Essence of Sanna

When you think of Ardnamurchan and its beaches, Sanna is likely the first that comes to mind. This is no surprise—its impact is immediate as you walk from the car park, through the marram grass, and over the dunes to see its dazzling white sands stretching out before you. I’ve visited many times to photograph it, capturing reasonable images but never quite capturing the true essence of the place. Reflecting on this, I realised that Sanna’s vastness called for a different approach — one that moved beyond sweeping vistas to focus on the various elements that define its beauty. This became the goal over the course of a few days in February.

The classic shot of Sanna is the one taken from the top of the hill to its south, looking north over the over a deep blue sea to the Small Isles of Muck, Rùm and Eigg with the pristine white sand of the beach cradled between rocky outcrops and marram grass covered sand dunes. 

Standing atop this hill, gazing down at the breathtaking beach below, you may not fully grasp the dramatic landscape that surrounds it. It is only when viewed from above—soaring over the sea with a drone’s perspective—that its true setting is revealed. From this vantage point, the striking contrasts come into focus: the soft, rolling land where the crofting settlement of Sanna rests, the rugged cliffs that plunge into the waters south of the beach, and the towering hills behind, forming the remnants of a vast, long-extinct volcanic crater.

The volcanic past of the landscape is ever-present, revealed in the dark basalt outcrops that interrupt the smooth expanse of the white sand beach. The first signs appear as you step down from the dunes onto the beach itself, where a winding stream carves its path toward the sea, flowing past these striking remnants of eruptions that occurred millennia ago.

As you continue along the beach, you’ll come across the most striking of these basalt outflows, its full size unveiled as the tide retreats. When I visited at low tide, I was able to walk out to the largest of the outflows, Sgeir a’ Chàm Eilein. Once there, I paused for a while, listening to the rhythmic wash of waves against its jagged edges and watching the evening light cast a warm glow over its dark surface.

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As the sun inched closer to the horizon, its golden light deepened into rich tones, painting the sky in shades of burnt orange. Below, a stream wound its way through rugged mounds of dark basalt, its surface catching the glow of the sky. The water sparkled and shimmered as it flowed, mirroring the brilliance of the fiery colours above.

The transformation of colours continued and the rockpools nestled between the rugged basalt glowed with an almost otherworldly allure, shimmering like liquid bronze as a soft breeze sent ripples across their surface.

Turning away from the sea, the eye is drawn to the marram-covered sand dunes. Forming a sweeping arc, their intricate network of roots and grasses intertwined and holding the sand steadfast, resisting the fury of the past winter’s storms.

The once-eroded areas, now slowly healing, are starting to regain their former shape as grains of sand drift back into the intricate strands of roots that serve as the vital glue that binds this portion of the landscape together.

A long, rolling ridge rises from behind the dunes, its peaks and troughs stretching into the distance, with Meall Sanna standing as its highest point. Unlike the dark basalt found along the beach, this ridge is composed of pale-hued gabbro, a coarse-grained rock that took shape through the gradual cooling of magma deep within the Earth's crust.

While the beach, with its sweeping westward views toward the setting sun, may naturally draw your gaze, I always find it worthwhile to look east for a moment. There, the warm evening light casts a golden glow, highlighting every ridge, hollow, and undulation of the slopes that form a breathtaking, sculpted backdrop for the shore.

On an entirely different scale, the pristine white sand of the beach proves equally captivating. At sundown, mirroring the pale hues of the distant hills behind, it assumes a warm, enchanting glow as the interplay of light and shadow reveals the subtle textures etched by the receding tide.

Look close, however, and the seemingly “white” sand reveals itself as a shimmering tapestry of colours – pale grains interwoven with delicate shards of crumbling seashells, each fragment slowly weathering and breaking down on its long journey to becoming the white sand that first catches the eye. Truly sands of time.

Being on the beach at sundown is inherently tranquil, almost otherworldly. The ceaseless murmur of waves breaking and gently lapping ashore is never far away and listening to that soothing rhythm while watching the last light of the day shimmer on the sea's surface can be profoundly restorative.

