Overlanding Overseas…in Scotland

Words by Lisa Morris

Photos by Jason Spafford

@fourwheelednomad

Etive Road, Glencoe

Time started to slow as we sunk into the Scottish Highlands. Easing our way back into a life on the road after finishing nearly a five-year trip motorcycling the Americas, Etive Road near Glencoe gave us a splendid camping spot for the night. Instead of leaping off my bike saddle-sore, itching to stretch my legs, I emerged fresh after a couple of hundred truck kilometres.

It was then when I made eye contact with a pine marten scurrying up the grassy bank. While Glencoe never failed to disappoint to date, Jason’s dismay was palpable as he missed sighting the rare weasel-like, bushy-tailed little fella. The red deer vied for his attention elsewhere.

Despite the onset of summer, Mother Nature had other plans. Single-digit temperatures by day, gusting winds, and heavy downpours ensued at all hours. Relentless, the elements lashed down on us, but it was an apt combination to put the rooftop tent through its paces. Even the locals agreed that June’s climate was unseasonably rude in the Highlands for the time of year. Thank goodness the rain was akin to water off a duck’s back against our dome sweet dome. 

Occasionally, the conditions gave rise to a lonely quality, the kind of loneliness that howls through you like a desert wind. But in this case, it was more like a Scottish “hooley” – blowing the cobwebs out like no other. At other times, the place only seemed half there because of the descending fog, as if I was walking inside one of Monet’s fuzzy depictions. Especially first thing, the mist’s touch slipped like wet tentacles over my skin and seeped dampness into just about everything. Welcome to Scotland, that’s the Highlands for ya!

Wending into the Scottish Wilderness

Failing to curry favour with Mother Nature, we made like sheep and got the flock out of there. Without delay, we scooted over to a fairytale-woodland near Oban, ‘The Gateway to the Isles.’ Such forested finds are ‘ten a penny’ in Scotland. Sunshine presiding over all else, the order of each day began to take its natural course – to equal if not surpass the previous night’s wild camping spot.

Largely fulfilling our daily objective led us to Applecross, basking on the area’s pristine 6 km (4 mi) sand beach. Accessed by the southerly Bealach pass road and the northerly coast road, there’s no better peninsula to break bread overlooking the waves, gently lapping on the shoreline. The village has a smattering of amenities including a handful of beautifully rustic accommodations, a place to buy aromatic soap, and hand-spun wool. There’s even a Gold Green Tourism award-winning inn, offering real ale and local whiskey, which overlooks the Inner Sound to the isles of Raasay and Skye.

After a less than a fond exchange of farewells with the satiated locals, we ended our way to Achiltibuie. This is not somewhere you’re likely to encounter haphazardly, there are just two ways in; each consists of around 16 - 24 km (10-15-mi) of hilly and twisting single-track roads with short sightlines, so keep your wits at hand. Definitely worth checking out, Achiltibuie is a straggling community over a long, linear village in Ross and Cromarty, overlooking Badentarbet Bay to the west. On the shore, near the Coigach Free Church, lies a water-powered corn mill dating back to the 1800s with views of the Summer Isles that will take your breath away.

Between a nearby white sand beach and us lay a loose, stony bank. It took a moment for Jason to get the nerve required to climb the truck over the rocks onto the soft expanse of white. In the passenger seat, I kept my confidence intact high on a hillside as Jason tested our Hilux’s ability to traverse us over the big loose stuff. It was no big deal for our rig, it was just a day at the beach.

Outer Hebrides

The Outer Hebrides has never left my all-season bucket list. I’d read about this 209 km (130 mi) long series of islands off the mainland’s northwest coast and the edge of the Atlantic is a wildlife wonderland, an archaeologist’s paradise, and a historian’s dream. On Barra, for example, you will witness the world’s only airport where planes land over wild waves on the powder-white sand, meaning the timetable is dictated by the tides. How unique.

