Scotland and the North Coast 500 - Part Two
Last Updated: February 6, 2022
WELCOME BACK TO PART TWO OF OUR SCOTLAND AND THE NORTH COAST 500 ADVENTURE
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Welcome back to our mammoth tour of Scotland. You left us in part one, bedding down for the night in a lighthouse carpark on the northernmost extremity of mainland United Kingdom...
Day 7 - Northern Shores, Caves and Mountain Sunsets
Having survived the night at Dunnets Head, perched high above the crashing waves of the North Sea, we awoke to howling winds, which by now were becoming a common enemy. Windworn, we left the relative safety of the carpark and headed for the town of Dunnet where we would once again join the NC500.
We headed west in search of the largest town on the north coast: Thurso. We had planned to check the town out and refuel, however, it soon became apparent that Wick had a competitor for worst places to live in the UK, and we quickly decided to get the hell out of there. We locked the doors and drove west for miles of, well, nothing. It was boring. We were starting to get fed up until, after an hour on the road, the countryside changed. We had found Farr Bay.
We parked up and strolled down to the unmistakable sights and smells of a British beach. Upon arrival, having crossed a stunning little wooden bridge over a small stream that emptied onto the beach, we soon both stopped dead in our tracks. We took one look at the tiny crystals of pure white sands and laughed out loud. This was a beach we recognised and had been to, but in the Whitsundays or the Caribbean, not the UK. And certainly not Scotland.
We made our way midway along the beach before parking ourselves down in amazement, wondering if we had been transported to the equator. We kept pointing out to sea laughing, saying things like, "Next stop: the North Pole!". Whilst we were roughly right, this beach couldn't have been further from that - we were enjoying the sunshine, the glistening sands, and taking in the sounds of waves rolling onto the beach.
Sadly, we had to leave and continue west across the harsh, rugged coast. Fortunately, the promised beauty was now beginning as we joined a weaving, meandering route around the exquisite Kyle of Tongue, and moments later followed by the unreal Loch Eriboll. The scenery had stepped up its game once again, and things for possibly the first time were not sporadically pretty, but starting to become prolonged moments of perfection. It was starting to look like what we had expected. We had entered the west, and my god, was it beautiful.
Our next stop provided us with a little respite from driving and a stretch of our weary legs. Ceannabeinne Beach is blessed with clifftops views to the east and west and is doused in deep purple heather, which adds a wonderful glow to the already sunkissed sands and clear turquoise waters. We climbed the eastern cliffs and soaked in the views out to the west, again both speechless and savouring the tranquillity.
Nothing is perfect, and moments later that tranquillity was shattered by a screaming 15-year-old flying through the air past us at speed on his way down to the beach. No, Greg hadn't pushed him, he was on the zip wire and strapped in tight. This zip wire is there for all to use but at a price as high as the starting position. Due to the zip-wire and its costs, it is not a place you would want to stop if you have a couple of kids in the back who later in life will title their autobiography 'My Adrenaline Life', or a mate whose Tinder account states 'Adrenaline junkie' with a picture at a dry ski slope and them petting a tiger. It's £12 per person, which we didn't think it was worth the money and moved on.
After watching a couple of excitable people rocket towards the beach we made our way a short distance up the road to the Smoo Caves. Whilst we hadn't researched too much about the 500 or Scotland as a whole, the Smoo Caves and it's beautiful waterfall were something we had heard about, and were high on our list of things to see and do.
The car park should have given us a clue as to the disappointment that was lying below. We eagerly skipped on down the path, hitting sea level with views of the large, dark, open-mouthed entrance where we found a less than enthusiastic girl in a hard hat standing in the cave, and a rickety wooden bridge veering off to the right. We jumped onto the bridge and headed into the cave to find the walkway only delves 10 to 15 foot in. This short walkway is free, and so it should be.
Now, a disclaimer: It hadn't rained in the area for a number of days prior to our arrival, and no rain means no waterfall beating down within the cave from the vast hole way up in the roof. This fall would have been the main attraction, and probably really beautiful to see and hear, so in fairness, we didn't see the caves in all its glory, which does affect our point of view and thus the write up. But still...
