From Elphin to Lochinver.

So here we were, ensconced in the heart of Assynt, the region of Scotland that first kindled our devotion to the highlands, and the place that made us buy a caravan in the first place. 

We first came to Assynt nearly twenty years ago. Mrs Snail's parents invited us to join them on a self catering holiday in the fishing town of Lochinver, a few miles north of our current pitch at Elphin. We were students at the time and the chance of a free holiday was impossible to refuse. Once there, I don't believe we ever truly left.

We returned to the self catering chalets at Lochinver many times in the following years, sometimes alone, sometimes with Mrs Snail's Mum and Dad. But the price inevitably rose year on year until we were paying in excess of six hundred quid a week to stay in a little chalet with a view of the harbour. And a jacuzzi. If I'm honest, however much I love life on the road with the caravan,  do miss that Jacuzzi. Mind you, the way caravan equipment is going at the moment, I'm guessing it's only a matter of time...

But the fact was that at those prices a trip to this wonderful part of the world was too expensive to be anything other than a treat we allowed ourselves only occasionally. What can I say? We're greedy. We were determined to find a way to come here more often, and Mrs Snail suggested that a caravan was the obvious solution. I confess I took some convincing, but it all turned out extraordinarily well in the end. Since picking up the Road Snail we've been to all sorts of places we wouldn't otherwise have got to, but most of all, we've been to Assynt a lot more frequently than would otherwise have been possible.

Elphin sits a few miles inland, opposite the twin hills of Cul Mor and Cul Baeg. (Respectively "Big Back" and "Little Back" in Gaelic.) Many years ago, as a much younger and fitter man I accompanied my father in law on an ascent of both of these hills in one day. He was older then than I am now, and I have to say that now I'd probably just do the one... It's a good walk though, and not particularly difficult - and the view from the top is fantastic, assuming the clouds are higher than the peak and you actually get one. This, I'm afraid, can not be guaranteed.

Head north from here and in a couple of miles you arrive at the Ledmore Junction - something of an important landmark hereabouts, although if you didn't know that you'd be hard pressed to tell. The "T" junction marks the point where the mostly North/South A835 ends and you join the mostly East/West A837. That's all there is really, a T junction and a sign - not so much as a house. I'm not even sure that Ledmore actually qualifies as a place at all...

Still, if you're minded to turn right here and head to the west you'll follow a winding single track road that will eventually take you to the central town of Lairg. We, however were turning left and taking the rather more substantial road West towards the coast and the little fishing community of Lochinver. 

As you approach the Ledmore junction you are afforded impressive views of the long craggy ridge of Suilven - my very favourite hill - and the taller and rather pleasingly mountain shaped Canisp, both rising up on your left. Right in front of you, however looms the impressive bulk of Ben More Assynt (not to be confused with Ben Mor Coigach, the other "big hill" in these parts) which is the region's only Monroe, or Scottish Mountain over three thousand feet. 

The A837 sweeps you onwards, eventually bringing you to the shores of Loch Assynt, and the little village of Inchnadamph. As we passed through we noticed a couple of RAF Regiment soldiers ambling their way along the road, and wondered what they were doing there - the RAF is often to be seen in the skies over Assynt, but you seldom see them on the ground. We assumed that they must be involved in some sort of training exercise and pressed on. Bear them in mind though - we'll be coming back to them in a future post...

Ichnadamph is also the site of the memorial to the geologists Peach and Horne, who we well also be coming back to in a future post. On that morning however we kept rolling on towards Lochinver and soon were passing the ruins first of Calder House and almost immediately afterwards of Ardvrek Castle. These two buildings span a great deal of the history of this area, and both ruins are interesting in their way.

Perhaps forever fated to be the bridesmaid rather than the bride in this pairing is the grey boxy structure which is all that remains of Calder House. However historically and politically significant it might be, Calder House looks like the derelict shell of an old house, while Ardvreck looks like a ruined castle, and castles are always interesting.

Unsurprisingly the Castle came first. Built on a promentary that is very nearly an island in Loch Assynt in the later part of the fifteenth century by Angus Mor III* of the Clan MacLeod, the castle is joined to the mainland by a narrow strip of beach. This former MacLeod stronghold began life as a simple rectangular block, perhaps three or four floors high - presumably reminiscent of the Pele Towers that can be found all over the border between England and Scotland.

It remained a fairly simple affair for about a hundred years until in the latter part of the sixteenth century when Donald Ban IX made some improvements. It was Ban who added the tower, and following the fashion of the time he also vaulted the cellars and the ceiling of the great hall on the first floor.

