by On the edge of Loch Ness, I’m waiting aside for a bus I’m not sure if I believe it. I mean, I don’t know if I believe it will appear – in time, or even at all. Because, well, this feels like a slightly unlikely spot to hop on local public transport. But that is exactly what I hope to do.
I am here in the Gaeltacht of Scotland sans car, having arrived from London by several trains, and having decided to tour this wonderful corner of Britain without hiring wheels.
Yes, maybe it is madness. All conventional wisdom says you need a car to explore these parts. There’s even a road trip up here famous enough to have a name: the North Coast 500. Scotland’s answer to America’s Route 66.
But after a year of driving and flying, the carbon guilt set in. Also, I’m curious: will a greener itinerary be possible here? Or will my whole week be spent on the sidelines like this, waiting for buses that don’t exist?
A woman I met when I arrived in Inverness was unequivocal. “The buses are terrible here,” she said matter-of-factly when I told her my plan. “They don’t come up.”
At first, it was proven wrong. With my husband, nine-year-old son and seven-year-old daughter in tow, I managed to get to Loch Ness Clansman Harbor from Inverness on the 919, in time to board the Jacobite Cruises catamaran. From the deck, we took in the stunning views and gazed at the incredible depth of the world-renowned lake – the largest lake in the UK by volume. We stopped at the ruins of historic Urquhart Castle, and headed back to the boat seats when the weather got a little too Scottish.
So yes, we made it out here. But now, at our bus stop by the lake, I am thinking how easy it will be to continue our journey, and whether we can be marooned here until nightfall. There is not so much as a sign to mark the stop.
Then there it is: the surprisingly reliable 919 rounding the corner and stopping to take us to Drumnadrochid, four and a half miles south, along a road that skirts the lake.
If you are looking for the monster, this is the place to come. You might not see Nessie herself, but you will find Loch Ness Centre, an entertaining and imaginative family-friendly venue in what was once the Drumnadrochid Hotel. As you progress through a series of atmospherically lit rooms, you will learn through immersive storytelling how the legend was born, and how it became successful.
By the time we board the 919 back to Inverness, I’ve decided I believe in this bus, if not the monster.
Getting to the UK’s most northerly city wasn’t that simple. There had been a very destructive storm on the railways on the weekend we started our journey, and our chances looked bleak. But even though departure programs were a sea of cancellations, we managed our first leg without too much trouble, zipping across flooded English fields to reach Edinburgh on a crowded but slightly delayed train.
To avoid a full day of travel with restless children, we broke up the trip to the Highlands at the majestic Balmoral Hotel, which looms over Edinburgh Waverley: a perfect location for our pitstop. With views of Edinburgh Castle from our suite, we had stepped straight into a luxurious fairytale.
Designed at the beginning of the 20th century as a railway hotel, the Balmoral is very classic elegance: high ceilings, wide staircases, its own whiskey bar with more than 500 varieties to choose from. (Given our aged company, we refreshed ourselves in the hotel’s gleaming spa pool instead.)
The next day, the trains were against us. Our 10.33am to Inverness was cancelled. I sighed, then suggested: “Perth?” If we didn’t mind spending an hour there, we could connect to Inverness later.
By early afternoon, we were squeezing onto a two-car train from Perth, with twice as many passengers as there were seats. He did not go on for half an hour as he waited for more rolling stock. My Highlands public transport odyssey was not looking promising.
The delay was quickly forgotten, however, when we finally wandered through Mount Rugby. There was heather on the side of the mountain here and a clump of pine trees there, and silver-white streams slithering through the panorama under a pale blue sky.
“Look!” I begged the children. “It’s unbelievable.” “Yeah,” they mumbled, looking up briefly from their iPads.
They meant more when it came to finding a pool at our spa hotel in Inverness, Kingsmills, a pleasant 20-minute drive from the city centre. The main hotel building dates back to the 1700s, but our rooms were comfortable and modern, and we ate heartily in the hotel’s lively lounge. (Haggis, neeps and tatties were inevitably involved.)
After our foray from here to Loch Ness, I have Ullapool in my sights. The buses have other ideas.
We have been unusually diligent, checking different sources: Google Maps, the online timetable, a text message to the bus stop. They all said the 61 would stop near Kingsmills at 1.20pm on our day of departure. So we spend a pleasant morning exploring the beautiful Inverness Museum and, as a treat for the kids, Young’s Auld Sweet Shop. Then we will faithfully return to our bus. But, for unknown reasons, he is never seen.
Luckily, all is not lost. A coach for Ullapool is (hopefully) leaving the bus station at 3.55pm. So we try to get back to town with our luggage, kill time in the cavernous Leakey’s Bookshop (an old Gaelic church filled with second-hand volumes), eat macaroni and cheese pies by the River Ness (why not macaroni and cheese anywhere else) . pie?), then finally board our transport.
I assumed that avoiding car rental companies would not only be green but also cost effective. A return coach ticket to Ullapool is £98 for the four of us. Is that cheap? It doesn’t feel like it after a day of waiting, but after arriving at Ullapuil Pier, it strikes me as the best way we can spend that sum.
Most of the 80 minute ride was simply amazing. Now, Ullapul itself is like a dreamscape, mountains rising from the edge of Lough Braoin, the colors changing dramatically every few minutes, as the late afternoon sun sets across the horizon. The air is cool and pure and I never want to leave.
We treat ourselves to a fine dinner at the elegant Plás Céilí, a few minutes’ walk from the pier. Everything, in fact, is a few minutes’ walk from the pier in this picturesque fishing town: the sweet little local museum; the award-winning outdoor Seafood Gate; and the West Coast Delicatessen. A miniature foodie quest set in Highlands scenery that surpasses almost anything you’ll find on these islands, Ullapul has my heart.
The pain of leaving two days later is softened by my intended end: a trip back to London aboard the Caledonian Sleeper.
We take it from Aberdeen, although it also runs from Inverness: we’ve come this far, we might as well leave in one other corner of Scotland.
As soon as we step on board, I feel a childlike excitement rise in my chest.
“I’m glad you did this for us!” I keep telling my train-mad son that I’m growing up. “The best night of my life,” he cried.
In our two en-suite club rooms nearby, we have everything we need: bunk beds, sink, toilet, shower – and a feeling of love. I keep the blinds open all night, so that we can see where we are as we wander south through the darkness. As much fun as the day trains were, there is definitely no better way to travel overland than this.
A car, I think, is superfluous. We’ve done it without one: a “road trip” without driving. If you are willing to accept the timetables and surrender yourself to its mystery, there are other ways to see the Scottish Highlands. Don’t bother right away all the way.
Basics
Rosa Silverman and her family were guests at The Balmoral and Kingsmills Hotel, and on board the Caledonian Sleeper. LNER runs trains from London King’s Cross to Edinburgh.
