Availability, prices and how to book - click here

KNOCKAN Self-Catering, Mull, Accommodation

Based on a risk assessment specifically for Knockan, we have concluded that the risks to guests, staff, their vulnerable/shielding contacts and the local community are unacceptably high. So, despite the Scottish Government's decision to re-open tourism, Knockan will be closed until Christmas 2020. We plan to use the time to do some essential maintenance, which would have entailed closure anyway, using local tradespeople. This will help support the local economy and keep Knockan in good shape for the future.

We will accept bookings for 2021 (see Availability chart), but because a degree of uncertainty remains,  PLEASE DON'T SEND US ANY MONEY. WE WILL HONOUR YOUR BOOKING IF YOUR HOLIDAY DOES GO AHEAD AND WE WILL BE HAPPY FOR YOU TO SETTLE UP WITH US LATER. This over-rides the cancellation policy below.


Donald & Fiona

Three stars,  PA67 6DN, 2 miles from Bunessan, 8 miles from Iona. Sleeps up to 5 comfortably, 6 at a squeeze.

What3words address: carting.encloses.workroom

If you click on the "what3words " link it will take you to a map showing exactly where Knockan is.

Our Aim:

to provide clean, comfortable, well equipped accommodation with an authentic island atmosphere, in a beautiful setting, at a reasonable price.

Location, travel, accommodation etc.

Why do people with no Mull connection come to a place like Knockan?

"Leave aside that it is now extremely comfortable. Leave aside also Iona, Staffa, scenery, sea eagles, golden eagles, puffins, otters, seals, to start an endless list. There is something else. This round-cornered croft cottage, built originally by refugee crofter/weaver John Black during the Highland Clearances, still displays some of its original timbers, mollusc tunnels betraying their origins as driftwood from the shore. A sense of peace, place, history, heritage and wholeness is woven into its fabric. Iona has been described as a ‘thin place where heaven and earth are not far apart’. Many have thought that describes Knockan too."  (From 'Knockan - The House That Black Built')

Recent Visitor Comments
August 2018 "I've had an amazing week's holiday at your lovely cottage. I really needed a break after my husband's death. It is the first time I've had a smile on my face because of the wonderful surroundings and the peace of the place."
January 2019 "Lovely cottage. Very cosy. Had every weather from sun to snow. Saw golden eagles, white tailed sea eagles, otters seals and many more."
March 2019 "Another wonderful extended stay in Knockan Cottage... There is a certain warmth about Knockan that is difficult to put into words."

Some other great reasons to come to Mull

Looking for superb walking? Look here. Or beautiful beaches? What about these?

Fascinated by conspiracy theories? Try these: 'Dervaig Mary' (Magdalene), 'The Arandora Star', 'The Cathcartpark Mystery'  or 'Forgotten Scots'.

Interested in Scottish Folk History? Try 'Knockan - The House That Black Built' and visit the Ross of Mull Historical Centre

Or how about something completely different? 

Inspired by Knockan

Acrylics by Rachel Metcalfe

Cloud-shrouded and scree'd
shaft of tourquoise Loch na Keal
over my shoulder

Down Ben More and home
to red-roof Knockan and blood;
My lad's tooth is out.

Iona jetty,
blue above, below and through
the thrown pottery

Craignure crossing, light-
house and cumulus, foam-white,
tilting to Oban

Steve Bird 2010


When the human mind is freed
From day to day pursuit of busyness
Schedule, time and plan.
When horizons are not bounded
By brick and stone construct,
Or paving slab and concrete floor.
When the air is filled
By heavy ozone and iodine-rich weed
Not petroleum fumes and humanity’s fear of failure.
Where the rhythm of the day is dictated by single tracks
And traffic jams are bovine – a new definition!
Where the hardest decision is tea or coffee in the flask
And where to drink the same,
The night’s lullaby is the rising tide,
The wind’s gentlest kiss,
Not the roar of traffic -
Of those who toil while others rest.
Where the wisdom of the old ones
Seeps soul deep to cleanse and energise.
Then is the eye, the heart, the mind
Freed to roam, to disengage, to explore
To follow the soaring eagle’s flight
And find new expression;
To see beyond the everyday horizon
And realise the more.
To imagine, relax and rehabilitate
The creativity within each one,
Then to record the same –
Through pen or camera eye,
Paint, crayon and simple being
That in the midst of life
We may recapture something
Of what we were created to be.

Una MacLean 260410

A languid lift of flight feathers,
Silent descent
And a landing that barely ruffles the water.
Only the head feathers lifting in the breeze
Focus attention
On the ghostly presence
Half caught in the corner of the eye.
Still was a marble etched statue,
A modern portrayal
Of an ancient form.
Then, like lightning,
A dip, a flash, a flick,
Lunch is served
Again, again, again,
Until replete.
The water rises,
The sun curves across the sky,
Then, with a single graceful bounce,
And languid, liquid, flowing movement,
The heron cuts through the evening air
Homeward bound.

Una McLean 052016.

Autumnal Knockan.

Wrapped in the finest lacy shawl,
filigree threads in intricate patterning 
enfold and wrap, yet float freely 
moved by the currents of air - 
secure now, yet in anticipation 
of what follows, what is yet to come - 
time suspended, held betwixt and between 
the rise and fall of the tide the only measure - 
even the sounds, so familiar, are muffled, 
wave against rock, wading bird, small songstress - 
the wind plucks the telegraph wire 
an eerie, solitary strumming - 
a tune calling to hibernation - 
to lit fires, hot meals, mugs held in chilled hands -
and all around the filigree, fine threads 
connect and pattern, layer by layer, 
weaving new tales for the autumnal fireside.

Una McLean 01.11.2017.

A stealth tide:

Blending into the rocks,
Grey and black, silver backed,
Basking in the wintry sun,
Breeze blown, belly filled
By the fish shoals disturbed by the angry weather.
Waiting, wallowing, rolling flipper high.
And the tide rises
A stealthy creeping,
No fuss, no bother, no crashing waves,
The water touches, recedes and nudges again.
They wait - fully aware of no need to move.
The oily brown, blue, been,
Greedily grasps the rocks,
Its seaweed skirts furling and lifting.
Until, effortlessly newly afloat
The diving begins again,
The chase for dinner in underwater acrobatics,
Until filled bellies seek repose once more.

Una McLean 20.04.2018