Several years back, for reasons I cannot really recall, we decided to deviate from our traditional Lochaber-based holidays and try out the eastern side of the Highlands around Aviemore. Due to its popularity in winter sport season, there are plenty of places to stay and eat, and it is a slightly shorter drive.
On our first day we took an epic long walk around Loch Morlich in the rain, and so on the next day we opted for a slightly more gentle trek, starting at Loch an Eilein and heading almost due east towards the Cairngorm Club footbridge, about 4 miles round trip. There is quite generously-sized car park at Loch an Eilein which in and of itself has some lovely views, including a typical highland-style stone croft.
The paths in this area are very well-marked, and we started off along an access road, skirting the edge of the loch. At first, the route was surrounded by beautiful tall pines that allowed tempting glimpses of the water, as well as this stunning Bob Ross-style view of a small forest cottage.
Before long, the path we wished to follow turned east away from the loch. We passed several burns and even crossed one before moving out of the trees and into a flat, more open area with brush on all sides. Much of the open area was quite boggy but the path itself was dry and, for the most part, flat and easy to follow (excepting of course the shallow ford below, which required a bit of careful manoeuvring.)
I quickly fell in love with this particular trail, which offered views of the mountains in the distance, but also stunning single or small groups of trees that stood out against the open space. There were lochans dotted amongst stands of trees, shining in the sunlight, and it felt like something out of Lord of the Rings or some other fantasy.
The walk was dampened only by the fact that we were both a bit stiff and sore from our intense hike the previous day, and I found myself easily exhausted (not in part due to a bout of food poisoning the night before). I am nothing if not stubborn, however, and so we continued on towards Am Beanaidh, the river that was our goal. We did have a few moments of worry that we had taken the wrong path – we had a good map, but as is not uncommon in the highlands there were routes not on the map that led close to where we wanted to go – but in time we re-entered the forest and began to hear the sounds of the river.
Our goal and our lunch spot for the day was the iron footbridge which spans the river and was constructed by the Cairngorm Club in 1912. It boasts several sturdy plaques memorialising the building of the bridge, and a good viewpoint to look up or down the river. It was the perfect stop to fuel up and take a few selfies to prove we had managed a hike that day.
Considering the dreadful weather we had the day before, we were so lucky to have mostly blue skies and a comfortable temperature, perfect for walking. This trail is flat for the most part, as well, with a few rises and falls but no strenuous climbs. It was absolutely the right choice for a morning walk before driving home in the afternoon, and it could be both shortened or lengthened quite easily by adding in an extra loop or simply crossing the bridge and/or following the path along the river.
On our return, we took the time to follow one of the several side-trails down to the loch side, and I was lucky enough to take the below shot of sunlight glistening off the water. It remains one of my favourite shots, not in part because it reminds me so much of where we used to spend summers when I was young. The Aviemore area was not as evocative for me as the mountains further west, but there is no question that there are some beautiful trails and lochs.
The Falls of Dochart is one of the most beautiful places in Scotland, and it is almost certainly one of the most photographed as well. This is not just due to its stunning nature, but to the its relative ease of access – it is only 2 hours from Edinburgh and 1.5 from Glasgow, simple to reach from the A85 that crosses Scotland from Oban to Perth.
I had a postcard from Dochart on my wall in high school and it was one of those places I always wanted to visit, but somehow continually missed. Until that is, our trip away in March 2020, before the lockdown began. As previously mentioned we were in Aberfeldy for a long weekend, and after a morning of hiking we decided to head down the loch for a drive.
Starting in Kenmore, the drive is lovely – though narrow in places – passing underneath Ben Lawyers and providing gorgeous views across the far side of the loch, as well as the mountains at the far end. In March, both Ben Lawyers and the far mountains were capped with snow, stunning against the blue sky.
The road stays quite high on the hillside for most of the south-western end of the loch, then winds gradually down into the town of Killin, passing the town golf course on the left. One must traverse the town entirely in order to reach the falls, about two miles. It is possible to park somewhere in the town and walk to the Falls, and at busy times of year this may be advised or required. Killin has a some nice shops and cafes for refreshment, as well as Bridge End Mill, a small gift shop with plenty of Killin memorabilia.
Our visit, in mid-March, was before many crowds descended and so we drove across the narrow bridge – more on this shortly – and found a spot along the road on the river side. There is a decently long lay-by here where it is safe to park, but here as well as on the bridge it is important to be very aware of the road traffic which can be quite fast and quite large – coaches and lorries are regular users.
Once parked, it is time to head back towards the falls proper. Just before, or really more splitting the falls, is a wooded island, and there are some lovely views back up the river.
The bridge that spans the falls was originally built in 1760 but was washed away in a flood and re-built in 1831. Its size is indicative of a time well before cars, as it is so narrow that only one vehicle can traverse it at a time.
Closer to this bridge, it is not uncommon to find groups of people scampering over the rocks, and indeed when the water is low you can spend a good deal of time exploring. Sturdy shoes and confident feet are required.
I was lucky enough to catch the falls without too many people in the way. On the far shore is St Fillian’s Mill, built just after the completion of the bridge. For some time in it operated as the Breadalbane Folklore Centre, though now appears to be closed.
Once you have explored the rocks, you will almost inevitably want to get a picture or two from the bridge, or perhaps wander towards the gift shop. To do so, you must cross. As mentioned above, the bridge is narrow and traffic is regular, so pedestrians need to be sensitive to the traffic patterns. There are a few places where an outcropping allows one or two people to get off the road safely, but in general the bridge should be traversed incredibly carefully, and as quickly as possible.