We stood on the bridge and soon found out that to head any further in, you had to pay for a tour, and we watched a group of people kit up and climb aboard the dingy before finding their way out into the cave. They seemed to be onboard the dingy for no more than 3 minutes before it squeezes gingerly through a gap in the cliffs, parks up the other side and disembarks. The tour then continued into a hole in the cliff wall on foot and we aren't really too sure what happened to them. They could still be there,
With there being no waterfall, and a boat ride lasting what seemed a few minutes we deemed it not worthy of our money, and made our way back out the cave and up to the car park.
We may be being harsh as the tour could have been fantastic, but it lacked the excitement and wow factor we were looking for. As you can see from the picture, we got to see the cave and the wonderful backlit crevices within the cave walls, and having both been on several cave tours before, that was enough for us.
Having left the cave and feeling a bit beaten and downtrodden, it was time to leave the north coast behind, and wind our way south through what had been described to us as the gem of the UK: the mountainous west coast of Scotland.
We stopped at a couple of locations, picking up some of the 'off the beaten track' views until we found somewhere complete with sea, islands and mountainous terrains. It was breathtaking, and the best bit? No one else was there. This 'secret location' is on Loch Clash just north of the town of Kinlochbervie.
At 1930hrs and with a couple of hours worth of daylight left, we arrived at the tiny town (and when we say town, we mean two houses) of Foindle. We parked up in a layby on the edge of Loch Na H-Airigh Glaise, with the intention of heading to the nearby Handa Island tomorrow.
Greg, now ravenous, put on the handbrake and within seconds had a saucepan in hand to get the food on the go. Meanwhile, Charlie, keen for a sunset view, clambered, slipped and scaled up to the nearest tallest point and worked out the photo opportunities.
We reconvened with Charlie's excitable return, explaining about the views and showing the quick pictures he'd taken, and we had a quick couple of cups of tea, a bite to eat, and headed up the mountain.
We hit the ascent and made it 30 minutes before sunset, we set up the equipment and relaxed into a beautiful sunset at the exact same time as the clouds arrived. It was great, but the sunset was just not as good as we hoped, and after an enjoyable and relaxing hour or two taking long exposure photos, we decided to call it and made our way back down to the van before darkness fell on another day in the wild west.
Day 8 - Greg's Birthday, Handa Island, and Our Return to Ullapool
Greg here. Waking up on your birthday at the side of a stunning Scottish loch is a dream come true: the sound of the breeze blowing cautiously through the wispy, leafy ferns, the sun glistening off the clear rippling water, and the smell of the fresh morning air... is something I wish I could be writing about now, but I'm not.
What I am writing is this: waking up at the side of a stunning Scottish loch was not a dream, it was a reality. The sound of silence flowed over the now condensation-covered van windows, the cold, cold morning air from outside could be felt within, and it became apparent there was a lone midge who had somehow (rent-free) spent the night in the van. I bravely, but more coldly, decided to remove said midge. As I cleared the condensation off the side door window, it turned out that outside was not the dreamy place we had imagined for a birthday breakfast, but a scene from a horror movie.
Swarms of midges in their thousands were bouncing off the window in an attempt to enter the van. I had to wake Charlie up to show him. We really were waiting for the glass to crack under the pressure, which would undoubtedly have led to our impending death. It'd be like piranhas in the Amazon, our bodies would never be found, stripped to nothing as we became food for every midge within a thousand-mile radius.
Greg jumped through the gap into the front seats with Charlie still flat-out in bed and we made our escape, screaming through the lanes and heading 10 minutes up the road the to teeny tiny town of Tarbet. We parked up at 9.30am, dishevelled and hanging out of our ass. This was our first 'proper' experience of the Scottish midges which lie in wait on Scotland's west coast.
WARNING - THEY ARE NOT A JOKE, THEY DO EXIST AND THEY ARE BASTARDS. WE HAVE BEEN TO SOME EXOTIC LOCATIONS FULL OF SWAMPS AND MOSQUITOS BUT THIS? THIS WAS SOMETHING ELSE. THEY RUIN EVERYTHING.
