The Wild West of Scotland
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“This is ridiculous!”
Though I yelled the words over my shoulder at Matt, he stood no chance at hearing them: the wind had whipped them out of my mouth and away into the mountains before I’d even finished shouting. Turning to face forwards, my ears were once again filled with the sound of the wind and rain pummelling my raincoat hood. Just ahead, my dog Bilbo glanced over his shoulder at me, a less-than-impressed expression plastered to his soaked face.
Half an hour later we tumbled into the car park, cheeks flushed from the weather’s incessant onslaught. Pulling open the side door of the van, I practically threw Bilbo inside before launching myself in behind him. As the door clunked shut behind us, an immediate calm descended. We were safe, back in the secure cocoon of our home on wheels where the storm couldn’t reach us. Peering out through the rain that slashed across the window, I could just make out Matt sitting in his own car, the relief I felt mirrored on his face.
We were in Torridon, in Scotland’s Northwest Highlands, a week into road tripping along part of Scotland’s west coast. Not much had gone to plan: we’d arrived in Scotland as one storm tailed off, just to have another blow in straight after it, and there was a third forecast for our final few days. Despite having to adapt our plans on an almost daily basis, my friend (and photographer) Matt Buckley and I were still having a great time. This was largely due to having the immense comfort of a Volkswagen California 6.1 as our roving basecamp, a warm, dry, spacious home to cook our meals, hang out in, and for Bilbo and I to rest our heads at night.
A week earlier, this exceptionally beautiful van had been dropped off at my flat in Bristol. You won’t catch me talking about vehicles like this very often, but to describe this Cali in any other way would be doing it a disservice. I’d spent an afternoon packing my belongings into it - kit for hiking, paddleboarding, van life - all the while marvelling at its ingenious use of space. There were camping chairs stashed in the tailgate, a camping table artfully stored in the cavity of the sliding side door, even a small wardrobe complete with hanging rail. For someone who is used to living out of a tent and rucksack on adventures, this felt like absolute luxury. Factoring in the kitchen complete with stove and fridge, I was very, very excited to get on the road and put this van through its paces.
Matt and I had only a loose plan for the first few days: explore the coast, finalise plans for the rest of the trip, and find somewhere suitable (and ideally beautiful) to park up for the night. After quickly checking the park4night app, we found a great place to park up right on a beach. After so many hours of driving over the last few days, I was more than ready to slow the pace down, pop the roof up and cook some dinner with an epic view. Later that night, I snuggled up with Bilbo under the duvet. It was mid-September and autumn was definitely setting in this far north in Scotland, but here we were, warm and cosy in our comfy bed. I drifted off to sleep to the sound of the sea gently lapping against the beach and the heavy breathing of a content, sleeping dog.
The next morning we woke to overcast skies, though thankfully no rain. Keen to make the most of this rare dry spell, we drove to the shores of Loch Morar. I hoiked my bike off the rack on the back of the van, got some cycling kit on, and off the three of us went on a short ride to stretch our legs. Bilbo loves being next to a bike and he ran alongside us with ease, barely even glancing at the occasional sheep and squirrels that he would normally consider pelting after.
We timed our return to the vehicles very well: no sooner had we dismounted our bikes than the rain started, so torrential it completely obscured the view we had been enjoying of the mountains on the other side of the loch. Sighing at the inevitability of this weather, we resigned ourselves to an afternoon in the van watching Harry Potter and drinking tea. Not what we had planned, but not a bad alternative.
By early evening the rain had eased so we decided to yomp up a nearby hill to see if we could catch the sunset… Assuming the clouds dispersed enough for us to see it! A brisk wind whipped around us as we made our way up to the highest point, but we were rewarded with expansive views in all directions. We sat atop a mossy outcrop and watched as the sun briefly emerged, casting its rich orange glow over the faroff isles of Rùm and Eigg, before retreating back into the cloud. It was time for us to also retreat back to the van for dinner and the rest of the film.
The following morning we were treated to truly stunning conditions. The early morning sunshine fell gently on the hazy mountains and there was a very welcome crispness to the air. We took our time enjoying our breakfast and coffee, van doors thrown open to the view. This was one of the most joyful aspects of vanlife: this blurring of the line between being inside and outside. We had the comfort of a dry, organised space, kitchen, proper bed, but all it takes is one step and you can be outside surrounded by a spectacular landscape.
Checking the weather forecast, we could see that this beautiful weather was basically the calm before the (next) storm. Not wanting to waste this opportunity, I hauled my paddling kit out of the Cali and got ready to spend the remainder of the day out on the water. Paddleboard pumped up, Bilbo in his buoyancy aid, and bags packed with supplies for lunch, we pushed off from the loch shores.
We spent a glorious and wild day exploring the small archipelago of forested islands in the loch, awed by the scale of the mountains that seemed to rise straight from the water. We ate our dinner on an island before reluctantly starting our paddle back to the van. We’d hoped to camp, but after consulting several forecasts we decided it would not be a pleasant night or paddle the following day. We knew we’d made the right decision as we navigated the strong winds and large swell on our way back. As we repacked the van, we bumped into a Highlands Ranger who confirmed this. He didn’t much fancy having to fish us out of the loch if we had gone ahead…
After a blustery night, we decided to catch a ferry to Skye and then drive further north. This plan lasted as long as it took us to get to the ferry terminal, where we were promptly informed all ferries were cancelled for the next few days due to the weather. Instead, we backtracked towards Fort William and then drove north, heading as far as Torridon. Sat behind the wheel of the California, I barely noticed the ferocious gusts of wind and heavy downpours; it was such a smooth vehicle to drive.
With nothing else on our agenda, we took our time with the drive, pulling over at viewpoints to take in the vistas and even get the awning out so we could sit with a brew. Eventually the weather cleared enough for us to head out for a hike to the impressive cliffs of Torridon’s Triple Buttress. Though it was a mainly dry day, the wind was possibly the most ferocious wind I’ve experienced; reaching the waterfall below the Triple Buttress, we discovered that the wind was so strong it was blowing the water upwards. Seeing a waterfall going in the wrong direction was a first!
We had a quick snack in the meagre shelter of a large boulder before hightailing it back down through the valley to the car park. It seemed like we’d run out of luck now as the heavens finally opened. For the remaining few miles, we contended with heavy rain, strong wind and a rapidly disappearing view. We were very relieved to make it back to the van.
All good things must come to an end, and before we knew it it was time to start the long journey back south to Bristol. While this road trip had undoubtedly been much wetter and windier than we’d hoped, it had still been a fantastic eight days of experiencing beautiful places at a gradual pace. I had found so much joy in the slow mornings, bacon crisping in the pan and coffee brewing on the stove, and the afternoons we’d spent nestled in the back of the van, watching the rain slide down the windows. This California had become a true home to me and Bilbo, one we had created many happy memories in.
For more information about the Volkswagen California 6.1, click here.