We drove up to Scotland with ten days of freedom, no concrete plans and enough tinned soup to keep an army going for a week, and we came back (reluctantly) with twinkly eyes and tartan hearts.

The drive up from the New Forest was uneventful and went unusually quickly, for a seven-hour journey. We stayed in a layby on a quiet road about half an hour into Scotland and woke early the next day to drive to the West Highlands, stopping briefly on the bank of Loch Lomond to admire the mountains and the vast, choppy blackness of the water. Our planning had been as comprehensive as “let’s go to Glencoe and see where we end up”.

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Glencoe

As we approached the Highlands, hills turned into mountains and foresty, swampy, heathy wilderness crept up all around us. The horizon grew higher until rugged slopes towered over the smooth road, which snaked around the valley floor as if frightened of treading on the toes of the giants. We had reached wild country, where hulking masses of great grey rock reign over dramatic glens carpeted by reddish-purplish-brown heather and the kind of yellow-green grass that thrives on harsh weather, poor soil and general hardship. My favourite place.

No words could do justice to the drama and excitement of the route that is flanked by the impossibly mountain-shaped Buachaille Etive Mor, the towering Three Sisters, and the strikingly insignificant whitewashed Lagangarbh hut, which looks imminently susceptible to being devoured by its barren backdrop. Despite having visited a couple of times before (the very reason I insisted on returning), I gawped all the way to the visitor centre at the far end of the glen.

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Here we learnt about the history of Scottish mountaineering, mountain rescue, avalanches and the infamous 1692 massacre of Glencoe, in which the McDonald clan were murdered by the same soldiers that they’d housed and fed for two weeks. The centre is newly refurbished and really interesting, and the big relief map shows how Glencoe is just one part of an immense landscape.

We drove back the way we’d come and parked by a waterfall just up the road from the Three Sisters to take in the scenery. I was keen for a decent hike but Ryan wanted a bit of a rest as we wanted to climb the following day, so after a few photos we drove back towards the visitor centre. We parked off the road and did a short, waymarked trail through a fairytale-like forest of towering pines and lush broadleaf trees that took us to Signal Rock, a big mound purportedly used by the McDonald clan as a beacon. I squinted through the trees in an unsuccessful search for a pine marten, and after a bit more gawping at the wild glen we drove through its western “entrance” to Glencoe village.

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The village is a funny, quirky little place with a small shop, a couple of cafes, a museum and a village hall. We parked on what I suppose is the high street and paid £3 each to visit the folk museum, a heather-thatched old croft cottage with some really interesting displays of Highland weaponry, clothing, toys, trinkets and tools. The bulk of the exhibits were in the two big rooms that made up the entire building, and a couple of outbuildings housed some other interesting bits.

On the way back to the van we stopped at a Himalayan market held in the unlikely location of Glencoe village hall, which was a deluge of colour and exotic ornaments, jewellery and clothing. Then, after a brief search – it’s not signposted – we found the impressive Glencoe massacre memorial monument.

Having decided that we’d climb Ben Nevis the next day due to a one-day window of clear weather, we drove half an hour north and camped in a quiet, pretty spot just outside Fort William. We had a humble dinner of pasta and spam in a tomato sauce and planned our route up the mountain’s North face, which would be a scramble/rock climb up the famous Tower Ridge. I look forward to writing about that…

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Endnote: having researched mountaineering in Glencoe, Buachaille Etive Mor in particular has moved right to the top of my list of mountains to climb. We’d have liked to have done it this time but decided that Ben Nevis via Tower Ridge took precedence, so rather than travel back on ourselves (we wanted to head further north) we’ve firmly resolved to return at our earliest convenience…