there was little ambient light. The night sky was mesmerizing.

With time, I began to meet the neighbours. Thanks to the bush telegraph, they already knew all about me. They would pop by and offer rides to the closest store, which was in the village of Dervaig. The journey was about five miles away on a very rough road, often blocked by highland cows or sheep.

Other times, the neighbours would collect me, and we’d head across Mull to the biggest town on the island, Tobermory—the setting for the BBC kids’ show, Balamory. (You see why I blame the BBC for this?)

We’d make a day of it, hitting the Co-op for groceries and wine, the bakery, and small shops like Tackle & Books. We’d also wedge a pub lunch into the itinerary.

The local folks took me in. I celebrated Christmas, Hogmanay, and Robbie Burns Day, and never did I feel like I was a stranger. I got to know the local haggis maker. To this day, no matter where I am, I’m always looking for haggis. If you don’t like haggis, you’ve probably never had it.

Thanks to my new friends, not having a car wasn’t a big deal. It just meant I had more time to hang out at the house, soak in the view, and go on long, cold, wet walks with Ben. Over time, I came to know this part of the island like the back of my hand. The old piers, the tumbledown crofts, and which fields would swallow my feet whole.

Scottish Island Weather: Four Seasons in an Hour

I’ve heard it said that Scotland experiences all four seasons in one day. I can’t say I disagree. In fact, I would take that one step further. In the winter, you can experience all four seasons in a single hour.

While I was surprised by the mild winters, I found the weather highly unpredictable. There wasn’t a lot of snow, but when there was, the countryside was breathtaking. Most of the big storms came barrelling across the Atlantic and slammed into Mull. But despite high winds and lashing sleet, the power usually stayed on.

The other thing I noticed was that while the days were short, they usually ended with incredible sunsets. Even on the stormiest of days, the clouds would part around sundown, allowing beams of reddish-orange light through.

As someone who has experienced the worst of Canadian winters, I found winter housesitting on the Isle of Mull easy to take and very similar to Canada’s West Coast. And on the worst days? I’d just jump in the tub for a nice, long, hot soak.

The End That Was the Beginning

Before I knew it, I was wrapping up my first winter on Mull. Mary was beginning her journey back, and I was packing up my stuff and giving the cottage a good clean. I did my final rounds of the shops and thanked all the neighbours, who were now friends. Without them, it would have been a much different experience. After a final walk with Ben, I headed off to my next sit in Nova Scotia, Canada (from old Scotland to New Scotland!).

After that first winter, I was hooked. Mary knew this too, and that’s why I wasn’t surprised when I received an email asking if I’d like to return. Of course I would! She also mentioned that Ben had passed over the summer and that I would be on my own. That news hurt, because I’d developed a strong bond with Ben. And that’s one of the things about petsitting: You connect with so many animals that you experience loss on a regular basis.

Returning to Mull: Wheels & New Perspective

My second winter on Mull felt like going home. Same neighbourhood, same house, same social network. It was much quieter without Ben, of course. But it was good to be back. I knew the neighbours and the lay of the land.

And the big difference: I had wheels. I finally found a car insurance company that would cover me as an overseas resident. It wasn’t cheap, but now I could get around without relying on rides. It also meant I could explore other parts of the island. Not only that, I could drive myself to the ferry terminal, park the car, and travel to the mainland as a foot passenger to shop at major retailers. Hello, Tesco, Lidl, and Aldi!

It was a fun time. I saw a lot more of Mull and met even more people. And by the end of that second winter I had lined up a month-long summer sit for one of the neighbours.

Winter vs. Summer Housesitting on the Isle of Mull

In July I flew into Glasgow and met the homeowner at the airport. She welcomed me, tossed me the keys to her car and pointed me in the right direction. With a wave, she dashed off to catch her flight.

I hopped in the car and hit the motorway. I like taking the train in the UK, but driving is great too. I took some smaller roads and a wee detour through Inveraray on my way to the ferry in Oban. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I was gobsmacked.

For the summer sit, I had two cats to look after as well as some minor gardening tasks. It took some time to get used to the extra-long days and the midges. Oh, the midges! I’d been warned about the midges and, since I’ve experienced horseflies and mosquitoes in Canada, I thought, “How bad could they be?”

Bad.

When working in the garden or picking currants, I had to wear trousers, long sleeves, a midge head net, and douse myself with Smidge, the local repellent.

They were still bad.

I know it sounds strange, but I prefer visiting Mull in the winter. The summer weather is fantastic, and I was able to visit a bunch of different beaches and attractions that are closed in the off-season. But the single-lane roads were absolutely packed with traffic. Many drivers were clueless about how to use passing lanes or even reverse. It could be very frustrating going anywhere, especially to Tobermory on the weekend. Parking was difficult, and there were line-ups everywhere. It’s all great for the local economy, but I was used to nearly empty roads and parking right out front of the Co-op!

Still, summer on Mull was an awesome experience and a great contrast to the winter. And speaking of winter, while I was winding down my July sit, Mary asked if I’d like to come back for the winter. How could I say no?

The Third Winter & The Power of Community

After the summer sit on Mull, I returned to Ireland for the rest of the summer and part of autumn. And suddenly it was November, and I was heading back to Mull for yet another winter in what was beginning to feel like my second home.

Once again I had a car and was able to get insurance coverage. The house still felt empty without Ben, but the neighbours made sure I got out for a walk. There were dinners and road trips, and I couldn’t have been more content.

One day there was an email from Mary. She had taken seriously ill on her trip to Central America and would be returning home in about a week. This was well before the end of the sit, so I had to find a Plan B on short notice.

And this is one of the reasons why I love Mull: The island delivered. I explained the situation to my neighbours, more to tell them about their friend’s illness than anything else. They asked what I was going to do and I said I didn’t know.

Calls were made, and it turned out that a couple who lived further down the road were going to London for Christmas. I could stay at theirs for a month, but there wouldn’t be a car. Having been down the no-car road before, I didn’t find this to be an obstacle.

Not that it would have mattered. Another neighbour said her son wasn’t coming home from uni for Christmas and I could use his car. The people I’d met through my housesitting experience were now making sure I was sorted. It gave me time to get the house ready for Mary’s return and to make new plans.

And again I lucked out. I found a winter cat sit on Pender Island, British Columbia, Canada. Another island. Another winter. Another repeat client. More adventures.

I appreciated every single day of my adventures housesitting on the Isle of Mull. The people I met, the places I saw, and the raw beauty of the Inner Hebrides. While Mary has passed on, I am forever in her debt for picking me as her housesitter. It led to a lifetime of experiences and friendships that continue to this day.

BIO

Doug Murray is an avid housesitter and remote worker who explores the world one pet-sit at a time. When he isn’t walking dogs on remote Scottish islands, you can find him planning his next island escape.

FURTHER READING

At Housesit Match we like to share useful blogs such as this one on housesitting on the Isle of Mull. We hope you find this small selection of our blogs on house sitters useful.

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