Very little remains visible of the other building that stood around the castle itself, or of the ramparts that augmented the building's natural defences. The stronghold needed good defences, because Ardvreck experienced a lot of violence throughout its active life.

It withstood many attacks and sieges over the years, as various branches of the Clan MacLeod fought for dominance and other enemies, from outside the family tried to muscle in on MacLeod territory. It was one such attack, by the MacKenzies of Wester Ross in sixteen seventy two that finally breached the fortress and, after a two week siege, ended MacLeod rule in Assynt.

The castle continued under MacKenzie ownership for some time, and it was nature who had the final word. The great devastation that brought the place to ruin was the result not of attack by men, but a lightning strike in seventeen ninety five.

By that time, however, the main focus of the MacKenzie Lairds of Assynt had moved to Calder House, the construction of which had been ordered in Seventeen Twenty Six by Kenneth MacKenzie II. By all accounts his wife Francis found Ardverck a little too lacking on modern comforts, and Calda was an attempt to make her feel more at home.

There's an argument for suggesting that he might have been showing off a little mind you. When it was constructed Calder House was the pinnacle of gracious living. Apparently it was the first symmetrical manor house in North West Scotland and the design would be influential in the plans for later MacKenzie houses in Wester Ross.

The MacKenzie dominance of Assynt was to be short lived, however. Kenneth built up massive debts supporting the Royalist cause, and his wife was not exactly a paragon of frugal living. By seventeen thirty seven it was all over. Not just the house, but the whole of Assynt was sold to the Duke of Sutherland - the region still resides within the county of Sutherland today - and the brief MacKenzie dominance of the area came to an end.

With that end came the end of Calder House. The Duke of Sutherland had no need for a manor house in Assynt, he had a whole castle of his own on the east coast. Indeed, he (or at least his successor) still does. Besides, even if he'd wanted to he wouldn't have got the chance. Determined that no Sutherland should ever reside there, MacKenzie supporters looted and burned the building on 12th May seventeen thirty seven.

The ruin you see today was finally produced when, demonstrating an attitude to recycling that does them credit, at the end of the eighteenth century a bunch of guys from Inchnadamph at the head of the loch earned themselves one shilling and sixpence each for taking stones from the house and taking them to Inchnadamph for use in the construction of the schoolhouse. That was good money in those days and certainly easier than quarrying stone from the ground.

Ardverck is an old friend. We've been visiting this wonderful little ruin for the better part of twenty years, and I have to say, it's looking pretty good. When we first visited back in the nineties we had to park at the side of the road and both Ardverck Castle and Calder House were covered in warning signs that suggested anyone venturing too close  was taking their lives in their hands. Since then extensive work by Historic Assynt has secured the structures and provided ample car parking and informative sign boards.

Very informative for tourists, if only because they help explain why you see so many geology students on the side of the road. Geology is important in this neck of the woods, for reasons we'll get to in a future post - the same one where we'll talk about Peach and Horne, in fact. For now all I'll say is "drive carefully around here" - geology students turn up on the road as unexpectedly as the Red Deer that roam around here, and hitting students is every bit as damaging and inconvenient as hitting deer...

Indeed, as we moved on from the castle I was forced to break sharply as a young lady in a mud spattered waterproof and a short black skirt - going bravely bared legged in the midge filled air - stepped backwards into the road without looking, presumably to get a different perspective on the rock face she was staring intently at. My speed on the break was rewarded by a broad grin and a cheerful wave. Ah, the immortality of youth...

Just beyond the ruins you have an opportunity to turn right, and head north along the A894 towards the north coast - and we'll be doing precisely that in a few posts time. But we kept cruising westward along the shoreline of Loch Assynt, the western half of which is dotted with small islets sporting clumps of spindly pine trees. It occurs to me that in all the years we've been coming here we have never once stopped to photograph the Assynt Pines, as we have come to call them, which is odd because they're a sight we have come to think of as iconic.

The loch dominates the left hand side of the road. Before the junction with the A849 the view to the right is the massive bulk of Ben More Assynt and his associated peaks. Once past the A849 Ben More is replaced by the smaller but no less impressive form of the mountain Quinag (which so far as I can tell is pronounced Cun-i-Ag). Both of these mountains are actually more like mini mountain ranges in their own right, but Quinag, although much small both in terms of area and height, is rather more impressive because you can see so much of it at once.

Once you've passed the end of the loch the land around the road begins to rise above it, so views become more limited. However, don't despair because this just makes the glimpses you get between hills all the more interesting and in any case before long you're skimming through the small light industrial area that sits on the edge of Lochinver and them suddenly you're driving down the high street with the sea loch stretching out into the Minch.

