The first dip into the loch took my breath away — literally. The water was so cold it made my toes ache, my breath catch and my body scream to get out. It was like pressing reset on every nerve. Emerging wide-eyed and invigorated, I padded barefoot up the sandy bank and into the sauna, warm and glowing, which awaited me like a silent reward. Inside, cedar-scented heat wrapped around me like a blanket, thawing every frozen thought.
That pattern of cold and heat, effort and rest, came to define our time at Willow Cabin, one of four Loch Venachar cabins, right on the water and a 15-minute drive west of Callander. I may only have been one hour from Glasgow but this felt like more than just a holiday; it was a recalibration.
The cabin sits quietly on the edge of the loch, its timber frame low and unobtrusive against the Trossachs backdrop. From the outside it’s modest, almost self-effacing, but step inside and you’re greeted with a huge open-plan space that is much larger than it appears and full of natural light. Floor-to-ceiling windows make the loch your personal painting, ever-changing yet always still.
We settled into a simple rhythm: morning coffee on the balcony while wrapped in thick jumpers with our hands cradling mugs and the outdoor fire crackling beside us; evenings playing Jenga and drinking wine after dinner. There’s no TV and that’s the point. You talk, you listen to the fire, you watch the light shift on the water.
• Blowing the cover on Scotland’s secret island escape
We ate well, in that unhurried, slightly improvised way that holidays encourage. The first night we made pasta with supplies picked up en route from Marks & Spencer (because nothing says a holiday like a Marks’s picky tea). On the second day, we wandered into Callander and treated ourselves to coffee and lunch at Mhor Bread, a bakery whose cakes and sandwiches more than live up to their reputation (tip: try their sausage rolls, they’re divine). The village is full of charm with bookshops, one complete with its own resident cat, and well-stocked charity shops where I added to my Nigella collection.
There’s plenty to do — walks up Ben Ledi, fishing in the Teith, cycling to Balquhidder up National Cycle Network Route 7 — but the beauty of Willow Cabin is that you don’t have to do much at all. After gallivanting in the village, we were excited to get home and make ourselves cosy by the fire. The cabin encourages you to slow down. The sauna and log-burners (both indoor and out) are more than just luxuries. They invite you to truly rest. You’ll find yourself watching flames instead of checking your phone. There are generous logs provided, underfloor heating, four bedrooms and big communal spaces, making it ideal for groups or families.
As with most things off-grid and idyllic, there are trade-offs. The kitchen, while fully functional, was missing a few basics like sugar. The decor didn’t quite follow a single theme — more “accumulated over time” than “curated”, but that could just be my style — and we did notice the odd cobweb in corners, a reminder perhaps of the cabin’s wild surroundings.
However, we did learn a key lesson: always bring more wine than you think you’ll need. The nearest shop is four miles away in Callander, which is not ideal after a couple of drinks. Running out meant adjusting expectations and in some ways, that’s the point. You come here to step out of the cycle of convenience and into something slower, quieter, more intentional.
Only as we later packed up and drove the winding private road back towards civilisation — but not without a stop first to see the Highland cows being crowded around like the celebrities that they are — did I really reflect on where we’d been.
Callander is the kind of Highland town that seems to exist outside of time (it even has a Christmas shop selling baubles year round). Known as the Gateway to the Highlands, it has everything you need: good cafés, a butcher, several pubs, a Chinese and access to trails and lochs that stretch for miles.
So often travel feels rushed, chock-a-block with sights and plans. But Willow Cabin offers something else entirely — a stillness that gets under your skin and a slowness that stays with you. You swim in freezing loch water, you warm yourself by the fire and, somewhere along the way, you remember how good it feels to just be there.
Carla Jenkins was a guest of Loch Venachar Cabins (lochvenacharcabins.co.uk), where Willow Cabin costs from £230 per night
