Two years after my first trip to Scotland, I set off on another journey around this beautiful land, I now call my home. Because of the Covid19, many places, such as accommodation or castles, were closed, but as long as I had a car, sleeping bag and means to make tea, I would be alright.
To imagine the journey better, here's a map:
Day 1. Edinburgh to Braemar.
I had everything done and ready by Saturday, September 26. The plan was to have a full night’s rest, especially since it is my first time driving on my own and I need all my alertness and energy. I did all the prep work, shopping and planned the itinerary ahead of time to leave the last evening before my two-week trip around Scotland stress-free. Something I haven't done for the last few trips, which caused me many sleepless nights and wasted time on my brief holidays. This time I learned from my mistakes.
The next morning someone from the rental agency was picking me up at 9 am. This arrangement prevented me from coming back to the busy city, and also let me leave the hustle and bustle before people wake up... I should be fine driving, right? Even if I didn't think I remember how at that very moment...
That someone never came. Turned out that the agency was running late. An hour later the clock was ticking at the agency's yard where I watched the car being cleaned and checked. They gave me a bigger car (yay?) for all the trouble. While I waited outside looking (due to restrictions, I couldn't wait indoors), I tried to memorize how other cars leave the agency. "Can I turn right here? Oh, OK, yeah, I think I can repeat that."
Naturally, I got lost on my way home, ending up in a few one-way streets, a bus lane and on an uphill before the red light. Lovely. The worst happened in the first 5 minutes of driving. I stalled. Of course. Eventually, I reached the flat to collect my things for the trip, still in shock, my legs heavy as logs.
Then I had a cup of tea. And everything felt a little better. My flatmate and I spent some time exploring the car, adjusting the steering wheel and chair to my needs, put letters P on front and back windows and drove us both to Tesco. Having someone with me put my mind at ease, and I didn't feel as worried anymore. She felt safe going in a car with me. I was becoming more confident to drive.
Ending up in the wrong lane became the pattern of my first day. With time I felt more comfortable driving, motorway turned out to be less scary and complicated than I thought, I even overtook someone, although I was more than happy behind slower vehicles. After 2 hours on the road, I finally felt relaxed enough to put on some music. I drowned in melodies, the scenery was becoming more beautiful and I felt good about overcoming one of the worst fears I have had in my life.
After 3 hours of driving with countless stops and missed turns, I finally reached Braemar. I could now relax. My first stop! Braemar! The trip has begun! God, I felt so hungry. I packed my breakfast, which was my dinner last night. I was so nervous I couldn’t eat since then. Hunger came back in full blast. I finished my dinner right there behind the car.
Braemar was tiny but beautiful, surrounded by hills. There was a map with a few local walks. I could smell old. In a good way. Maybe it’s the building, maybe it’s the bridge and water, wood, but in my brain, it smelled historic. I walked past this building a few times and took deeper breaths each time.
As I wandered around the town, I stumbled upon a remote parking lot, which looked a lot like a place to spend my first night. Having never done that before, I felt a little out of place, but soon sleeping in the most beautiful places became second nature.
Not a bad place to sleep, eh? I still debated whether I should book accommodation like an ordinary person. Is sleeping in the car too much? Have I lost my mind? Chose to walk some more, see the castle, even if it's closed. The sun was setting, but I still had about an hour until it becomes dark.
As I walked around the castle, the sleepless night caught up to me. I was exhausted; the evening was getting colder and I now started looking forward to that car's backseat. I had enough today, so I wouldn't make myself set up a tent just yet. It's been a long and exciting day, my first evening sleeping out there… somewhere. I put the stove up, boiled some water for my bedtime tea and snuggled up into a sleeping bag with a warm cup and dozed off almost instantly.
Day 2. Braemar to Grantown-on-Spey.
So cold! Frost on plants. The morning view!
I did not expect that. It's -3C outside! And inside. I left windows cracked open for air, so the feeling outside and inside the car was about the same now. The temperature at this time of the year should not be that low, so I woke up to a big cold surprise.
Moments before I was lying in a warm sleeping bag planning the day. My stomach turned and twisted when I thought about driving again… Not nearly as bad as yesterday, but my fears and anxieties returned. Today was the day to see the Cairngorms National park. Loch Muick caught my eye, however, to get there I would need to take a single-track road, the type of a road I heard too much about for my sensitive heart, so I searched the map and my notes for what else I could do that day.