Anyway, rant over, but seriously, beware,
We carefully and slowly inspected the situation outside and nervously opened the door. There was no real choice as we were catching the next boat over to the conservation island of Handa; we had to leave the safety of the van at some point. Thanks to the sea breeze it wasn't too bad, so we set up the camp cooker and got a birthday bap on the go. Whilst the numbers of midges were in no way the same as our lochside location, they were there in numbers, enough to make eating a beautiful bacon and egg bap a chore. The numbers of midges grew and grew, and our only relief came once we had boarded the boat and set off.
The midges don't like the wind, so that gave us some much-needed relief. We arrived shortly before midday on the wildlife-covered conservation island of Handa, disembarking on a beautiful little sandy beach. We were met by two island volunteers who live on the island together in one bothy to the northeast. They walked us off the beach and up to a welcome hut perched over the bay on the east coast of the island. After a quick chat about sticking to the pathways, respecting the nesting birds, and being careful on the cliff tops, we were free to roam the small island.
All in all the route around the island will take about 3 hours, however, take things at your own pace. You may spend that amount of time watching for whales from one of the island's clifftops, or maybe basking in the summer sun, relaxing near the seals that inhabit the island's beaches. Like any nature reserve, there are no guarantees as to what animals - if any - you will see. They are wild and free to come and go. Our best advice is to check out their website and plan your trip based on when the animal you want to see is likely to be there.
Sadly for us, there wasn't much of the 'big' stuff to see, unless like Charlie you are interested in a number of seabirds, all of which basically look like seagulls. It was, however, a break from the midges, who didn't seem to have made it this far.
We both felt that by the end of the trip we were glad to get back on the boat and head back to the mainland. I think if we had seen a few more things, we would have enjoyed it, maybe it was the start of the day and the midges, but to be honest it was just a bit of a damp squib. It was also our own fault in that we didn't expect the walk to take as long as it did, or the sun to be as strong as it was and didn't pack water. Learn from our mistake: take water, you might need it.
The ferry will cost £15 and runs regularly, but will only leave once it reaches a certain capacity, so bear this in mind, should you be in a rush to get off the island - check out the website for more details.
Having left the island at about 3pm it wasn't long until we were back on the mainland. Craving a beer, or any form of liquid refreshment, we decided to relax in the Shorehouse, where we bought a very lovely, very expensive cider. Once that had trickled down and rehydrated us we hit the road, deciding it was time for some atmosphere, and somewhere there would be other people so we could have a birthday night out. There were a couple of options thrown at us from the locals, but nothing seemed to hit the spot. There was only one thing for it: bomb it back to Ullapool, and our friends Janice and Noel, who you met in part one.
The drive down from Handa to Ullapool was outrageously beautiful. It was what we were expecting from Scotland's west coast and the countless pictures we had seen. There were vast lochs, ruined castles, mountains reaching up into clouds, and roads that had more bends and twists in them than an F1 race circuit. We did try and stop at a couple of the ruins, but were quickly engulfed by - you guessed it - the midges.
We literally had to take photos on the move, and even then some of the unbearable little fuckers managed to join us in the vehicle. It was unbearable. We made it to Ullapool at 5pm and stocked up on beers before heading back to Janice, Noel and Polly at our favourite camping spot in Scotland: Quercus.
Our intention was to meet with Janice and Noel and take them out for a few beers at the bars we had previously frequented. It turned out that they had other plans for us. The ever-perfect hosts had laid on a birthday banquet fit for a king, and yet more amazing entertainment.
The food - fresh thai fishcakes - was beyond Michelin star quality, and the alcohol was flowing way into the early hours. By the time the birthday cake made an appearance we were well and truly on our way to being completely smashed. It was a great way to end a birthday, and sore heads were had by all of us tomorrow morning.
It very quickly became clear that we weren't going anywhere tomorrow, and as it turns out, we weren't going anywhere for a few days. Quercus, Ullapool, and the amazing people were to become our lives for the foreseeable.
