Wednesday 11th September 2018,
We were away early and continued along our route - which we discovered yesterday is a recently designated route to encourage tourism and is known as "Route 500" It is roughly 500 miles around the top of Scotland from Inverness round through the highlands and back down to Inverness - The area that is effectively isolated from the rest of Britain by the Great Glen. This is our own intended route but we had not realised we were doing one of the UK challenges. It would though explain why we are now discovering a number of larger camper vans making their way round.
We travelled for some 30 minutes before we saw a single vehicle as we drove the long and winding roads through breathtaking scenery. I am glad we have done this trip but to fully enjoy it we needed to be young, fit and indefatigable, willing to live in soaking clothes and sleep in wet fields. I did not really want to get out of Modestine into the cold, damp atmosphere and stand around shivering while Ian angled for the best photographic shot. The views though were equal to the very best we have encountered in our travels across Europe and beyond.
Near Bettyhill. North coast. Scotland.
Near Borgie. North coast. Scotland.
Kyle of Tongue. Causeway. North coast. Scotland.
I cannot imagine how people live up here all year, isolated from the world. There are very few villages, more a scattering of crofts on ledges, up narrow tracks far from the public roadway. Even the only road round is narrow with passing places. Now, with wider, bigger and heavier camper vans it will become increasingly difficult to negotiate one's way round. Modestine is fortunately no wider than a car and the passing places are abundant so there was no problem but if the route becomes more widely known about it could kill the goose the lays the golden egg. Young people were walking, cycling or going round by motor bike. None of these would have appealed to us when the day was punctuated by frequent squalls of sudden rain and strong winds.
Loch Eriboll. North coast. Scotland.
Durness. Smoo Cave. North coast. Scotland.
Strath Dionard. North west coast. Scotland.
We made good progress and around 3pm we drove down into Ullapool on the north-west coast. We are probably the smallest vehicle in the campsite which is still quite full despite the season being almost over. Certainly the development of the route has extended the holiday season. We are camped, surrounded by hired camper vans as we face out across Loch Broom to the open sea. On this morning's news we heard that while the rest of Britain is still enjoying 25 degrees of heat, this north-west corner of Scotland is suffering violent showers and high winds. Certainly we have been buffeted all night, rocked by the rains and wind sweeping across the lock and hitting us directly as we face out to sea. Time to move on from this pleasant little town of Ullapool, built by the Fish Marketing Authority as a base for Scottish fishermen to exploit the herring industry. That golden age has now passed and although fishing is still important here, tourism has taken over as the main source of income. Hopefully the new challenge route through the highlands will help sustain this fragile economy.
Approaching Ullapool. Scotland.
Shore Street. Ullapool. Scotland.
Harbour. Ullapool. Scotland.
Loch Broom. Ullapool. Scotland.
Argyll Street. Ullapool. Scotland.
Market Street. Ullapool. Scotland.
Broomfields Campsite. Ullapool. Scotland.
We did see a couple of stags trotting through the heather on one of the crags but have regretfully seen little else. No golden eagles, no otters and no leaping salmon. I guess you need to have a trained eye to see what's out there.
Tuesday 11th September 2018, Nairn
It was raining with a howling gale when we woke this morning. There was no pleasure in walking around in weather so bad it made the first item on the national news. We packed up and headed south towards Inverness again. The only traffic we encountered so early were a few early morning commuters caught in a delay at lights where an emergency team were carrying out repairs on a road bridge.
Mid morning we stopped to take a short, muddy, downhill walk through a forest in search of the Rogie Falls. Here, from a suspension bridge we watched the river, in full spate, cascading over boulders as it fell between heather and bushes to drop into the river below and continue its rapid descent down to the sea. Beside the main river were a tumble of smaller rocks providing an effective way for exhausted salmon to make their way back up river to the pools where they had hatched and grown some two years previously. I am pretty sure I saw a salmon leap as I stood watching.
Rogie Falls. Scotland.
Rogie Falls. Scotland.
We continued our journey stopping to explore the delightful little spa town of Strathpeffer. This was a complete surprise and was very like a smaller version of Harrogate or any other of the many spa towns we have seen across Europe. We recognised it immediately for what it was. In its Victorian heyday special through trains actually ran from London to Strathpeffer, so popular was it. There were charming Victorian villas, a lovely spa building and pretty walks around the town. Nowadays it has lost its visitors and the spa has closed but there are small tea shops and a couple of general stores. Apparently in the surrounding hills can be found the "Eagle Stone" - an ancient carved stone of unknown origin, thought to be Pictish. The Victorian railway station has been retained though the track has long gone. It is now retained as an example of charming Victorian transport architecture and used in part as a museum of childhood. Alas for us it was closed.
Spa Pavilion. Strathpeffer. Scotland.
Bandstand. Strathpeffer. Scotland.
Pump Room. Strathpeffer. Scotland.
Strathpeffer. Scotland.
Old station. Strathpeffer. Scotland.
We continued down to the little town of Dingwall. Actually, approaching places from the north, they seemed quite large by contrast to the isolated crofts and scattered cottages that has represented human habitation over the past few days. In Dingwall we stopped for fuel and to raid Tescos. The town is pleasant with a pedestrianised main street but little else. It is large enough to have several charity shops and when we were there the streets were quite crowded with secondary aged school children wandering around the streets waiting for afternoon school to begin. It was much as we'd seen in similar sized towns abroad where young people have nothing much to do over the lunch break in such a small town.
Victoria diamond jubilee. Dingwall. Scotland.
Museum. Dingwall. Scotland.
We were in search of Culloden. My knowledge of the battle dates right back to my school days and my memory has crowded out what I did once know with many matters of greater significance to my everyday life! I found myself totally confused by the different kings of England and Scotland and who was James and who was Charles and whether they were 1st of England and/or 6th of Scotland and anyway, at this distance in time does it really matter unless you are Scottish when, of course it does. Young Pretenders, old Pretenders, Charles 1st, 2nd, James 1st 2nd, 6th or 7th. Did I really spend my childhood trying to puzzle out t'other from which? Ian was horrified at my ignorance and told me I should have studied up more on my Scottish history before we came here. I told him that was the only reason I brought him along and if I had as much time to spare as he did I'd probably know as much as he did. We ended the day somewhat out of sorts with each other.
Culloden monument. Culloden. Scotland.
Clan Fraser monument. Culloden. Scotland.
Battlefield. Red flags English lines. Culloden. Scotland.
We wandered around the battlefield in the cold, chilly wind. It looked desolate today, how much worse when covered with the blood and brains of the Scotsmen in kilts flinging away their lives in an unequal battle with the organised Hanoverian red coats with their muskets and cannons. Within an hour the followers of the Young Pretender, Bonnie Prince Charlie, has been routed and some 1500 lay dead. The Hanoverian troops lost around 50 redcoats. Thus finally ended the Jacobite attempt to claim the throne of a united Britain.
By this time the day had worn on. Seeing Nairn marked on the atlas and remembering it as the source of the oatcakes we rather like we decided to investigate as it had a couple of campsites marked. It is indeed a very appealing little town. Clean streets with wide roads and very pleasant residential houses in the local stone. Our plan this morning was to explore the town, leaving Modestine on this rather pretentious and overpriced holiday park where we have been obliged to pass the night. It is near the harbour and we are told there is a footpath into the town centre. Unfortunately for us, while it is dry, it is extremely windy. Walking in will not be pleasant.
