Life Lessons from a Scottish Road Trip
Life Lessons from a Scottish Road Trip
Travelling around in a campervan has taught me a lot about myself, especially since being diagnosed with a chronic illness. It's teaching me to enjoy the slower way of living...
As promised, this week I share with you snippets from my diary, of my time travelling around Scotland with my husband in our trusty VW campervan.
You can catch up on lasts weeks article below, which talks about why I choose a campervan as my preferred way to travel these days with a chronic illness.
I’ve been to Scotland a few times now; one trip involved visiting Edinburgh with close friends, another trip we did the North Coast 500 route (NC500), but this time we mainly focused on the Cairngorms National Park, with a few mini stops to Fort William, a spectacular drive through Glencoe and a day trip to the Ilse of Skye.
Here are some snippets from my diary from my autumn trip. Warning though, it is a long post and it may be cut short in your emails, but you should be able to read the whole post in the app or the Substack website!! I hope you enjoy :)
Monday
I always get a little apprehensive before a trip. I worry that my symptoms will flare up and the trip will get ruined in some way. Thankfully Will is very supportive and manages to put my mind at ease. We are trying to go with the flow more and enjoy what we can, no matter what happens.
We pack up the campervan and set off late in the evening to avoid the traffic. The roads are wet and flooded in areas, but it hasn’t dampened our spirits. We put on our road trip playlist and I start to get excited for the week ahead. I love road trips. I love the freedom of them and all the possibilities that an open road lays out in front of you. It feels so refreshing to break the cycle of routine and mundanity of laying in my bed, day after day, due to the illness. Hope starts to stir.
A layer of mist covers the surface of the roads and we start to see more and more sheep in the fields as we drive further North. We arrive at our halfway point at Tebay services near the Lake District. It’s midnight, we’re tired and my joints are starting to stiffen, so we decide to sleep overnight at their campsite nestled in the woods. We set up our bed in the campervan and get cosy for the night. Before I go to sleep, I peek out from the blinds and I see rabbits line the hedgerows, their little noses twitching as they eat, and I hear an owl hoot away in the distance. The leaves gently rustle above our heads and a tree branch creaks in the wind. I love all the comforting sounds of nature around us. My nervous system starts to calm and I slip into a deep and restful sleep, all warm and cosy in my burrow.
Tuesday
We wake up early and make our way North to Scotland. As we reach the border we see people pulling over at the side of the road to take selfies. The Scottish flag big and proud greets us as we both turn to each other and smile. ‘We’ve made it!’.
The landscape is so different to where we have come from in the East of England. I look around in awe and wonderment. Here the scenery is like a beautiful patchwork quilt of different textures and colours. Autumn has well and truly begun and my eyes enjoy taking in all the rich colours. The trees put on a sublime display with leaves taking on a mixture of deep burgundy, burnt orange and bright yellows. When the sun shines upon them, they glow and radiate like embers from a fire. The juicy red rosehips and berries glisten in the hedgerows.
My eyes continue to scan the countryside and I can see tufts of tussocks poking up. The heather has started to turn from a deep purple to brown in places. Belted Galloway cows munch away in the lime green fields.
Craggy hills and mountains start to rise up. The sun casting huge cloud shadows on the rolling landscape. I love it up here. For a moment I feel absolute peace. There is no pain or anxiety in my body. I can finally take a deep breath and relax. The holiday has officially begun...
We make our way into the Cairngorms National Park. The roads become narrower, single track in places, but there are plenty of laybys to soak in all the amazing scenery. Our campervan starts to rev as we drive higher into the mountains, 12% inclines & declines in certain places. Our ears pop with the altitude changes. I spot a herd of deer in the distance and a stag looks up in our direction, he doesn’t take his eyes off us, his antlers point proudly towards the bright blue skies.
We pull over at the Glenshee ski slope resort for a quick stretch and coffee in their café. It’s not busy now, but come wintertime it will be transformed into a snowy paradise, full of adrenaline junkies skiing down the slopes. The air is so cold and fresh up here. I stand and take in the views while filling my lungs with the mountain air. I feel like I can take a full deep breathe here. The air reaches parts of my lungs that it can’t quite touch when I’m back home in my traffic filled town. The mountains in the distance take on a smoky blueish hue and I can see a light dusting of snow on the highest peaks.
After our coffee we continue on our way to a National Trust area, The Linn of Dee, which was apparently a favourite picnic spot of Queen Victoria. I can see why, it’s beautiful and tranquil here. We park up in the carpark and notice a sign which says that campervans can stay the night for a small fee of £10, so we decide to do just that. It’s nestled away in the quiet forest and the air smells vibrant with pine. We can hear the soothing sounds of the River Dee nearby, which will help lull us to sleep later on. But first, we decide to put on our walking boots and take a late afternoon stroll on one of the hikes that follows the River Dee as it makes its way through a rocky gorge.
