THE sands stretch for miles and are as white and powdery as any Caribbean beach, the water as clear and blue. I look around and see mountains and sea everywhere, but not a single soul. The sun shines brightly on this paradise, darting in and out behind big fluffy clouds to create a light show of stunning proportions. Welcome to Harris in February.

I’m on the beach at Luskentyre on the island’s west coast – often voted one of the best beaches in the world – and while much of the mainland is suffering torrential rain, the micro-climate of the Outer Hebrides is spoiling us.

It is bracingly cold, to be sure, and windy, but this only adds to the magic as we look out to the Atlantic beyond, and that somehow makes it all the more life-affirming. A couple of hours walking at Luskentyre and your problems seem to dissipate. For visitors and locals alike, this place is primal and medicinal; it speaks to your soul.

With beaches like this, it’s no surprise Lonely Planet has named the Western Isles one of the world’s top 10 destinations to visit in 2016. During the bleak midwinter most folk in search of sun, sea and sand head south to warmer climes, of course, but in my book heading north can be even more rewarding - nowhere more so than Harris. And it’s all just a short hop - an hour or less - from Glasgow or Edinburgh by air.

Wherever you go in Harris it is the landscape that dominates, whether that be the brooding, snow-capped Harris Hills that separate the island from its next door neighbour, Lewis, the stunning coastal routes of the north, the exquisite beaches of the west, or the strange, lunar rockiness of the south east.

This is a close-knit and sparse community, one of the few places where you are likely to hear Gaelic spoken as a first language. But the more locals you meet, the more you realise how many of them come from far and wide: mainland Scotland, England, Europe and beyond, attracted by the landscape and unique quality of life. The skills they bring with them are welcomed by the natives; all must pull together in a place like this.

I’m here for a long weekend, staying at a cosy, beautifully appointed cottage in Rhenigidale, a tiny village on the north east coast of the island that only got a road in 1989 – it was reputedly the last community in the UK to be hooked up to the road network. Before that the village was accessible only by boat, or on foot via the long but picturesque Postman’s Path over the hill. The settlement sits high on the cliffs above Loch Trolamoraig and still feels wonderfully remote, despite being only 20 minutes’ drive from the island’s main town, Tarbert, and 50 from Stornoway.

On a morning that is blowing a hoolie I set off to do a section of the seven-mile walk and it doesn’t disappoint. Though ancient and zig zagging, the path is well maintained and the views from the clifftops are spectacular. I see the bobbing heads of seals in the bay below. Otters are also common. As I walk, I think of the hardy postmen and women of yesteryear who would have done this walk every day. They would have had to be fit alright, and it can’t have been much fun lugging heavy goods, especially in bad weather – but I can’t help thinking with scenery like this their job must have been a labour of love.

If this island is known and loved for anything, of course, it’s the high-quality woollen tweed its inhabitants have been weaving for generations. Harris Tweed can’t be sold as such unless it has been produced in the Outer Hebrides and authenticated with the orb label. In the past, it flourished as the fabric of choice for well-to-do country folk and young gentlemen gifted a coming-of-age sports jacket. These days, however, you’re just as likely to see it on the catwalks of Vivienne Westwood and Chanel, covering a high-end sofa, or on the streets of downtown Tokyo.

Following decades in the doldrums, this fragile industry is once again thriving thanks to a global renaissance that centres not only on the quality of the product, but the beguiling story behind it. It’s only when you visit the island that you can appreciate why Harris Tweed looks the way it does. The vibrant slate greys, purples, greens, pinks and oranges that make the fabric so unique are in the landscape all around you; on the rocks and mountains, in the sunrises and sunsets, in the machair and the peat bogs. The winter days are short, but the light is extraordinary at this time of year, often changing, like the weather, by the second. You can certainly see where the 170 working weavers get their inspiration.

A new tourist trail where visitors can meet weavers and see them at work, and an exhibition space in the town hall in Stornoway telling the story of the fabric, are both on their way, Harris Tweed Authority chief executive Lorna Macauley tells me over coffee in Tarbert. It is the authority that awards the famous orb to tweed that makes the grade, thus protecting its reputation.

