“Yet often the mountain gives itself most completely when I have no destination, when I reach nowhere in particular, but have gone out merely to be with the mountain as one visits a friend with no intention but to be with him.” Nan Shepherd, The Living Mountain: A Celebration of the Cairngorm Mountains of Scotland
The Scottish Highlands were not my first foray into the mountains of Europe, but the rugged, ancient granite peaks closest to home were the ones I was most excited about. This was a trip – solo – purely for personal pleasure, art for art’s sake. So a place as Romantic, Rugged and Reticent as the Highlands was the perfect fit.
I could’ve hired a car and driven through the mountains myself. Driving on the same side of the road helps. But unpredictable weather and my poor-at-best-navigation skills persuaded me otherwise. So I took that oh so Romantic route, and booked a full day tour. Just perfect for a day of solo exploration in a beautifully serene place: squeezed in a bus full of tourists.
It was an early start, and a short walk up Edinburgh’s grand Royal Mile to the meeting point. So far, the weather was cold but clear. I joined the rapidly growing queue of tourists: Scandinavians, Americans etc. The legends of Loch Ness travel well.
Soon enough, we were all bundled onto the coach and introduced to our guide Graham and our driver Mikey. We were given an introduction to the route, safety instructions and then we were off, trundling rapidly out of the Edinburgh suburbs in a north west direction.
Along the road, the landscape changed smoothly yet quickly from houses and industry to emerald fields and gentle hills. The lambing season was in full swing, the grass full of lambs laying down a short distance from their tired mothers. The grey hills were growing visible, their sleeping backs emerging like a developing polaroid. The fields were sprinkled with yellow dust of the distant gorse bushes.
Graham’s narration was perfect. There was a perfect mix of humour, jokes, local pride and a fantastic delivery of history. As we passed the town of Falkirk we got the briefest of glimpses of the Kelpies, two giant steel horses built to commemorate the Scottish steel industry. They glowed in the sunshine.
Next, we wound our way past Linlithgow Palace, birthplace of Mary Queen of Scots, whose story is both complex, tragic and heroic. Soon, we crossed from the lowlands into the Great Glen, a fault line that marks the start of the highlands. North of here was once connected to the Americas!
Our first stop on the tour was quintessentially Scottish: highland coos! Who can resist these massive fluffy creatures? Holly, Honey and Hamish Dubh were pleasant, hungry hosts, and it was brilliant to get up close to these hardy cows.
Did you know that highland cows were originally black? The iconic gingers became popular thanks to Queen Victoria, who favoured them and encouraged the breeding of the colour.
We could stop and feed them carrots, stroke them and we were treated to a bagpipe performance too. Beyond the cows were the Trossachs National Park and Loch Lomond, one of Scotland’s most picturesque areas.
All too soon, it was time to move on. We continued northward, passing the glens, lochs, rivers and more. Too much scenery to keep track of. There were sheer granite rocks, colourful hills all shades of yellow, brown and green. The highest mountains still had snow on their summits, and all were heavily scarred by the glaciers that once ground their way to the sea. Next stop: Glen Coe.
What can I say about this place that hasn’t been said before? The remains of this supervolcano now comprises three main peaks, known as the Sisters of Glen Coe. And what spectacular sisters they are. They stand like sentinels over the wide, U-shaped valley, their sides full of cracks, rivulets and streams, the summits a deep blue-grey. I could have sat, sketched and painted there all day. But I took as many photos, angles and details as I could, trying to compress a thousand impressions into just a few minutes. The sky was blue, with very few clouds, but the tiniest bit of snow started to fall, making the moments that bit more magical.
Back on the road, we carried on northward up towards Fort William for lunch. A charming little town at the foot of Ben Nevis. A quick stop to the bookshop for some local inspiration was a must!
Next stop was Loch Ness, but we had a fair bit more driving. The weather kept changing: it would rain for a few moments, then stop. The clouds would roll in, threatening storms, and disappear just as quickly. That is the power of the highlands – they control their weather.
En-route, the scenery and nature didn’t disappoint. I caught a few glimpses of seals on a little island, described by our guide Graham as “fat cigars”. There were even some deer.
Rugged, beautiful Loch Ness. When we arrived for our boat trip, it was cloudy, gloomy, with a few shafts of light peeping through the clouds and onto the peat-black lake surface.
I can imagine how forbidding this place is during a storm or shrouded in mist. Even on a calm day like this one, the Loch felt eerie, desolate, though not quite as haunting as the guide books and legends claim. Urquhart Castle sits on the lochside, crumbling onto the shore, its sides sheared off by the wind.
Spring arrives late this far north. The trees were still shrugging off their brown branches, slowly greening as the sun returned energy to their leaves.
After cruising Loch Ness, we bundled back on board the coach just as it started snowing again. Now, it was time to turn south once more.
The route back took us further west, through the Cairngorm mountains made famous by Nan Shepherd’s seminal memoir “The Living Mountain”. These peaks seemed smoother than those further west, like soft mounds, but giants nonetheless. Every mountain in the highlands can be deadly, and some of Graham’s stories of tragic climbs and aviation gone wrong made me shudder.
As we approached the border between highlands and lowlands once more, we stopped for a delicious whisky ice-cream at Pitlochry, then wound our way back into Edinburgh just as the sun set. Graham sensed his weary travellers and treated us all to some traditional songs and some poetry by the beloved Robert Burns.
Relieved to be off the coach after 12 hours, I was buzzing with inspiration. While the tour was not the ideal condition for me to paint and sketch, I took plenty of notes and as soon as I got back to my room, I started. Many of the great artists like Monet might be famous as plein-air painters, but they too would often start outdoors but refine and continue their paintings in the studio. If it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me!
Follow for the next blog where I’ll share some of the paintings and sketchbook pages celebrating the highlands!
Huge thanks to Timberbush Tours for the amazing experience.
For more adventures in Scotland, my sister just spent a week exploring the highlands too! Sadly, we missed each other by barely a week. Read about her adventures here: https://greyfeatherphotographyblog.wordpress.com/2023/04/23/there-and-back-again/
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