I quickly learned that if you want to get anywhere in Scotland, you have to use the single track road. There's no way to avoid them, or at least that not the way to see the country. Some roads cause fear, anxiety and trauma, not because you are imagining, but because you've seen it. However, gradually my confidence grew, reversing skills improved, messing up didn't traumatize me and a sense of adventure pulled me forward even knowing that this will not be the kindest road.
But that morning my primary concern was cold. I didn’t have the will to prepare a cup of tea. I would warm up once I started driving, so while the anxious part of my brain was worried, the frozen parts were looking forward to driving.
I used a local store's WiFi to inform my flatmate how cold it was out here and stumbled upon a very cheap offer for a hotel exactly on my way to the west coast. I took it as a sign, booked it, and the morning no longer seemed as cold.
I debated whether I should just take it easy, or use this beautiful sunny day for a good hike. I could blame the lack of caffeine in my body for the following decisions. I felt slow, felt like I was taking much more space, uncomfortable in my own skin and less equipped for the 7-hour hike. So it’s not all on me. You don’t expect an addict to feel just fine when she’s suffering a bit of a withdrawal. Although I felt pretty good and happy on this gorgeous day, lack of caffeine was likely the reason my body was not in it for a mountain.
For now, Loch Muick was exactly what I needed. Too much sun for my taste though (and just a few hours ago I was frosty). Once I made half of the circle and came into the shadow, I
could see the sunlit north coast of the lake which made my trip here
worth it. After 3.5 hours of walking, all I could think about was getting back to the car and brewing a cup of coffee.
Easy snack: spinach, roasted sweet potatoes, garlic mustard, cheese, tomato all wrapped in a tortilla.
The next stop, Ballater, was not much bigger than Braemar. I walked around looking at buildings, learned the pronunciation of Loch Muick from a local trails researcher, checked out the gift shop and munched on some local apples.
It was good 40 minutes to my hotel in Grantown-on-Spey. At around 5 pm I’ve seen and done everything I could in Ballater, from the caravan park near the river to the charming train station and a guy feeding ice cream to his dogs.
I was no longer worried about the drive. On the contrary, I fell in love with the car, driving, being/eating/living outside. I had a feeling that I was always meant to be driving, everything felt so natural. The scenery was spectacular; the sun setting and the roads winding. No camera could capture the feeling of roads going up and down, turning left and right and seeing the vast panoramas from the top of the hill. I was now at my home.
The blanket of the night had already covered Grantown on Spey when I got there. A cozy warm hotel room was a perfect ending to a pleasant day. I was exhausted, but truthfully, I slept better in the car where I couldn't hear anyone snoring behind a wall.
Day 3. Grantown-on-Spey to Lochinver
This day began in Grantown-on-Spey. The streets were spacious and the air smelled like autumn. Felt homely. Early mornings have that
relaxing feeling when you connect to your environment without noise,
hurry and distractions with all your senses wide awake. It’s a good place to live if you love hiking the
Cairngorms, but if you want variety in your life, it doesn't look like there's much to do.
An honesty shelf. You take an item, you leave money for it. There's even a box with small change for you to take.
The next stop - Clava Cairns. The standing stones which inspired Outlander series. I am the last person to obsess over known-famous objects, but these were the only standing stones on my route and the first ones I've ever seen.
The place looked inconspicuous. You wouldn't know that it's not just one of the thousands of trails in Scotland. After Dan Brown mentioned the Rosslyn Chapel in the Da Vinci Code, it has changed. Platform 9 and 3/4 in the Kings Cross station has changed. Well, it didn't really exist, but now you'd be standing in a crowd of tourists somewhere not too far from Platform 9. I was expecting something like this in Clava Cairns too. But it was a quiet and peaceful time to explore stones which sadly are not magical but were used for burial rituals. 4 cairns, 3 stone circles and a lot of ancient-looking trees, which impressed me more than stones.
Of course, I have to touch them all
Dingwall.
Mid-drive tea break.