 Next time we'll be exploring this remarkable little town and its surroundings. See you then!







 
*Yes, all those of you who've been following the Gaelic notes in this blog have already realised that Ardverck Castle was built by "Big Angus". Seriously.

The High Road North - Part Four: Inverness and Beyond!

Now I think of it, the trip between Bunree and the Northern Highlands is longer than I thought. Look at us, on episode four and only just heading into the City of Inverness.

Inverness - or "Inbhir Niss" (Mouth of the river Ness, in Gaelic) is the most northerly city in the UK, at least according to Wikipedia. I'm not sure where this leaves Kirkwall, which last time I looked was definitely still on Orkney and I'm pretty sure it counts as a city. I mean yes, it's small by city standards, but it does have a Cathedral, and I've always thought of it as the Capital City of the Orkneys. So. I'm going to regard it as the largest city on the mainland.

Whatever. The place is old, dating back to the sixth century at least and is regarded as the capital of the Highlands. It is certainly the administrative centre for the Highland Council - as you enter the city along the A82 you drive past the headquarters of the Highland Council, or "Priomh Oifis" (Prime Office) in Gaelic. It is also the home of the main campus for the University of the Highlands and Islands, a rather nice looking castle and an airport.

That, I'm afraid is all I can tell you about Inverness, because like Fort Augustus and Druimnadrochit before it, this city is a place we have only ever driven through - we've never stopped here. The road sweeps you into the edge of the city, and then around it, bypassing the centre of town and conveying you through the light industry and out of town supermarkets towards the Moray Firth. One final roundabout, overlooking the Inverness Caledonian Thistle ground and then you're on the A9, crossing the Moray Firth on the Kessock Bridge.

Now, I know I've been rude about the A9 in the past, and it is our least favourite road in Scotland*. In truth, the A9 north of Inverness is fine - it's the bit south of the city we lost patience with. North of Inverness the A9 takes you into the Black Isle and then, if you stay on it, onwards into eastern Sutherland and then to Caithness. We, however had a different route in mind. A couple of miles north of the Kessock Bridge you come to a roundabout with two major exits. Take the right fork, and you're away up the east coast, as previously described. Take the left fork, signposted Ullapool,  and you're off to the other side of the country.

Yes, I know. We started this drive on the west coast, we've jagged across the whole country as we followed the Great Glen to Inverness on the east coast, and now we're going all the way back across Scotland to the west again. Such is the nature of main roads in Scotland, I'm afraid. Besides, if you're going to drive from one side of a country to the other twice in one day, Scotland is the country to do it in, don't you think?

This stretch was basically the final leg of the journey, and as we drove ever further north and west both the landscape and the weather began to change. 

We'd driven up the great glen beneath slate grey skies beneath a constant bombardment of persistant rain. Now the sky began clear and brighten, while the view outside the window of the car began to lose the green pastoral roll of the Black Isle and take on the rockier, more robust character of the rugged Scottish north west.                                                                                                                  

This is a perhaps my favourite leg of the trip, perhaps because you start to feel yourself getting closer to your destination with every turn of the wheel and you start to spot the landmarks that whisper "nearly there" in your ear.

Not that there are all that many landmarks. This is a landscape more notable for what it doesn't contain rather than what it does. You don't pass very many houses - or buildings of any kind for that matter. What you have instead is space. Beautiful, unsullied, empty space. You'll see the occasional huddle of empty cars, left by walkers who have headed for the hills, or people who have chosen to spend their day thigh deep in freezing cold water as they try to catch salmon or trout in one of the many little burns that flow down the hills and over the rocks.

It doesn't seem very long before you find yourself approaching Loch Glascarnoch. 

this seven mile long reservoir sits roughly half way between Inverness and the little coastal town of Ullapool. The massive concrete dam that holds the water in check sits at the southern end of the loch, and does rather dominate the valley as you approach. 

At the bottom of this imposing edifice sits the Aultguish Inn. We've never stopped here, but it always seems busy. In addition to the usual facilities you'd expect to find at an inn, the Aultguish also provides a sizeable bunkhouse for walkers and outdoor types on a budget, and an increasingly busy camping area. I dunno. Perhaps it's an over exposure to the film "The Dambusters" as a kid, but I always think the place looks a little vulnerable...

There's a steepish hill here, which takes you up above the Aultguish Inn to the level of the lochside, from where, if you look back you can see the hiking booted footprints painted on the roof of the bunkhouse. We've been driving past here for very nearly twenty years, and those boot prints still make me smile.

