Felix Gade Hut sits on the east side of Lundy, looking out across the Bristol Channel to North Devon. Built in 1863, it once served as a time check office for quarry workers—a place of structure and routine. Today, it offers a place to pause, shelter or sit. A circular bench, gifted by the Boys’ Brigade, now wraps around the inside of the hut.

When the weather changes plans

On a late October day, I brought Anna here. Anna is a regularly visitor to Lundy from the Isle of Seil. She had come prepared for sea swimming. But that morning.the sea was a little too rough. So I made a spontaneous suggestion of a small, writing retreat which would include a walk towards the quarries.

We headed up the East path, trailing a well-trodden route. We took our time, chatting about life journeys and how Lundy has become part of that. As in Life, Lundy is about negotiation and today it was one of terrain and weather.

We reached the Hut after a journey of about 20 minutes. On opening the door we were surprised to find someone else already there. A lady sat waiting for friends, who had gone off to explore Brazen Ward. Her name was Nicky.

“Felix Gade Hut is one of the most quietly atmospheric places to stop when walking across Lundy Island.”

Creating Hygge on Lundy

We lit the fire. Anna, being half Danish, began talking about hygge. Hygge is a way of being that centres warmth, simplicity, and togetherness. The hut seemed to hold this already. The fire was lit. We unpacked the cake and hot chocolate. It felt the closest to Hygge that I have ever got.

The walk had brought us here—but the stillness allowed something else to emerge. As we talked, we discovered that Nicky was a publisher. This felt Serendipitous, as our aim was to do some writing.

So we invited her to join us.

We asked her to set us a writing prompt. She offered: what makes us happy?

We wrote in silence, the fire crackling, each of us shaped by the walk that had led us here. Writing felt like a continuation of walking—another way of tracing experience, of mapping something felt but not always spoken.

When we shared our words, small moments surfaced—simple things, held up and discussed together.

Then, just as our conversation began to deepen, the door opened. Nicky’s friends returned from Brazen Ward, bringing movement and cold weather back into the space.

Our retreat dissolved as easily as it had formed.

But something lingered.

A reminder that on Lundy, walking is rarely just about getting from one place to another. It opens up encounters and unexpected acts of making—moments where the landscape, the body, and others briefly align.