Vacationing While On Vacation

After a few weeks at Highlands Unbridaled, the other workawayer and I decided to make a trip to the higher peaks of Western Scotland and the Isle of Skye. I was originally planning to take buses and trains and make my slow way around, until Peter informed me that he was not only able to rent a car but was perfectly willing to be the driver for our adventure. Save money and time and be driven around the Highlands? I think yes.

So, we set up a general idea of where we were going, and set off. We started with an early morning bus to Inverness where we picked up some groceries and our car. After Inverness, we headed west towards a town called Torridon, nestled right in the middle of some of the higher peaks of Scotland. Peter was very patient and stopped the car periodically when I was clearly itching to take photos. Once we got to the hostel and had a brief lunch in the panoramic lounge of our hostel, we immediately got ready and went on a short hike that ran along a river running down from between three peaks.

The view from our hike up between the three peaks. The loch in the center of the photo is Lower Loch Torridon, upon which the town of Torridon is situated.

Inevitably, it rained, sleeted and snowed on the hike up. After all the warnings of the unpredictable winter weather in Scotland, we got a firsthand experience of it. It made for great snowman making, though, once we'd reached the top of our hike. I was shocked to discover that Peter had never been in a snowball fight, nor had he built a snowman, so I quickly changed both of those things by throwing a snowball at him and basically forcing him to make a snowman. His childlike glee made it less cruel.

Peter's first snowman. He claimed it was supposed to be a bear, but I still hold that it's definitely a koala. He's from Australia, therefore it is a koala. He did not seem to agree with that logic.

We spent only one night in Torridon, then made our way to the Isle of Skye where we checked into our hostel, then immediately headed north to hike up the Old Man of Storr. I was concerned about the hike, as the week before when I had gone on a run to Dunrobin Castle, I discovered that while my hiking boots were incredible, they were not the best choice for a 6 mile run and I ended up with blisters the size of pennies on the back of each heel. Our 3 hour hike around Torridon had only exacerbated the situation, and every time I thought about walking in my boots I became slightly nauseous. So, with that in mind I began a three hour hike straight up to the Old Man of Storr.

The mist covered stone out of which the Old Man of Storr and other interesting rock formations were formed.

I had discovered the previous day that after hiking for a certain amount of time, the blisters became mostly numb and therefore once we had reached the base of the Old Man, I was much more enthusiastic about hiking around and finding interesting places to see. While we were clambering over a rock slide which included boulders the size of cars (Peter apparently gets a "What's around the corner?" bug when he hikes, which meant that despite my better judgment, I did a lot of clambering over rock slides), we ran into a couple who informed us that there was a sign up ahead stating that we should not go past this point. We came to the sign from behind, and realized that the rock slide had been what they intended us to avoid. Less than surprising, considering the many warnings we'd seen on the way up about recent rock slides and falling boulders.

They are much more polite in their signs than Americans would be. I suspect that America would say, "DO NOT GO BEYOND THIS POINT." With the unsaid message of, "OR YOU WILL DIE OR BE ARRESTED."

The Old Man of Storr and his brethren. The "interesting rock formations" which everyone who heard we were going to the Isle of Skye told us about.

After a while, we (read: Peter) felt that we needed to expand the amount of ground covered, so we hopped a fence and wandered off into the misty rain. We hiked for probably about an hour before I was thoroughly soaked and we realized that we may have been following a sheep or deer trail. Consequently, we concluded that it was time to go back to the hostel, get dried off and find a place to have dinner.

Our pre-dinner walk included taking in the harbor and climbing a random tower that overlooked the bay. It was raining the whole time, but once you've been completely soaked to the skin a little rain seems harmless.

At dinner I was disappointed to find that, though we were eating at an inn where Bonnie Prince Charlie had once said goodbye to his lover, they did not have the local beer which is only prepared in the basement of that particular establishment. I did have a couple pints of Scottish beer, as is the requirement when eating in a Scottish pub.

The next day was our trip back, and as we were both regretful, we made it a point to drag out the trip as much as possible. It was snowing almost the entire drive, which aided in our slowing things down, as Peter was not comfortable speeding around the narrow, winding roads in the snow. I was content with this decision, and simply sat back to watch the scenery. 

Originally I was only planning to stop and take pictures of Eilean Donan Castle, but we decided to do a tour and happily so, as we were the only people on the tour. We got a private look around the castle, and were able to take pictures from the courtyard. At our own risk, however, since the wind was such that I thought I was going to be blown off into the loch!

We drove back along Loch Ness and stopped at Urquhart Castle to have lunch. We sat half in the trunk of the car and crouched next to our bag of food to cut the camembert or ham and make mini-sandwiches. At times there was snow falling and the people walking by probably thought we were particularly wealthy gypsies, with our stuffed green olives and seeded loaf of bread. After lunch I convinced Peter to drive up to Culloden Battlefield. I couldn't resist the chance to see it, even if by the time we arrived there was a wind driving snow into our faces while we walked and I couldn't feel my hands at the end of our walk.

After almost 12 years of wanting to see this battlefield for the sake of a series of books I began reading in 8th grade, I was finally able to walk through it. I'm not sure Peter had the same reaction as I did, but then he has never read the Outlander books and doesn't have an almost personal attachment to the Clans.

And, inevitably, a photo of the Fraser Clan stone. I've seen photos of this online and in summer there tend to be flowers placed at the base of this stone. Whether because the Clans are still memorialized by their living descendants or because those who have read the Outlander books are placing them in memory of Jamie Fraser, I don't know. Whatever the case, Culloden was an eerie way to end our trip.

We made it back to Brora safe and sound after dropping our car off in Inverness then spending the hour before our bus was due to depart sitting in a Route 66 themed cafe. I enjoyed the 'nachos' that we were served and a test given by Peter about my knowledge of the state capitals (which I failed miserably). It was a surprise when we got out of the bus just north of the farm and I looked up to find the sky absolutely saturated with stars. It was the first time in the Highlands to see the stars and of course I was amazed. Even though they were recognizable, the placement was different and the sky definitely felt different. Whenever I see the stars in other countries it always feels foreign.

And so ended my trip to the wilds of Scotland. It was a success, all in all, and I am currently lounging in a house in Southern France. Part of the journey down will be added to my list of Worst Bus Trips Ever, so next time I'll talk about my trip from Northern Scotland to Southern France.