For someone who has never ventured to the fields for music festivals, or attempted to put up a tent in anger, the concept of camping holidays being somehow fun and escapist passed me by like leaves in a heavy breeze.

A group of friends suggested camping on the Small Isle of Eigg, in North Western Scotland, for a week away from the urban life of Lancashire, underneath the canvas and beneath the stars. Initial reticence soon dissolved into excited anticipation, not least for the apparent pleasures of Britain’s most picturesque rail journey, leading to the promise of the rugged charm of this still unspoiled corner of the Highlands.

The 5 hour train journey from Glasgow’s Queen Street station, easily accessed from Preston via the West Coast Main Line, will undoubtedly be spent staring out the window through a camera lens. Expansive landscapes of moorland and mountains stretch out from the moment urban sprawl moves out beyond the Clyde, as the busy commuter line turns into a one-track jaunt through the beautiful Argyll and Highland scenery.

The concept of “cider and black” seemed a bemusing concept for the jovial bar-staff

The awkward squeals of brakes on tight corners will become less annoying by about the first hour, if experience is any guide. At Crianlarich, there is chance to stretch the legs a little – and, shh, smoke on the platform – whilst the train is divided to services to Oban, or the dock port at Mallaig.

The latter journey will meander through jaw-dropping beauty, and the famous Glenfinnan Viaduct used in the Harry Potter films, including a brief stop at Fort William, which seems now as famous for snow-sprinkled Ben Nevis as it does Britain’s most northern outcrop for the Lidls supermarket franchise.

The town of Mallaig is geared for the passing tourist, be they backpackers such as my friends and me, or the numerous cyclists and walkers who pass through aiming for whichever peak takes their fancy. Such considerations are not for us, who find the hole-in-the-wall chippy much more attractive.

For barely a fiver, freshly caught and lightly battered fish melt in mouths accustomed only to bottled water and train-trolley crisps. It is momentarily tempting to wash our food down with Irn-Bru, but rather we went for the Indian restaurant-cum-public house, where the concept of “cider and black” seemed such a bemusing concept for the jovial bar-staff that it took three attempts to get the combination served in a single glass.

The ferry to Eigg is clean, quick, and less of a horror ride than this novice feared on the walk over to the dock. It is only looking out across the amazing clear vista than the Highlands surrender their beauty. Mysterious Rùm hides its peaks behind passing clouds, whilst Eigg itself appears as a single form of rugged charm, jutting out to one side where the imposing An Sgurr, the high volcanic peak threatened as the first highlight of the holiday.

At Eigg itself, the newly built shop and craft centre mercifully sells cans of beer as well as tea and (naturally, home made) cakes, so we earnest campers take some time out before setting up our base at one of the near by dock-side areas of land used as impromptu set-up points by the hundreds of tourists who come here. By having just one set of public toilets and showers for the island’s transient population, and a packed shop with satisfactorily erratic opening times, the feeling about going back to nature starts from the moment you pitch up.

The island can be explored at a leisurely place in two days, with a number of marked walks suitable for moderate and novice walkers alike. The most famous, and indeed very much the largest, scariest, most imposing peak on Eigg, is An Sgurr, a volcanic precipice which translates as the imposing “The Peak”.

Along a gravel incline, the massive structure casts its shadow over beautiful moorland and hidden lochs, shimmering in the distance out towards the horizon, marked by Rum and the faint outlines of the Western Isles beyond the clouds. By the end of the hour walk, the views from the top are staggeringly beautiful, more than enough payment for the tight chest and hurriedly munched cereal bars.

Likewise, the 90 minute walk across flatter terrain to the infamous “singing sands” is accompanied by photo ops aplenty – the rolling mountains, expansive assorted greenery, animals aplenty, and occasionally the occasional car always travelling towards the cafe and bar, but never seen returning.

Eigg is one of the first of the Small Isles to be visited by island hoppers from Mallaig who will take in the tiny Muck, grand Rum, and hidden Canna out to the west, and as a starting point is the perfect introduction to the charms of the island.

A friendly, approachable stable population of seventy, will make the first-timer feel like a much missed family member even after just two days; and it does not take more than an hour to fall in love with the landscape. Prior to setting foot on the train I questioned the sanity behind a camping holiday anywhere in Scotland, but Eigg gives enough reasons to make the trip, and swift returns, the easiest decision of all.

Liam Pennington