And while the gentle sound of the sea brings relaxation, it is further enriched by a cascade of colours that greets the eye. The pale blue of the water darkens, interwoven with oranges and golds as the sunset forms, before surrendering completely to a golden glow that paints both the sea and sand. A perfect end to a day.

Taking time to explore the beach’s outer reaches proves immensely rewarding. At its northern tip, Ardnamurchan Lighthouse can be seen standing proudly atop a rugged outcrop jutting into the sea, while the enduring peaks of the Rùm Cuillin remain a steadfast presence when looking back from the southern end of the beach. Turn eastward and the modest rooftops of Sanna’s houses gently tease the eye, emerging just above the swaying marram grass.

A walk into the dunes unveils a scattering of modest, white-painted houses that comprise the settlement of Sanna, each exuding the timeless charm of Scottish Highland architecture—a subtle testament to human presence in this rugged landscape. As you venture further, a lone static caravan emerges from the dunes, no doubt having provided a family with countless cherished memories.

At the southern end of the beach, you can find the Sanna Bheag which was once home to the writer and photographer M. E. M. Donaldson. In 1947, all but the walls of the building were destroyed by a fire and the flat roofed building that can now be seen is the resulting of a rebuild in 1967. 

Sanna Bheag certainly makes an incongruous sight, with its flat roofed, modern form being in complete contrast to the traditional Highland croft houses nearby. These classic dwellings, with their whitewashed walls and slate roofs, sit harmoniously beneath the rugged slopes of Meall Sanna, while Sanna Bheag’s bold, angular form feels almost out of place in a landscape shaped by time and tradition.

Further along, towards Sanna Bheag, stands a more intact stone byre, partially concealed by the slope below. Its weathered, rusting corrugated iron roof, though aged and fractured, still offers some protection as it nestles behind a knoll. Tucked within a gully beneath Meall Sanna, the byre’s secluded position enhances its picturesque charm, blending historic charm with the dramatic and rugged landscape.

The sea, ever present, is never far from sight. From the slope just above the byre, the westward view serves as a constant reminder of its closeness. Late in the afternoon, I found myself there, as a beautifully soft light accentuated the rolling contours of the land stretching down toward the water. I paused for a moment, reflecting on those who once worked on this land, a land that would have undoubtedly shaped their lives.

The byre is a charming yet timeworn structure, drawing me in to examine the intricate details of its weathered state. Its roof, a patchwork of rusted metal and gaping holes, is held in place by moss-covered boulders balanced on the edges. Time and decay have eaten away at sections of the corrugated iron, leaving me wondering how much longer it can withstand the elements. The wooden door, its glass long shattered, stands tiredly, seemingly surrendering to nature’s slow, relentless erosion. How much longer, I wonder, before only the byre's sturdy stone walls remain, just like the silent ruins standing nearby?

The byre is a charming yet timeworn structure, drawing me in to examine the intricate details of its weathered state. Its roof, a patchwork of rusted metal and gaping holes, is held in place by moss-covered boulders balanced on the edges. Time and decay have eaten away at sections of the corrugated iron, leaving me wondering how much longer it can withstand the elements. The wooden door, its glass long shattered, stands tiredly, seemingly surrendering to nature’s slow, relentless erosion. How much longer, I wonder, before only the byre's sturdy stone walls remain, just like the silent ruins standing nearby?

Elements of decay can also be found scattered in the ground around the byre. Rusting strands of barbed wire embedded in ageing stone walls and rotting fence posts. Fragments of corrugated iron gradually being covered by creeping grass. All adding to the sense that time is gradually reclaiming this charming yet timeworn structure.

After finishing my exploration of the byre, I noticed the day was drawing to a close. Eager to capture the sunset, I made my way down to the beach. A bank of clouds loomed on the western horizon, but I was hopeful that gaps would form, allowing the fading sunlight to paint the sky with colour. Fortunately, as the sun dipped lower, warm hues broke through the clouds, illuminating the scene. Pausing for a while, I appreciated the view before pressing the shutter button, taking a final photograph of the waves gently washing over the sand and rocks set against the glowing tones of the sunset sky. A fitting end to my exploration of Sanna.