The Disastrous Detour – The NC500 Pt 4

Day 4 started strangely as Andy and I awoke from slumber to find Rob on a dinner date with a pillow.

He was really enjoying his cold chippy tea from the night before. I dunno about you but cold chips are not at all appealing.

Joel, Andy and I enjoyed another game of Unstable Unicorns as Rob and Brendan drove us on through the Highlands. Our next leg would take us from Laide to Applecross and then on a detour to Skye, and it required us to drive through – yep you’ve guessed it – more moody mountainous terrain on very narrow roads.

Brendan decided he needed a photo of some gushing water.

We all stayed on the van, and took bets on whether he’d fall in. He didn’t. I suppose that’s a good thing – his camera is very expensive.

The scenery remained stunning all the way to Applecross where we alighted for some food.

There were retro cars, a retro ice-cream van and a lot of retro people here. We were definitely the youngest for miles around.

Rob and Brendan bought ice cream and coffee from the van whilst Andy, Joel and I went inside the Applecross Inn.

Inside it was pretty full of tourists. The staff were very friendly and found us a table. WiFi was free, but the landlady asked for a donation to Applecross Community Company which ran the service – a fair deal!

As I was still pretty disappointed with last night’s meal, I thought I’d treat myself to something with taste.

Pigeon breast, salad, crispy bacon and pine nuts for £9. I’d never tried pigeon before so I thought why not. The whole meal was absolutely delicious and I received some very jealous glances from my fellow T.W.A.T.S. Who’d have thought the vermin of the sky would be so tasty? I suppose up here in the Highlands, it’s less likely the pigeons have been raised on a diet of crisps and fag ends.

Full of food it was time for Rob to take on Bealach na Ba – the third highest road in Scotland.

From Applecross at sea level it has the steepest ascent of any road climb in Britain, rising to 626 metres. It was exciting!

We made it to the top with no issues. We were getting good at this road tripping thing.

The summit offered some great views of some Inner Hebrides, including Raasay and Skye. Andy was just so ecstatic.

What goes up must come down and the route down the other side of The Bealach included some very tight hairpin bends.

This is the closest I’ve come to driving through the Alps.

With eyes wide open, Rob spent a lot of time with his foot on the brakes. So much so, he hurt his leg and had to pull over.

Joel jumped in the driving seat and began his own ordeal.

Tough as it was, I’m sure they enjoyed the challenge. We made it through The Bealach without a scratch…

Further on down the road approaching the village of Lochcarron, Joel rounded a blind bend to be met by a huge log lorry coming the other way on the single track road. We had been warned of these vehicles and were yet to see one on the entire trip. Unfortunately, our first meeting was a dangerous one, and Joel had to slam hard on the brakes. Sat around the table, Andy and I were thrown backwards into our seats, whereas Rob opposite us was launched forwards, taking the table with him. It ripped out of the wall and lay on my and Andy’s lap. From the highs of Bealach na Ba, we were now at a low.

In Lochcarron, Rob went to a Spar to buy things to fix the table. I bought some Crispy M&Ms and wondered how much this was going to cost us.

With sombre moods we set the satnav for the detour. Skye isn’t strictly on the NC500, but with its breathtaking scenery so close, Brendan and I convinced the others into a visit. The detour also meant we could visit Eilean Donan Castle, but the weather had decided to match our moods and when we arrived it was chucking it down.

We didn’t stay long.

A few hours later we arrived in Portree and checked into Torvaig campsite.

Brendan and I ran up a hill to enjoy the sunset. Then we returned to the motorhome and fixed the table leg to the table. Unfortunately, the wall mounting was unfixable for us, so the table went in the boot.

We needed a drink.

It was half 10 on a Wednesday night but we headed into Portree town centre with hope in our hearts. First we popped into the Portree Hotel just before last orders, and bought pints and whisky.

Rob went for a wander to find somewhere a little more lively and told us to join him at The Isles Inn. We walked over, and it was exactly what I was looking for; it was packed and a folk music act was playing. What a shame we’d wasted nearly an hour in the Portree Hotel.

Rob decided to head home to bed whilst we all joined in the sing-song. The bloke who was singing decided to hand one microphone to some American lass, and another microphone to Andy Cox, and so began the most beautiful version on ‘The Winner Takes it All’ I’ve ever heard.

Andy ended up singing all the female parts too.

The shit day had a merry ending and we returned to the campsite.

Day 5 and once again the weather was miserable. When Brendan and I visited Skye in April, we were unable to squeeze Mealt Falls into our itinerary – so that was our first point of call today.

As you can see, it’s a river that falls directly into the sea. In the background is Kilt Rock, so named because it looks like a kilt. The metal railing we were leaning against was hollow, and the wind was blowing through it to make a very eerie humming noise.

Another place we missed was the Fairy Glen near Uig, so that became our second destination. Basically, Brendan and I just wanted to see places we’d missed last time.