One sight worth exploring is the island formed by the river, Ennis Bhuidhe, which is the burial place of Clan MacNab. It has never been open during my visits, but may be now that pandemic restrictions are lifted.
If you do not find yourself eager to take your life in your hands crossing the bridge, you can find excellent refreshment at the Falls of Dochart Inn. We stopped in to get a coffee and soda next to a roaring fire and beautiful timbered room that once housed the blacksmith.
In the summer they were selling coffee, cold drinks and the all-important ice cream. What I have not yet had time to do is explore the walks that I know lead from the Inn back into the woods and perhaps along the River Dochart towards where it feeds into Loch Tay. But even if you are not able to walk far, this is certainly a sight worth seeing.
I have had every intention of publishing this post almost every day for the past two weeks, but a combination of leaving work and a bout of Covid continued to set me back.
The Scottish Highlands are legendary for their stunning hills, lochs, and the hikes and paths that allow you to view them in a way you can only do by foot. Not long before the start of lockdown, we spent a weekend at a self-catered cottage in Aberfeldy, allowing us plenty of time to explore the surrounding hills. This walk, on Kenmore Hill above Loch Tay, was both stunning and a touch disastrous.
Why was the walk a touch disastrous? It started with the car park which, at the time we visited, was inaccessible without a 4×4 (I do have hopes that it has been re-done since then!). We ended up having to stow our car just off the road and the end of the drive up to the car park, but fortunately our car at the time was tiny and we managed relatively well.
From the edge of the road we walked up through the car park and almost immediately enjoyed splendid views back over the valley, particularly down towards Taymouth Castle and estate.
The sign in the car park offered three routes, and the one most clearly described by Walkhighlands was the red route; all three started in roughly the same place so we headed upwards, beginning a steady climb up the hill on a path that reminded me of a ski path without snow – rocky and lined with trees.
Eventually signs for the red path turned us right and we emerged from the trees, finding ourselves on a grassy area with a treeline on the ridge above and promises of views over the valley.
We were hampered a bit at this point by the fact that we had, the day before, done the Birks of Aberfeldy walk, which had been steeper and with more stairs than expected. The other half was suffering a bit with his knee from an old injury, and as we climbed up the hill towards the ridge – a relatively steep walk – he found it becoming more and more difficult.
We reached the top of the ridge in time and the views were indeed spectacular – the snow-topped peaks in the distance stood out beautifully against the blue sky, and we planned to continue the red loop towards the final cairn, where I know you can see down towards the other end of Loch Tay.
The discovery that we had forgotten a knee brace meant that we really could not continue to potentially cause even more damage, and so we agreed to return to the blue loop, and follow it back to the car.
Here, of course, is where slight disaster struck. We did as planned, found the blue path and intended to allow a quick run up to the marked viewpoint. Instead, as we followed the blue markers and the gap in the trees, we gradually realised that we had not seen a marker in a while, and that any sign of a trail had vanished. Both of us are relatively experienced hill walkers who had been paying attention, and yet could not determine a place where we could have deviated from the trail; we had two versions of a map and the picture of the trail, but found ourselves completely lost. We back-tracked a bit, and still could not confidently identify a marker. Standing at one of the last clear points, we established where the path should be, and where the road was, and decided that as long as we headed down and towards the road, we would reach it eventually, as it loops around the hill.
What followed was a rather steep and haphazard descent through brush, heather, and the occasional small trickle of water. I would not normally condone leaving a trail like this as it can cause damage to the wildlife, but we really did not have much of an option. We decided the trail lost us as much as the other way around. It was similar to a hike I had once done with my father, when we realised a touch too late that the trail we were following was in fact a dry creek bed – on that day, like on Kenmore Hill, eventually common sense and perseverance (perhaps even stubbornness) won out and we found our way to a clearly marked path.
On Kenmore Hill, this ended up being the last loop of the red trail, though we still cannot work out we managed to get there. Relieved, we found our way back to the car park and our car, the beacon we had just made out from higher up. While it was certainly not the most comfortable climb, I have every intention of making my way back and completing the red loop at some point, as I have seen from other hikers that the views from the other side of the hill are spectacular. It also seems to be the perfect length of hike – about two hours, with enough climb to get some proper views and the heartrate up a touch. I also have hope that in the years since the pandemic, the path has been kept up and perhaps improved, though a peek at Google Maps indicates that the road to the car park may still be in questionable shape.
After our slightly chaotic hike, we decided to take a drive down the loch as it was a beautiful day, and below are a few of the pictures I took along the way; Loch Tay really is a beautiful spot and while the mountains are less dramatic than further north, they are no less impressive. We in fact drove all the way to Killin and stopped at an Inn by the Falls of Dochart – a post for another time.
I look forward to an opportunity to try to this hike again!
A weekend visit or mid-road trip stop at the House of Bruar is an absolute guilty pleasure, and on a wet and rainy day like today, I often find myself thinking about the next time I can manage to escape north.
The House of Bruar is a bit difficult to explain – it is a luxury goods store that sells everything from fishing tackle to fine cashmere, country styles and deer stalking outfits, fresh produce and plants, and also fine kitchen supplies, Scottish gifts, and much more. There is an extensive fine food hall with Scottish goodies like shortbread, oat cakes, Dundee cake, fine chocolates, sweets and pastries of all kinds, preserves, honey, crackers, cheeses, bread, and a fresh deli with an excellent butcher.