From here you continue north west, skirting first the north shore of the little Loch Droma before passing the falls of Measach on your left - about which more in a future post - and a good sized car park on your right. At this point you're following the course of the River Broom, although you wouldnt know this from the road because it flows at the bottom of a steeply sided and very deep gorge. More about that in a later post too.

Before much longer we were skirting the south eastern shore of Loch Broom, it's waters mirror still and slate grey under the brightening sky. Soon after that we were climbing the last hill before the little town of Ullapool, which sits contentedly towards the upper end of the loch. Ullapool too will be getting a post all of it's own in the future,so we will continue on, through the town, up the hill and past the tiny settlement of Ardmair.

Actually, "settlement" is rather a strong word for Ardmair. From the road it looks like a short terrace of holiday homes and a caravan site, but it's worthy of mention because the caravan site is rather good. We stayed there once a couple of years ago because we were heading to Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis and this site was handy for the ferry. The site shop was well stocked, and the sheltered bay offers a wide cobble beach and views of Isle Martin. 

Good as it is though, Ardmair was not our destination this trip, so on we went. The road sweeps north now, taking you past Ben Mor Coigach (literally "the big hill in the Coigach region) on your left. Shortly after that the twin mountains of Cul Baeg and her bigger sister, the twin peaked Cul Mor swing into view, again on the left, and we knew we were very nearly there.

We fairly sprinted up the hill with the Knochan Crag visitor centre on our right, and as we crested that rise, with the crags climbing up above us we could see our destination, a little field just above the village of Elphin. This Caravan Club Certificated Location was going to be home for the next week or so. We were back in Assynt - the land of Rocks and Lochs, the place that first kindled our love for the Highlands.

This is not the northernmost spot in Scotland, but for us, the High Road North ends here. Next time we'll explore the place in detail and perhaps you'll understand why... 

*It would be our least favourite road in the whole of Britain were it not for the existence of the M5 and M25, which occupy a whole other level of hideousness...

The High Road North - Part Three: The Great Glen.

Right. So we had driven the The Long High Road to Bunree, then continued north past the town of  Fort William and its immediate environs. Now we were approaching the village of Spean Bridge.

The village itself sits at the bottom of a steepish hill, which will not trouble you as a tow jockey so long as a: you select the correct gear and b: you have a car with enough power to pull your caravan safely. Be warned though - the hill can present a problem to camper vans - especially those of a vintage VW nature. If you happen to be behind such a vehicle make sure you give it a head start - it'll need it.

At the bottom of the hill the Spean Bridge Hotel, as well as providing all the usual hotel type services, also contains a small museum dedicated to the Allied Commandos who trained in the area during world war two. At the top of the hill, gazing out across the landscape stands the Commando Memorial.

These three Bronze figures commemorate the men who trained at the Commando Training Depot established at Achnacarry Castle in 1942. The base of the bronze carries the legend "United we Conquer", while the bronze plaque mounted to the plinth explains that the memorial is dedicated to the "Officers and Men" of Commando units who fell in the Second World War, further explaining that "This Country was their Training Ground".

To the side of the monument a small memorial garden has been established. Over the years this has filled with personal tributes to the men who fell in the Second World War, to their commando comrades who survived, but are now leaving the world through old age and illness, and perhaps most poignantly of all, to the men and woman of the armed services who have fallen in more recent conflicts, from the Falklands, to the Gulf and Afghanistan.

Considering that it's on top of a windswept hill and always filled with tourists the memorial is a remarkably tranquil place. Reading the messages in the memorial garden and gazing out over the land where the whole concept of "The Commando" was essentially born is a moving experience and a reminder that wars might well be fought between countries, but they are fought by incredibly well trained, incredibly courageous young people who risk everything, and sometimes lose everything without ever knowing whether their sacrifice achieved the objective.

If you're towing, unless it's very early in the morning or quite late you'll have to view this remarkable landmark as you pass by - when the car park is busy there's no way you're getting a caravan in and out of there. It's well worth a visit if you're spending a couple of days in the area though.

Once you're past the memorial you descend past the entrance to Glen Gloy - where we tend to joke that anyone venturing down there will come to a sticky end, because we're from the eighties* - and then down into the Great Glen proper as the road takes you along the shores of Loch Lochy. Presumably this is the most loch like of all the Scottish lochs, (because it's really Lochy - you see? oh, never mind...) and it is certainly quite an impressive looking stretch of water. There are invariably some boats - all of the lochs in the Great Glen are linked together to form the Caledonian Canal allowing boats to cut all the way across Scotland so there's a lot of through traffic - which if you choose you can stop and watch from a vast lay-by at the southern end.

