The Surprise of Smoo: Day 3

Day 3: The West Coast (is the Best Coast in Scotland for driving)

So we wake up wicked early on Day 3 because we're on a mission to drink some fancy-ass gin that I read about which is produced in the FAR north of Scotland at a little spot called Dunnet Bay Distillery. Rock Rose Gin. We get rolling just after sunrise and we're making good time when BAM! there's a waterfall. Right there! At the side of the road!

And then we're driving and THIS is in front of us:

Similar distractions ensue... we drive, we stop, we're running late. And I'm getting a little hangry. So we decide to stop for a bite in Ullapool (UH-luh-pewl). We get some super tasty munchies, wander around the harbor, commit to kicking the drive into high gear. This is supposed to be some tasty gin, y'all. We're committed. Until the Smoo Caves happen.

So here's the thing about driving with my brother. He has the world's smallest bladder. Some of it is heritage (seriously, my family), some of it is diabetes, some of it is his Princeliness. But we're clipping along and he sees a sign for a free public bathroom and we've gotta stop. The NC500 route doesn't have too many of these along the way, either, so I can't fully blame him. We stop, it's blustery and chilly, but there's a cool little path next to the bathrooms and people are traipsing up and down. OK, it's good to stretch the legs - we bite.

Down this little winding staircase is a natural cave system that's open for public tours! There's a fee and we're cheap, so we just look at the outside and read the explanation plaques and plan to head back to the car, but there's also this tidy little pathway that I spot next to the plaques. And it's just so inviting. And Anj seems to have wandered off so what the hell... when in Rome.

Smoo Caves

Tidy Path

 So I'm wandering, hoping my brother doesn't fuss at me when he discovers that I've wandered off (it's not like he's the one who cares about the gin), and I'm gaining altitude and I peek over the edge and who do I see but this little stinker, wandering around barefoot in the North Sea.

That tiny dot in the water? My dingus brother.

So while he's looking at this view...

And I'm the blob at the top!

I'm looking at these...

This is the OBVIOUS time to start singing "you take the high road and I'll take the low road" and even though we'd already been to Loch Lomond and neither of us was planning on dying for a political cause, we were in Scotland, so.

I took so long that he came looking for me. #worthit

Smoo Caves from the pasture

The best part about my meanderings on high was that it's just a farmer's pasture, and the farmer allows people onto their land and just asks you to keep your dog on a leash and... that's it. For a pair of Americans, we kept wondering if there was a catch. I mean, totally blown away by the lack of litigious intent here. It was amazing. We kept talking about what it must be like to grow up as a free ranging kid here, running around sheep pastures with BIG CLIFFS and no one worrying about it except to say "hey, just shut the gate behind you so my sheep don't escape." It was around this time that I decided I wanted to stay in Scotland forever.

The Smoo diversion really kinda squashed our chances of making it to Dunnet Bay Distillery before their tasting shop closed, but the area is also the northernmost point of the UK, so the show had to go on. We made our way to the bar next door to the distillery instead. I was hangry again, TBH, and wanted some tasty, tasty gin, so it was a perfect solution. The only thing was, as we were getting closer to Dunnet Bay, the roads were getting more and more... lame. Tame. Boring. We had finished our west coast driving and started to panic that the roads just weren't going to be the same on the east coast. We only had one more day and we were moping - was the last leg going to be totally anti-climactic?

Our last overnight was in Helmsdale, so we started the trek south. We were worried our best days were behind us, so we did the only logical thing: we went to the pub.

Things I learned: ordering a Guinness in a Scotland doesn't earn you friends. Ordering a Tennent's Lager does. So quickly. I won't tell you how many hours we spent in that pub, my friends, but I will tell you that the evening's program included a guided whisky tasting courtesy of my newest collection of old man friends, closing the bar and learning that doesn't mean everyone goes home - it just means they close the curtains and lock the doors so the cops "don't know" - and hearing dramatic stories about the Highlander Games that are hosted in Helmsdale every year. The scenery may have become less dramatic, but the folks we met more than made up for it.

Between the Smoo Caves and the fine folks at The Tartan Lounge in Helmsdale, the day was maybe our best yet.