The sausages obtained from this butcher are often reserved for a special occasion and are offered in a great range of flavours. There is also a generous liquor section selling local gin, whisky, beer, liqueurs and soft drinks.
Not pictured: enormous scone
If this was not enough to draw you north of Perth, there is a large café selling fresh-made soups, sandwiches, cakes and indeed whole Sunday roasts; essential to any stop is a coffee and a scone in the covered canteen, where often you can find birds hopping around between the tables.
In short, it is the perfect place for a day out, as long as you set yourself a budget ahead of time. To help with this, there is a sale hall where you can find older styles of clothing and discounted wool and cashmere sweaters and scarves – a must around Christmas time.
Shopping is not the only goal of a trip to Bruar though, for if you bring your sturdy shoes, you can follow the path around to the back of the complex and up into the forest towards the two falls – falls that were immortalized in words by none other than Robbie Burns.
The Lower Falls is a short walk up a relatively easy trail that still enables you to experience the beauty of the woods. It is probably just short of wheelchair accessible, but I have seen plenty of prams and casually-shod walkers attempt it – with varying levels of success.
The path starts along the edge of the river then passes under the train track through a short dark tunnel.
Beyond the tunnel, the trees are tall and straight, the ground gently mossy or covered in pine needles, with stands of rhododendron scattered about, stunningly purple in the summer. Walkers weave gently uphill with the river audible to the right, deep in a gorge that has been carved through the rock. The first viewpoint is just before the bridge and allows for the picture below of the water pouring through the gorge under the stone arch. Just a bit further up one finds the remains of a Victorian view house, which is best spot for the lower falls themselves. Here one often finds children and dogs scrambling around the rocks, and there is a wide, rocky pool, though swimming is not advised. From the bridge you can see the falls or down the river to a spectacular gorge – pictures in the snowy bit below.
For those wishing a bit more of a hike, the path continues up the hill towards the upper falls. It’s a longer walk – around 45 minutes – and quite steep in places, but there are a few benches where one can pause and enjoy the view back over the valley.
I remember very clearly the first time we took this walk, more than fifteen years ago, and many of the trees that graced the hillside have since been cut down due to disease, creating patches of bald earth, particularly on what is the left-hand side of the river, facing uphill – the western side. The story is that it was Robert Burns himself who requested that the Duke of Atholl plant the forest around the Bruar Water, and so while it was required that diseased trees be removed, new ones have been planted to replace them.
A few strong wind storms damaged the path through the pandemic years, bringing down some enormous trees that must have been hundreds of years old. On our first post-pandemic visit we were not able to go as far as we had planned, as the path was completely blocked.
Continuing up the hill is well worth it when safe. As one climbs, glimpses of the upper bridge are visible through the trees, while the gorge cuts away sharply below. Eventually, the path circles down again towards the river and reaches the bridge, where the views are, again, lovely across the forest and valley beyond.
From this point, the path either continues along the far side of the river and eventually completes the loop at the lower bridge, or you can choose to return on the eastern path which is a bit more picturesque as the western slopes were those most dramatically cleared of trees.
In the autumn the few deciduous trees tend to turn orange-yellow to match the golden larch. In warm months, the greenery is lush and often colourful, but by far the most beautiful visit we ever had to the Falls of Bruar was in December. It was a completely unplanned trip that came into our heads one Saturday morning when we realised we wanted to get a new Christmas ornament for our tree, and quite fancied some nice sausages from the butcher. While Fife did not have any snow, we discovered as we drove up the A9 that the area north of Perth had experienced a dusting. We had planned to at least walk up to the Lower Falls – we almost always do – but thought we might run out of light before we could go further.
After a short tour through the food hall, we stowed our purchases in the car and headed up the path into a winter wonderland. The snow and afternoon sunlight – in December the sun sets not long after 3.30pm – made for an absolutely breath-taking walk, with so many stunning views that I can never decide which I like best.
It was with real regret that I eventually agreed to return to the food hall for a coffee and scone, delicious though both were. I have always desperately hoped that I might have a repeat of this snowy visit, but even in December 2022, when snow blanketed the whole country, I missed it here by about 12 hours.
There are a few caveats to visiting the House of Bruar: firstly, you may well run into coach trips full of tourists, or large groups of well-off visitors with very little consideration of those around them. Secondly, it is frequently very busy, meaning that even a mid-trip stop to use the facilities and pick up a snack can eat up 20 minutes. And thirdly, it is expensive – one has to be realistic about what one intends to spend, and realise that even a bottle of water is likely to cost double what it might elsewhere (though the quality of what you buy here often equals the cost).
Like so many places in Scotland, Bruar holds a connection for me that is both one of beauty and one of memory; the other half and I visited the House of Bruar on our first ever weekend away together to Pitlochry and I stop here at almost every chance I get, certainly on any trip along the A9. Even if I do not have the time to manage the full climb to the upper falls, a trip to Bruar is the highlight of any weekend or week. I am already planning a return visit closer to Christmas!
We knew that the second day of our time on Syke was going to be wet – it was predicted to start raining at about noon, so we got on our way relatively quickly in the morning for the hour-long journey to Dunvegan Castle. It was the one and only castle I insisted upon visiting, and I hoped we could get a bit of a visit before the rain closed in.
