At Scotland’s Barra Airport, the runway vanishes beneath the waves when high tide rolls in.

Barra, a rugged island in the Outer Hebrides, sits off the northern coast of Britain in the North Atlantic, known for its untamed beauty.

With fewer than 1,200 residents, Barra still preserves its Gaelic heritage, with the language widely spoken among locals.

The island is connected to mainland Britain by a crucial flight link to Glasgow, but it’s the breathtaking 140-mile journey and its unique airport that attract aviation fans and travelers alike.

Barra Airport holds the distinction of being the only airport in the world where scheduled flights land on a beach. In March 2019, Dinogo Travel had the chance to experience it firsthand, flying the day after Storm Gareth forced cancellations to the island.

As we board Loganair’s small plane in Glasgow, First Officer Peter Finnie shares the good news: 'The wind on Barra has calmed to a gentle 27 knots.' That’s just below a Force 7 on the Beaufort scale—still high winds, but it sounds manageable.

He adds, 'There are a few thunderstorms expected along our route, but don’t worry, we’ll avoid them.'

Loganair operates two daily flights to Barra. Onboard the 19-seat de Havilland Canada DHC-6 Twin Otter, there’s almost no separation between the cockpit and the passenger cabin, offering a perfect view of the action up front.

Due to the plane’s small size, there’s no flight attendant to serve drinks or snacks. Instead, the pilots handle the safety briefing and provide a few words about the flight.

'You’re going to love this!'

Out of the nine passengers on board, about five of us are here just for the experience, while the rest are locals returning from business or shopping in Glasgow.

My seatmate, Fiona, in her 50s, is one of the locals. She’s on her way back after visiting family and stocking up on essentials that are hard to find on Barra. Spotting my camera, she smiles and says, 'I fly this route all the time. You’re going to love it!'

Glasgow is a bustling airport, capable of handling massive planes like the Airbus A380. Our little Twin Otter feels minuscule in comparison, but it effortlessly takes off and soon we’re soaring steeply over the countryside.

With no in-flight entertainment, we’re left to watch the large GPS display in the cockpit. Our flight path takes us northwest, following the River Clyde, passing Loch Awe, the Isle of Mull, and then over the sea to Barra. Fortunately, breaks in the clouds give us a clear view of the stunning Scottish landscape below.

Guided by the tides

After an hour in the air, we begin our gradual descent. Out of the side window, all I see is rough seas, but as I lean forward and glance through the cockpit windows, I spot dark hills rising from the clouds ahead.

The island we’re approaching is just eight miles long and five miles wide. Its main town, Castlebay, is more of a village, with a butcher, post office, café, and a handful of houses gathered around the harbor where the regular CalMac ferries dock.

At the northern tip of the island, an orange windsock stands out against the grassy sand dunes and wide expanse of Traigh Mhòr beach. It marks an alternative way to reach Barra for those who prefer to avoid the sea crossing.

There’s no concrete or asphalt runway here. Instead, the small commuter planes use the vast stretch of sand as their runway, coordinating their landings with the tides.

It’s no surprise that this airport regularly appears on lists of the world’s most scenic landing spots.

Landing on sand

There are no cabin announcements, and it doesn’t even seem like we made any turns to line up for our final approach—one of the perks of landing on a beach.

As the water creeps closer to the wheels outside my window, a firmer stretch of sand eventually emerges, and we make a gentle landing, splashing through puddles of seawater and the occasional patch of seaweed as we slow down.

The plane comes to a stop in front of a small building where the beach meets the shore. The engines quiet, and instead of walking through a jet bridge or along a paved path, passengers make their way to the terminal directly across the sand we just landed on.

The weather takes a turn for the worse.

It's a windy day as I take a winding walk north to the village of Eoligarry, offering breathtaking views of nearby islands and a scattering of remote homes across the landscape. Back at the airport, the small terminal’s café serves a delicious lunch.

The weather has been steadily worsening since our arrival, and the realization sets in that, although we made it here safely, our return is far from certain. Rain begins to fall.

When asked about flights during bad weather, an airport employee explains, 'Pilots often make several attempts to land in difficult conditions before returning to Glasgow.'

Elspeth, a local resident, and her young daughter are waiting for the afternoon flight to visit family in Glasgow. They seem completely unbothered by the possibility of a cancellation.

'The flight often doesn’t make it when the weather turns bad,' she tells me. For islanders, it’s no big deal—they can simply try again the next day. But for day-trippers, finding overnight accommodation on short notice might be a bit more challenging.

Saying goodbye to Barra

Almost two hours past our scheduled departure, someone points across the bay and exclaims, 'Lights!' Our aircraft has arrived and is ready to land.

Boarding is swift and straightforward. As we walk to the plane, the beach is now covered with about an inch of water. Planes like the Twin Otter are perfect for these operations due to their ability to handle rough terrain and take off from very limited space.

We taxi quickly across the bay, and our takeoff lasts just six seconds before we bank right, heading back toward Glasgow.

With a tailwind on the return flight, the plane gets us back in just 50 minutes, smoothly re-entering the larger airliner traffic for a brief landing on the vast runway.