Last week we drove further north in the country of Scotland than we ever have before. Past Ullapool and all the way up to Clashnessie Bay. The bay is a little further north than the sleepy village of Lochinver.
We drove miles and miles on tiny roads without seeing any other cars. It was eerily quiet and I loved every minute.
Most of the walks we did were under glorious blue skies.
And we had them all to ourselves.
We walked under the constantly low light, as it seems that the sun has started to hang out on one far corner of the world.
The autumn light makes long shadows no matter what time of day it is and the mountains are only ever sunlit on one side.
But everything is bathed golden.
And you know we chased that golden light all week long.
We climbed a mountain that looks like a shark’s fin.
And ones that are all connected to each other.
We played on beaches.
And on castle ruins.
We hiked above a beach at sunset with thermoses of hot cocoa, tea and a tin of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.
And we said it was the most beautiful sight we’d ever seen.
Until the sun came up and made pink pillows above our heads the next morning.
And then we waited for the sky to turn blue and hiked above the house where we stayed to view the bay from up high.
And it was newly beautiful. (The house in the far right of the above photo is where we stayed!)
We were told that the Northwest Highlands was wild and wonderful and that we would fall in love with the lochs and glens and mountains.
People in Scotland speak about the West Coast with reverence and sweet sentimental sighs.
Every time we go to a place like this, one that is not covered in any of our guidebooks about Scotland, I feel like we have been let in on a little Scottish secret.
One that is spreading in my heart and growing as wide as the night sky over this bay on a clear night.
I see the Milky Way sweeping through space and two families with heads bent back and arms pointing up. Deep breaths of cold night air.
Then we all go in the house and play a round of games before falling asleep.
Tired legs and full hearts = The best kind of holiday.