I’ve written an account of our visit to the castle, during which the rain started at least two hours earlier than it was meant to – but that is standard in the Highlands. So, we headed back towards Uig, passing through alternating heavy storms and light drizzle. I realised as I drove that by the time we reached our cottage we would not want to leave again, and so my mind was also on foraging for dinner. With luck, we found a café that included the word ‘deli’ and I pulled in for a coffee and exploration.
The Dunvegan was the perfect spot for what I needed – they had cakes, crackers, cheeses and some venison salami that I felt should be tried. I wish I could remember the name of the cheese I bought which the girl said was local, and was amazingly creamy and delicious, but no amount of googling seems to find it. In any case, I stocked up and ran back to the car where the family had decided to camp out.
As we pulled out of the Dunvegan town, we passed the view of the Two Churches, which is actually the start of what appears to be a circular walk – must try it next time.
From here we headed home to our cottage which, as I have mentioned in previous posts, was called the Homer. It was part of a set of 2 or 3 cottages rented by one family and the owners were very friendly and attentive, stopping by once a day to check that all was well. The house was incredibly well-equipped with top-of-the-range stove, fridge, washing machine and dishwasher. The kitchen had every utensil you might need, and previous tenants had left behind bits and pieces – tea, rice, salt, pepper. The beds were comfortable and rooms warm, and the instructions and advice provided were detailed and very helpful.
We spent the rest of the day hunkered down in the cottage, for the most part – the wind and rain were intense at times, but the living room remained toasty warm and tightly battened down against the weather. The TV had every channel we could possibly want – had we been able to agree on something to watch. At one point, Dad got restless and suggested we go for a short walk, which we did – to the entrance of the property and down a side road that led to a charming house built in the old island style of stone walls and thatched roof.
After this detour we headed home and all read and relaxed until it was time to break out our foraged dinner. Cheese, salami and crackers made a good accompaniment to some veggies and snacks I had from Marks and Spencer – not the fanciest of meals but tasty enough! It was a good night to head to bed early, and prepare for the next day of exploration.
I thought this might also be a good time to make a few recommendations based upon my one-time visit, and reflect on a few things I wish to explore in more depth upon inevitable return.
Recommendations
Accommodation: going self-catered is a great option, especially at super-busy times of year, and it’s an option the other half and I have preferred more and more wherever we go. It makes everything more flexible and often saves you money. On Skye in particular, there are cottages everywhere that will probably provide better views than a hotel. But plan ahead. Highly recommended to bring a cooler or ice box and prepare to buy your food in Broadford, Portree, or before you cross to Skye (we bought most of our supplies in Fort William).
If you opt for a hotel/B&B, ask them when you book if you need to make a dinner reservation. We tried a few days out and one place did not have any tables – for the rest of the month.
Weather – well duh, but make sure you have something to do on a rainy day.
Walking – bring a change of sneakers/hiking boots/whatever you like to wear. There are boggy paths and your feet will get wet almost inevitably.
Drivers – prepare yourself for the roads. They are windy, narrow, and you are often out-weighed by the massive busses that negotiate the twists and turns so easily. Needless to say, watch your petrol level and be aware of hidden pot-holes. Make sure someone in the car knows how to change a tire! (We came so close…)
Beer – check out the Isle of Skye Brewing Co for some excellent and really reasonably-priced beers. Particulary recommended is the Syke Red, if you like red ale. I may be disowned by certain friends for admitting I did not try the gin…
Food – we didn’t eat anywhere (see above recommendation on reservations) but we did stop for supplies at the The Dunvegan, an inn, restaurant, coffee shop and deli. Their cakes were spectacular and they had local cheese…well worth a visit!
On my list for next time
Over and above all, more time for hiking and walking!
Hike the Quiraing. Views can only get better.
Hike the Old Man of Storr trail.
Try the Two Churches walk – even in the pouring rain looked like something out of Wuthering Heights.
Check out the Skye Museum of Island Life – it was literally minutes from where we stayed, and looks like it has some fascinating examples of cottages and more.
Visit Monkstadt – looks gorgeous and would be tempted to try to stay here if I had the time and money.
Explore the other coasts – clearly to adequately cover any portion of Skye you need a lot longer than we had, and we missed the whole south/west.
The only thing stopping me from making plans to return is the distance. It is perfectly possible to get to Skye in one day but it is a bit of a trek, and neither of us are keen to do it in one go. This means inevitably breaking the drive somewhere – Fort William was perfect really – and making a long weekend less feasible. But I will be keeping an eye out for the opportunity.
Hunglader is one of those place names that erases any question that the Norse settled in Skye. It was our home for most of the week, and our final morning dawned bright and blue as we packed up and tidied up the Homer. Before finally leaving the north, we ventured down to the local beach, passing on the way some picturesque old Skye-style houses with white walls and thatched roofs.
The beach area offered a decent-sized parking area where two couples in a camper van were just finishing their morning fire. The cliffs towered over the beach and sheltered it somewhat, though the wind was not nearly as strong as we had experienced the day before.
On the way out of town we had one more stop at a ruined church, then we headed south. I was quite keen to make sure we filled up on petrol before leaving Skye, and recalled a number of long queues, so we ended up stopping in Portree and topping up before our final Skye-specific stop, the Sligachan Old Bridge. It was one of several stopping points I had noted on the way north, and it is a gorgeous spot with stunning views up the glen. But it was also midge-infested, so we walked quickly and not as far as I might have hoped.
