Top of the World

Check fuel gauge, tyre pressure and condition. Stock up with warm clothes even though it is mid July and have a good supply of water, chocolate, oatcakes and crisps. Sensible precautionary preparations for any intended road trip and even more so when the route is through the most sparsely populated area in Europe.

It was a further leg of the journey across the very top of mainland Scotland from Wick on the east coast down to a book-a-bed ahead at the herring port of Ullapool on the shore of Loch Broom. In actual miles not too great a distance but on narrow single track roads with a steady contraflow of local and tourist traffic it was certainly expected to be a long start stop sort of day.

Thurso is a major regional town and supplies were replenished , not so much lashed to the roof rack in true adventurer style as shoved into the glove-box. As with the majority of travelling in the northernmost parts of Scotland there are stretches of excellent wide and smooth red-tarmac'd highways boding well for a decent constant speed. The slip roads onto such routes have large timber braced notice boards acknowledging funding for the scheme from Highlands and Islands, and a blue starred flag expressing recognition of a large regional grant from the European Economic Union. Evidently the funding is restricted because as soon as vehicles attain speeds of 56mph the brand spanking new road suddenly tapers sharply down from up to 4 lanes to little more than a loose gravelled farm track. It is though a bit of a show is being put on for dignataries and official delegations who would be flown into town by helicopter anyway. The landscape beyond Thurso is scattered with crofts and farmsteads and what remains of the now decommisioned Dounreay Nuclear Power Station which by 2033 will have been whittled down to a brownfield site for luminous green rabbits.

As signs of habitation are left behind the course of the road runs inland but closely paralell to the rocky promontories and coves with intermittent but glorious views to the cold bluey green bays and white wave crested breakers. Bettyhill and Tongue are small quaint settlements of stone kirks and cottages and a few shops and facilities. The history of the area is dominated by invasion, conflicts and rampaging by Gaels, Picts and the Vikings with many ruins of fortified houses and small castles. The seaviews disappear on the road across the A'mhoine peninsula a bleak upland moorland area and the group of houses nestled together and called Hope on the far west descent is aptly named and does stand out from the otherwise heavy Norse derived titles of places and landmarks. By now into the journey there is some form of connection with other vehicles in what is a fixed convoy. The only prospect of moving up in the order of traffic is when someone pulls off the road in a gateway, next to a mound of gritting salt or has first dibs on a one car space viewing area for a particularly striking outlook of hills or sea. The convoy travelling west is mostly of UK registered cars, a good proportion with small badges of car hire firms likely to be driven by overseas visitors doing the grand tour in a huge loop with the pick up and drop off points being Glasgow or Edinburgh airports. Main obstacles impeding traffic flow include kamikaze sheep, very photogenic Highland cattle, unrestrained streams and piles of boulders or gravel which have fallen unchallenged from a rocky outcrop above or have washed out of a watercourse. The other main interruption is from what gives the impression of the mass migration of the Germanic tribes going east, probably home, in large gawdily coloured motorhomes. These take up a full width plus part of the passing bay and panic ensues when confronted by a columm of these bike and boat covered monsters from a blind summit. The atmosphere is jovial with waving and a thumbs up in gratitude. As the vehicles cruise past there is usually the grinning face of a small child sticking up through the sunroof.

Durness is the absolute most northerly point of the journey. The road executes a tight sweeping bend after a signpost for the tourist attraction of Smoo Cave before reaching the town. This is a popular destination and there is a community of crafts folk and a Youth Hostel. It is only a further 19 miles to the next change of road but it feels like 190 at snails pace. The remarkable scenery slowly upstages itself and rolling rocky outcrop moors become lower slopes for some sizeable mountains with the switchback road between. The right turn onto another barely 'A' class road is almost overlooked but leads to Scourie and the appearance of palm trees is quite a shock although these are in fact a hardy New Zealand species very much at home and thriving. Through the village the route is again in view of the now Gulf Stream warmed west coast. Badcall Bay, between Upper and Lower Badcall prompts thoughts on trying to find out the reason for the strange and rather self defeating placenames. The next right turn is onto a 'B' class road. The shading in khaki and white on the Ordnance Survey map is a bit ominous being the first such designation on the road trip to date. Even the pioneering pedigree of the Deutsche Dormobilen is intimidated by what lies ahead although the tightly packed arrows signifying a steep course do give some indication to a former Boy Scout.

The hamlets gripping the sides of the minor road have very evocative and romantic names or are very harsh.
Nedd, Drumbeg, Clashnessie, Rienachait and Clachtoll, the latter two being almost french and german in pronunciation. The town of Lochinver, by comparison, appears huge. A genteel place and the second largest fishing port in Scotland. The reason for the journey is now close at hand.

Soon in full view is the distinctive north west buttress of Suilven, a striking, bulbous policemans helmet of a mountain. It would easily serve as a stunt double for The Devils Tower in Wyoming which featured in Speilbergs Close Encounters movie. Even from a rather tame viewing point from the nearest road, for those not wanting a strenuous 9 hour walk and climb to the 731 metre summit, the appearance of Suilven is dramatic and quite haunting. It looms above and dominates the surrounding peaks and bogs and yet from a distant view of its flanking slope and most popular ascent route it appears almost sphinx like in profile. The mountain stays in view for some time but is a major hazard to the road user as the eye and imagination is drawn to and fixated by its image rather than giving due care and attention to navigating the now wider, much busier and well funded main road now frequented by refridgerated fish transporting HGV's and recklessly speeding locals.

The mountain surpassed expectations after a long and draining but fantastically scenic road trip- something to tick off that ever expanding list of 'things to do before the end of the world'.