My first thought: What is it to be Hebridean? Having chatted non-stop to a family of bilingual Gaelic-speaking locals on the ferry over, it’s a constant conversation about the weather – rain, hail, and shine in a couple of hours is common; it’s knowing every second person who walks down the street, and probably their cousin too; it’s always waving to say ‘thank you’ at passing places, and it’s never leaving your friend’s house hungry. Sound wonderful?

Isle of Lewis

We disembarked the ferry onto our first Hebridean island, Lewis. The sky was a fragile finch-egg blue, clouds made of porcelain. Lo and behold, sea eagles were circling overhead. Sparsely populated, utilitarian, and somewhat ugly houses dotted the roads that wound their thin passage on the isle. Weather-sealed habitation trumps the aesthetics up here. Like a scene on the moon, the landscape is littered with rocks and boulders of all sizes, evidence of the moraine that scraped, gouged, and formed the island under the weight of glaciers millions of years ago. It’s something to behold the first time you set eyes on the place.

Callanish Standing Stones

Dating back to the Neolithic era, the Callanish Standing Stones on Lewis is an impressive stone circle associated with the Clan Morrison – just off the A858. As megalithic complexes go, it consisted of rows of large pieces of Lewisian gneiss arranged in a cross shape. At the cross’ centre, a monolith can be seen and a small chambered cairn. It’s certainly something to see, although, of the limited Hebridean territory we covered, we soon realized there were standing stones all over the place.

Drenched in Good Times

Meandering over to Uig Sands half an hour westwards, we spent the night with newfound acquaintances and avid rock climbers, Arran and Ewan. They may have been old-timers, but the pair of them looked fitter than a butcher’s dog. Inside Arran’s homely campervan, the buzz of conversation clicked and whirred as they kept us toasty and in fine company over a bottle of red. Slàinte Mhath (to your good health), chaps!

Some waterfalls are vast, impenetrable white-water curtains that crash spectacularly to the ground. This particular one we stumbled across the following morning, not so much. Far from planning, I lost my footing and somehow plunged perfectly vertical into one of its deep pools. It was not so much arrogance or stupidity, perhaps gross misjudgment and a lapse of concentration. Without managing to touch the bottom, I plopped straight up to my neck. Ouch.

Curious to fathom how I’d ended up in the drink, Jason’s expression was like a Neanderthal’s: working out the rules of Twister. Soaked to the skin, I hoisted myself out onto the slippery ledge; the sun touched my face and warmed my gooseflesh to a comforting glow. Any cold stayed absent for belly-laughing so hard. Whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye (what’s meant to happen will happen), as the locals say.

North Uist

North Uist to the south is a landscape of fresh and saltwater lochs, miles of sandy beaches, and causeway after causeway. There are cultivated crofts, fanks (sheep-enclosures), and loom-sheds galore. On the west side of the island, the road follows the machair, coastal green grassy plains bordering the sand dunes, and passes the Bairanaid Royal Society for the Prevention of Birds Nature Reserve. Pleasingly, the eastern side devotes itself to a birdlife-pulling water world. A birder’s paradise – Jason’s seventh heaven.

Before venturing to South Uist to explore its tranquil piece of coastline, we went over to Traigh Lingeigh, which provided us with another gratifying expanse of sandy bays, behind which a mass of wildflowers popped in patches of colour.

South Uist

Adjoining its northern counterpart, South Uist bestows crystal clear waters with yet more white sand beaches, small crofting settlements, and heather uplands. Dominated by Beinn Mhor, an impressive hillock by US standards at 741 m (2,431-ft), it’s a guaranteed thigh-burner as it’s the highest peak in the area. Apparently, the 32 km (20 mi) of machair that runs alongside the dunes provide a healthy habitat for an uncommon bird called a corncrake. Corncrake unsighted, we did, however, spy golden eagles, red grouse, and red deer on the mountain slopes. I couldn’t have asked for more.