It is definitely a place to return, with paths heading up towards the Cuillin Mountains. The statue, I should mention, is not some distant historical figure like Bonnie Prince Charlie, but is perhaps more poignantly dedicated to two men who pioneered mountain-climbing on Skye, Norman Collie and John MacKenzie.
Sligachan was our last stop in Skye, and it was a relief to find the wind had stayed calm as we continued over the bridge and back to the mainland. By this view of Loch Duich it was so still that the waters were almost literally glass-like.
The clouds were drifting in as we pushed south into the mountains, following the road between Loch Duich and Loch Cluanie. I had made a careful note to explore Glen Shiel, where a stone bridge marks the point of a battle in 1719 between the Jacobites and Spanish on one side, and the English and Dutch on the other, evidence of religious and political divides across Europe in the early 18th century. Standing on the modern road, it was possible to track the historic route that armies would have needed to take, and the sharp angle of the hills makes it clear why this might be a treacherous battle spot. While most of the Jacobite commanders escaped, the battle is considered an English victory.
With our many pauses, the day was ticking on, and I think we all had enough of views and pictures and were ready to get to Fort William, still a fair distance away. We considered stopping at the Commando Memorial but there was little appetite amongst the passengers, while I was getting tired of winding roads.
This was taken on the banks of Loch Oich, right before the locks of the Caledonian Canal, and I love how perfect the reflection is. It was our final break to stretch before making the last push.
The hotel we stayed at in Fort William, while clearly designed for coach parties, offered surprisingly good food and local beer – have determined that we must stop at the Glen Spean Brewing Company the next time we are up. We all headed to bed early, contemplative of the end of our time on Skye and what the following day would bring as we drove across Rannoch Moor and home.
I’ve skipped ahead in my story-telling to the third day we spent on Skye – the second was standard Highlands rainy, and we visited Dunvegan Castle before eventually retreating to our cottage for the afternoon. Thursday dawned clear and bright but increasingly windy as the day went on; the car was buffeted about and on one or two excursions it was difficult to walk. We think the gusts were well into hurricane-force, but even with whipping hair biting into my face like knives, I was so excited for our journey.
I had spent most of the afternoon before plotting out the route and places I knew we needed to stop, then entering it all into Google maps so I could know exactly where we were meant to go. There was a question as to whether we might go all the way to Portree and do a loop back, but in the end it was an out-and-back trip, allowing us the opportunity to stop at a few points we missed. Once again, I have chosen a few highlights for this page, but most of my pictures are in the video at the bottom.
First stop was Duntulm, less than ten minutes north of where we stayed – it is an almost entirely ruined castle on a promontory with gorgeous views back over the hills and coastline.
I was the only one who hopped out of the car on this first stop so I made it quick, eager to see what the rest of the day would hold.
The A855, which is the main road that runs along the north edge of Skye, runs through some breath-taking landscape. Even when one cannot see the ocean, one can enjoy the distant mountains and vistas across green fields dotted with heather, sheep, and outcroppings of rock. Several times I stopped just to enjoy that view, and also to calm my nerves as driver.
Because, while it is the main route along this coast, the A855 is also a single-track road with relatively frequent passing places, but equally frequent blind corners and hills that cause the occasional near-miss with other more confident or less cautious drivers. I would certainly not recommend the route for tourists unused to Highland driving, beauty notwithstanding.
As the road cuts across the top of Skye it leaves the coastline to re-join a few miles later, opening up views across the glistening water to small islands and the distant mainland. We stopped a few times, though as the wind grew stronger, Dad started to doubt whether he wanted to go on much of a hike – one of the plans for the day. Knowing that one of our party would be confined to the car either way meant that cancelling a longer hike made good sense.
One location we knew we could not miss was the Quiraing, and so we turned inland along an even narrower road and made our way towards the line of cliff-like mountains ahead of us. Despite the size of the road it was quite busy, with cars and vans going to and fro. As we approached the parking area, the road started to climb sharply, weaving up the side of the mountain with hairpin turns that reminded me of scenes in To Catch a Thief – though I drove considerably slower than Grace Kelly or Cary Grant. I am not a great one for heights so kept my eyes firmly on the road as I negotiated the turns, breathing again I think only when we reached the top and found a large car park for hikers and visitors.
There are a number of path options at this point, including one that is wide and gentle enough that – I think – it is wheelchair accessible. It is certainly easy enough for most to try, and if you ever find yourself here with an elderly or less mobile companion, I would encourage you to encourage them to give it a go, even with wind as strong as it was when we visited – strong enough to take your feet from under you. This sight of the Quiraing, the view across towards the ocean, lochs and hills in between, is one of the most stunning I have ever seen. Top ten in my life, no question. The stunning scenery of the Quiraing is caused in part by a series of landslips, and the sunlight plays dramatically off sharp pinnacles, grassy slopes, and sheer rock faces.
As Dad and I made the short loop, we could see to the right a rain storm coming our way. I knew there was not enough time to reach the car so while Dad made a dash for it anyway, I continued on my way, hoping to reach the next knoll. I tucked my camera inside my sweatshirt and waited to get wet. I have absolutely no regrets.
Yes, I got soaked, and the much better-equipped hikers passing me looked at me questioning my sanity, but I stayed and filmed the storm.
The rain passed in minutes and the sun returned, allowing me to watch the storm as it moved towards the sea. There is no question I need to return here and take the time to do at least some of the hike. We saw quite a few spectacular sights on this day, and on the trip as a whole, but this was definitely the top of the list. Eventually I steeled myself to drive back down the winding road and was delighted to discover that the road south was back to two lanes.
