We set off on our road trip north early one bright Saturday morning, heading up the M6 whizzing past the Lake District and beyond. We were Scotland bound, the Highlands to be precise, a place I had last visited thirty six years ago.
The journey took us beyond Glasgow, past Loch Lomond and onwards, upwards past the place where my dad had lived when I was four years old. He was a mechanic by trade, a plant fitter. He worked for a large company who were working on some power cables going from the mainland to Skye. He lived in a caravan without central heating by Loch Quoich, sometimes it got so cold the toilet froze, once it even exploded. His commute to work would take him along the A87 past the Five Sisters and what a magnificent drive it was. The road was flanked by towering green mountains standing majestic in the driving rain and bursts of sunshine.
My mum told me about when my dad drove us to Kinloch Horn. They found themselves in a wooded area and then surrounded by wild horses. My mum got out of the car and a man came along to shoo them away, apparently the land was part of Sean Connery’s estate.
We couldn’t help but stop off to take in the stunning surroundings, vaste swathes of land without houses, roads and people.
We were heading further north than Eilean Donan castle, where scenes from Highlander were filmed, up to Lochcarron. Two winding miles outside of this little fishing village was our home for the week, a beautiful little cottage set by the side of the Loch called Tigh Ali. A cosy place to rest before we continued on our adventure.