I worry that I won’t be able to complete the whole hike due to my joints and fatigue. I start to feel a little panicked, but Will reassures me again that we can always turn back if we need to. We take it slow and this actually gives us the time to really soak in all the beautiful scenery. We walk past roaring waterfalls, salmon ladders and see red squirrels scampering in the trees. We walk through carpets of soft moss that bounces underfoot. We have to stop every few minutes to take photos of the mesmerising autumn show that the trees have put on. Everything feels worthy of a photograph. It feels like something out of a fairy tale.
It takes us an hour to complete the hike and my hips are starting to sting as I climb back into the campervan. There are a few other campervans that have joined us in the carpark, but its completely quiet. Everyone is respectful of one another and we all close up our blinds for the night as the sun starts to set. It feels comforting to know there are others like us who seek the peace of the forest. Kindred spirits.
We cook some food and then get tucked up in bed, ready for an early start again tomorrow. I love hearing the gentle roar of the river in the background, and once again the lullaby sounds of nature drift me into a deep sleep.
Wednesday
We rise early and watch the sunshine stream through the pine trees as we sip on our coffees. We pack up and take a short drive to our next destination, the village of Braemar. We briefly stopped here on our last visit to Scotland, but we promised ourselves that we would come back to properly explore it, as I completely fell in love with this cosy place. Everyone is so friendly and makes you feel welcome. You can tell there is a strong community spirit here, which instantly makes me feel relaxed and safe. It has cute shops and cafes, including a chocolate shop, patisserie and even it’s own brewery. It has stunning views of the surrounding mountains. It even has a wishing well next to the bridge that overlooks the River Dee, which runs through the centre of the village.
It has a Braemar castle to explore on the edge of the village, and it also has a Highland games centre. I would love to come back next year when the Highland games are taking place at the start of September, as it looks like such a unique experience. The exhibition room has examples of the traditional outfits they wear with kilts, tartan and sporrans (leather/fur pouches) on display.
Braemar also has the cosiest pub called The Fife Arms, where we spent most of the evening having mouth-watering food by the crackling fire. I would recommend trying the haggis, neeps and tatties! We also booked ourselves onto one of their whisky experiences in Bertie’s Bar. Their website describes the atmosphere perfectly as ‘a labyrinth of whisky bottles, arranged like books on shelves, backlit in a lustrous amber liquid casting a seductive glow across the room’. The staff are incredibly knowledgeable and Will was in his element tasting an array of the whiskies they had hand picked for him.
It’s a good thing we have warm full bellies and a glow from the whisky, because the temperature has dropped tonight. We take a walk back to the Braemar campsite on the edge of town, where we had already set up the campervan earlier in the day. The skies are clear and the light pollution is minimal here, so you can see all the twinkling constellations. We take a moment to let our eyes adjust to the nights sky and take it all in. I can see the stars between the stars here, which I can never see back home. I feel so content in this moment, knowing this is exactly where I want to be right now; looking up at the stars with the love of my life by my side. We wrap up extra warm tonight with hot water bottles and thick socks, and we fall asleep with smiles on our faces. It’s been a perfect day. My body is tired, but I’m happy.
Thursday
It’s a cold morning and there is a coating of frost over everything. The campsite has suddenly transformed into a sparkling winter wonderland overnight. It gives me a taste of what the winter must be like up here in the mountains.
We have breakfast at the Bothy café in the village, which has a great selection of gluten free food and pretty views of the River Dee. This café is great for people watching, as it attracts both the locals and the hikers that pass through. I watch a brave man sit outside in the cold, eating his fry-up. I smile as I notice he’s wearing a kilt. The cold doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.
After breakfast we take a short drive to Balmoral Castle, the Scottish home of the Royal Family. The inside of the castle is closed at this time of year, but the grounds and gardens are still fun to explore. As we stroll through the gardens a cat pokes its head out of a hedge and lets out a loud meow. It rubs itself along our legs and enjoys a stroke under the chin. I wonder where it came from. Perhaps its a royal cat!
Exploring the grounds didn’t take long, so we decide to do the hike to the Prince Albert cairn, which is a memorial erected by Queen Victoria in 1862.
I’m super proud of myself for completing this walk. The paths were steep and bumpy with tree roots. I had to take it slow and perch on numerous rocks to catch my breath along the way. My knees and hips started to sting half way up and there were many moments I thought I couldn’t continue, but other walkers who passed us said the views at the top were worth it, which made me determined to continue.