The next stop was Kilt Rock, which was very busy so that everyone was vying for the best photo spot. My companions had been before, so we continued on quickly, to Lealt Falls.
This is where, as we parked the car, we realised just how powerful the wind had become. It must have topped 70 MPH, so strong that it was a challenge to walk and loose hair whipped my face like needles.
The colour of the hills and water were stunning so Dad and I braved a short walk to a viewpoint, though I recall passing two small dogs that I worried would be blown away. The falls themselves are visible from a sturdy viewing gallery that stretches out over the chasm, and in the distance one can see the range of mountains that includes the Old Man of Storr.
Another famous Skye destination, the Old Man of Storr should not be missed. The picture below is taken from a treacherous parking area called the Rigg Viewpoint – treacherous due to its narrow spots, large busses and larger potholes.
But the view is stunning. From here, we continued on to the actual parking lot for the Old Man, and while my companions waited in the car I scampered up the first half mile or so of the trail, to a point where I could see over Loch Leathan and up to the rock face. Again, this is clearly a spot that must be viewed on foot from the hiking trail, and next trip I will be certain to conserve the time and energy to do so.
The day was creeping by, however, and so after a brief discussion of our options, we decided to return on the route we had come rather than continuing on to Portree. We did not really need to go that far and the A855 was so beautiful it was worth another look.
We did not stop as often on the return but Duntulm required another look; I parked more securely – again dodging enormous potholes – and Dad and I took the short walk out to the ruins. Here once more the wind was battling us, and at times it was a struggle both to walk and to hold the camera steady.
The castle here had been built in the 14th and 15th centuries, the seat of the Clan MacDonald of Sleat – rivals of the MacLeods who held land further south. Despite its strong defensive position, the site was abandoned in the 1700s and the stone was taken to help build Monkstadt House, several miles south. Monkstadt, incidentally, is now a luxury inn and restaurant that we looked at very briefly before realising it was a bit too luxury for our needs at the time – we resorted to pesto pasta.
Once we had our fill of the castle ruins – or I did, more accurately – we returned to our cottage. It was mid-afternoon and the wind was battering the building and bushes outside, the perfect time to sit in the living room with a cuppa and enjoy the sunshine, a book, and the view. The Homer is so well-built that were it not for the noise, you would never know it was windy; not a single breath of air disturbed us. While we had not had a partiuclarly long day, it was an exhausting and even emotional one and we were all, I think, ready for a rest and time to process and review all we had seen. For me, it was a chance to start planning my return…
The Isle of Skye is a destination that everyone tells you is a must-see. First off, everyone is correct. But for any number of reasons – the distance, time, work – I have never managed to get there, even when most of my family have done so, usually as an add-on to a visit with me.
Finally, earlier this month, I was able to reach the almost mythic isle and was incredibly lucky to experience three out of four days of beautiful weather (one day included hurricane-force winds, but it was clear). Even if we had not had lovely sun for most of our visit, I feel I would be affirming that Skye is, indeed, a place that one really should see, particularly if one has any kind of affection for rugged dramatic mountains and scenery that is quite literally breath-taking.
In fact, I took so many pictures that I have had to turn them into videos, and split my posts into days, so as not to overwhelm – I’ll link it at the bottom of the post. There were a few views that I missed as I was the designated driver on this adventure, but they will remain imprinted on my brain and I did my best to channel what the other half reminds me, ‘Sometimes it’s ok to just enjoy the view and not take a picture.’
Even just the experience of driving over the Skye bridge and following traffic as the road gradually lifts over the mountains was enough to make me long for the time to do it again.
But I get ahead of myself. The first day – really only half on Skye – started with us leaving Fort William at around noon and heading north along the A82 past the Commando Memorial and Loch Lochy towards Inverness. Then at Invergarry, we took a dramatic turn west to follow the A87 towards Kyle of Lochalsh and Skye (and in fact, we would stay on the A87 all the way to Uig). I had scheduled in a number of viewpoints which I thought may be worth pausing to explore – I was acting as tour guide for visiting family – and the first was Loch Garry.
Unfortunately trees had grown up in front of the main viewpoint so high that it was difficult to even see the water, but a bit further along we were rewarded with this vista toward the end of the loch and the mountains beyond.
The road remained high above the lochs for the next few miles and we stopped long enough at the Loch Loyne viewpoint to take a video, then continued on to Loch Cluanie. For some reason this loch had stayed in my mind as I recalled a stop, many years before, at the Cluanie Inn. At the time it had been a much smaller place – it now boasts a bakehouse and fuel pump – but I recall a charming old spot with excellent soup. We did not stop on this trip despite this memory, and instead continued on away from the loch and into the gorgeous mountains.
This drive along the A87 is just stunning – the further north you get, the more rugged the mountains and flora get, verging on bleak but falling just short especially in the sun.
We could have stopped in many more places – some I made a note to try on the way back – but the day was passing and I knew we still had a significant amount of ground to cover. So, I pushed on until we reached Loch Duich and the most photographed castle in Scotland, Eilean Donan. We pulled into the massive busy car park and took a few distant pictures, but upon crossing the bridge into Dornie discovered an arguably even better view from the small town hall and public toilets.
