North Coast 500 - Day 7 & Coming Home.

I've had a bit of a break from my Scottish blog to share a couple of family shoots, and so as not to bombard you with too many travel photos. Remember the old slideshows certain family members used to make you sit through?! Although I have had a couple of requests to do just this with my North Coast 500 series - maybe if there are refreshments this would make it more tempting?

So, to day 7, my last official day of the North Coast 500 route and day 8, my journey from Loch Ness down to the Bridge of Allan and then home. On day 7 I woke up early to a sunny Dornoch day and a wonderful breakfast at No 9 Guest House.

I hadn't actually planned too much for the day, and I have to say I set off with a heavy heart, knowing that this was the last day of the adventure. I drove slowly around Dornoch Firth and stopped for a few minutes at Bonar Bridge.

The traffic was busy, and I felt I'd hit a popular route, there were signs to various destinations of interest and roadside shopping stop offs. This A road felt a lifetime away from all the single tracks driving through mountains from just a few days ago. I hit the Cromarty Firth, peppered with oil rigs and signs of industry.

I wanted to get away from the main road and prolong my journey which was hurtling towards the end point of Inverness. I'd seen a few photos of Rogie Falls before I set off and decided to take a trip. It was the perfect spot to visit after a morning of not feeling quite myself. Tall trees and the crashing waterfalls carved deep into the rock.

There is a peninsula just above Inverness called The Black Isle. This is where I headed for next. I had circled Munlochy on my map as somewhere I wanted to visit. Here is The Clootie Well - a strange left over from an ancient pagan tradition. Folk would bring belongings to the well as an offering, sometimes in the shape of clothes or rags, in the hope that a family member's illness would be cured. The tradition has been updated as I spotted a Santa hat and a hi viz jacket. It was a strange, eerie place. The twigs cracked underfoot and echoed round the trees. 

I drove a little further onto The Black Isle. At this point I was feeling just a little jaded, and knowing I hadn't booked anywhere to stay for the night, I was keen to try and find somewhere a little further south than Inverness. I drove to Avoch Bay and Chanonry Point first to see if I could spot any dolphins.

And then I turned to head south. I hit Inverness at 5pm on a Sunday eve. In the traffic, I turned to see drivers left and right, many coming back from weekend's away with family. Sleeping kids in the back with heads pressed to the window and streamline roof racks perched on top like tortoise shells. 'You are entering Inverness' the sign proclaimed. That was it, I'd finished. I wanted to feel something. For the first few moments I sat tapping my fingers on the steering wheel to the radio, the traffic flow edging slowly towards a roundabout ahead. And then it hit me as I drove out of the town along the banks of Loch Ness. For this journey, I had pushed through my travel anxiety and although panic attacks had grumbled once or twice, I'd silenced them. Through the darkness of the beginning of the year, I'd pulled myself up and done something that for a long time had not seemed achievable. I felt something I hadn't felt for a while, I felt proud. I pulled over and just sat in the car for a few moments and took this photo. In the grand scheme of things, it's nothing special, but it'll always mean something to me.


I drove down to Fort Augustus on the southern tip of the loch and found a great place to stay. I had a beer and face-timed Suze, it was good to celebrate albeit over screens!

The next morning I had a quick walk to the tip of the loch before setting off.

As I still had a number of miles to travel before reaching home, I decided to break my journey up by staying with my cousins again in the Bridge of Allan. The journey there on a blue sky day was quite spectacular.

Travelling through The Cairngorms was beautiful.

After coming through the mountains, I stopped off for a lovely lunch with our friend Carol and her beautiful pooch Carter. They showed me some of the local sights.


And then onto a peaceful eve with my cousin and family. We sat round the dinner table over a glass of fizz, and chatted about the last few days. After a great night's sleep, I climbed into the car, packing my overnight bags up for the last time, for now, and tapped in the directions home into the Sat Nav. I felt excited to be returning home to Suzi.

A few hours later, I pulled up onto the cobbles on our street, shiny from a recent shower. When I walked into the lounge, Suze had left a treat for me on the table, a pecan pie, still warm. And propped up, one of our favourite pieces of art (by the wonderful Angela Smyth). It reads 'a suitcase built for adventure...' and written underneath 'the Thrills of the Unknown are Waiting for You.'

Thanks to everyone who followed my journey.  It was great to get your messages when I was away, it felt like you came along too. If you'd like to read the series of blogs, here are the links to each day:

Day 1 - Dornie to Big Sand

Day 2 - Big Sand to Inchnadamph

Day 3 - Inchnadamph to Talmine

Day 4 - Talmine to Armadale

Day 5 - Armadale to Thrumster

Day 6 - Thrumster to Dornoch

Me and Suzi are talking about the possibility of doing a longer trip together next year, we've just started doing some research. We'd love to hear where you've been, if you have any recommendations, or where you'd like to have an adventure!

