16th February 2026
Caithness and Sutherland are some of the most beautiful places in Scotland but beauty doesn't put fresh food on the table. For too long, the far north has been treated as an afterthought in national food policy, public‑health planning, and economic development.
The result is a quiet crisis. Healthy food is harder to access here than almost anywhere else in Scotland, and the consequences are written into our health statistics, our household budgets, and the long‑term costs borne by NHS Highland.
This is not a matter of personal choice. It is a structural failure and one we can fix if we stop pretending that the central‑belt model of food access applies to the far north.
Distance and Geography Are Not Lifestyle Factors — They Are Structural Barriers
In Caithness and Sutherland, the nearest full supermarket can be 40, 60, even 70 miles away. That distance shapes diets more than any leaflet about "five‑a‑day" ever will.
A family in Bettyhill faces a 140‑mile round trip to Wick Tesco.
A resident in Durness must travel over 90 miles to the nearest large supermarket.
Even within Caithness, rural households often travel 20-30 miles for a weekly shop.
When shopping is a half‑day expedition, people naturally buy:
Long‑life goods
Frozen food
Tinned staples
Processed calories
Fresh fruit and vegetables become a gamble — and often a luxury.
The Collapse of Local Retail Has Created Real Food Deserts
Over the last 30 years, Caithness and Sutherland have lost:
Dozens of butchers
Most independent greengrocers
Many village shops
Local bakeries and small producers
What remains are heroic but overstretched convenience stores with:
Limited fresh produce
Higher prices
Shorter shelf life
Fewer healthy options
This is not a moral failing. It is a market failure — and a predictable one in sparsely populated regions.
Transport Costs Drive Up Prices and Reduce Choice
Everything costs more to move north. Fuel, ferries, long road routes, and weather disruptions all add friction.
The result:
Fresh produce in the Highlands can cost 10-20% more than in the central belt.
Deliveries are less frequent, meaning older produce on shelves.
Seasonal variety is limited because suppliers prioritise high‑volume regions.
The far north pays more for worse food — a structural injustice that rarely makes headlines.
Economic Pressures Make Healthy Eating Even Harder
Highland Council areas have:
One of the highest fuel‑poverty rates in Scotland (over 30% in some rural wards).
Lower average wages than the Scottish median.
Higher transport costs per household.
When budgets are tight, families gravitate toward:
Cheaper calories
Foods that won't spoil
Items that stretch across multiple meals
Healthy food becomes the first casualty of economic pressure.
The Health Consequences Are Real — and Expensive
Poor food access translates directly into poor health outcomes.
Key data:
Diet‑related disease accounts for around 20% of Scotland’s total disease burden.
Obesity‑related conditions cost NHS Scotland an estimated £600 million per year.
Type 2 diabetes costs the NHS around £1 billion annually UK‑wide, with rural areas disproportionately affected.
Highland communities with the poorest food access show higher rates of obesity and cardiovascular disease.
Children in remote rural areas are more likely to be overweight by P7 than those in urban areas.
These conditions are not caused by a lack of willpower. They are caused by a lack of access.
And NHS Highland — already stretched — pays the price for a food system that was never designed for the far north.
Prevention Is Cheaper Than Treatment — And Food Is Prevention
A single diabetes patient costs the NHS £1,200–£3,000 per year in direct treatment.
A community polycrub costs £3,000–£6,000 and lasts 20+ years.
One polycrub = the cost of treating one diabetes patient for one year.
But a polycrub can feed:
A family
A school
A community group
A village hub
The economics are obvious. The politics have simply not caught up.
The Far North Needs a Food Infrastructure Strategy — Not More Advice
If we want to reduce NHS costs, improve health outcomes, and strengthen rural resilience, we need to invest in food infrastructure, not just health services.
Here’s what that looks like.
Policy Proposa:
A Northern Food Security Programme
A serious, government‑backed programme for Caithness and Sutherland should include:
Large‑Scale Investment in Polycrubs and Growing Infrastructure
Polycrubs were designed for Shetland weather — they thrive where traditional growing fails.
A regional programme could:
Subsidise polycrubs for households and crofters
Build community‑owned growing clusters
Install school‑based growing hubs
Create village‑level micro‑greenhouses
Support training in horticulture and food production
This is not a hobby. It is food security.
Redirect a Fraction of Health and Economic‑Development Budgets
Even a 1% shift of NHS Highland’s annual budget into preventative food infrastructure would:
Fund hundreds of polycrubs
Support dozens of community food hubs
Reduce long‑term treatment costs
Improve diet‑related health outcomes
Prevention is cheaper than cure — and food is the most powerful prevention tool we have.
Build Community Food Hubs Across the Far North
These hubs would:
Bulk‑buy fresh produce
Reduce transport costs
Offer fair prices
Keep profits local
Provide delivery to remote villages
They would also create local jobs and strengthen community resilience.
Reform Rural Transport and Distribution
Government support could:
Subsidise distribution routes to the far north
Create shared logistics for small retailers
Support mobile greengrocer vans
Improve winter‑resilience infrastructure
Reducing transport friction reduces prices.
5. Reverse the Hollowing‑Out of Local Economies
Food access is tied to economic health. When public‑sector jobs and services are stripped out of Wick, Thurso, Golspie, or Lairg, everything else weakens — including food retail.
Reintroducing anchor employment would strengthen demand and make small shops more viable.
This Is a Public‑Health Emergency — And a Political Choice
Caithness and Sutherland deserve better than a food system designed for cities. They deserve a system built for the realities of the far north.
Healthy food should not depend on your postcode.
It should not depend on your car.
It should not depend on whether the lorry made it through the snow.
We can fix this — with investment, political will, and a recognition that food is infrastructure.
The cost of doing nothing is measured in hospital admissions, shortened lives, and millions in avoidable NHS spending.
The cost of action is a few thousand pounds per community, per year.
The economics are clear. The moral case is even clearer.
It’s time to build a food system worthy of the far north.