Great escape: Scotland Freedom in the Highlands and Islands
Scotland makes a spectacular setting for a secluded summer break, as Anna Lyon and family discover
With family celebrations, weekend breaks and our planned trip to Denmark all cancelled because of the pandemic, we set our sights on a destination rather closer to home. Inspired by writer, campervan owner and green activist Martin Dorey to Take the Slow Road – pause for thought and admire the glorious views – we settled on exploring the dramatic Scottish Highlands and Islands.
As last summer’s holidays approached, the Scottish Government issued guidelines and legislation on social distancing, which gave more campsites the confidence to open up to the general public.
Like us, others soon started to come to terms with 2020 staycations, and the sites and ferries began to book up, making it very clear that to avoid disappointment, we would need to plan our trip meticulously.
But at last, there was an enormous cheer in the house as home schooling screens were left behind and we hit the road for our first trip of the year, feeling that great sense of freedom and anticipation of adventures ahead.
Heading over the border
From previous experience, we have found it is best to cover the ‘crunching miles’ at the beginning of the holiday. So after a quick detour to visit a relative in the Midlands, we crossed the Scottish border the following day, driving a further 227 miles towards a quiet farm CL at Lockerbie.
At less than three miles from the A74, we had not expected Whins CL to have such peaceful views towards the Lake District, the Solway Lowlands and the Isle of Man. We all needed to stretch our legs and refuel, so we unhooked and went off to explore the village of Powfoot. With its stretch of coastline along the Solway Firth, this was an opportunity for son Ben and our dog, Lucy, to leap over the mudflats and play on the salt marsh and shingle before returning via Annan, just four miles from the site, where we refilled our thirsty petrol tank.
Mountains and lochs
Refreshed after a peaceful night’s sleep, we rejoined the motorway for another 170 miles – a scenic journey, taking in majestic Glencoe – to reach the family-run Invercoe Highland Holidays, adjacent to Glencoe village between steep mountains and the River Coe.
We pitched by Loch Leven, a freshwater tidal sea loch. With water temperatures peaking at around 14°C, we were encouraged to don our new wetsuits in the sun and brave our first exhilarating experience of wild swimming – never venturing too far from the edge and extremely grateful afterwards for the site’s hot showers!
With waymarked trails direct from the campsite, that night we enjoyed the first of many dog strolls among the redwoods of the Lochan Trail (planted by Lord Strathcona in the 1890s for his homesick Canadian wife).
Next day, our Sunflower Guide – which also contains driving tours – took us to the dramatic, secluded setting of Coire Gabhail (Lost Valley). Stopping at a car park along the A82, we embarked on a moderate walk with a sharp ascent into the narrow cleft between the Three Sisters hills – Beinn Fhada, Gearr Aonach and Aonach Dubh – leading into the huge bowl of Coire Gabhail.
As the rain closed in, we opted to stop off at nearby
Fort William, on Loch Linnhe, below Ben Nevis, a fantastic base for essentials and outdoor activities.
Scotland is notorious for its unpredictable weather, so we saved the Pap of Glencoe – a four-hour, 742m-high hill walk – for a clearer day, when we could enjoy views of the Ardgour hills and Loch Leven.
The terrain varies from a steep, rough ascent to boggy marshland. Suddenly surrounded by mist, we abandoned any thoughts of reaching the summit, and made a hasty, unscheduled descent – Ben taking note of important survival lessons learnt walking in the mountains.
All aboard for Skye views
Our next destination involved our first ferry trip, from the harbour town of Mallaig, 60 miles along the A830 (the Road to the Isles). This road is simply spectacular, with plenty of photo-opportunities as you pass Loch Eil, beside the track on which the ‘Hogwarts Express’ runs, crossing Glenfinnan Viaduct. The route continues past Ranochan and on to Lochailort.
Lochailort is just a few miles from Arisaig, where you can turn off onto the ‘old’ road winding along by the sea. This time, though, much to Ben’s excitement, we had a ferry to catch, so we carried on towards Mallaig in the dazzling sunshine.
Unfortunately, pandemic restrictions meant we were confined to our vehicle for the 45-minute crossing to the docks at Armadale – Skye’s ‘back door’. Our destination was Kinloch Campsite, in the north-west of the island.
On eerily empty roads, we revelled in the scenic drive via the Sleat peninsula, our attention grabbed by the sudden appearance of the jagged, rocky peaks and scree of the impressive Cuillin mountains.
Arriving only 10 minutes before the site closed for lunch, we pitched, with tranquil vistas of Loch Dunvegan and Macleod’s Tables – two distinctive table-topped hills dominating our ‘room with a view’.
With half a day in hand, we swiftly set up basecamp, leaving a full load of washing drying in the strong winds as we walked to Dunvegan Castle, the 800-year-old ancestral home of Clan Macleod.
Dunvegan village would not see us go hungry during our stay, with a plethora of places to eat, a well-stocked convenience store and Skye’s ‘oldest bakery’. The castle was only partially open, so we chose instead a pleasant afternoon walk – the Two Churches – grateful for the easy terrain taking us through moorland and forest.
The following day, with the weather closing in, we appreciated a slower morning, waiting until the clouds dispersed before setting out along the tracks towards Claigan Coral beach – 4.5 miles north of Dunvegan.
Given the area’s limited parking, we were fortunate to find it empty as we walked the 25-minute, uneven farmland footpath towards Camas Ban, a stretch of fine white sand, then further on to the coral beach.