Going for walks like this may not mean much to other people, but to me they mean everything. Before I got ill I loved to walk in nature. It was a form of meditation to me. It’s what lit up my soul and gave purpose and meaning to my life. Being in nature is one of the few places that I feel truly whole and able to be myself. Mother nature lets you take off your mask. It doesn’t judge and embraces the real you with open arms.
I’ve had to give up so much in the past few years due to my illness; jobs, certain friendships and dreams, but one thing I refuse to let go of is my love of hiking in nature. I don't care how long it may take me now, or how sore it will make me the next day, I have to do it. I refuse to let that part of me go.
I beam a huge smile as we arrive at the summit. We find a couple of rocks to perch on and we spend ages looking out at the scenery, getting lost in time. You can see for miles up here. The sun shines down on us and warms the skin on my face. It’s so peaceful and still. Time stops. My mind stops racing. My anxiety detaches from my chest and floats off into the ether. Moments like these are what I cling onto in the dark times, they keep me going. This is where I heal.
Friday
We sleep in late to recover from the epic walk we did yesterday. My hips and back are a little sore, but not as bad as I thought they would be, which is a nice bonus. We drink coffee in bed and enjoy the slower pace of the morning.
It’s our last day at the Braemar campsite and at midday we set off to continue on our adventures. We have a whisky tour booked at The Glenlivet distillery in Ballindalloch. The distillery is practically in the middle of nowhere, but the Speyside area is perfect for making whisky. The distillery was immaculate but very cosy.
I enjoyed sampling a few of the whiskies at the end. I’m not usually a big drinker, due to the autoimmune disease, but it felt rude not to have a ‘wee dram’!
I learnt that I like whisky that’s been matured in a sherry cask, as it has spicy ‘Christmas’ flavours, with honey and dried fruits, yum. They even gave us a free glass to celebrate their 200 year anniversary which was a nice touch. Will couldn’t drink as he was driving, but they gave us small bottles to take the samples away with us. The Scots take great pride in their whisky and I can see why. It was fun to learn about the history of the area and how they still use locally sourced ingredients.
After the tour, we continued on to our stop for the night which was at the Glen Nevis campsite near Fort William. Fireweeds line the roads, their orange feathery leaves look like flames in the autumn months and burn bright in the evening sun.
We arrive at the campsite as the sun starts to set, but we can still see the outline of the Ben Nevis mountain in the background. If my body was in a better state, I would have wanted to hike some of the mountain the next day. However, I have to listen to my body and know where it’s new limits are. I feel myself starting to get a little upset and let down by my body, but Scotland has a way of snapping you out of your sadness. I hear several loud bellows cutting through the darkness. It’s rutting season here in Scotland and the red deer stags are filling the air with intense noise and excitement. I can’t help but laugh and wonder how we are going to sleep through all this ruckus.
Saturday
We set off early to the Ilse of Skye. The journey there is breath-taking. We drive on the winding roads up and through the mighty mountains and pass crystal clear lochs. Buzzards soar and ride the air currents above us. I watch waterfalls cascade down the mountain slopes, running under the roads as we drive over stone bridges. I love spotting all the abounded ruins nestled in the hillsides and seeing the smoke rise up from the chimneys of the cosy cottages. I daydream about who lives in these houses in the middle of nowhere and I imagine living in such delicious seclusion.
We drive over Syke bridge and I’m surprised at how busy it is. It feels like such a contrast to the roads we have just been on. Suddenly there are traffic jams and honking car horns, people spilling from the pavements onto the roads. I start to feel my anxiety rise up in my stomach. We stop at the cute town of Portree and take a wander around, but I can feel my heart starting to beat in my chest and my joints feel sore.
I can see the appeal of the place with it’s cute shops and colourful houses, but these days, busy towns are not what my mind and body need. I crave the open wild expanse, deep quiet and stillness. I need time to move slowly, letting my joints warm up at their own pace. I feel I don’t belong in the rushed chaos where others seem to thrive.
We decide we should move on to a few of the nature highlights instead, like the Man of Storr and the Fairy pools. But even there, the carparks are rammed and the paths are full of people. I can feel myself getting frustrated and overwhelmed before we even leave the safety of our campervan. We stop at Lealt Waterfall instead, which is amazing, but I feel rushed and my legs are too stiff and slow to keep up with the pace of everyone else. I want time to be able to daydream and look out at the sea and watch the ravens dance on the wind, but people are pushing past and it jolts me back to reality. It’s such a shame because I can see the beauty of the place. The misty mountains are haunting and atmospheric. It’s unlike anywhere I have ever been before, but I can’t get lost in it in the way I want to. There is too much human movement and noise to allow my mind to ease and fully appreciate it all.