Despite a continuation of stunning scenery, I kept my foot down after this stop and pushed on through Kyle of Lochalsh to the famous Skye bridge, an eye-catching steep arch of a bridge that was a touch unsettling at first, or is to one with a wariness of heights.
Once onto Skye the road is in good condition, quickly reaching Broadford, one of the larger towns on Skye were there are some good-sized grocery stores as well as plenty of places to stay – hotels, B&Bs, and self-catered.
Continuing north, the road wove back and forth a few times and began to climb, with stunning mountains and valleys to the left and water to the right. We passed Sligachan with a note to stop on the return, and as the road topped a hill, before us was suddenly visible the distant shape of the Old Man of Storr, unmistakable against the blue.
From here we touched the edge of Portree and continued pushing north, across another stretch of mountains and valleys populated mostly with sheep and a few distant farms. Our penultimate stop for the day came at a well-populated parking place perched on the hill above Uig harbour, dominated by a headland and ferry pier.
From here the road descended quickly into the village, passing several hotels and shops. Our route was further north and so we branched off to the A855 which I knew, from previous research, was also the start of the single-track roads with passing places. Indeed, while the distance from Uig to our cottage was relatively short, it was a solid 20 minutes in the car, requiring relatively regular stops to make room for passing cars and busses. Almost as if in an effort to test drivers, the A855 lifts out of town on a narrow cliff-side road that makes a hair-raising hairpin turn. This turn and the very visible drop off the road made me very happy not to be driving one of the many bulky motorhomes we passed.
After a long day of driving, I was quite ready to reach our destination, and the narrow road was not hugely helpful in alleviating my exhaustion, though the afternoon sun glinting off the water promised a lovely evening. Finally, more than four hours after leaving Fort William, we reached the cottage that was to be our home for the rest of the week. Dad had reserved the place and it was a fully-equipped cottage with two bedrooms, a lovely kitchen that I would happily have traded with my own, comfortable warm living room and perhaps most importantly, 360⁰ views of the sea, mountains, and countryside. After unpacking the car, we had a quick pasta dinner and sat outside with a glass of wine and my trusty camera tripod to watch the sun set. It was a perfect way to end the day.
It has been longer than usual since my last post, but for the very happy reason that I have been on holiday with family. We went to Skye for my first time ever, and it was absolutely extraordinary, even on the rainy day we had when we chose to visit Dunvegan Castle. (and please be assured, many posts on Skye will be coming as soon as I can sort through the mountain of pictures I took)
Now I have to admit, it doesn’t often happen that I am underwhelmed by a castle, but Dunvegan is on the list. It may be due to the rain – though that doesn’t usually hold me back – or the fact that I did not go inside to tour the castle proper, which does look impressive in pictures. But, the excitement I had felt preparing to see this famous spot did not quite measure up. It may also be that it has been remodelled in a mock-medieval style, or that the original stones have been coated with concrete to provide a smooth exterior (most likely I imagine for preservation). I have made my preference clear for older-style castles, even crumbling ones, to those still used as baronial residences or palaces.
I do not mean to say that the castle is not incredibly impressive – by all means, the sight of it towering over the bay, commanding views and a romantic atmosphere even in the rain, demonstrates the significance of the location and why there was a fortress here for hundreds of years. The castle is the seat of the MacLeod of MacLeod, chief of the Clan MacLeod, and it is surrounded by a beautiful garden with water features, a walled formal garden, and more natural forest spaces. On the day we visited, the gardens were more our style and were the focus of our time. Even in the rain and after the height of the summer blooms, it was very easy to see how stunning the place would be on a sunny day in the right season. One amusing story here is that I had declined to bring my tripod with me due to the poor weather, but as I was resting my camera on a railing to keep it steady, a kind German man offered me use of his so that I could properly capture the waterfall. I think I did ok with out it, though!
We made a circuit that ended with the walled garden and greenhouse, then ventured down towards the pier where they were advertising seal cruises. It is hard to imagine the cruise could beat the one we went on in Fort William, and even if we had been tempted, this is when the rain hit in honest, turning from a gentle pitter-patter to a downpour. I managed to get my brolly up in time to take a few pictures of the castle from the water side before we made our way swiftly back towards the car. From this angle it is even more evident why the spot would be chosen – more than 50 feet above the low tide, the castle would be incredibly difficult to attack from the sea.
One of the most striking aspects of Dunvegan really falls in its ownership, which is still held by the Chief of Clan MacLeod. This family line can be traced back to the thirteenth century, when Skye and many outer islands were still ruled by the Norse; Norse influence on Skye is evident in many place names. Despite living in Scotland and professing a love of Medieval history, I have never delved too deeply into the lore of Highland Clans, but more visits to castles like this one would be a good way to pique my interest. Certainly, if I were to visit again, I would hope to do so at a time of year when the flowers were properly in bloom and with someone who might have the patience to tour the castle itself.
As an end note, here are some of the lovely variants of hydrangea blooming throughout the gardens:
I first came upon this walk while perusing my well-used Pathfinder guide to Fort William and Glen Coe, and was immediately sold by the phrase, ‘one of the country’s most scenic waterfalls’. While the book also describes the path as ‘short and easy’, we soon discovered that while the waterfall description was accurate – and this walk remains one of the most stunning I have taken in the Highlands – the ‘easy’ part was less so.
