Castle of Mey

Listen first. Wind comes off the Pentland Firth with a steady pressure, carrying salt and the cry of gulls. The grass along the shore lies flat. Beneath your feet the ground is firm and cold, even in summer. Ahead of you stands a pale, harled tower, softened by weather, with small windows and turrets at its corners. This is the Castle of Mey, on the far northern edge of mainland Scotland. Across the water, on a clear day, the low green line of Orkney lies on the horizon.

You are only a short drive west of John o' Groats here, in the old county of Caithness. This is a flat, open landscape. There are few trees, wide skies, and stone dykes that divide the fields. The light changes quickly. A bright morning can turn grey within minutes, then clear again. People who live here say you can see four seasons in one afternoon. The castle sits low and solid against all of it, as if it has learned how to hold its ground.

The story begins in the sixteenth century. The castle was built for the Earls of Caithness, members of the powerful Sinclair family, who held great influence across this northern corner of Scotland. It was built as a tower house — a tall, defensible home rather than a sprawling fortress. Its plan follows a pattern Scottish builders called the Z-plan. A central block has towers set at opposite corners, so defenders could cover every wall. Look at the corners now and you can still read that design.

For much of its life, the castle was not called Mey at all. It was known as Barrogill Castle. Over the centuries the building passed through different branches of the family. Owners added rooms, changed windows, and altered the interiors to suit their own times. Like many old Scottish houses, it fell into hard times. By the middle of the twentieth century, the roof leaked and the rooms stood cold and neglected. Many people thought it would simply fall into ruin.

Then came an unexpected visitor. In 1952, Queen Elizabeth, the widow of King George the Sixth, came north to Caithness. She was grieving. Her husband had died earlier that year, and her daughter had just become Queen. While staying with friends nearby, she saw the old castle and heard that it might be abandoned. She decided to buy it. It is a small, human story. A widow in mourning found a broken house at the edge of the land and chose to save it.

She restored the older name, the Castle of Mey. Over the following years she repaired the roof, brought in heating, and furnished the rooms. But she did not try to make it grand. Most visitors are surprised by this. Inside, the house does not feel like a palace. It feels like a comfortable, slightly old-fashioned country home, with soft furnishings, family photographs, and objects collected over decades. She came here in late summer and again in autumn, year after year.

If you take the guided tour, you move through rooms that still hold her personal touches. Look for small gifts, many of them modest, given to her by local people and by friends. Some are humorous. Some are homemade. Guides often point out details that show her sense of fun. The rooms carry a gentle, lived-in feeling. It is easy to imagine a fire burning, the wind outside, and guests settling down with tea after a walk along the shore.

Now a story of a different kind. Like many Scottish castles, Mey has its ghost. Legend has it that a daughter of one of the earls fell in love with a ploughman working on the estate. Her father disapproved and locked her in an upper room of the tower. According to the tale, she later fell or threw herself from the window. Locals call her the Green Lady, and some say she still walks the castle. It is folklore, but the tale is still told here.

Step outside to the walled garden, and the air changes. Here is the second surprise. In a place this exposed, a garden should struggle. Salt wind burns leaves, and the growing season is short. Yet behind a tall stone wall, flowers, fruit, and vegetables grow well. The wall is the secret. It breaks the force of the wind and holds a little warmth from the sun. People call it the Great Wall of Mey, and you will understand why when you stand behind it.

In the garden you might smell sweet peas, roses, or freshly turned soil, depending on the season. Vegetables are grown in neat rows. Old varieties sit beside newer ones. The Queen Mother was a keen gardener and loved flowers in the house, and the garden still supplies the castle. Beyond the wall, the wind returns at once. That sharp contrast is part of the experience. Walk out through the gate and feel the difference on your face.

The estate is also a working place, not just a museum. Cattle graze in the surrounding fields, and the farm is known for its breeding of Aberdeen Angus, a black, hornless breed of beef cattle that comes from northeast Scotland. Families often visit the animal centre, where children can meet farm animals up close. This mix of history, garden, and farm gives the place an everyday rhythm. People still work here, plant here, and look after the land through every season.

After her death in 2002, the castle opened more widely to the public through a charitable trust she had set up in the 1990s. The trust looks after the house, the gardens, and the wider estate, and supports the local community. The royal connection continues. King Charles has long had a close bond with Mey, and he still comes here in summer. When the family is in residence, the castle closes to visitors, so it is worth checking ahead.

Before you leave, walk toward the shore and look back at the castle. Notice how small it seems against the sky, and how carefully it faces the sea. Ships pass through the Firth, and the tides run strong and fast between the mainland and the islands. This water has carried fishing boats, warships, and ferries for centuries. The castle has watched all of it, through long winters and bright, short summers at the northern edge of Britain.

Take a moment here. Feel the wind again, the same wind that greeted you when you arrived. Look at the pale walls, the turrets, the line of Orkney beyond the water. Somewhere in that garden, behind the wall, something is growing quietly despite the weather. That may be the best way to remember this place — a house that was nearly lost, saved by care, and still standing at the end of the land.