Day 9 - Ullapool
For the first time in a while, we woke up with a hangover. Luckily it didn't hang around too long, and we were able to get on with the day. It was also the first time that we felt at home, not least because we had access to a shower. A week and a bit into the trip and the van was getting to the point of needing a sort out. We spent the morning cleaning and reorganising the van, which, let us tell you, is very important on any road trip. Once things start getting messy and dirty out in the wild, it becomes hard to rectify. Keep things clean, tidy and organised. It will help out in the long run.
Once the van was back to its best, and our laundry dropped off down the road, we met with Noel who wanted to explain and show us more about his work with the Scottish Wildlife Trust* and the Living seas* as mentioned in part one. It had just started to rain as Noel and Janice took us up the road to the Bulmer's family retreat. You may now be thinking, "I've heard of Bulmers..." and yes, it is the Bulmers Cider family. And we had keys to their Scottish hideaway.
We drove up past the house and deer enclosure, making our way out along the inlet when we came across some ruins on the coast which are over 3,600 years old. We had planned a beach clean but the weather had other ideas for us, the rain was now so heavy we were at risk of drowning with every breath. We checked out a couple of boxes that Noel and his team leave next to the allotted beaches, which include rubbish pickers and bags to put the rubbish, as well as a safe place to store the rubbish you have collected. We made our way back to Quercus where we warmed up, dried off and waited for the storm to pass.
Whilst the skies brightened significantly, and the rain became a little less harsh we both decided to brave it once again in the quest for food. We had been told about a little place in the town that produces some of the freshest and most delicious foods not only in the town, but in the whole of Scotland. This had to be tested out, so we ented the Seafood Shack, which is exactly what it sounds like.
A stylish little wooden hut, complete with tables and chairs under large umbrellas, which today were more than needed. We ordered the cullen skink soup, which was to die for. It was like tasting little drops of angel's tears but at a very high temperature. Next on our list was the scallops laying on a bed of salad and beetroot couscous. Whilst Greg (not a seafood lover and nothing to really compare to) enjoyed the taste, Charlie, the relative seafood expert, made the bold statement of, "The best scallops I have ever tasted". And in true gourmet style, washed down with the taste of Scotland itself: Irn Bru.
We then spent the evening back at Quercus working away on our laptops, and enjoying the company from Janis and her family. We then had passed to us the details of a fisherman in one of the local towns who would meet with us and provide an opportunity to experience day to day 'real-life' for people on Scotland's west coast. This, for us, is exactly what we love when we travel: we want to meet people, learn the local way of life, do things the locals do and become an accepted member of the community, even if it is only for a few days. It helps us learn and grow as people, and we love it. He wanted to show us how Scottish fishing takes place, tell his story and explain how the industry works - from source to sauce.
For legal purposes, we will call him Benny, as we have since found out that technically he shouldn't have taken us out on the boat.
We met with Benny that evening and agreed to meet him at just gone 0500hrs the following morning. Benny was a stoic man of few words, and the way he watched us as he said "Five o'clock" felt like our mettle was being assessed. We agreed, and that was that. We headed back to our laptops, with fish and chips in hand.
Thanks to this amazing, unexpected news, we got a few things prepped for tomorrow, tucked ourselves in early(ish), and tried to sleep.
Day 10 - Our Day in the Fishing Industry
With the moon still shining bright above the night sky, we left Quercus and headed for our meet location just along the coast. Again, the location shall remain anonymous as much as the captain, the boat name and the town we sailed from. All else is as it is said. We met with Benny, who at first is a really quiet man, measured in everything he does, with a rugged, weather-beaten face and eyes that tell a thousand stories the mouth cannot.
Having helped load the boat up with bait, a few supplies for the day ahead, and our camera equipment, it was time for a few safety checks. By 6am we were ready to set sail for the rough seas. With barely a word spoken, just a gazing look and a nod of the head between Benny and ourselves, we launched.
Within minutes, we were greeted by dolphins surfing the bow, performing some of their greatest tricks before leaving them and the safety of the land behind.