While not particularly long in the first instance, the path does take one up and down some steep sections that are rocky and not suitable for anyone without a touch of fitness. Once through the gorge, the path is comparatively easy and comfortable. But, I am forever reminded of the August 2021 occasion on which I saw numerous walkers, drawn by the promise of a waterfall, attempting the hike in flipflops, some even with crutches and canes. Unfortunately, I imagine most of them were not able to continue to the best viewpoints.
But I get ahead of myself. Our first challenge, as is often the case in more obscure walks, was to find the car park mentioned in the book. Starting in Fort William, one follows the signs for Glen Nevis and indeed for Ben Nevis itself, as the drive takes you past the most common starting point for hikers attempting the highest peak in the UK. Glen Nevis itself is stunning, and it is almost impossible not to stop a few times along the way.
Gradually the road narrows and passes a number of burns and wayerfalls, and on our first trip we thought we had found the car park when we reached the Lower Falls.
After a few more moments with the map though, we determined that we still had a way to go, and indeed the start of the Nevis Gorge walk, the Upper Glen Nevis Car Park, is another 1.6 miles along the single-track road. Once there, it is clear that it is the end of travel for vehicles. There is a good-sized car park, though when we visited in 2021 it had filled up completely by mid-morning. This may have been anomalous due to the higher than normal number of visitors that summer, but I have a feeling it is quite standard.
There are lovely views even from the car park, and I could not resist snapping a pic of the warning sign to send to the family – once we had returned safely of course.
While initially we paid less attention to the warning, by the time we had climbed a bit further and discovered the steeper areas of the trail, we realised how easy it would be to slip into the gorge – especially when mesmerised by the view.
The path starts out quite innocuously through a lovely stand of birch, with some small streams and impressive glimpses through the trees up the hillside and down into the valley where you can hear – if not always see – the Water of Nevis. Before long, though, the trail runs into the side of the hill and begins to curve around to the right, at the same time that it starts to gain height. It narrows and becomes a bit more difficult to traverse, as it is clear that hikers are moving up and through the gorge. Warnings notwithstanding, it is impossible not to stop at a few points to enjoy the view over the glen – below you will see an early spring and late summer version of the view.
After a few sets of rocky stairs, the trail curves back around to the left and you know you are headed through the gorge. The rushing water below becomes more turbulent as it passes through the narrow gap, and while it is far enough below that you cannot often see it, the rock faces are sheer and carved by thousands of years of water.
The trail eventually passes through to the other side of the gorge, and before you opens up a beautiful flat valley where the Water of Nevis cuts through the hills. Grassy flat land is dotted with stands of trees and rocks, and in the distance you can just see Steall Falls.
From here, the trail follows the curve of the valley, crossing some small streams and boggy ground; in March when we visited, it was absolutely full of frogs and frogspawn, glistening in the sun.
From this point you can continue along the valley up the back of Ben Nevis and eventually reach Spean Bridge or, if incredibly adventurous, the edges of Rannoch Moor. Or, if you are feeling adventurous in a different fashion, you can cross the river to approach the falls directly, though the trail is not as well-marked as one might hope (or wasn’t in the days just after the pandemic). On our first visit, the other half and I chose to just walk up the valley and find a spot on the riverbank for lunch. Dad on the other hand chose to cross the river. Not, as I did, on the rocks just poking above the surface that I crossed dry – unlike the hikers ahead of me – but instead on the wire bridge that spans the river. By wire bridge, I mean literally three heavy wires, one for your feet and two for your arms, which requires both height and upper body strength I do not have – I could not even reach the starting point. While at first the bridge is not far off the ground, by the time it stretches out over the water, it is high enough that one can imagine a fall into the shallow river would not be without injury. After a few uncertain moments at the start, Dad managed it quite well, and then waited on the other side while I plotted my route.
Once safely across, we hiked up towards the falls and I experienced the true viciousness of midges in the Highlands – fortunately I had spray, but the closer I got to the falls, the more swarmed around me, getting caught in my hair and the spray on my arms. While they did not bite through the spray, I ended up looking more freckly than normal and they went out of their way to aim for ears, nose and eyes. I managed to pause long enough for a few pictures of the falls and the view from the rocks, but the bugs were intense enough to encourage us to keep moving.
The falls are well worth the exploration – they are the second-highest falls in the UK, with a single drop of 120 metres (390 feet), and there are plenty of places for brave walkers to cross and climb up for a better view.
Dad and I tried to continue walking along the valley but found the path to essentially disappear into bog, so we headed back towards the wire bridge, looking for a place to cross. In the end, tired feet won out and I stripped off my boots to plunge into the icy water. It felt amazing and almost immediately numbed my toes to the rocks as I managed to just get across without falling. As we waited for our feet to dry, we sat on the riverbank and enjoyed the stunning view back towards the gorge.
The return trip is a touch less gruelling as it is more downhill than up, but the views are no less stunning and there is a great deal of truth in the fact that down becomes harder as one’s knees get older.
By the time we returned to the car I was very ready to take off my sturdy hiking boots and find some looser shoes to don for the drive back down the glen. I recall sitting in the car for a few moments just enjoying the car park view before finally heading back into town.
From here, Dad and I went on to the Commando Memorial, but even after our hikes on Ben Nevis and beyond, this remains one of the most stunning and magical trails I have found. The tranquillity of the valley around the Water of Nevis is breath-taking, and so quintessentially Scotland that it really should not be missed. That said, it is not a trek to take on lightly or unprepared; water, a snack, and sturdy shoes are an absolute must! And, if you are going in the summer, a strong midge repellent.
The Wandering Medievalist 