The four-week road trip that took us around the coast of Scotland is now over. We set off at the start of one heatwave and returned at the end of another. In between, we experienced a variety of weather conditions, which we expected and for which we were prepared. And variety is the key word also for our other experiences, which is what makes a road trip so special. Getting away from home is, in itself, a chance to break from habitual comforts and atrophied notions of how to live your life: visiting many different places makes the most of that opportunity.
Leaving the
Highlands, we travelled down the east coast to Dornoch for a two-night stopover
with a couple of friends who have a house there. We were duly reacquainted with
the pleasures of social dining around a proper table and sleeping in a large,
comfortable bed – neither of which we had missed, until then. Having left
behind the ragged, sparsely populated north and its train of adventurous
European tourists, we had come to a genteel, wealthy enclave, where numerous Americans,
attracted by the world-class golf course, ambled around the town’s other attractions.
I didn’t set eyes on the golf course (of course) but did accompany our hosts on
a fishing-cum-picnic expedition to a nearby loch, where we met – among others –
an enthusiastic fisherman from Pittsburgh, USA. That was the closest I got to
sport before it was time to move on, this time to the rich farmlands of Fife,
further south.
We stayed at
the intriguingly named Pillars of Hercules, an organic farm with a shop, café
and camping fields. This is a business committed to existing in harmony with
nature and reaping its abundance without harming the source. There was no
shortage of appreciative customers, attracted by the ethos and delighted by the
charm of the surroundings. Considering it was established in 1983, it seems a
living can be made without ‘scaling up’ or ‘franchising’ the concept.
From the
site, it was a short drive to Dundee, where the Victoria & Albert Museum
opened its doors in 2019. The building itself is worth a visit, if only for its
unique architecture and imposing presence on the waterfront (characteristics also
evident in Santander’s Botin Centre), but its contents are equally impressive –
as you would expect from one of the world’s top museums. The establishment of
the museum was part of the city’s drive to reinvigorate its economy and, if
what I read is true, the results are beginning to show. Technology in the form
of video game development is a front-runner in the industries that are now
replacing the staples upon which the city’s wealth was built, historically characterised
as jute, jam and journalism.
A day’s
drive south took us to Worcestershire, where we stayed overnight adjacent to
the improbably named Droitwich Spa Marina. Yes, it was, until 1950, a spa town
and yes, there is a marina, though it is for the inland canal system and
harbours hundreds of residential longboats. Nevertheless, the surrounding land
is lush and, at its heart, there is the National Trust property, Hanbury hall.
We went for a look around and found they were celebrating the 350th
anniversary of the birth of the artist, Sir James Thornhill, whose murals adorn
Chatsworth, Greenwich Royal Hospital, St. Paul’s dome and, of course, Hanbury,
where they look remarkably fresh for their age.
On the final
leg home, I began to sense the return to normal routines as a sort of prick to
the conscience. Had all this gallivanting around the country, revelling in difference
and delighting in small discoveries been no more than a distraction from the
serious business of living my own life? Was it a sort of dereliction of duty? But
then, it wasn’t long after I unpacked my bag that I was consulting the diary to
plan the next expedition.