First of all. Here is your promised picture of the slug from the last post !

 

A big day. A very Highland day. We haven’t been doing very well with GPS lately. GPS seems to be good for the big picture, but trying to find smaller locations sends us round in circles. I could blame us, but I’d rather blame GPS! We planned on doing a walk, but when GPS ended us at a farm in a field. We decided to go to Plan B. Which was to drive to the next village north and figure something out ourselves. This village was Golspie, on the east coast and we pulled into the little, faded village tourist information board. Looming high over this village was Ben Bhraggia. Also known locally as the Mound. In Western Australia, I’d probably call it a mountain! It was a high rounded hill with a statue on top. So we thought we’d tackle that!  If you like vital statistics it’s 1,302 feet high. But it was probably the toughest climb I have done in a very long time.

Through fir forests on the outskirts, then as it got steeper and higher, and the path much narrower, the trees fell away and the hillsides were covered in low mounds of heath and heather. The climb certainly made our lungs heave and our legs protest! Very exhilerating. And always there seemed to be higher to climb. But we finally made it to the top where the cold wind howled and pushed us around. The huge statue is of the Duke of Sutherland. Notorious for his role in the misery of the Highland Clearances in the early 1800s.

The views around were spectacular. The sea spread out to the horizon, and village crouched down below and looking the other way, the rolling mountains and hills of the Highlands. We vainly tried to find shelter from the persistent wind at the base of the statue and fueled up on water and Jayne’s nuts. Going down was much easier.

Nearby was another walk. Called the Bluebell Wall to Dunrobin Castle. So we set off again. Total contrast to the last walk. Walking through dappled woodlands. With no bluebells because it’s the wrong season.

And then through a break in the green canopy you see the turrets and spires of the castle. Just like a Disney cartoon castle. The castle has a long history but completely renovated in the 1800s and is still used, mainly for tourists and functions. The Castle carpark was full of buses and cars. There was going to be a wedding there too. And a bagpiper was piping the wedding guests into the Castle. But we’re not really “Castle tour” types, and didn’t like the admission fee.

 

So we walked back to the car via the sea path below the Castle, stopping to eat a picnic lunch on the sea wall.

And just as we reached the car, the threatening rain started bucketing down. So with the teeming rain, we needed another change of plans. We had been going to do another walk. Couldn’t find anything in the little tourist book we had that covered the section – “What To See and Do if it’s Pouring with Rain and You don’t Want to Spend a Lot of Money”!

So we decided to keep heading north and drive a couple of hours to John o’ Groats. Traditionally called the First and Last of Scotland. It’s in the north-west. Have I mentioned that John’s car that we’re driving has a few quirks? Turns out that defogging isn’t one of its strengths. So as we drove along, Rosie had to lean over and constantly wipe my side of the windscreen clear so I could see where I was driving. It was raining so hard we couldn’t make out the ocean to the right of us.  Couldn’t see much of the hills and countryside to the right of us either.

But as we drove along, i saw a sign with an arrow saying “Clearance Village”. Referring to the Highland Clearances. That sounded interesting. And i was sure the rain was starting to peter out a bit. So I did a quick turn in, put our coats on, and we ran through the rain. On and on. It was much further in that I anticipated. To find a few heaps of scattered stones and boulders among the knee-high heath. It was where displaced crofters tried to eke out a living on the wind-blasted cliffs by the ocean. The rain, instead of petering, decided to pelt down harder! So we didn’t take any photos. And you’ll have to take our word that we saw them!

By the time we got back to the car we were both drenched. I told Rosie said she was not listen to any more of my suggestions, no matter what! We turned the car heaters on full bore, and away we went again It took us about 2 hours to get to John o’Groats. Not as many tourists there as I expected. The rain had stopped pelting by now, and was just mizzling. Rosie and I huddled under the sign, got another tourist to take our photo, and then went to the cafe for hot chocolate drinks!

 

Because we don’t like tracing our steps if at all possible, we decided to return a different way. We headed west and drove across three/quarters of the “top” of Scotland. The rain stopped, and as we dipped up and down through the hills, we saw stunning views of the ocean on our right. Then we turned south near the town of Tongue and this last part felt like the “real” Highlands to us.

A very narrow road. Only wide enough for one car. So if you did happen to meet an oncoming car, you had to pull right over on to the side of the road. Stunning, soaring high hills. Rounded and smooth, covered with low growth, mainly green, brown and bronze coloured heaths. An occasional farmhouse, a few remote tumbledown, abandoned cottages. Here’s one that was by the road so we explored it.

Very dark and tiny inside with just four little windows to let a bit of light in. Seemed very bleak.

 

The high hills dropped spectacularly to deep valleys or glens with often a little stream or burn running through. There were hardly any sheep either. Those that were around were sometimes near the road. once we stopped to let the sheep cross.  The landscape seemed remote and wild. But a completely different wildness and remoteness from the Australian bush.

We got back to Tain at 8 o’clock. Our trousers had mostly dried out with the car heating. But our shoes were still damp. Nevertheless we headed straight to the Royal Hotel. Next door to our host house because of hunger pains! In the main street, outside the Royal Hotel, the Tain Pipe Highland Band were playing away. They were the full regalia with the Major twirling his big baton too. They were welcoming us back!

We could watch and hear them through the overlooking windows of the Hotel as we ate a fabulous meal. Two girls in their costumes also danced their Highland fling dances to the bagpipes. I can appreciate the skill that it takes to play the bagpipes, but I have to confess that after a couple of melodies, it also starts to sound the same to me! But what a fabulous end to our Highland day. We were both a bit saddle sore when we went to bed that night!

And last thing for the day, I put my wet shoes and wet jacket to dry in front of a kitchen Aga! I’ve never done that before.