When you're driving from point to point in Scotland, you find a lot of places, you can't pass without stopping to soak in the view. That day this was the Loch Glascarnoch. It took my breath away. A few vans were standing there, resting, cooking, and I was jealous. These people had time to stay for hours, maybe days. Or maybe they come here every other weekend, whenever they want. I could only imagine. The actual point of interest - the Corrieshalloch Gorge - did not impress me all that much. My threshold for natural beauty got higher 30 minutes ago.
Further stops:
The night was approaching faster than I wanted, and by the end of the day, I was rushing to find a secluded spot to sleep. The initial plan was to spend the night at Loch Assynt and explore it early the next day, but I ended up somewhere close to Lochinver, next to a couple of RVs and one car. This was yet another night I couldn't pitch the tent. The ground was too soggy, and by the time I arrived, it was too dark to look for anything else.
Day 4. Lochinver to Achnahaird Beach.
I was awake at 7 am after sleeping better than in a hotel. 8 degrees outside, warm in the sleeping bag. Only now I noticed the view, which was covered with thick fog and clouds last night.
The panorama was fantastic. That was the view I enjoy in the morning. That was the feeling of freedom I wish I could keep. (As I write it now from a warm, comfortable bed in my flat, I terribly miss this. Not just the view, but the entire experience. During the first few weeks since I returned to Edinburgh, I felt pangs of longing to be back there on a road.)
Living in a small car is not nearly as comfortable as a house, of course. Actually, it’s very uncomfortable with stuff all over it at odd angles. It all comes down to the benefits: adventure, freedom, challenge, novelty, curiosity. There I felt alive again. Fully awake.
As I walked around the small parking area overlooking the mountains below, a woman came out of the RV and offered me a cup of tea. A day hasn’t come yet when I would refuse a cuppa and a conversation! Long winding roads behind me lead to the remote beach, but I was not going there. I had another beach in mind for the next night’s sleep and this time I was ready to camp. We stood here, watching the mountains, drinking tea, connecting as temporary travellers. Life's good.
It didn't feel so the night before. I crawled in the sleeping bag regretting this place because it's not special enough (just a reminder, I couldn't see mountains in the evening and didn't know, that I ended up in the best possible spot, where I slept perfectly, and had nice company in the morning), regretting passing by the Loch Assynt too fast, wondering where is that excitement, which makes you pinch yourself and ask whether this is true or you're merely dreaming. The excitement I felt when I arrived in Alaska or even at the airport, before leaving. Or when I moved to London and my heart flinched each time I walked past the Tower Bridge. Or when I saw the Grand Canyon. Or when I travelled around Scotland 2 years ago. What happened to that feeling?
Am I just remembering things wrong? You fall in love with a place more when you leave. You forget all hardship, discomfort, mundane reality and everything seems as if it was one long unforgettable adventure. That must be it.
That early morning cup of tea with fellow travellers made me feel so much better. Not excited, not joyful, but at peace. When I came to Alaska, I knew nothing, but my mind exploded from novelty, adventure, beauty, from all the things I haven’t seen or known before. But today I know all those things, and had all those experiences. It is getting more difficult to discover unseen, unheard, untouched, unfelt, but maybe the trip doesn't have to be about that. I grounded myself and tried to stay grateful.
I explored the nearby area before jumping into the car and returning to the Loch Assynt, and thought to myself: while chasing excitement I'm losing on experiencing things fully as they are now; instead, I worry about making it better, bigger, more important, more meaningful and nothing is just as it is. Standing there and talking to someone else has brought me back to the present moment.
Loch Assynt was the most northern tip of my trip. It's nothing more than a lake with castle ruins. Beautiful as any nature spot in Scotland. Once more, it was too sunny. I explored the hell out of ruins, climbed, walked around and then prepared my first hot meal (porridge) with this view. No excitement, but very enjoyable, and that's damn great. Cooking was messy, had a lot of moving parts, and I ended up with a pile of dirty dishes. However, nothing can beat a good hearty breakfast with a historical view.
If you live in Scotland, you don't waste days like this; I opted for an afternoon hike. Stac Pollaidh looked massive and difficult while looking at the top from the start of the trail. The hike itself was pleasant, and although fairly steep, I felt full of energy. Views were spectacular (should I even say that?). You wouldn’t think you could see anything like that just after an hour-long walk, but this was one of the best short hikes out there. Short doesn't mean a stroll in the park. By the end, I was exhausted and desperately need that nice warm cup of tea.
