Scotland - Day Eleven - Skye to Applecross

Day 11 - easy day today. This travelling round Scotland, self-drive holiday malarkey is so enjoyable and relaxing. Pop across from Skye, following the West coast to Applecross. Spend the day just chilling, reading, maybe a walk. Next minute … today’s instalment is bought to you by our sponsors; “I shouldn’t be alive.”

Disclaimer - It’s not that I’ve lied per se, or even been particularly economic with the truth. Because you don’t know what you don’t know right? And the world wide web thingy, well it’s not always to be believed, is it? And, in my defence, if it had been me driving, I wouldn’t have wanted to be furnished with the bigger picture prior as it would have caused me sleepless nights and anxiety. So, the fact that today we were heading over the Beleach na bà, one of the most notorious roads in Scotland, (the UK/the world) to Applecross - well I’d decided the less fanfare the better. What the Favourite Husband didn’t know couldn’t kill him right? Almost wrong …hindsight is a wondrous thing.

I suppose I’d hoped we could implement our new word Vistacular and make various jokes about being “too young to die” along the way, whilst commenting on how adventurous we were. Then we’d get some pretty amazing photographs for the holiday book. But no. There were no jokes and barely any photographs, due to being too focussed on, I don’t know, not dying maybe.

You know how couples under duress talk about working together, as a team, in times of crisis? How suddenly they realise how telepathically entwined they are. They are dancing a duet, in perfect step together. Like Fred and Ginger. Yes?

We were none of these things.

We were terrified of an early and deeply horrifying death, that is what we were.

We had done all the checks, the weather freezing but the forecast was clear. Heck, I’d even watched YouTube videos. People seemed to be having fun doing this route, yes there might be a fair bit of reversing to give way, of course the sheer drop is alarming, but statistically it doesn’t sound like people fall off the side that often. We could see a light dusting of snow on the top of the mountains, but you know the road doesn’t go to the top. And it would be closed right, if it had snow?

We had left relatively early in an attempt to avoid campervans and too much traffic, but not left as early as planned due to the Favourite Husband sleeping in. Thank goodness. Because had we got to the top any earlier, we would have been in even more trouble than we already were. And we were in trouble. We knew this when we hit snow. And ice. And passed two motorcyclists who had got off to walk up and survey the road ahead. A car coming down (we were just before the hairpins going up) waved us down, just as I happened to notice the Favourite Husband’s hand shaking. And his leg.

“Drop to your lowest gear, we just had to help a car sliding back.”

“Ummm, we don’t have a lowest gear …”

“Oh. Good luck.”

“Will we make it?”

“Maybe.” At that point I was scared.

Boasting the steepest ascent of any road in the UK, there are “only” 2 actual hairpin turns up to the 2,054 feet summit and that first one the wheels slid and lost traction which was suitably terrifying. But somehow, some way, through absolute silence and the power of prayer; we were at the summit, where we stopped and just sat in anguished silence. The Favourite Husband sat staring ahead, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel, his legs still shaking and I brushed away tears. (Top tip, if you do decide to ever do this route, do so on an empty stomach and wear incontinence pads - you’re very welcome.)

A car that had overtaken us at the start, when it all seemed like such a good idea, was there and the chap asked if we were ok. We said yes, but we were scared about going down the other side. He knew the road well and said it was fine, we’d done the hard bit. He was turning campervans back, some listened, some didn’t. Two girls in a significant sized van had made it up the other way to us, from Applecross, and were sat at the summit crying. If it hadn’t been for that chap reassuring us, I think we’d still be there, with the two girls, also crying. My suggestion was we just sit and wait to be rescued. Perhaps a helicopter? Who wouldn’t love a good looking, rugged man winching one to safety? Or a woman. Even Lassie at this point. Just safety would be good.

That said, the Favourite Husband overruled me and said there was no way we could just sit at the top. So once again, what goes up must come down and thankfully coming down was a breeze by comparison. For us anyway. Watching campervans trying to pass each other made me nauseous. I do wonder how those two girls in the van got on. Perhaps they’re still there …

This is not a road for the faint hearted. Nor is this a road for campervans, it is single lane, yes with passing spaces, but also sheer drops.

One day we’ll look back on this and laugh, but not yet. Not today.

The Favourite Husband checked his smart watch data to show his stress levels. He didn’t need to, I could see him shaking. I even began to regret having recently cancelled his life insurance.

We got to Applecross and saw the motorcyclists again. We stopped and had a chat with them. They’d made it, but one had lost his bike three times skidding out from under him.

(Then in the pub tonight, listening to a few people talking about also coming over the pass and talking about “what an awesome drive” it was and “och the views” made me realise; it’s probably us. For those considering the route in Winter, or any time you choose, there is an alternative route to Applecross that avoids any near-death experience.)

Anyway, after two strong coffees, we went to the Applecross Inn for a fantastic lunch to celebrate being alive.

We had a beautiful country walk that included Clachan Church. Clachan is an early monastic site founded by the Irish monk St. Maelrubha dating back to around AD642. Maelrubha is said to be descended from Niall, King of Ireland. It’s considered the second most significant Christian site in Scotland, sadly nothing remains of the monastery. (Iona with its 6th century monastery takes the top spot.) We explored the headstones in the graveyard, including the skull and crossbones one. And then like any good adventurer I tried the door to the church, which opened to the most beautiful, calm and serene space I think I’ve ever been in. As churches go, I’m going to go out on a limb and say; this has to be my favourite. Then it was off for a cup of tea at Applecross House in their walled garden and where we saw the most beautiful deer.

Applecross refers to the peninsula which is actually made up of a number of small villages and hamlets across 30 miles of coastline, but most people seem to reference it as just this small area with the pub, a gas station, some toilets, a park, the church and heritage centre and a craft shop.

After a brief lie down to recover from the day’s trauma, it was time for dinner at the award winning Applecross Inn and several drinks to still the nerves that were still slightly frayed and we can now resolutely conclude, we won’t be doing that again. The drive, not dinner, obviously.

The Favourite Husband did commend me on my weight gain though, he’s fairly sure it helped with the front wheel drive. He’s an arse, but I love him for keeping us alive.

So much so I thanked him for today and for being the calm to my storm and I even let him kiss me.

After dinner he said “so, we almost got blown off a ridge in a hurricane at the lighthouse yesterday, almost slid off a mountain today; just wondering what you’d planned for tomorrow?”