From tiny Easdale, a charming slate island lying just off the west coast of Scotland, comes a beguiling offer to put down roots. Fewer than 70 souls dwell on this rocky outcrop separated from mainland Argyll by a few hundred metres of water, and they are seeking more to join them.

The island is the smallest permanently inhabited island of the Inner Hebrides and is one of four that, in their heyday, supplied slate to the rest of the country. The old slate mines, visible amid deep black pools of seawater, have not been worked since the end of the 19th century when the mother and father of all storms came roaring in from the Atlantic and carried away an entire industry. If the waves had reached a little higher, the human population would have been washed away too.

The little community is beginning to thrive once again but the islanders, fearful of its long-term sustainability, have appealed for more families to settle. Like many communities in Scotland’s highlands and islands, it has tended to export its young and import the old who, having wandered through the lands of other people, come back to the places of their youth.

Alan McFadyen is the senior ferryman on Easdale, whose job it is to operate the small craft that carries visitors and locals to and from its sister island of Seil, another old slate island connected to the mainland by its unique “bridge over the Atlantic”. He comes from a family of ferrymen who, for generations all over the Argyll peninsula, have been privy to the hopes and dreams of a million Highlanders eager to see the world beyond or keening for a return to the hills and glens of their sirelands. McFadyen, though, is much more than the ferryman.

“Everyone who leaves this island or visits here has to come through me,” he said last week in the kitchen of his cottage, which sits atop the island pier. “I feel privileged in this job as it allows me to take the temperature of the island. To make this community work, everyone simply has to join in and do the jobs that need to be done. It’s a tight wee community and it’s beautiful to behold, but this is no island utopia; we don’t all agree.

“Everyone tends to know at least a little about you and, as in any other community – large or small – no two of us are the same, but it works well. Something of the character of a person becomes visible here simply because it’s difficult to submerge issues that need to be aired.” In the island pub, the Puffer, some of the reasons why the islanders are keen for visitors to settle become apparent.

Keren Cafferty, who owns the pub, is discussing the long-term future of Easdale as a working island that sustains itself and offers an alternative anti-consumerist model of life. She came here from Edinburgh, seeking a break and a temporary haven from the pressures of running a small business at the height of the 2008 credit crunch. “This place just seeps into your soul. Even when the Atlantic is battering us, there is still a terrible beauty.

“There are as many second-home owners here as there are permanent residents and most of them contribute greatly to the life of Easdale. But we have to look to the future. Our school roll is dropping badly and, besides, some of us are trying to run small businesses and, if you like, establish a sort of cottage industry. There are good opportunities and there are plans to build some affordable homes in land that the community council owns. We need a mix of people, young and old, who will buy our produce and help us keep this place vibrant.”

Last month the islanders’ gentle Mayday message was carried into the world in a stunning eight-minute film called Easdale – A Wild Community. It was shot and produced free of charge by Patrick Rowan, who works with the island outdoor activities firm, Seafari Adventures. Using time-lapse and pull focus filming techniques, it captures the beauty of this place in all its car-free glory better than mere words.

Cafferty said: “We had been talking about ways to get people to come to Easdale for a while. We are hoping that it will attract more visitors to the island who may then think to themselves: ‘It would be great to live here’.”

They still talk about the time, just a couple of years back, when the indie-rockers Florence + the Machine pitched up on Easdale with an entourage of 70 or so to shoot a video. “They fell in love with the place and staged a real Hollywood production here.”

Every summer the island stages a little arts festival, which draws bands and musicians from all over the UK and beyond. But they need money to pay them properly and a local authority will always look more kindly on a grant if it’s coming from a location where there are plenty of people paying rates. The island also hosts the world stone-skimming championship, an event that attracts enthusiasts from near and far. It is thriving, despite the levy of £1,000 imposed on it two years ago by the landowner in whose quarry the contest takes place. Some old Highland habits die hard, it seems.

Soon, I am introduced to Georgia, a golden-haired, 18-month-old tot whose smile lights up the room. This child occupies a special place in the hearts of every islander to whom I speak for, it seems, each of them played a part in her safe delivery into this world. Last July Georgia became the first person to be born on Easdale for 80 years. She is the daughter of Lyndsay and Dave Munro and, as her time approached, a helicopter complete with doctors and midwives was scrambled to fly her to Paisley and the security of a consultant-led team. “However, she had obviously waited long enough,” said Lyndsay, “and decided to make an early entrance. The midwives and doctors simply decided to make the house a maternity ward as it became clear there would be no birth in Paisley that night.”

Her birth, it seemed, was like a sanctification of Easdale and some of those who witnessed it were profoundly affected. Lyndsay said: “I even received gifts for her from some Americans who were visiting the island that week and were caught up in all the drama.”

Easdale belongs to the sprawling council area of Argyll and Bute, the only Highland and Island authority that has seen its numbers decline in recent years. Mike MacKenzie, the MSP for the Highlands and Islands, has his home on Easdale, where he has lived for 36 years after being brought up in Glasgow.

“Easdale is a microcosm of what’s been happening in this part of Scotland for many years,” he said. “Now we want to address the situation and maintain this island’s long-term viability. I’m originally from Oban with roots in Argyll going back generations, like many on the island. But after being reared and educated in Glasgow, I knew I justhad to return here to put down roots. I only got involved in local politics because I simply didn’t think the council properly understood how much potential we have here and how to develop it.”

No amount of visits to Easdale will prepare a visitor for the essential spirit of the island. This is a place that, on your first few encounters, seems to offer the prospect of gifts to requite the yearnings of any soul. With this though, comes a challenge to any sense of self-reliance or instant gratification. It calls for the humility of having to rely on others.

“You can’t be an island on an island like this,” says MacKenzie.