The last stop of the day was nearby, slightly deeper into the peninsula. Having reached it at 5 pm I had more than enough time to scout the location, organize all my belongings which I stuffed into any free space in any bag before the trip, and finished my hummus and carrots. I had no energy for hot meals that evening.
Every nook and cranny of the car were filled with stuff, but I knew exactly where everything was and could reach everything from the inside or the outside of the car. Night lamp in the back door shelf, dirty socks in the driver’s seat pocket, miscellaneous (extra camera batteries, cables, belt, and whatnots) in the passenger’s seat pocket, stove and water on the floor at the front, food on the right side of the trunk, clothes on the left, but if I was reaching for food at night from the backseat, then food was on the left, and clothes on the right… It looks like a mess, but everything had its place. Except for my hair comb, which had its place at first, but when I put it… somewhere… I already knew I will never find it if I don't put it where it should go - the bottom pocket of my backpack. I remember knowing this and still made this conscious decision to place it wherever. I could not remember the location for the rest of the trip.
My first night in a tent... And this time I finally felt excitement. Beach smelled like a beach, felt like a beach, with mountains in the background and blue vastness. I spent a lot of time walking, listening, not making plans and just being there. Some places can put you in the present moment, you just wouldn’t want to be anyplace else.
I slept peacefully. Got up once to check if there are northern lights. Cloudy. Oh well. Maybe next time.
Day 5. From Achnahaird Beach to Ledgowan Bunkhouse (Achnasheen)
When I crawled out of the tent, it was still dark, but by the time I brought everything back to the car, the sky became bright yet cloudy. I spent 12 hours in a tent, mostly sleeping, a little reading.
It was uneasy to turn back and leave this beach. No one else was awake yet, winds were strong, but my spirit stronger. I felt so good there, unwilling to say goodbye and drive away. The beginning of the rain was an excellent excuse to pack and go.
On my way back to Ullapool, where I wanted to spend the rest of my day, I drove through now-familiar places: Stac Pollaidh, the single track road, which was as spectacular today as yesterday, the fantastic Ardmair beach, where I stopped to admire the waves, boats and mountains for the second time. That was where I met the RV couple from two nights before! It was so lovely to see them again and I hoped with was not the last time.
Ullapool is the largest town in the area with just 1500 inhabitants, but has a library (closed), average size Tesco, enough gift shops for everyone (some closed), a few hotels and B&Bs (closed) and tasty smelling restaurants. After I circled around the town, browsed charity shops and bought a burrito for lunch, I made a cup of coffee right there in the parking lot. It was getting rainier, gloomier, wetter and when I could no longer bear the rain, I booked another night indoors.
The day came to an early end. At 3:30 pm I was already checked-in at the Ledgowan Lodge, which was one of the nicest places I’ve been to. Dark wood walls and old furniture, thick scarlet curtains and matching carpet, deer antlers, inviting huge leather sofas. This was not where I was staying.
My bunkhouse was right outside this beautiful Lodge. Although not fancy, I had my own room and everything I need. Except, strong WiFi, which I battled for the rest of my evening trying to download a few episodes about a man travelling in the UK in a narrowboat. I should not be watching anything; this was a nature and mental recharge trip, but the heart wants what it wants. Relaxing travel vlogs won't burst the little happy bubble I was in.
The day melted away just like any other; I hoped to wake up to much better weather.
Day 6. Achnasheen to Lower Diabaig.
The view through the window was just as sad as the day before. The place felt like it's all mine, while I was making copious amounts of sandwiches with the sandwich maker I found in the cupboard. These sandwiches became the best snack while sitting in the car and waiting for the rain to stop for the next hour and a half.
The plan of the day was to hike somewhere in the neighbourhood of Torridon, in Beinn Eighe Park. I expected the rain to end around 11 am and by that time I wanted to already be at the start of the hiking trail, and those few hours in the car reading sounded better than skipping the hike altogether. It's not like there's much else to do around here during the pandemic. It was only mountains around me, and mountains is the reason I was here.
