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Mind the Decoy Roundabout Inverness, Scotland — It was on our way here that we encountered the Decoy Roundabout — while it may not have been a real “tourist trap”, it did seem an omen for three already concerned travelers. I was about to try my luck for the first time driving in the Highlands.
The prospects of unfamiliar signs, narrow roads and the new experience of driving on the left were daunting. But, bravely, we started out from the rental agency, clockwise around a roundabout and very soon we were happily out of the city. The road took us along murky, mysterious Loch Ness, home of the Loch Ness monster. As we got closer to the lake, tension grew. Our little group of explorers looked to the side, and lo and behold: there was the huge, serpent-like monster! It was painted onto the side of a tourist bus. In fact, likenesses of the monster, affectionately called Nessie, seemed to adorn everything from plush toys to boats. At the south end of the Loch, a beautiful sight loomed ahead. Overlooking the water stands the ruins of Castle Urquhart, a magnificent fortress which receives more visitors than any other site in the Highlands. The castle is not just a tourist destination because of its proximity to Nessie, but because of the natural splendor surrounding it.
As if to punish me for once thinking the roads were easy, our next day’s trip was even more difficult. Winding roads often shrank to one lane, and there were an unpleasantly large number of cars for such a narrow road. It made our journey seem to drag on for hours. Finally we reached the ferry landing at Armadale, on the southern tip of Skye. Jumping out of the car with a combination of aching limbs and joie de, we left our car and boarded the ferry, “Lord of the Isles.” The ride was like nothing we had experienced before. The sun was low, the sky was dark and grey, and the sea was calm and remarkably quiet, with not a wave to be seen. It was as if someone had pulled the scene from a picture — a beautiful picture at that. Watching the sky and the dark water made our half hour journey pass by quickly.
Since we had left our car behind to journey further into the highlands our little party boarded the Jacobite Steam Train, to Fort William, deep in the highlands. The train traveled south along the coastline, giving us a spectacular view of the Sound of Sleat, and the still amazingly calm water below. After some time it turned upward into the misty mountains. Bit by bit the majesty of the Highlands was revealed to us. We could see the green mountains and beautiful flowers, slowly revealing themselves in the mist. The colors gradually became more vivid, and flowers more vibrant, a placid stream transformed into a raging mountain torrent. The splendor of this scene was awe inspiring. Yet even then it continued to grow more impressive.
We returned to Armadale the next day and set out for Ullapool, a town on the west coast of Scotland, to the north of the Isle of Skye. The sound of a single bagpiper greeted us as we climbed into our car. After leaving Skye, the road slowly narrowed, twisting through mountains and around lochs. Unfortunately, I spent most of my time watching the left front wheel, and so was not able to enjoy the scenery as much as I might have. My companions assure me that the sights were marvelous, and I wish I had the opportunity to enjoy them. Finally our one lane road joined the A835, the main highway between Inverness and Ullapool, and I was able to breathe easy. Our destination was a quiet village built up along Loch Broom, which, although referred to as a loch, was open to the sea. The town was quiet, with scarcely a car on the road; we were the only guests at our Bed and Breakfast. Behind the B&B, there was a trail leading up through fields, winding slowly uphill to the top of a mountain. The fields were covered in heather, a small shrub which seems rather unattractive, except for the magnificent, rich purple flowers which, durning a season, adorn the entire plant. These plants cover the highlands to such an extent that it may rightly be said that the Highlands themselves bloom when they do. The purple blanket enveloping the hills and mountains was like nothing we had ever seen. As our little group hiked toward the top, I began to puff like one of the steam engines of the Jacobite line, slowly chugging upward. Like everything else in Scotland so far, the best parts came after a good deal of work. From our vantage point, we could see for miles. Below us lay Ullapool, clinging to the edge of the heather-blanketed hills. The ocean gleamed in the distance, a bit of fog adding just the right tone to the scene.
The next morning the sights of the town passed quickly by and we found ourselves drawn to the town pier, where signs advertising boat tours of the Summer Isles beckoned. The boat eased its way out of Loch Broom towards dark clouds hanging over the open sea. Hardly a ripple was to be seen on the water. Further out, a gentle breeze began to blow, and the glassy surface disintegrated, broken into millions of tiny waves. Small islands surrounded us, each unique, some bulging out of the ocean unnaturally, others just bumps on the surface of the waves. As we continued, shroud of fog which had surrounded us pulled back, and slowly the green hills of the Summer Isles were revealed. We landed at Tanera Mhor; it has its own combined post office and teahouse, with a few houses looking down from the hills, but little else. In order to see better, we sought higher ground. The view on the top of the mountain was magnificent, surpassing any we had seen in Scotland. For miles around us on all sides we could see the mirror smooth water, disrupted only by islands, some small, and some with hills and mountains as high as we were, all covered in heather and veiled in the light fog which accompanied us.
The drive back to Inverness the next day was easy and on good roads. All was well. There had been a few nervous moments driving, but we saw no more decoy roundabouts and had no real trouble. And we did have one last chance to see some of the Highland vistas which so enchanted us. With sadness, we turned in the car and finished our journey through Scotland with a train ride south. If You Go Scottish Tourist Board Jacobite Steam Train ScotRail Summer Queen Cruises The Internet Guide to Scotland
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JustSayGO Travel Show
On previous trips, we have always traveled by train: I love rail travel, especially in Europe where it so convenient, but after two previous trips to Inverness, I had to concede that the Scottish Highlands could not really be explored by train. With trepidation, we began to prepare for a road trip into the depths of the Highlands.
We drove with growing confidence for several hours. I was becoming convinced that horror stories we had heard about driving in Scotland were just the delusions of over-nervous tourists. Eventually, we crossed the newly built Skye Bridge to the Isle of Skye where the road began to climb higher and narrow gradually. The relaxed driving ended with a bang as our car ran into the edge of the road on a particularly narrow stretch of road. For the duration of the trip, cries of “you’re about to hit the edge” replaced the now reception-less radio for my listening pleasure.
Mid-afternoon found us in Portree, the largest town on Skye, and one situated on a pleasant natural harbor. It was to here that Bonnie Prince Charlie, leader of the Jacobites, who wanted to restore a Catholic king to the throne of England, escaped, dressed as a woman, from pursuing English troops, and from here that he bade farewell to Scotland, his revolution a failure.
By the time our ferry docked at Mallaig, a pleasant fishing town, we were quite ready for lunch. We had a bit of trouble finding somewhere to eat, but finally after some searching we had a much needed lunch at a local pub. Pubs in the UK are as much restaurants as bars, and their meals are often quite pleasant.
The man-made sights, as if in acknowledgement of nature’s awesome beauty, grew steadily more impressive. Our steam engine joined in with nature, covering everything in steam and puffing ever harder as it gained in altitude. The twenty-one arch Glenfinnian viaduct, an awesome stone and brick bridge, led us across a beautiful highland valley. From atop the viaduct we could see the tall monument commemorating more hopeful times for Prince Charlie. As our journey continued, we reached the Caledonian Canal, and a series of eight beautiful locks known as Neptune’s Staircase.
We had planned to head further north the next day, however our little group quickly decided to spend one more day in this beautiful town. We slept a quiet night and prepared to explore the town itself the next day.
Halfway back to Ullapool, those threatening black clouds began to pour out a steady rain. But the trip was still smooth and the rain only added to the atmosphere that is an essential part of the charm of the Highlands.
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