We’ve passed the winter solstice here in the North of Scotland, which means the shortest days are behind us. For a few weeks it rained almost constantly. The sun rose at 9am and set at 3.30pm, and between those times the sky was dark and oppressive. For two weeks, storms raged fiercely over the Atlantic, shaking our windows, confining the Outer Isles ferry to the harbour. The village spoke of terrible weather – worst we’ve seen in years. We were in the depths of flu season. And more than I’ve ever seen before, there seemed to be a sense of general malaise hanging over the usually so resilient village, amidst sickness and relentless rain and darkness. With the storms came 30-foot waves to the exposed west-facing beaches. Enormous rollers arriving from miles and miles away out to sea.

But, in a small window of daylight and low winds, came a brief but beautiful couple of days of perfect, gentle waves in a sheltered north-facing beach. The 30-foot waves were calmed to head-height by the act of curving around a headland, arriving onto sandy shores as inviting peelers. Living in the remote North Highlands brings with it its challenges: it’s colder, darker and the surf is inconsistent and wild, often requiring extensive travel to find suitable breaks. Sometimes that even involves a ferry out to the Western Isles. But when the stars align, the extra effort and waiting is rewarded tenfold.

For a precious couple of days, two friends and I found perfect clear water and mesmerising waves, surrounded by snow-capped mountains. The only others in the water with us were a couple of seals, Arctic terns and red-throated divers.

On the drive to the surf spot, my friends and I reflected on how this winter had taken the wind out of many of our friends’ sails. We were all feeling under the weather and mentally drained for one reason or another. Sleep came easily and crept further and further into our mornings. As happy as we were to see each other, there was an undertone of exhaustion. As we neared the beach, our spirits began to lift. We had no idea if we would be able to surf or not – no webcam to show us the conditions, just some educated guesswork and the giddy joy of committing to a trip to the beach with all our boards and a desperate hope for waves.