“Being out here in the Western Isles means we are far away from our markets and the vast majority of the people who are so passionate about our product,” Lewis-born Lorna says. “We rely on social media, but there’s nothing like actually coming here and seeing the landscape, seeing how it fits in to the story of Harris Tweed.

“We don’t want Harris Tweed to be a commodity product like all the others. But we do want to share the extraordinary beauty of our islands with the people who love it.”

This beauty is certainly evident in the work of weaver and designer Joanne Owens, who moved to the island with her family two years ago from Liverpool. She shows me round the cosy, compact studio, called the Urgha Loom Shed, where she works on the oldest working loom on the island. When you see the weaving process first hand you can’t help but marvel at the creative and physical endeavour that goes into every single length. The shed doubles as a salesroom, where lengths of the beautiful tweed Joanne weaves can be bought alongside elegant, contemporary accessories which adorn homes as far afield as Glasgow, London and the US.

If all goes to plan, Harris could soon be renowned for another great Scottish export: whisky. The new £11m “social” distillery in Tarbert, which opened in September 2015 creating 20 much-needed jobs, is well on its way to producing the Hearach – the term used to describe a person or thing from Harris - single malt.

The distillery, which was seven years in the planning, eventually hopes to produce 300,000 bottles of malt a year. But these thing take time, obviously, and in the meantime Harris Gin, flavoured with sugar kelp from the waters around the island, is already on sale, providing healthy competition for Scotland’s other craft gins, such as Hendrick's and Botany. I reckon the distillery is on to a winner - enjoyed straight with crushed ice and plenty of grapefruit, the elegant Harris newcomer more than stands up.

The building itself is beautiful, making the most of the wonderful Hebridean light, and its cosmopolitan staff, which includes a Pole and a South African as well as Hearachs, couldn’t be friendlier or more passionate as they show you round. The distillery's canteen is open to the public every day except Sunday - which is still sacred to many on the Free Church of Scotland dominated Western Isles – serving bowls of hearty soup with homemade oatcakes and bread, cakes, cookies and scones, and a sophisticated range of teas and coffees that wouldn’t be out of place in the coolest cafes in Glasgow and Edinburgh. Needless to say I can’t wait to taste the malt.

On the recommendation of the distillery staff I head south and east in my hire car to follow the single track Golden Road, initially built in 1897 and named for the high cost of laying it through this most challenging of territory.

It’s a tough drive at points, as this narrow route twists, turns and undulates, and it needs to be treated with care and concentration. But, my goodness, it’s worth the effort to see the spectacular rocks and miniature fjords that shape this landscape, the tiny clachans with names such as Boirseam, Aird Mhighe and Quidinish harking back to ancient Gaelic and Norse culture. I’ve never seen scenery quite like it, and comes as no surprise that Stanley Kubrick used the area to stand in for Jupiter in his epic 1968 film 2001: A Space Odyssey. Otherworldly is an understatement.

I suppose otherworldliness is one of things that makes Harris so magical, at any time of year. And though the long nights of summer in this part of the world are a particular delight, winter is special too; cold, wind-swept and spectacular. The welcome of the people of Harris, however, is always warm, whatever the season. And believe me, you'll want to return to experience spring, summer and autumn too.

Fact box

Marianne Taylor flew to Stornoway with Logan Air courtesy of VisitScotland. Prices start at £71.99 one way from Glasgow and Edinburgh. Go to www.loganair.co.uk for details.

She hired a car with Carhire Hebrides, which is situated at Stornoway Airport To book, go to www.carhire-hebrides.co.uk

She stayed at Sith Phort, a three-bedroom cottage in Rhenigidale that sleeps five. Prices in the low season are £550 per week, rising to £750 per week in high season. To book, go to www.2rhenigidale.co.uk or call 07866 471711.

Check out the Urgha Loom Shed on Facebook

For more information on the Isle of Harris Distillery, go to www.harrisdistillery.com.