A short distance later we came to the first of the creels (fishing pots) that Benny had put out over the course of his previous days at sea. We were both intrigued as to what would come up in the catch, even more so following our trip with Noel last week when he explained the different creatures that lived in the Scottish seas, and the effects that changes in pollution and climate was having on the levels of sea life.
It is safe to say fishing wasn't something either of us was knowledgeable about. Greg had a few trips and a lot of offshore fishing under his belt, whereas Charlie had caught his first ever fish only last week. We were in for a surprise.
Up came the first of a line of 40-50 creel pots, and there really wasn't much to show. There was the odd crab, the odd squat lobster (known as 'spineys'), but that was about it. Up came the next pot, and the next and the next, almost all with no prawn or anything worth keeping. This got us thinking: is this climate change, pollution or unstainable levels of fishing? Whilst Benny was obviously not impressed with the catch, he kept smiling and started to open up to us, answering questions we were throwing at him.
It turns out there was no exact answer as to why the catch was poor. Benny, whilst a solo fisherman running things from the side of the boat, was clearly at a disadvantage to the larger boats (especially the dredgers), he couldn't blame them and their techniques. In fact, under further questioning, he defended them and their ways of working, providing a good argument as to why they are not as bad as people say. If anyone had a reason to hate them as they fished around his pots it would be Benny. This raised more questions than answers.
Why would a solo fisherman, working in frankly dangerous circumstances, losing fish, crab, and prawn to these large boats, stand up for them? There must be more at play, and it turns out Benny had at an answer for that too: legislation. Some methods had too much legislation, whilst others had very little. And even then it came down to what was enforced and what wasn't.
The creel pots were re-baited, thrown back and put into position, and we moved on to the next line. Whilst still a relatively poor catch, there was a marked improvement. Things only got better from there, it appeared every line from there on improved. The only issue was so were the waves, and before long there wasn't a dry spot on the boat, apart from the one-man cabin. Twelve lines in total were hauled, all with 40-50 creel pots, and they brought in a vast number of prawns ranging in three sizes, all of which were carefully hand-selected and placed in a certain way within a certain pot.
By 5pm and 11 hours at sea, Benny was more than happy with his catch, and we dropped the last line back to the seabed and meandered back. We were now bouncing around the waves, dipping bow first off one crest before climbing back up over the following.
As we headed home, all that was left to do was to hold on and keep an eye out for any whales or dolphins, so this seemed the perfect time to question Benny further. What were his thoughts of the rest of the fishing industry, tourism and the North Coast 500, and the dreaded swear word: Brexit?
Whilst some of the Brexit chat is unpublishable, he raised certain issues with us regarding tourism in Scotland, the 500 and mainly the fishing industry. We have spoken to a number of people directly affected by tourism in Scotland, and a lot of this is fuelled by the 500 itself. We'll tie all that together at the end of part three. For now, we will chat about the fishing industry as a whole.
It appeared that whilst Benny put in the early hours and hard graft, in dangerous circumstances in all weathers, he only received £13 for a kilo of prawns. What struck us was that £13 was nothing compared to the figures you or I would pay at a fancy restaurant, where you would easily pay £13 for a prawn no bigger than your big toe. Someone somewhere was making an awful lot of money for not a lot of work, and it appeared to be the middle man: the company that transports it from the sea walls and harbours to the restaurants.
Despite the unfairness, this didn't concern Benny. What did concern him were the laws and regulations on selling the catch. Nearly 100% of his catch had to be transported out of the UK, mainly to large European capitals and major cities, with the odd box making its way to London. He wasn't allowed to just sell his catch to local restaurants and hotels, which seemed beyond ridiculous.
There's a supply and demand problem right there, which would cut the transportation from the equation. This means less pollution, fresher foods and a better price for all involved: fisherman, restaurant and end customers. This law was beyond anything we had heard of. It really is a travesty.