We decide to call it quits and start to make our way back out of Skye. Before I would have beaten myself up about it, but now we are more understanding of my limits. Thankfully Will is also a huge introvert and craves the same quiet that I do. We would rather drive through the mountains and stop in a quiet layby appreciating the views in a contemplative silence, then get tangled up with the other tourists. They scramble to take the ‘Instagram worthy’ photo and I sometimes feel they forget to really appreciate what’s right in front of them with their eyes, not through a lens. One thing this illness is teaching me, is to live in the present moment, and I am grateful for that lesson.
We do manage to see a Highland cow (Coo) though before we leave and I actually got to stroke it’s thick fur which made me deeply happy. But once again, my experience was cut short by a small queue of people waiting beside me to do the same thing. They brush past my arms and I can feel the energy of other people starting to drain my own. I’m looking forward to getting back to the tranquillity of the mountains.
Sunday
Today is our last day in Scotland. My body is starting to get fatigued and sore from travelling, so I know its time to head home, but I can’t help but feel sad that the trip is coming to an end. The thought of going back to the prison of my bed fills me with dread.
We decide to travel back down via Glencoe, as everyone says how absolutely astounding the scenery is around there, and we were not disappointed. There are points where I audibly gasp at its beauty. I tried to take several photos, but it came nowhere close to capturing the dramatic views. Instead I decided to sit back and just enjoy watching it from the window, hoping my memory will do it justice.
I read that the Glencoe mountain range is ‘built from some of the oldest sedimentary and volcanic strata in the world. They were subsequently moulded, sheared and repositioned by a geological event known as a ‘cauldron subsidence’ which took place 380 million years ago’.
I feel small and insignificant amongst these tall mountains, but in the most humble and inspiring way. I look up at the mountains and can see all its veins, with scree and waterfalls coursing through them. Although its made up of rock, its feels like a living breathing entity.
My problems seem to melt away here. These mountains have stood for millions of years and will be here long after I have gone. It makes my perspective shift and that’s what I love about being out in nature. It gives you that much needed kick up the arse. It reminds you to appreciate what you do have right in front of you, and to enjoy the precious moments you have on this planet. I lean over to Will and squeeze his hand in mine. I couldn’t imagine anyone else I’d rather share this moment with.
The indifference of the cows in the field next to us makes me laugh. They don’t care at all about the stunning views which surround them. People travel thousands of miles to view this scenery every year, but all the cows care about is the next bit of grass to chew on. I wonder if they realise how lucky they really are. I guess we all need that reminder sometimes…
The post holiday blues hit me hard this time around. Probably a mixture of hormones and the days becoming shorter. My anxiety and depression reared up and it took me some time to feel like myself again. It felt like such a shock to my system to go from such beauty and connection with Will up in Scotland, to going back to the isolation of my flat, without anyone to talk to when he’s at work.
It showed me how important getting out in nature is for my wellbeing. I’ve made a promise to myself to get out more this winter, even if that means a quick walk around my neighbourhood in the rain and cold. My motto this year has been something is better than nothing, which I will apply to this also.
Bring on the next adventure!
How about you?
Do you get post-holiday blues? Have you been to Scotland? If so, which parts did you enjoy? Do you prefer a city break holiday, or do you lean more towards nature ones? Do you find this preference has changed since becoming ill? Did you enjoy this travel blog? If so, I'm tempted to do more in the future as I find them so fun to write. I would love to know in the comments below.
See you next week! Lots of Love & Hugs.
Amanda x
I lived in Scotland when I was a child, in a tiny hamlet in Perthshire on the edge of Loch Tay. There was a waterfall and folly up the hill and you could see the Northern Lights sometimes. It was magical. Your beautiful description of your travels has inspired me to get back there, ME and decades intervening notwithstanding. I need to breathe that air again and let the beauty feed my soul!
I loved reading about your Scottish Nature adventures, Amanda. I didn't want it to stop, either! It's interesting to read about how you listen to your body but also challenge yourself. It's a constant balancing act, yet you can still do a little more than you thought possible. Thank you for sharing the rugged beauty of Scotland and the cosy firesides in your photos. If you have more, I'd love to see them!
I used to rent a place in Edinburgh. I can't say I lived there since I was mainly with my parents, caring for Dad BUT lots of the places you've described are familiar to me, at least by name! LOVE the 'Coo' ;-)