Good lay-bys aren't all that hard to find in this part of Scotland but some are better than others and this one is exceptional. Large enough to drive into and park up with a caravan, easy to get in and out of , excellent views. Hard to argue with really. If you happen to be going past at an appropriate time of day its a great place to stop, drop the legs and cook a spot of lunch. If you prefer not to cook on the road, then there is usually a burger van there which might well be attractive - I can't give it a recommendation because we've never eaten from it, but the customers we've seen didn't look unhappy.

As the road carries you ever further north east it takes you across the Caledonian Canal at Laggan Bridge and then along the north shore of Loch Oich. About half way along this relatively small loch you have the option to jag sharply left to follow the road to Skye. Just before this, on the left hand side of the road you will find an excellent shop. With a long layby on the right hand side of the road offering easy parking even when you're towing it's a fabulous place to stop and pick up any last minute groceries you might have forgotten. We've used this helpful little retail lifeline on a couple of trips and I really can't think of much you might need that they don't sell.

Then it's onwards, re-crossing the Caledonian Canal at the Bridge of Oich at the end of the aforementioned loch and into Fort Augustus.

Marking the south west tip of Loch Ness this little town was originally called "Cill Chuimein", and indeed still is called that in Gaelic. It is believed that the settlement was named for Saint Cummein who came from Iona and established a church in the area. Until the early eighteenth century the Anglicised name for the place was "Kiliwhimin", but after the Jacobite risings in 1715 General Wade -  who did so much in Scotland he gets a mention in the verse of the British National Anthem that even sticklers no longer sing** - ordered the construction of a fort named after the Duke of Cumberland.

Wade caused the settlement to be enlarged, and changed it's name  - at least in English, I can't imagine the locals paid all that much attention - to "Wadesburgh". I'm guessing that getting a mention in your nation's national anthem ensures that the only self esteem issue you're going to have is a surplus... As with Fort William at the far south west of the Great Glen however, the settlement ended up being known by the name of the fort, and Wade's exercise in egotism didn't stick.

Fort Augustus remains a place that we've only ever driven through, so I can't really tell you very much about it. Judging by the crowds to be seen there in the summer it seems like a popular spot - and I can certainly confirm it's an attractive place. You can also catch a cruise boat and sail along Loch Ness from here if you fancy a little monster spotting.

The road then sweeps you along the northern shore of Loch Ness, which is clearly the star of the Great Glen. Stretching twenty three miles to the north east this colossal inland waterway contains more fresh water than very other lake in England and Scotland put together. That's a lot of water. By surface area Loch Lomand is actually bigger, but Loch Ness is very, very deep - seven hundred and fifty five feet at its lowest point - it has massive holding capacity.

There are many, many lay-bys on along the road, as it climbs ever higher above the water many of these offer spectacular views. Many others however are screened by trees so that you can't see much except branches, so choose with care. Find the right place though, and this too is an excellent place to stop for lunch - although here you really will need to make your own because I've never seen a burger van anywhere along here.

A little more than half way up the loch stands the picturesque ruin of Urquhart Castle. This is notable for two reasons. This is the place where the vast majority of "Nessie" sightings are made. Not to be unromantic, but all of these sightings are mistaken. Sorry, but there is no large creature in Loch Ness. The water is murky and cold and doesn't contain all that much food - certainly not enough to sustain a colony (because unless Nessie is immortal there must be a reasonably sized population). Also, although it's big, it's not that big. If there was a population of large creatures somehow surviving in a Lock without much food, we would most definitely know about it.

The castle is also notable for the congestion that it causes. I'm sure the castle's thirteenth century founders didn't mean to build the place on a blind bend at the top of a steep hill, but that's what they did. Northbound vehicles turning right into the castle's woefully inadequate car park may occasionally just stop dead, so if you're towing a caravan with all the added inertia that implies you definitely need to keep your distance.

If you're towing, as we were, Urquhart castle is not for you. The turn into the car park is tight, and the car park itself is very narrow. You might get your outfit in but I really don't fancy your chances of getting out again.

So, as tow jockeys we continue on, down the steeply twisting hill and into the village of Drumnadrochit, a sweet little place which these days seems to owe its entire existence to the legend of the Loch Ness Monster. Which means that this blog post is unlikely to appear in their tourist information centre. The village sits in a sharp bend on the road, dominated by the Drumnadrochit Hotel and Nessie Exhibition. Again, we've only ever driven through the place, but the reviews I've read suggest that it's worth a visit if you're in the area.