The conversations and stories Benny told were beyond fascinating, and we enjoyed every second of them, not to mention the overall trip. We are eternally grateful for the invite and to be given an insight into his life, learning about the things that matter to local people and how our travels affect them. We docked back at land and handed over the catch to the 'middle man', but not before bagging a kilo ourselves. We left Benny standing at the side of his boat, ending the trip as we had started, with a gaze and a now well-earned nod of acceptance.
We caught back up with Noel and Janice back at Quercus, who once again had gone above and beyond with yet another delicious meal. Tonight we had a lot to celebrate: not only were we heading back out on the road tomorrow, but Janis had new work aways staying with her. If anyone is interested in working as they travel, and have always dreamt of Scotland, then we cannot urge you enough, contact either Janis or the Workaway site. Not only will you be in the magnificent setting of Quercus, but you'll be surrounded by friendly, fun and kind people, not to mention the beauty of Ullapool itself.
Once the meal and another vast amount of alcohol had coursed through our bodies, we pulled our catch of prawns from their watery location outside, and straight into the pan. Mixed with a few of Janice's homemade sauces, they were even for Greg, who doesn't eat seafood. Fresh and flavoursome beyond belief.
At some silly hour and still swaying from our day at sea, we both headed back to our beds and passed out.
Day 11 - Hitchhikers Guide to the West Coast
It is fair to that day 11 started slowly, and with a slight wobble that we will of course blame on the 12 hours at sea, and nothing to do the copious amounts of alcohol. Without sounding too much like deja vu from part 1, we lapped up the shower in Quercus, not knowing when the next would arrive. We said our sad goodbyes and, for the last time on this trip pulled out of the most magical of places, with Polly the dog running after us.
We decided instead of heading south and carrying on with the NC500, we would head back north and check out a few places we missed on the way from Handa Island, thanks to the urgent need of a birthday drink and the million midges which hampered out trip south only a few days back. I will say the midges in Ullapool were still a constant bother, but the numbers didn't seem to match what we had previously encountered.
We had made it to the edge of Ullapool when we saw two young girls on the side of the road, large rucksacks by their feet and a single thumb waving through the air. We hit the brakes, pulled in and let them clamber up in.
We found out a little about the girls, Emilie and Maguelone, both from France. They were epically funny, and they instantly lit the van up with their laughter, stories and enthusiasm for travel. The only brief they gave us was 'north', and they wanted to see how far north they could get by a certain date, starting back in London a week or so prior. We ran through a quick plan of our day, which included climbs, views, waterfalls, pies, and beaches, all of which they were more than happy with, and immediately it appeared we had friends for the day.
The now-four of us headed north up the NC500 for a short distance before pulling in to a local beauty spot called Knockan Crag. Still getting to know about each other, we hopped out and followed the path up the side of the hill to the very top, passing a number of interesting factual sculptures and designs along the way.
We stopped to take in the breathtaking vista, and this is where the two of us started to form different opinions of Scotland. Greg reckons the views were becoming very 'samey', and, without sounding too ungrateful, a bit "Okay, what else have you got to offer?". Charlie, meanwhile, was still enchanted by the constant flow of lochs, mountains and rivers carving up and down the coastline.
It was a welcome distraction to have two crazy guests with us as we messed about taking funny photos at the summit, but after a short time the wind dropped and that meant only one thing: the midges were coming. We made our hasty descent back to the car park and piled into the van.
We made a further 20 minutes progress north to one of the stops we attempted on our way south, and that was Loch Assynt and Ardvreck Castle. This stunning ruin, whilst too popular for its own good, was something we had wanted to see, and had expected more of in Scotland. The old crumbling walls showed a past that was almost forgotten. Ardvreck is perched upon a small hill in the middle of a tranquil loch and still had a grand stature despite being half-fallen and slowly being reclaimed by nature.
Again our young guests gave us life, and we ended up running around the castle taking horrendous photos our ourselves messing about, and do you know what? It was fun. We loved it!
We then found a little spot away from the midges and relaxed, just taking in the surroundings and taking time to just sit and think. After a while, our stomachs started making a few noises as if to say, "Oi oi, when we eating fellas?".
