Travel review: NC500, Scotland
You know that feeling when you stumble over a lovely country pub, feel smug, want to brag but also keep it to yourself at the same time?
You are so delighted with yourself you need to share and then when you go back you can’t get within 10 yards of the bar and, if you did, they’d be out of your favourite Merlot.
Well, I fear letting on about Scotland’s NC500 is going to end the same way. But such is its drama and knockout gorgeousness I just can’t help myself.
The NC500 is shorthand for the North Coast 500-mile route, which runs around the northwest highlands and will, quite simply, take your breath away.
It’s classic road trip – think America’s Route 66 – but with more shortbread and kilts.
Although it has been a familiar route for true Scots for decades, it was only ‘launched’ as a trip option three years ago, when the North Highland Initiative became canny to its money-spinning capabilities.
The result is a fine choice of hotels, B&Bs, and camp sites, good road surfaces, loos and self-serve petrol pumps provided by villagers – yes, they actually want you to visit – and a host of maps and guide books.
The one we used had easy-to-read calculators for distances between stop-off points so we were able to do our homework beforehand, ensuring always a safe bed and running water.
We started our jaunt in a baptism of fire – driving the treacherous Bealach na Ba pass from Lochcarron to Applecross.
This 12-mile single-track challenge climbs 626 metres has sheer drops and has a sign warning off nervous drivers and large vehicles.
Luckily for us, we were aboard our trusty campervan – big enough for two but nifty enough even for the Alps.
However while we were able to shimmy on a sixpence, our hopes of catching views of Skye and the Western Isles were sadly dashed by a curtain of boiling mist. But what we lost in a picture-book panorama we gained in the brooding atmosphere and thrill of outright terror.
It was fantastic even if we were still quivering slightly some hours later as we drew into Poolewe and our home for the next two nights. Then we realised we were actually quivering from cold and it was raining. Quite hard.
After a welcome meal at the Poolewe Hotel and happy talk of whale watching and walking to the feted Inverewe Gardens we came out to more rain. It poured all night. And all next day. We stayed in and wrapped ourselves in blankets and optimism.
It paid off. The next day we woke to sunshine, birdsong and a spectacular run to our next campsite.
What bliss. Lochs, drops, mountains and magnificent vistas met us around every corner. And our new base at Clachtoll boasted a craggy coastline of deserted white sandy beaches, black-throated divers and banks of thrift and gorse.
We had planned to go exploring but we took off our shoes, took out the cameras and stayed.
Our next destination was Melvich on the north coast, driving through some of the most stunning scenery we will ever see – tiny green islands swirling out of miles of blue lochs dwarfed by mountains of purple, grey and silver. Where else could you see road signs warning you of wild goats and red squirrels?
Going so far north how could we not go to the Orkneys. Oh, the ferry ride, the sunsets and the history. Go. Be amazed at the Italian Chapel made by prisoners of war, Skara Brae, a Stone Age village discovered virtually intact under a sea of sand and the enigmatic Ring of Brogdar, which dates back to the third millennium BC.
From times gone by slap bang to the present and an obligatory visit to John O’Groats – lots of happy tourists but sadly, no red-faced Lands End cyclists – and through to Wick. One night at a friendly riverside campsite saw us rested and ready to start travelling down the east coast to Durnoch.
We had been warned that the scenery might not be so spectacular, but we found it wonderful, with acres of soft grass falling down to glittering shorelines and craggy cliffs.
It was sunshine all the way as we stopped at Dunrobin Castle in Golspie, family seat of the Sutherlands and a favourite with Queen Victoria.
Such are the marvels of its gardens, rooms and exhibitions I need never see another castle again.
And there could have been no better finale to our trip than a slight detour to the rather refined and glorious seaside town of Nairn, and a walk along the beach and a sumptuous meal out.
The sun may have came down on our holiday, but not on our thirst for more NC500 adventures.
You see being a circular route, you could always do it again in the other direction. . .