Isle of Skye

When you’re road-tripping on four wheels, I’d recommend bedding down for the night on the Staffin Boat Slip Road, known as “The Slip” on the Isle of Skye. Quite the spot off the A855, we camped for four nights back to back, which gave us time to meet and greet the locals.

One half of an older couple – whose name we couldn’t understand due to the thick Scottish accent – smiled wistfully at me. It was the kind of smile no one’s capable of before the age of 40, the kind that contains sadness and defiance and amusement all at once. His voice was rich and dry, like port. As he expounded his personal theories about this, that and the other, I warmed to him instantly. Equally as pleasant, his wife was maybe fifty (or 40 and tired; or 60 and grateful). I had no idea, but I liked her, too. Over the next week, we gave Neist Light House, Fairy Glen, and the Fairy Pools near Glen Brittle a brief visit – all worthy of a little time.

I awoke the next day to blue skies and fresh energy. Albeit unfit from having sat in the saddle for years, I needed every last scrap of strength to get our ‘hike on’. Tackling the steep slog up, the Quiraing (pronounced queer-and, with – ang as in fangs with a twang) is a landslip on the eastern face of Meall na Suiramach, the northernmost summit of Skye in the Trotternish area. Its name comes from Old Norse Kví Rand, which means ‘Round Fold’ – my favourite part of Skye, without question.

After an early-bird-catches-the-worm start and keeling forward, sucking in air with my hands on thighs to catch my breath, I just about managed to greet the Old Man of Storr. Pinned 21 km (13 mi) south of the Quiraing, the Old Man is a craggy pinnacle of rock. Something else entirely may spring to mind, but legend has it that the Old Man of Storr gets its name from resembling the face of a wizened old chap – makes sense.

Until we Meet Again, Scotland

‘Heads down, backsides up’ for the best part of a year saw us in an intensive planning period before Scotland. Thankfully, the Highlands and Hebrides made us take heed to things other than the Hilux. I underestimated northern Scotland’s beach beauty. There was no litter, hardly any people, just clean sandy shores. We submerged into our surroundings (sometimes literally), and got lost in the feeling of being far from home. Scotland is a place where solitude overrides loneliness with only the natural beauty of coastal, mountainous, and island geographies for company. It made the perfect travelling companion.

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4x4 Hire in Scotland

If you are travelling from North America to Scotland without going through the process of shipping your rig, there are options available. Hiring a 4x4 in Scotland is a rugged business although it comes with a big choice to embrace the best of the terrain and go where a smaller rental cannot. It's the optimum vehicle to explore the country's dramatic countryside with ease while negotiating all weathers. 

The rental companies listed below will do their utmost to tailor your individual needs with a range of optional extras including Sat Nav, additional driver's insurance, a baby seat, and so forth. They have branches at the airports in Glasgow, Edinburgh, Inverness, and Aberdeen, so you can get your mitts on the keys to your 4x4 as soon as you hit Scottish soil.

Popular 4x4 rental agents in Scotland (+44)

• Europcar (Tel: 0371 384 3406)
• Hertz (Tel: 0843 309 3025)
• Enterprise (Tel: 0131 333 0400)
• Alamo (Tel: 0131 333 0400)
• Arnold Clark (Tel: 0131 357 2180)
• Dollar (Tel: 0131 335 3900)
• Easirent (Tel: 0131 202 1710)
• Sixt (033 333 622 22)

Take note that the range of 4x4's to hire in Scotland is forever changing as the company's rental agents routinely modernize their fleets.

4x4 or SUV Rental in Scotland?

Your road trip's requirements will govern whether you should opt for a 4x4 in Scotland or settle for an SUV. Typically, the range of SUV rentals in Scotland is cheaper than 4x4s with a broader vehicle choice. That said, most come with 2WD and are not as capable as a 4WD. However, they do benefit from additional ground clearance and the raised ride height of a 4x4.