Imagine an island so remote, its population dwindled to just five people. Now picture a flamboyant TV interior designer and his husband breathing new life into its derelict mansion, transforming it into a boutique hotel. This is the story of Ulva, a tiny Scottish island experiencing a remarkable revival, thanks in part to the vision of Banjo Beale, the 2022 winner of the BBC’s Interior Design Masters. But here’s where it gets controversial: can a luxury hotel truly revive a community, or does it risk gentrifying a fragile ecosystem?
Ulva House, once the seat of Clan Macquarie, is a bustling construction site. Workmen climb ladders, hammering and plastering, while Banjo, effortlessly debonair in a burnt orange beanie and a Moroccan rug coat, welcomes me inside. There’s no central heating or hot water, yet the energy is palpable. Banjo and his husband, Ro, have been camping here for weeks, pouring their savings into converting this Grade B-listed modernist mansion into a seven-bedroom hotel. Their journey is the focus of a new BBC Scotland series, but I’m here for an exclusive preview.
At just 7.5 miles long and 2.5 miles wide, Ulva was privately owned until 2018. When it went on the market, a community buyout was orchestrated to attract residents and revive the island. The population had plummeted from 570 in 1841 to just five in 2015, largely due to the brutal Highland Clearances, when crofting tenants were evicted to make way for sheep. Today, the population has risen to 16, with a long-term goal of 50. Banjo and Ro, two Aussies with their wolfhound/greyhound cross, Grampa, are now at the forefront of this transformation. But is this revival sustainable, or is it a fleeting trend fueled by TV fame?
The mansion itself has ‘good bones,’ Banjo tells me, though it was derelict when they found it. Their rent and repair lease ensures part of the profits will benefit the community. ‘We’re all in this together,’ Banjo explains, highlighting the island’s community ownership. Yet, the project raises questions: Can a boutique hotel truly serve the needs of a struggling community, or does it cater primarily to wealthy tourists?
Banjo and Ro’s journey to Ulva began with Ro’s dream of becoming a cheesemaker. They landed in the Hebrides after hearing about Sgriob-ruadh, an award-winning dairy farm on Mull. While Ro learned cheesemaking, Banjo discovered his passion for interior design, transforming the Glass Barn cafe with its owner, Chris Reade. This sparked a new career, culminating in their ambitious Ulva House project.
Inside the mansion, Banjo’s eclectic style shines. The entrance hall features a romantic mural of palm trees against a mountainous landscape, painted by artist Melissa Wickham, while towering pot plants surround a bamboo-clad reception desk. ‘Ro loves tropical stuff,’ Banjo smiles. ‘I’m more classical. This project is a blend of our styles—bohemian and whimsical.’
The Library Bar is a testament to Banjo’s love for antiques. A giant zinc and marble-top bar, sourced from near Lyon for just £1,500, dominates the room. ‘I think I’m a frustrated antiques dealer,’ he admits. Transporting the bar to Ulva was no small feat—it straddled a tiny passenger ferry and was hauled by horse trailer to the mansion, where windows had to be removed to get it inside. Is this level of effort and expense justified for a remote island community, or is it a vanity project?
The Orangery, bathed in natural light, is a glorious space filled with pot plants, distressed urns, vintage rattan chairs, and unframed oils. The peeling pale green paint has been preserved with varnish, a process Banjo calls ‘arrested decay.’ It’s a stunning space, but one wonders: Who will truly benefit from this luxury—the islanders or the visitors?
When the hotel opens later this year, Ro will handle the cooking, while visitors can already stay in two off-grid bothies or a revamped hostel. Banjo’s makeover of Cragaig Bothy, featured in Designing the Hebrides, is his third project on Ulva. Last summer, he and Ro also took over The Boathouse, a waterfront restaurant that became an instant hit, drawing visitors from Mull for its seafood platters and scenic walking trails.
I spent the weekend at Bearnus Bothy, a five-mile hike from the jetty along a coastal track. Run by climbers Andy and Yvette Primrose, who live off-grid on neighboring Gometra, the bothy is a cozy retreat with twin beds, a wood-burning stove, and a tin bath. The visitor book is filled with tales of family adventures, swimming, and sailing—a testament to Ulva’s timeless charm.
As I hiked to Gometra, spotting seals and otters along the way, I couldn’t help but wonder: Will Ulva’s revival preserve its tranquility, or will it lose its essence in the pursuit of tourism? With the hotel opening on the horizon, the island’s future looks brighter—and busier. But the question remains: Can Ulva strike a balance between progress and preservation? What do you think? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
