Over the Hill and Far Away

Applecross Pass

 Portree, Isle of Skye

The 9th Fairway

It was time to say goodbye to the Isle of Skye – maybe I should just become a poet – and make the long drive up to Ullapool, a tiny fishing village on the upper reaches of Northwest Scotland. It was more of the single-track roller-coaster for most of the way. We had at least one stop to make - two people we met in Glencoe told us that Applecross was one of the most beautiful places on the west coast of Scotland, so we figured we’d have to check it out on our way north.

It turns out that everyone is afraid of Applecross. Our B&B host, people in town, everyone. You’re going where? Applecross? Have fun with those roads, mate. It was never anything that was said – it was always the looks and reactions to the word Applecross. So as we set out, here we were thinking we were headed to Scotland’s version of the Bolivian Death Road.

As we got closer and closer we saw fewer and fewer people, but the vistas were astounding as always. Big rolling green mountains rising straight out of glassy lochs, with the odd white house or two dotting the edges were a constant traveling companion. We did pass a golf course at one point, and JP and I looked at each other and said why not. We could probably use the practice anyway. It was a 9-hole course on the shores of a giant loch. As we pulled up two Scottish guys were just getting ready as well. We dropped our 15 quid in the box (clubhouse was closed – all honesty policy here at this highland golf course) and teed it up with these two Scottish guys, Rodrick and Gary. The next 9 holes were one continuous trash talk experience, Scottish style. Two guys who really didn’t care how well they did, as long as they beat the other on each hole. And they didn’t stop with each other – they were sure to let JP and I get an earful. The course itself is probably the Scottish equivalent of a municipal course back home, with astro-turf tee-boxes and everything. Except the views from these holes made it deserve the cover of Golf Magazine (the last pic above is the view down the 9^th hole fairway).

Rodrick and Gary were no different about Applecross. They severely questioned our sanity (or seemed to), but we pressed on. We did find out from Rodrick, who has climbed every Munroe in Scotland (a week ago there were 510 of them, but one got demoted, so now there are 509 – they are any mountain above 914.2m), that Applecross is the highest pass in Scotland – somewhere around 2000m. They also were quick to mention that there is a very sharp turn in the road. It was at about this point that JP and I realized that any drive farther than 10 miles is a serious expedition for any person in the Highlands. Granted, our B&B lady grew up across the street from where she is now and her parents now live next door, so for her any drive farther than the stop sign probably calls for a packed lunch.

Applecross wound up being no worse (it was, in fact, not as bad) than the drive over Guanella Pass in CO. We had great views of the entire valley on both sides. It kind of felt like the Continental Divide in a way, with rivers running down both sides. The rest of the drive to Ullapool took us through towns with a population of 17 (that still had town names and signs) on some of the remotest spits of land I could imagine a town to be. I figured that you could do just about anything out here and no one would know. Or care, for that matter. The views out the front doors of these homes though, wow.

We made it to Ullapool, a giant, bustling supermetropolis – relatively speaking – sitting on the shores of the Atlantic. It’s a great little town with all of the main buildings lined up along the waterfront. Our inn was no exception. Check-in was at the bar (Arch Inn primary function = pub). The walls are full of pictures of the local soccer team, dating back several decades. The size of the town really sinks in when the age range in the photos is about 25 years.

Today we went for some ‘hill-walking’ at the recommendation of the guy running the local outdoors store. He said it would be a great hike – that he does it all the time – but the last bit has no trail. We should have picked up on that. The last section was 100% bog.  But it was ultimately worth it, as he said it would be – we had a 360-degree view of the area. Not quite the level of the Old Man of Stor, but we’ll cope.

We capped off the day with a little MNF – that does mean Monday Night Football, but not in that sense that it would mean watching the Eagles destroy anyone they play. It was Man U. v. Tottenham, and after a while I got the feeling that everyone in the pub was rooting against Man U. The complete silence after Man U went up 3-0 kind of explained that one. But it was great to see the local crowd and watch a little footy local style.

We’re off to Edinburgh in the morning to meet the other two Americans at the airport – let the trash talking begin. Especially now that we’ve picked up the local flavor.