While I was enjoying the view from the car window and eating sandwiches, cars came and left, some people dressed up in their waterproof clothes went hiking, others barely left their car. Around 11:20 am the rain was no longer as powerful and I decided to just go on with the plan.
As soon as I started walking, the weather cleared up, as if it only waited for me to get out of the car. There was no one else near me throughout the hike, just mountains and me. The hike was pleasant, exactly what I need that morning, slightly damp, but the trail was really good, compared to what I am about to see in the next few days. 3 hours later I returned to the parking lot, pleasantly exhausted. A cup of tea helped me to regain energy.
The single-track road between Torridon mountains exceeds all my expectations.
By the time I got to the Torridon Village and visited the local deer, it was nearly 5 pm. There was one more location I could go visit that day. Although the night was approaching, the area didn’t look like it had a lot to offer besides hiking and walking, so I headed off to see the Lower Diabaig, where I could probably spend the night too. At this moment I didn't know that this would be the most terrifying single track road, and due to which I would be scared of unknown single track roads for the rest of my trip.
As I made my way from Torridon to Inver Alligin, a tiny settlement with a few houses and million-dollar views, I thought whether I should go deeper into these mountains. So far, the road was good, but do I really need to go all the way into who knows what? However, I wanted to see the Torridon area for so long. I couldn’t just give up and leave. The night was already approaching, but I still could visit the Lower Diabaig, which was said to be an unbelievably cute town with a cafe. I could sleep there and have my coffee in the morning.
The road filled up with twists and turns up and down the roads, worry seeped in. This was too damn steep! The next opportunity I have I might turn around and head back… However, I couldn't find a safe place to turn around. Despite the worry, the road looked amazing: mountains on the right, open views on the left, twists and turns made this an entertaining beautiful road. Most sections appeared like a pleasant roller-coaster drive. Until you reach a steep uphill and curse yourself for doing this and pray there's no one in front of you coming in the opposite direction. After about 20 minutes I reached a small settlement, where I set up my car’s GPS to find a way to turn around. It pointed me to go straight and turn right… The town and cafe I came for were on the left, but at this point, I don’t know it yet. Mistake #1.
Long story short, I got stuck in a mudhole on an uphill with a car trying to pass the other way. And then we both got stuck. He couldn’t pass to continue down and I couldn’t move the car an inch up. My heart was in panic, brain doing everything it could to get out of this situation safely and I wanted to cry. The guy in the other car was getting annoyed too, while I was forcing my car to move the hell up!
Eventually, the car slowly crept an inch by inch beside my car and my muscles relaxed a little. Sooner or later I will get out of here. The smart thing would have been to get out of the car and check what’s going on. Mistake #2. My assumption was I can’t drive and just need to keep trying to coordinate my legs with my arms and the car itself. I’ll know better next time.
Finally, I reached the end of the road - a turning area with a sign against overnight parking. My heart was racing, my mind at a fainting point, my legs were weak. I got out of the car to look for scratches and check for damages. The car looked disgusting from the mud that splashed all over the left side, however, there weren't any scratches on the car! What a relief! I paced around to calm down and cleaned the car. All I wanted now was to get out of there. Unfortunately, that the same terrifying road is in front of me now. It was getting darker with every minute. I wouldn't be able to make those steep turns in the darkness. As I went back down the same cursed downhill, I noticed that I should have turned left for the cafe and a parking lot... Fuck. Stupid GPS.
I did not risk taking the car down there. This time I crawled up with the car and parked it at a nearby passing place, then ran down on my own feet. I reached the town and finally saw the cafe which turned into a bar in the evening. If I only went this way, this whole evening wouldn’t have happened... Quiet, cozy and beautiful. The town was great, smelled of sea water and fish. But I didn’t have much time, so I ran back.
I was exhausted by the time I reached the car, but it was nearly completely dark and I had all this way till Torridon Village. I couldn’t turn my car now without reversing, and that was the adventure that seemed too much for this evening. I kept going. More twists, turns, uphills and downhills. Eventually, I reached the very first area where I could park. The view was spectacular, but that was not the reason I stopped here. I couldn't drive anymore. I was at my limit; the road was now too dark and I won't move a single centimeter more.
That night I slept horribly with nightmares about the car rolling down the hill while I was still sleeping on the back seat.
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