The gloom persisted as we crossed the island. Around half an hour later we arrived at Fairy Glen. The car park was tiny and pretty full, with only one space available. Rob couldn’t back the van in so he got out. Brendan walked in and oops-a-daisy! Who’d have guessed? Who’d have guessed? For some reason, he did not hear Rob shouting “STOP” as he reversed the motorhome into a car with occupants.

For heavens sake, is that a spot on the bumper? Brendan got out and asked if it was one lump or two.

The blankest of blank looks were shared between Joel, Andy and me.

The car was a hire car and I think the people were from Hong Kong. The motorhome was pretty much unscathed but there was a small white scrape on the car. The complexity of the issue meant we were sat around for a long time, not knowing what to do. What on earth was happening to our amazing holiday?!

Whilst Rob and Brendan were outside with the Hong Kong folk, Joel, Andy and I wrote another song called ‘I Need a Wank’, inspired by Andy’s own personal struggles whilst on holiday with us.

After nearly two hours, I decided it was safe to leave the motorhome. We’d come to the Fairy Glen so I may as well see it. Brendan and Rob soon joined me.

That’s me in the distance, standing atop Castle Ewan – which isn’t a castle but a huge chunk of basalt. It looks like a castle though – hence the nickname. The spirals you can see on the ground have been made my visitors as an offering to the fairies. The action is not encouraged by the locals of Skye.

From Castle Ewan you can get some pretty decent views of the bizarre, otherworldly terrain.

It had been a day of ordeal already, so we headed back to Portree for a pub tea. Brendan refused to drive for his watch had ended for the day. At the Portree Hotel I ordered fish and chips.

But instead they served me whale and chips. Seriously, I don’t think I have ever had a fish so big on my plate.

By this point of the trip, we all wanted to go home. Andy had tried to finally set up Revenge of the Sith on the DVD player only to find the volume was stupidly quiet.

It was a long way back to Inverness, but Rob insisted we visited the Fairy Pools first, as this was apparently the top place he wanted to visit on the entire holiday. We’d had a disturbing time at the Fairy Glen – surely the Fairy Pools would be fine? We took one last detour.

The weather was not inviting when we arrived at the car park, nor was the prospect of a 20 minute walk to the Pools. It’s a shame really, cos on the internet they are stunningly beautiful. We just weren’t feeling it.

Brendan got off to take a photo and our final reason to stay on the van was given to us. The car park was absolutely swarming with midges. It was even worse than Gruinard Beach. Rob hates midges and even he decided enough was enough. So we set to leave…

VID’S TOP TIP: Disaster often comes in threes.

The road exiting the car park ended in a downhill approach to a gate with a cattle grid. The following event was so frantically perilous, that not even I managed to get an incredibly inappropriate photo. So here is a very expensive reconstruction.

Here’s the route out. As we approached it, I even said “oh God that’s tight”. The green line is the line we in our huge campervan should have taken. The red line is the line Rob decided to drive instead.

We were stuck. The front wheels were slipping on the cattle grid, so Rob couldn’t get off the brake. If he slipped forward anymore, he would have ripped the side door off, as it was literally an inch from the metal pole of the gate. The metal pole was immovable – they build them well up here. The rear wheels had no purchase on the wet road. Brendan got out to look and horror dawned on his face. Rob let out an actual roar and started to pray (he is not a religious man).

I had to have a look myself. I exited through Brendan’s passenger door and was immediately bombarded by midges. It was horrendous – like a plague. Rob put the handbrake on and rested his head on the steering wheel. The queue of cars that had formed behind us started to turn around and find another exit. I was kinda annoyed that none of the bastards had offered to help – but how on earth could they?

I seem to remember a Top Gear episode where a handbrake had failed, so one of the trio put a log in front of the back wheels. Whatever it was, it served as inspiration for this moment. I grabbed a load of big rocks from the side of the road and placed them in front of the rear wheels. Meanwhile, Andy was pleading with Brendan to get back in the driver’s seat; Brendan grimly accepted that this was the only option – his time had come.

Andy, Joel and Rob joined me outside in the midgey swarm. They came around to the front of the van, and Rob tripped on a stone and went rolling over and over down the hill. It was like a comedy sketch but nobody was laughing.

With bloody knees, Rob rejoined us at the front of the van. I told Brendan to engage reverse gear and floor the accelerator (I’m sure he was going to do this anyway). On three, he dropped the clutch and we all pushed with whatever strength we had left.

IT. WORKED. As Rimor roared backwards without a scratch, we were all overcome with elation and relief. I then looked back to see Rob stuck in the cattle grid – he had fallen through, absolutely ruining the only pair of jeans he actually owned. Misfortune is not the word.

It was time to get off this island and finish this goddamn road trip.

Brendan and I sat in the front and marvelled at the clouds hugging the mountains. Spectacular. We reminisced of better times in Skye, when we hadn’t brought our friends.

We crossed the Skye Bridge to rejoin the mainland. Our disastrous detour was over. Thank fuck.

Although the day was miserable, I actually laughed a lot writing this blog. I suppose in hindsight, we can laugh at ourselves: a bunch of twats. Here’s us in moving image form.