It was now time for another of Janis and Noel's recommendations, and, like true pros, we told the girls of a pie so good that heaven itself couldn't handle it, and thus they remain with us mere mortals in Scotlands green land. We made our way off the NC500, diverting west to a little town called Lochinver, and more specifically a shop called the Lochinver Larder.
Having both tasted good pies, we were expecting little mouthfuls of pure perfection and nothing else would do. We had been told to order the venison and cranberry, which probably wouldn't have been the first choice, but hey, it was a recommendation, and we weren't going to miss out.
We did the sensible thing and bought two each, and made our way 5 minutes up the road to a beach called Achmelvich Bay. We quickly abandoned the van in the carpark and ran across a small field in the hope of eating the pies whilst they were still hot. We entered the small dunes, and the beach soon jumped out on us. And my god, this beach was beautiful. This was how as a child you would draw a beach, golden-white sands, made of the finest small crystals being lazily beaten back by the 'blue-ass water' that you would normally find gracing the likes of Lake Mckenzie in Australia.
Suddenly, for one moment all the stars aligned, everything was perfect, and Scotland was hitting every point it needed to. This moment is something again we will sum up at the end of part 3, but for now, all you need to know is this moment, with a little more warmth in the breeze, could challenge the likes of Greece, Italy, and many of the world's other stunning holiday destinations.
The pies were amongst, if not the, best pies we had ever had: packed full of goodness, flavour, and texture we really don't think can be beaten. They were so good we have already sent people who were heading up to the NC500 and here. Everyone so far has said they're bloody amazing.
It wasn't just the pies though, it was the location, our travel companions, the sense of being and calmness. It was just perfect in every way. It was one of those moments neither of us wanted to end.
There was no way this day could get better, could it?
Well yes, actually it did.
We noticed the time and still had places to be and things to see prior to darkness falling on another epic day. We left the carpark at around 6pm, and we couldn't have gone more than 5 minutes down the road when a view came into sight which made us pull over and jump up on a rock. We had the travel tunes on, the vibe was set, and we'll let this video do the talking.
That's right, 30-40 seals just happened to be swimming below. We must have sat there for a good 45 minutes, it was a tad emotional if we are honest, and was one of those perfect paradise moments you hear about, but rarely get to experience. We moved on, with feet up on the dashboard (apart from Greg, who needed his to drive), tunes on, and the sun still blazing high in the sky. It took us 25 minutes to get to our next and last destination of the day, parking up at a beach next to Clashnessie Falls.
Clashnessie Falls was only a short walk off the main road, but still spectacular, and uncrowded. In fact, we were the only ones there. You have to cross the river created by the fall itself, before scaling the left-hand edge of the river, which is beyond boggy, and slightly slippy. If you do brave this short but hazardous walk, you will be met with a spectacular waterfall, which you could, (I mean, we didn't, but could've) take a shower under. It's bloody powerful and spray is immense. We really enjoyed the falls, and would recommend it to anyone who will listen.
There was now only one way today was ending due to the time and location. We were miles from anywhere, next to a beach, so we did the only sensible thing, and that was setting up camp in our parking spot next to the beach, whilst the girls set up their tent on the dunes. We cooked the four of us dinner, and predictably the midges came back with both vengeance and numbers. There was only one way to win this battle, and that meant a fire. We were joined by a Swiss fella, and two guys from northern England, and we got a fire going. The smoke worked its magic, and the clearest of skies led to a remarkable view of the galaxy above. It was an amazing night - stories were being told around a campfire and laughter filled the air long into the night.
It is fair to say this day will be remembered by both of us until we take our last breath. It had everything.
Days like this where every single star aligning are rare, so you have to make the most of them. Take the time to sit and reflect at where you are and what you're doing in life. It's profoundly serene.
What better way to wrap up part two of our Scotland trip, or any trip for that matter? I mean how often do you really sit around a campfire watching shooting stars with new and old friends, having experienced all we had today. Paradise.
For our final chapter on the North Coast 500 follow our PART THREE, where our Far Out trilogy ends, amid abandoned buildings and getting pissed on islands.