And then, onwards. Along the remainder of the loch side before hitting the bright lights of Inverness, which will form the start of the final (I promise) leg of our journey along the High Road North...





*Anyone from the UK over forty will probably remember using Gloy in craft projects when they were kids. Everyone else might need to google it...

**Which, if you're interested, goes like this:

Lord, grant that Marshal Wade
May, by thy mighty aid,
Victory bring.
May he sedition hush
And, like a torrent, rush
Rebellious Scots to crush.
God save the King.

As Billy Connolly once memorably said in response - "Oooh, d'ya bloody think so?"

The High Road North - Part Two: Just that little bit further...

So. Last time we set out from the end of the Long High Road and set out on the High Road North. But in purely geographical terms we didn't get all that far, pausing as we did to examine the town of Fort William, a town which for all its charms fails to light our fire.

For us, the main reason for visiting Fort William is not the town itself but its environs. The area around Fort William is exquisite - dominated by the glowering hulk of Ben Nevis (Bheinn Nibheis  in Gaelic, pronounced basically the same way), it's a magnet for walkers, mountain bikers, ice climbers, rock climbers and folk interested in pretty much every kind of outdoor pursuit. Except caving. So far as I know there aren't any of those in Lochaber - what with it being all volcanic and that.

I've never climbed Ben Nevis. I probably will at some point, I like climbing hills and of course Ben Nevis is the biggest one we've got on these islands of ours. Not that the mountain's fame is always a good thing. Because it's the biggest, a lot of people go up there. Because a lot of people go up there, there is a pretty substantial path for most of the way. Because there's a pretty substantial path for most of the way, people who don't do a lot of walking see the path and think it must be an easy stroll.

It isn't.

This of course should come as no surprise. I mean it's the biggest mountain in Britain! Many people every year are surprised, it would seem. The clue is also in the name. Bheinn is Gaelic for "Mountain" - which of course is why every hill in Scotland is called "Ben something or other". "Nibheis" translates variously as "venemous" or "Malicious". You'd think that people would take the hint.

They really don't though. Although I've never climbed to the top, I have driven to the car park that sits on the lower slopes. From there, I have observed people setting out on a warm summer's day (they do happen in Lochaber, honest) to ascend the highest peak in all of Britain unencumbered by map or waterproof, clad in flimsy tee-shirts and - I kid you not - flip flops! Not most, not even many, but the fact that there are any is testament to the lack of respect and understanding so many people have of the dangers of the hill.

It strikes me as unlikely at best that anyone setting out to conquer the summit in beach-wear ever actually makes it, and it is my fervent hope that they see sense and turn back after a relatively short distance, and that they do not swell the ranks of the  people who are rescued by the Lochaber Mountain Rescue teams or the Royal Navy's search and rescue Sea King Helicopter**. Even the well equipped and experienced can be caught out in places like this, where the weather can change in a matter of minutes and the temperature can drop faster than Harrod's prices in January.

Head past the road up the Ben and out along the road north and you soon find yourself out of the town and heading towards the southern reaches of the Great Glen - that immense chasm that cuts Scotland in half diagonally from Fort William on the West Coast to Inverness on the East. There are a couple of things to see before you get there though. For a start, as you leave the semi-industrial outskirts of the town behind you come to the junction of the A82 and the A830, which runs westwards to the little fishing port of Mallaig, from whence you can catch a ferry to the Isle of Skye.

It's a beautiful drive, the road criss-crossing with the railway which carries both regular diesel electric trains, but also a brace of fabulous steam engines - one of which featured as the Hogwarts express in various bits of the Harry Potter films.  It's a tempting diversion - although I can't really understand why you'd go all that way to catch a ferry to Skye when there's a perfectly good bridge, Mallaig is pretty nice though, and the drive would be worth it on its own.

We weren't going that way however, so I'll probably go into more detail about the delights to be had along the Mallaig Road at some other time. We were pressing on northwards through the rain, passing by Nevis range as we sped towards Spean Bridge. If you have even a passing interest in Mountain Bikes, you really, really really need to stop off at the  Nevis range, two or three miles outside Fort William. I'm more of an urban cyclist myself, and have never really explored the joys of screaming downhill on a pushbike at more than forty miles an hour over rough terrain that could pitch me over the handlebars at any second smashing my skull like an egg against the hard, unforgiving granite bones of a mountain.

I can't imagine why.

What I have done, however is sit in the car park where several of the more insane downhill bike trails finish and watch other people doing just that. As a fattish forty-something, I confess that I can occasionally be made to feel a little physically inadequate by the super fit biker types who sit on the tailgates of their cars gearing up for their rides - all natural tans and muscle tone, but the spectacle they provide once they've reached the top of the trail and started their descent is enough to make me forgive them for being the uber-fit stud muffins I no longer am*.