The North Coast 500 - Day 2 - Big Sand to Inchnadamph

I realised that I mentioned the weather quite a lot in my last post (which you can read here), but it was a big part of the trip. How it affected the landscape, and me too. Just before I turned in for the night in the cabin, I had a short walk down to the stoney beach. It's the first time I'd felt a little isolated. The small houses dotted along the shore were uninhabited, and the wind danced in the electricity cables above. As the light faded, I decided to head back to the warmth of the cabin. 

Day 2 was all about headlands, mountains emerging from the clouds, dark waters, snow, stags, and a staring competition with a buzzard. I slowly made my way around Wester Ross through snow and surface water.

This day above all others tested my driving. I travelled down the side of Little Loch Broom. The water on one side, steep mountain on the right, I felt quite hemmed in. I realised how much landscape can affect my mood and to a certain extent, my anxiety. But it has the polar affect too as I climbed out of Dundonnell. The break in the clouds summoned the sunshine through tall trees and I felt my body respond. I felt another reaffirmation of why I was doing this as I watched the light through the bare branches, the low clouds breaking, and the cold dark waters of the streams rushing down the mountainside. 

I reached Corrieshalloch Gorge. My photos don't do it justice and it was a lot deeper than it looks! In fact when I tentatively walked onto the bridge, vertigo kicked in. The sides of the gorge were steep and narrow, trickles of water glistening on the wet stone. My mind started racing and it reminded me of a scene in some crime drama or other - so I inched my way back from the bridge.

Just as I was getting back into the car, I noticed these tall pine trees perched on top of the hill. Matchstick trunks, they were lined up like dominoes.

I drove further north to Ullapool. Although it was grey, the white row of houses and shops on the loch front were very welcoming.

I had scampi and chips in a cute cafe, a cafe obsessed with time. On a feature wall, paper with many clock faces on it. On the opposite wall, three clocks. Different models, positioned in such a way so not to look too symmetrical. Two of them read 1.25pm, the other 1.50pm. I glanced at my watch and it was 1.25pm. After eating a delicious lunch, I glanced at the three clocks, they all read 1.50pm. This alignment made me think it must be time to head off!

I was finding the single track roads my favourite to drive on. I wanted to feel solitude on my trip, and being on these little roads without seeing another soul gave me a taste of this. The Coigach peninsula was just spectacular to drive around. Along the banks of Loch Lurgainn, mountains would reveal themselves from the thick clouds.  The brown earth speckled with bright gorse, a welcome burst of yellow through the grey.  

Stac Pollaidh was particularly stunning.

As I said in my Day 1 blog, I was on golden eagle watch, twitching every time I saw a bird soaring or perched in a tree. I spotted an unidentified large brown bird high in a tree and stopped the car abruptly. There started a strange one minute stare off with a buzzard. Neither of us wanted to give in, but eventually it ruffled its feathers and flew away.

And then to Inchnadamph - I love that name! I was driving towards my B & B, and on the mountainside opposite Loch Assynt, a group of around a dozen stags were grazing. I stopped the car in a handy lay-by and raced to the back of the car to get a longer lens out of the boot, but thought against all the faffing and door slamming and just watched them. I took a few photos with the lens I already had on my camera. Their antlers made them look top heavy and they seemed cumbersome when they reached down to graze. A car pulled up behind me and skidded on the gravel, spooking the stags and they bounded away. I chatted excitedly to the B & B owner about my sightings, and she told me that Inchnadamph means meadow of the stags. It was certainly a highlight for me. 

It's a small hamlet, but oh so pretty. I took a little walk around and breathed in the day I'd just had.


I'm looking forward to sharing Day 3 soon - if I had to pick a favourite day, that would be it!

The North Coast 500 - Day 1 - Dornie To Big Sand

I can't believe I've been back from my Scottish road trip for a month already, it's taken me a while to settle back into the rhythm of things. But I've been looking forward to sharing my photos with you, and it seems like the right time! I thought I'd split my trip up into days so as not to bombard you with too much, but it feels like this first one is a biggy, so I hope you'll stay with me. Before I start chatting about the trip, I just thought I'd tell you a little bit about why I did it, and how important the journey became to me. So I'll jump straight in. 

I've lived with panic attacks since I was 21. It shocked me recently when I realised that this is more than half my life. It is an ugly and frightening thing, it is physically and mentally draining. First, my heart lurches, then along come the sweats, dry mouth, gasping for breath. My ever increasing heart rate thumps in my chest, and I always think that this is the one that will lead to a heart attack (even though I know this is all down to hyperventilation). It is very clever and manipulative. It doesn't interrupt my work (which I'm so thankful for), but it loves to manifest itself when we're going to social occasions, or about to travel somewhere for pleasure. I can't tell you how many trips we've had to rearrange as I've been so frightened of having a panic attack. This anxiety has led to depression over the past couple of years, I've found it really hard to even say that word. At the beginning of the year, after being in bed with flu for a week, it hit me, and it was a pretty dark, scary place. I am grateful for having amazing support around me, and Suzi is just incredible, she surprises me constantly with her compassion and understanding.

