We, as a family from England, certainly felt privileged to be in Scotland for the momentous occasion of the Referendum on whether or not the Nation attained Independence from the rest of the British Isles.
The drive up over the current disappointing border, to the soundtrack, as usual of "Over the Sea" by Jesse Rae proceeded a few days of familiarisation with the main issues of debate and we had all watched with interest the ebb and flow of the opinion polls on the seemingly 24/7 coverage in the media.
The outcome always seemed to be in the balance, or as the pundits said, it was too close to call.
The motorway past Gretna and Lockerbie gave no clues to the voting tendencies of the population living along its course but from time to time there was a view across fields to a bright blue and white hoarding in a front garden or on a roof top emblazoned with "YES". It was not until we drove through the massive city sprawl of Glasgow that the first "NO's" were seen and these were untidily grouped on waste land giving the appearance of more of an afterthought than a firm commitment.
On a basic count the "YES" camp were dominant and this was the case well into the Highlands and our destination of Fort William.
There were a few hand made banners with slogans on a patriotic theme, evidence of enthusiastic use of a colour photocopier and the splash of red, white and blue from a rare draped Union Flag.
Once again, there seemed little apparent desire in Scotland remaining as a member of the UK.
We forgot about the main issues as we started our wide range of activities from the base of a large bungalow whose garden sloped steeply down to the west bank of the Caledonian Canal which runs along the Great Glen rift valley from Fort William to Inverness.
Mountain bikes rattled and strained across the miles of forest trails, old railway courses and tow-path. Walking boots slipped and slithered along the mossy paths alongside rampant mountain streams or scrambling up over rocks and heather to get a vantage point towards Ben Nevis and the wooded valleys.
Our party crested the summit of an ancient hill fort and a couple of miles away, simultaneously, dashed down through tree lined walks back to sea level.
Whatever the days pursuits we would all meet up in the late afternoon and enjoy a meal, social time and then relax ahead of the next planned events.
The weather was unseasonably warm reaching 20 degrees plus by mid morning after a clearing sky of low cloud and mist which gave fantastic aspects of the towering Ben Nevis or "Big Ben" as the highest mountain in the country became affectionately known.
It was not however too hot for strenuous efforts on wheels or foot.
After two days we all took a trip to the Atlantic Coast and beach-combed along the dazzling white sands or waded through the crystal clear and almost tropical shallows. Our pockets became stuffed with wave-worn pebbles and trouser turn-ups collected the fine sand which would later find its way into the car and across the floors of the rented house.
There is something magical about turning over in your fingers a scavenged sea shell or a rounded stone especially in the days and weeks after a vacation.
The sea air brought on another drowsy spell amongst our group and 75% of the car occupants on the 40 mile return leg on beautifully sweeping red tarmac roads slept soundly.
Thursday, the day of the Referendum proper was marked by a drive some 4 miles to the nearest shop to collect a newspaper and a further two miles to the town to purchase an authentic Haggis and the ingredients for Tatties and Neaps. It was going to be a long session with the TV coverage from 10.30pm and with the first declarations not expected until 1am but we were determined to mark the historic occasion.
Trying to keep alert was difficult and 66.6% of the politically minded in the room dozed off having to be roused when a small crowd and temporarily vacant podium in a school hall or Civic Centre appeared on the TV.
We called a truce at 3am with only three results declared and all for the "NO" campaign.
Rising early in the darkness at 6am we were just able, through bleary eyes, to witness the final three results with the huge Highland area last of all but with the rejection of independence resounding across our Canal and Glen.
We were both elated and depressed by the outcome before coming to terms with the positivity of the record high turnout of voters which affirmed a strange Unity across the country after a potentially devisive campaign.
Friday, our last full day, was rounded off by an idyllic waterfall and a peak downhill speed of 30mph plus for our walking and riding contingents.
It was a magical week and we said out loud thanks in prayer for the weather and dramatic surroundings.
We were a sad and sorry lot on departing the Highlands but it could have been very different if the weather had been bad. Rather than ride 200km and walk 60km in the week we may have been confined to a succession of daily 1000 piece jigsaw puzzles and not just the two fully completed in our well earned downtime.
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