As I say, if you're feeling particularly energetic you can take your bike up the trail and have a go yourself, or you can have a go at the slightly less life threatening, more level bike trails on offer. If , as we were, you're in the mood for a bit of relaxation then you can take the easy route up and down the hill.

The Nevis range boasts a rather spectacular gondola system which won't take you to the top, but will get you about half way up. Lazy bikers can buy a one way ticket, lazy pedestrians can ride all the way up, pause for some light refreshments in the cafe and a browse around the gift shop, then ride all the way back down again. The views are spectacular when the weather is good, although the experience is not recommended for the faint hearted on windy days, when a certain amount of swinging around is to be expected. However, we were headed further into the north, and certainly were not contemplating any strenuous bike related activity. Apart from anything else, on the day we made the drive it was absolutely chucking it down - possibly the worst day of weather we had over the whole expedition.

By the time you're past the Nevis Range Fort William is behind you and you're beginning to approach the Great Glen, that great diagonal rift that cuts Scotland in two. First though you need to follow the road through the village of Spean Bridge and up the hill that takes you to the Commando Memorial which will be our starting point for the next phase of the Long Road North.

*Oh, alright. Never was.

**Soon sadly to be replaced by a private company as part of the defence cuts. Just don't get me started on how disgraceful this is.

The High Road North - Part one, starting in Fort William

The Caravan Club site at Bunree sits at the northern end of what, in an earlier posting, I called "The Long High Road", just a few miles south of the little town of Fort William. But in truth, the road north has a long way to run from there and when there's time, there is nothing finer than to carry on going and just follow it.

To do this, all you have to do is drive to the site gate and turn left - and if you do that you're almost  immediately faced with an alternative choice. About two or three hundred yards down the road you could turn left again, towards the loch. Now, unless your car is amphibious this is generally not conducive with further travel, but here your left turn will take you to the Corran Narrows - pretty much the narrowest point in Loch Linnhe - and here the loch is traversed by a ferry which will take you, your bike or your car across to the other side. Bikes and pedestrians travel free. I can't remember how much motor cycles cost, but it'll cost you £7.30 to take your car. Larger vehicles and caravans cost more.

And why would you want to spend so much money to get to the other side?

Well, to reach the same point on the opposite bank without using the ferry involves a pretty hefty detour of at least a hundred miles and a couple of hours, and from the ferry landing you can go on to explore the peninsula of Ardnamurchan. We explored this wild and - I have to say crazy - place a couple of years ago. I might get around to telling you about it at some point, but for now let's just say it was a very strange day out. Pink Stetsons and balloons were involved...

 I can confirm that the place is worth a visit though. The lighthouse at the end of the Ardnamurchan point is spectacular - looking almost like an Egyptian column - and you can climb to the very top, from where there is one ­heck of a view. There also aren't many places in Britain where you can drive across an extinct volcano that still looks like a volcano...

We were up for no such diversions however, and carried on into Fort William. The town takes its name from "Fort William", the fortified garrison built on the instructions of William of Orange (the bloke the MacDonalds of Gencoe were massacred for not swearing fealty to quickly enough, if you remember) and is known in Gaelic as An Gearasdan, literally "The Garrison", underlining the town's military origins. The town has had other names, some connected to local land owners, some designed to be less militaristic, but none have stuck. You can still see the remains of the old Fort, tucked away at the far end of the waterfront near the McDonald's and the Morrison's. In many, many years of driving past it, I don't think I've ever seen a single living soul investigating its apparently unloved walls.

The town itself, it seems, was not always named for the fort, but was once known as "Maryburgh", after the wife of William of Orange, and the "Mary" half of the "William and Mary" dual monarchy. This only seems fair - it was after all Mary who had the legitimate claim to the throne. William only got a look in because he was married to her and it seems that attitudes at the time were fine with the idea that he couldn't reasonably be expected to be a mere consort while his wife held real power, so he was allowed to become king.

All I'll say about that is that it seems to vindicate Queen Elizabeth 1st's decision to remain unmarried. And, now I come to think about it, he got the bit with the soldiers and she got the domestic bit? Yet more sexism!

By the standards of England and Southern Scotland, Fort William isn't very big - although some of its flaws are, I regret to say. For a start, if ever there was a town in need of more sensible town planning, this is it. The A82, the main road running north up the western side of Scotland runs right the way through it. It's the only town of any size for miles in any direction. It ought to be literally raking in the tourism money. But for reasons I'll never quite understand Fort William has been designed to present its least attractive face to through traffic, and make take least possible advantage of its considerable natural assets.

