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 joy of towing!

If you own a caravan it's pretty much certain that you're going to drive to most of your holiday destinations. There are two ways of looking at the drive you take to get where you're going. You can regard it as a chore - and many people do. "Oooooh, that's a long drive" people say when you tell them where you're going, presumably because they think you haven't realised. Alternatively, you can embrace the journey as a part of the holiday experience, relax, and enjoy it. After all, when you're towing a caravan if you're going to travel any sort of distance at all you're going to be spending a fair proportion of your day in the car.

The reason for this is simple - there's no such thing as a racing caravan*. Even on motorways you're restricted to sixty miles per hour. On regular roads the limit is fifty - and while towing isn't nearly as difficult as many people seem to think, if the road is hilly or twisty or both, then you're not going to be pushing the pedal to the metal and throwing your outfit around like it was a sports car. It's a simple fact of life - a journey with a caravan on the back of the car will always take longer than a journey in a car that doesn't have a one bedroom flat attached to the bumper.

So yes, you can choose to regard your caravan as a big, white parachute fixed to the back of the car, slowing you down and making every narrow lane or sharp bend a white knuckled buttock clenching challenge. But if you're going to think like that, you might want to consider the possibility that the caravan lifestyle might not be for you. Get yourself a motor home, or  a tent.  Or a hotel. Because if you view towing your 'van as a chore, wherever you're going  you'll get there tired, worn out and thoroughly pissed off. And you know what? You're supposed to be on holiday.

So revel in the fact that you have a one bedroom flat with you. Use it. The highways and byways of Britain are strewn with lay-bys (something particularly true of Scotland, about which more later) so when you've been driving for a few hours find one with a nice view and stop for a bit. Make yourself a cup of tea**. Cook yourself a spot of lunch! Remember, you've got a one bedroom flat with you, which means there's a kitchen. No luke warm brew from a thermos and a curled up sarnie for you - just pull over, wind down the legs and cook yourself up a storm.

There are other things that you can do to make your towing life more pleasurable too. If you're stopping en-route lay-bys are good. Motor way service stations, generally speaking, are not. I'm not sure what the caravan fraternity has done to upset the nation's service station designers - perhaps they're all Jeremy Clarkson fans, but there are few that could be described as "caravan friendly". The "caravan park" areas of most such places are laughably small, and spaces are often blocked by idiots in cars or vans who apparently couldn't find the regular car park and haven't been moved on.

This seems particularly unfair because you just try parking your caravan in the wrong section. There'll be a little man in a fluorescent  jacket knocking on your door in less than a minute. If I sound a little bit chippy on this point it's because I am - and don't even get me started on the near impossibility of getting into some of the petrol stations attached to these places with a caravan on the back. Just take my word for it. There are some good motorway stopping points out there, but they seem to me to be the exception. As a rule you'll find better places to stop, and easier to access and less expensive fuel stations if you turn off the motorway and onto the A and B roads. There you will find a wide abundance of wonderful things - many of which I will no doubt return to at some point in the future.

The irritations of the service station can be matched on the road if you let the behaviour of other motorists get to you. The idea that caravans are a terrible nuisance, causing massive inconvenience to everyone else on the road has pretty much become an accepted "truth" (thanks, Top Gear...) which causes the most extraordinary reactions when other road users see you coming. This is most noticeable at road junctions. I can be barrelling along at fifty miles an hour, perhaps a hundred yards from the junction as a car pulls up at the end of the adjoining road.

Under normal circumstances no sane driver would even contemplate pulling out in front of you when you were only a hundred yards or so away and approaching at such a speed.  Common sense, however, doesn't seem to be something that a certain kind of driver bothers to engage when the vehicle approaching them is towing a caravan. They don't think "that car is going pretty fast, I'll wait until it's gone past and pull out behind it, because to do otherwise would be unsafe". No. They think "that's a caravan, I'd better get out in front of it, even though I'm then going to drive really slowly".

So they proceed to pull out in front of you, seriously testing your reaction times and your brakes, apparently unaware of the fact that because you're towing your inertia is much greater and so are your stopping distances. I presume these people are thinking that if they don't get out in front of the caravan they'll be stuck in one of the mythical traffic jams that caravans allegedly spawn, I don't know, but I do know that the practice can be fantastically annoying.

There is, however, absolutely no point getting annoyed about these people. All you can do is hit the brakes as smoothly as you can (especially if you have somebody else driving three feet from the back of your 'van because they feel they ought to be desperate to get past, even though you're driving at the speed limit) and continue on your way. After all, it's the other driver that'll end up with high blood pressure, not you...

The other thing you can do - and which it seems to me far too many caravan and trailer towers don't do - is pull over if you have a queue behind you and let them past. It's not hard to do - just find one of those handy lay-bays, or indicate left and slow down when you hit a long straight bit with nothing coming the other way. You'll get where you're going more or less as quickly as you would have done anyway, and the people stuck in the queue will get where they're  going without suffering an embolism in frustration. Who knows, they might even mention that you didn't hold them up when they next get into a "aren't caravan's awful" conversation in the pub. Of course, they probably won't. The chances are they'll remember the thirty seconds they were held up, not the fact that you let them past. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that you'll arrive at your destination relaxed and with your sanity intact, either ready to enjoy your holiday or ready to get back to work.

Because, however many trials and tribulations the open road has to throw at you, travelling with a caravan should be a joy. My little profile statement at the side of the blog says that I didn't want to buy a caravan - and I didn't. Before we bought our Lunar Quasar 462 all I thought about were the potential downsides. Driving with a caravan on the back has changed the way I look at the world on the other side of the windscreen. It's slowed me down and allowed me to appreciate the astonishing (in every sense of the word) beauty of the British countryside. And if that wasn't enough, it's allowed me to spend time in places I wouldn't otherwise have got to.

Sorry if all of this has seemed uncharacteristically philosophical - it actually started out as a post about driving up to Scotland. I just found myself wandering off. Don't worry though, normal service will be resumed next time with some proper travelogue stuff about the drive north...

*Yet. I suspect this situation will change the next time the boys in the BBC Top Gear office get really bored. They did, after all, make a train out of caravans once...

**Or if it's a warm day open up the 'fridge and get yourself a nice cold can...