What a magical place. The beach, made from crushed white coral, and the deep blue water, had the appearance of a tropical paradise – although an icy paddle soon corrected the image we had formulated in our minds!
‘We walked further around the bay to the white sands of Traigh Mheilein, with views of the Atlantic’
Encircled by so much beauty on Scotland’s second largest island, with the sun a long way off setting, we navigated towards Harlosh for another scenic coastal walk, terminating at Ullinish Point. Ben was delighted to spot his first grey seal here, while he and Harvey explored the rock pools, teeming with life.
We saved our climb to Dunvegan Head for a perfect blue sky the following day. The nine-mile circular route of Biod an Athair and Dunvegan Head didn’t disappoint. At the summit, we sat peacefully watching minke whales playing in the clear waters below us.
To the lighthouse
After the peace of Dunvegan Head, we knew the popular Neist Point might be a stark contrast. Arriving near the end of the day, however, we were agreeably surprised to see people leaving in droves, allowing us to enjoy the 2km path to the lighthouse and another glimpse of the minke whales – this time, while bagpipes played somewhere in the distance!
Another day, and another 4km hike, on the same path from the car park heading up towards the Old
Man of Storr on the Trotternish Ridge. Curving uphill, we soon left the crowds behind, reaching the top for a quiet spot of lunch while overlooking the beautiful islands of Raasay and Rona and beyond.
The east coast of the Trotternish peninsula (Quiraing) is absolutely full of wonder – volcanic basalt has pressed down on softer sandstone and limestone, causing huge landslides. The most impressive, for us, was Kilt Rock (resembling a Scottish kilt), where the basalt columns plummet into the sea – definitely time to hold dog
Lucy firmly on the lead.
After a day of stupendous scenery, we stopped at the charming village of Portree for a gentle stroll around the cliff-edged harbour before returning home to the peace and quiet of our campsite.
Next day – sad to leave Skye, but fuelled by bacon butties – we journeyed to Uig Ferry Terminal to cross to Tarbert, on the Outer Hebridean island of Harris.
We arrived with plenty of time to soak up the sun before embarking, Lucy clearly enjoying a rest day. Thankfully, with masks in place, we could sit together on deck, counting hundreds of jellyfish while watching dolphins frolic as the islands of Lewis and Harris in the north, and the Uists and Barra in the south, came into view in just under two hours.
Climbing out of Tarbert, we drove along the single tracks, frequently pausing to allow cars to pass at an infectiously slow pace. Slightly taken aback by the rugged emptiness of North Harris, Ben was convinced we had landed on the moon – the inhospitable landscape certainly did have a lunar feel about it.
At Lickisto Blackhouse Camping, we received a warm welcome from the owners. The facilities here are housed in their 150-year-old traditional Hebridean Blackhouse. In no time we were provided with a table and chairs, a firepit and a bucket of wood at our pitch overlooking the bay. Parking the car outside the site, we got down to the serious business of putting together a long list
of recommendations – the first being the beautiful golden sands of Luskentyre (Losgaintir).
The main A859 ‘Golden Road’ into South Harris follows a narrow, scenic, winding route. Access to the beach is down a lane that ends in a car park next to a burial ground, the end of the coffin route used by pallbearers who carried the dead from the Bays district to the West side of Harris for burial.
Descriptions of the beach had not prepared us for the beauty and enormity of the deserted, white-sand beach that stretched for nine miles, lapped by the gorgeous green-blue waters of the Atlantic and set against the rounded peaks of the Harris mountains.
Shoes and socks abandoned, we ran about in delight, bodyboarding down the dunes and walking on the machair (grass plain) among deep-pink wild orchids.
We had only been on the island for a couple of hours and already we felt at home, watching the first of many perfect sunsets, with a pit fire and my first taste of the sugar kelp seaweed of Harris Gin (harrisdistillery.com). If the persistent midges departed, life would be perfect!
Ben having requested a beach day, we packed some sandwiches, deciding to explore the Golden Road, with an impromptu stop at Grosebay (home to Harris Tweed), rejoining the Bays Road with its many small inlets, peaty bogs speckled with miniature fjords, and sparkling lochs.
So many wonderful beaches in one day – we started at Seilebost, a wide estuary of white sand, its expanse impossible to take in, then Horgabost, a short distance away (in normal times, this would be busy, because the campsite is right on the beach), and nearby Borve and Scarista. After a day of walking, Lucy lay, exhausted but comfortable, on our laps – her fur full of sand.
Keen to try our wetsuits and explore the rich marine environment, the following day we printed out the Harris Wildlife Trust Snorkel Trail (scottishwildlifetrust.org.uk) – an informative guide with graded snorkelling sites.
We headed off to nearby Ardhasig for an introduction to the underwater landscape. It was intoxicating; Ben and I lounged like basking seals on the rocks, soaking up the sun as golden eagles soared above. Planning our afternoon water activity, we decided on a kayak trip from our campsite slipway, providing the chance of Gopro underwater photography for Ben. Another perfect day.
White sands
Next morning, we took a slow drive on the B887 to the west coast of Harris, heading towards Huisinis, the new direction confirming that each side of the island has its own unique atmosphere.
The 12-mile single track was full of surprises, passing through Bunavoneader, a short-lived whaling station with a distinctive brick chimney, then past the front gates of Amhuinnsuidhe Castle. At the end of this road, we found Highland cattle grazing on the roadside, with a white-sand beach stretching out towards the bay.
Hungry after a longer than expected drive, we tucked into a bread and cheese picnic, chatting to wild-campers