Now. I can understand why you wouldn't want a busy road like the A82 running slap through the centre of your town - it makes sense that the planners sent it around the edge. But they have what must be pretty much the only dual carriageway section of the whole road running between the town and the lochside!

That's right folks - to get from the town to the water you have to cross four lanes of traffic. The remains of the Eponymous fort which gives the settlement both its English and Gaelic names is also on the wrong side of the road. Surprisingly not many people have bothered to set up businesses that take advantage of the fort and shoreline. I cannot imagine why...

Surely now, in the twenty first century it must have occurred to somebody that a vibrant waterfront would be an asset? Indeed, the people who own the numerous bed and breakfast establishments which line the Lochside along the road into Fort William from the south have figured out the attraction. The views across Loch Linnhe are nothing short of stunning, and yet in order to see them you have to cross a major road. It's odd.

This most inappropriate  and unhelpful of town bypasses is only the start of Fort Williams' crimes against town planning. The A82 runs parallel to the town's main street - most of which is now pedestrianised. Sadly, this means that anyone driving through Fort William on the A82 - which is pretty much everyone who travels north up the west side of Scotland-sees the backs of all the buildings on the main street.

Let's just say that the main street is not presenting its best face to the world.

An actual walk down the main street doesn't do all that much to raise the spirits. There are a number of interesting and well presented shops - but there are also a lot of empty ones. On our most recent visit in July of 2013 I counted 14 empty store fronts, many with deadened whitewashed windows, or worse the tattered remnants of "Closing Down Sale" posters which give the whole place a slightly forlorn air. There are some good things to be found on the street though. At one end you have a small grassy area in front of the church (or if you prefer, in front of the Nevisport outdoor shop, which is at ninety degrees to the church - given that outdoor pursuits are basically a religion in these parts this seems strangely appropriate) which seems to be the designated location for town monuments. Right in front of the church stands a life sized statue of Donald Cameron atop a tall slender but craggy plinth.

 

Donald Cameron of Lochiel (1835-1905) was the 24th Chief of the Cameron Clan, Lord Lieutenant of Inverness-shire, and also that county's member of parliament. His statue was erected by "clansmen and friends as an acknowledgement of his humanity and his esteem and their respect for the noble gentleman."

Next to him stands a squat little arch which houses a head sized bell which originally hung in the town hall but was moved to this location when the town hall burned down. The bell arch now stands as a permanent testament to the eternal friendship between the peoples of Fort William, Hiroshima and Dudley.

Yes. Yes, that struck me as an odd combination too.

I mean, I understand that many towns have formed links with Hiroshima. If you want to promote peace and highlight the horrors of war few places on Earth provide a more apposite example than Hiroshima. Likewise, although I have never been there, I have no doubt that Dudley is a perfectly nice place. Lenny Henry comes from there, for a start. Yes, that is the only thing I know about Dudley - it just seems odd to find somewhere so seemingly remote from the Highlands should be linked in such an apparently random way. I bet there's an interesting story there...

There are high points here - about half way down the main street there is a little square which is home to a fine museum, which I most certainly commend to you. The West Highland Museum is one of the best local museums we've ever visited, with exhibitions relating to the fort, local archaeology, Military History, the Victorians and the evolution of the outdoor pursuits scene in the area. Intimate, informative, entertaining and enthralling - and FREE! We loved this little treasure house which seems to us to be the very essence of what a small museum should be.

The far end of the street also marks the official end of the West Highland Way, the oldest official long distance footpath in Scotland, having been conceived in the seventies and inaugurated in nineteen eighty. It runs from Milngavie (basically north Glasgow) to Fort William following old drovers' ways, military roads and other ancient routes. I say that Fort William marks the end, because the tradition with this trail is to walk it from south to north. I suppose there is no reason why you can't walk it the other way around, but the simple fact is that the tradition is partly rooted in the fact that if you start in Glasgow and head north you avoid having the sun in your eyes for the week it takes to walk the trail.

And before you say it, Scotland is frequently a very sunny place.

There's a rather cheerful looking sculpture of a walker sitting on a bench to mark the route's end, and I hope his cheerfulness starts to rub off on the rest of his surroundings. I have a real soft spot for Fort William. It is at the heart of one of the most spectacular areas of Scotland, and for us at least marks the beginning of what we think of as the "real" highlands. But still, the call of the north is strong, and we were on our way to new adventures. But the rest of the road north is the subject of the next post - hope to see you then...