Coming out of it, all I could think about to help heal and to regain self confidence and belief in myself, was a trip to the wilds of Scotland. I'd heard about the North Coast 500, a journey around the northern tip of Scotland, from west to east hugging the coastline. I really enjoy driving, so I wasn't worried about that element, it was the travelling away from home for an extended period, and the being alone that I was more worried about. But I felt I needed this trip so much that the excitement outweighed the panic.

So, on Saturday 18th March, I packed up the trusty Corsa, left the cobbles, and travelled up to my cousin's house in the Bridge of Allan to break up the journey up to the Highlands. It was good to catch up with family. 

The next morning I set off for Dornie, the next stop before I started the NC500. I drove through all sorts of weather, but just before Glencoe, the clouds parted to reveal blue sky and snowy mountain peaks. I find that Glencoe attacks all my senses, it is beautiful and brutal with its rugged & scarred landscape.

I arrived at my Airbnb in Dornie, overlooking Loch Long. The silloutte mountains of Skye in the distance were illuminated by the most incredible light that was breaking through dark clouds. 

The next morning my NC500 trip officially started. Just before breakfast I went for a short walk up the hill to look down on Eilean Donan Castle.  Apparently it's the most photographed castle in Scotland.

I set off into a thick grey sky, rain carried in veils towards me. But as I travelled along Loch Carron, the sun came through again. The sight of water, mountain and snow seemed to trigger something deep inside, in fact I cried. 'This is why I'm doing this' I wrote in my journal. And then I felt myself letting go. Letting go of the thoughts of how I was going to be on this trip, letting go of the photos I'd already planned in my head, the film I wanted to make, the words I wanted to write. I let go of who I wanted to be on the trip and just decided to be in it, in that moment.

I'd heard so much about the road to Applecross, but I don't think anything could have prepared me for how stunning the drive was. As I approached it, I did start to jangle with a few nerves as I'd heard this single track road was a bit of a white knuckle ride. 

I slowly climbed out of Tornapress, where I was greeted with this sign.

The single track road hugs the mountainside in a series of twists and turns. I stopped in a few places to look back and take photos. I screamed loudly into the wind - there's something to be said for doing this. It felt powerful, that feeling vibrating through my body.

The road became much windier as it twisted around as I reached the summit. There was grit on the road and dirty snow drifts on the sharp bends. As soon as I reached the top, the heady mix of snow and hail came in, horizontal balls of ice ricocheting off the roof and bonnet of the car, as it shook violently in the wind.

But as before, the clouds quickly scudded away to reveal snowy mountains. Other travellers were trying to put coats on in the gale, everyone being buffeted, jackets like super hero cloaks stretching out behind them. Ruddy cheeked faces peeped out from tightly pulled cagoule hoods, and there was much dramatic blowing on hands through pursed lips.

As I arrived in Applecross the sun broke free and the wind died down.  This little village is beautiful. I sat in the Applecross Inn by the log fire, looking out onto choppy waters and to Skye beyond. I'd forgotten how much I love just pootling around in the car, without a purpose in mind, just taking it in and seeing where different roads lead. I met some smiley inquisitive sheep down at Toscaig Pier. When I put this photo up on Twitter, I had a reply from an Applecross resident telling me the names of the family that own them! 

Before I set off on my trip, I was really hoping I'd get to see a golden eagle. So when I read signs to Eagle Rock, Eagle View and Eagle Point on my journey, I had very high hopes! I was just listening to Rumours by Fleetwood Mac as I drove around the Applecross Peninsula, and Songbird came on. The timing seemed fortuitous as I spotted a large bird soaring out of the corner of my eye. I'd already been conned by a few seagulls and a large crow, so I stopped the car to take a closer look. In the background, a rainbow. I was in awe. This is the moment I thought. It turned out to be a buzzard, but it was beautiful all the same. The golden eagle will have to wait for next time as I didn't spot one for the entire trip.

There is a wonderful Scottish word - dreich. I love the way it sounds, every letter drawn out and accentuated. It perfectly embodies the kind of shambolic weather you can get on the west coast - rain, wind, and a big dollop of grey.

I carried on around the headland. When I was planning my trip, I saw many pictures of this cute abode, and felt I needed to add to the collection of shots of this house with the red roof.

And then I drove through the various brown tones of Glen Torridon with its rugged landscape; it seemed quite harsh in the stormy light.

I hadn't really planned places I was going to stop and eat, apart from the amazing Whistle Stop Cafe in Kinlochewe. Many travellers before me had included it in their itinerary, and I certainly didn't want to miss out! The poppy-seed and lemon drizzle cake was something to behold.

I was on the last stretch of my day's drive, which included beautiful views along Loch Maree. I saw my 5th rainbow of the day, but this was by far the brightest.

My Airbnb for the evening was a wooden cabin in Big Sand, a remote crofting village close to Gairloch. I reached it just as the sky drained of colour, and as the light faded, a few stars pierced through gaps in the dark clouds. I settled in for the night in my little cosy cabin. A cup of hot tea in my hand and maps strewn on the table, I finalised plans for the next day of my trip.

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