The North Coast 500

Position: 57°26’54″N 6°35’22″W

The invention of the North Coast 500 (NC500) led to an inundation of tourists in the Scottish Highlands. Tourists in the sense of literally touring with a self-driven vehicle while pausing and snapping photos every 10 minutes along the way. According to locals, the NC500 was first mapped out by some marketing wankers [sic] with the North Highlands Initiative in 2015. Word spread among Europe’s motorcycling and caravanning communities about a new ‘must see/bucket list’ journey with unique landscapes and occasionally challenging roads. In no time accommodations and campsites booked up a year in advance. Hoteliers, rushed off their feet with all the visitors, complained the level of business ‘wasn’t what I signed up for when I bought the place’.

The route starts outside Inverness and makes its way north along the A9 to John O’Groats. From there it turns left towards Durness and eventually down to the Kyle of Lochalsh, where it turns left again and heads back to the start. In the old days travellers along this route might take a week or more. Now, they knock it out in a couple of days, for bragging rights I guess.

Passing

The real fun begins after Thurso, our jumping off point for the Orkneys. The first major attraction is the decommissioned nuclear reactors at Dounreay. Given the world’s high cost of energy, and the rehabilitation of nuclear energy as a source of green power, the Brits may have to rethink their decision to shutter the site instead of reinvesting.

Just up the road we pulled into the comfortable Bettyhill Hotel. Our room overlooked the ocean and a beautiful white sand beach, its colours shifting towards auburn in the fading light of evening. Meanwhile, the rising tide quietly washed over the silvery sandbars with cool, azure seawater.

The following morning, after a hearty breakfast, we learned it is here the road narrows to one lane with pull-outs every 200 yards, or so. Whenever conditions allow, the pull-outs alternate sides of the road and it’s reasonably clear who should pull over and let the oncoming car pass. Yet, the concept escapes many. And most people have no idea how wide their car is. Nor do they look far enough ahead that they can time their pull-out without either coming to a full stop or backing up. One time in 50 you meet another driver with their mental lights on and passing takes place as smoothly as a do-si-do at a barn dance. It is a thing of beauty when it happens.

Verges

The western highlands rise up and the road carves a twisted path alongside the lochs and inlets and then up the face of the bare moorland rises. Needing only a shoulder’s width of road, strings of motorcycles weave around lumbering converted vans and cars pulling swaying caravans. Sheep periodically come to the roadside to graze and glance at you insouciantly. At times the sight lines range for miles and you have no trouble seeing traffic ahead. At others, trees close in on the single track and the road winds tortuously enough that you never know what’s around the next corner. With Mitsy’s 4×4 wheel drive I felt confident that if we slipped off the gravel into the verge we’d extract ourselves without trouble.

Waitering

This year, post-Covid and post-Brexit, bookings increased as expected, yet the usual slew of young holiday workers from the EU failed to materialize. The complexities of securing work permits and the generally hostile signals towards foreign workers sent out by the UK government means that locals are busier than ever. Everywhere we went we saw signs for wait-staff, cooks, and other seasonal workers. Despite heartfelt apologies, service is as slow as you’d expect given the circumstances.

The best advice we got was on Skye at the cosy Tir Alainn hotel. Our host Ron looked at us with great seriousness and said, “If you want to eat out, go early or you may not get in.” Eating early suits our goofy schedule just fine. We only gloated a bit when we heard people being turned away from the deliciousness of the Hebridean Inn 30 minutes after we sat down to eat. That the staff were all of 18, inexperienced and eager to please, was both a throwback to 45 years ago when I was waiting tables in Scotland, and a sign of the difficult hiring times.

Skye

The Isle of Skye is tethered to the mainland by a bridge these days. Despite that, and the hordes of tourists the bridge enables, it retains a strong sense of individualism. The main city of Portree sits quietly above a fine natural harbour that you can look out on while enjoying some damn fine coffee from the Birch Café. From there you head north past the waterfalls and towering mountains to the ruins of Duntulm Castle, itself overlooking a snug anchorage (mental notes taken). As you approach the ruins large signs warn you of imminent collapse and mortal danger. But, you’re still allowed access to the remaining ramparts and can look into the vaulted dungeon, so 🤷‍♀️ (shrug emoji)?

DUNVEGAN

Around the corner and across the broad isthmus towards Skye’s western reaches sits the rather more intact, yet still splendidly dilapidated Dunvegan Castle: the ancestral seat of the oddly non-redundant Macleod of Macleod, the chief of Clan MacLeod. The castle stands above Loch Dunvegan and is about as picturesque from a distance as any gothic poet could wish for. Up close things are a little weary. Mock battlements were added in the 1840s, and I suspect the pebble-dash stucco skim coat was added around the same time. Cracks in the stucco and a couple of boarded windows call out for a more thorough renovation. The building is an accessible size. It is the type of place your typical billionaire could have refurbished with a few days interest gains. I wondered if a Kickstarter or Go Fund Me program might not fill in the gaps.

Aleta Red

Returning to our bed a breakfast, the afternoon’s sunlight had broken through the morning’s clouds and the full glory of Glamag and Marsco mountains revealed themselves. Looking north over Inner Sound towards Loch Carron the calm waters looked inviting and benign. Aleta would look good anchored out there with her splash of red against the deep green sward framed by the reflected light of golden hour. We’ll post photos when that happens.

Photos