Eight Days of the Highland Rover

For a practical guide to my Highland Rover route as well as a guide to scotsrail passes, try here!

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On March 14th, 2024, I arrived at Queen Street Station in Glasgow, tired, sweaty, and holding the biggest coffee I could order, all while wondering why all travel days always seem to start at 6am. I could not have been more ready to get on that train.

Two days later, as I got to the top of the ridge line, it started to snow. Not in thick flurries or in large, wet flakes, but that kind of small, dry sprinkling that makes you think the sky doesn’t really mean it: a sort of welcoming dust. A laugh bubbled up from deep within my core, the little flakes tickling my nose and brushing against my cheeks and lashes, playing little games across my skin.

I havent seen snow since France, and that was the kind of thick, sticky snow that’s good for snowball fights and snowmen. This is mountain snow. I wish I could really explain the difference: mountain snow is lighter and dryer, but the truth is that it’s uniqueness lies in some unknown quality that scientists might never find. For the first time since leaving Canada, alone up in the hills of Glencoe, I felt at home.

The highlands left an imprint on me, of that much I’m sure. Everything has a different name here: mountains are munros, valleys are glens, and lakes are lochs (but so are inlets, and some seas so beware). Everywhere you turn is Jacobite history, ancient hiding spots for stolen livestock, stories of wars and massacres, Catholics and Protestants, Clan Chiefs and Kings. It all makes me feel a bit small, which is exactly how I like it.

However, to get here, to this ridgeline over the secret valley in Glencoe, it was as if I’d combined all the skills I had learned over my last three months of travel. I had to find a bus from Fort William, learn the history, talk to the staff at the visitor’s centre to

find a good tail and get to the trailhead. I had overcome my fear of hitchhiking, enjoyed a lovely conversation with two American ladies, discovered the right to roam and used it to get to the trailhead, a trailhead which turned out to be the wrong trailhead. So finally I ended up on top of this ridgeline, looking down at where I was supposed to be, and totally filled with this complete euphoria that I may be lost, but at least I got myself lost all on my own! This one was allllllll me baby.

(It should be noted that getting lost in the mountains by yourself is not advisable, learn more about hiking safety here)

I did eventually made it down to the hidden valley, and I did make it back out in time to catch my bus. I didn’t make it to the local pub which was a little disappointing but ultimately okay.

I’ve always had a fear of hitchhiking, and knowing all the dangers, I can’t help but think that it’s a rational fear. I certainly haven’t given that fear up, but in places that aren’t on major travel routes, where there is no or limited transit service, where most passers by are locals and tourists, and where a lot of people hitchhike to trailheads, I weigh the risks.

When I travelled Skye, I hitchhiked everywhere! The locals there were so willing to stop, help, and impart their wisdom. I rode with a local entrepreneur in the process of opening his second coffee shop, an old man on his way back from church, a pair of gentlemen travelling from France, two local guys on their way to a job site, and finally an older nomad who spent the vaste majority of the ride mishearing what I was saying and talking excitedly about his ecolodge project. Most of my standout memories from Skye are about the people, people who didn’t owe me anything but still took time out of their day to stop and give me a hand. I couldn’t possibly mention them all.

Skye is known for her incredible scenery and the scenery did not disappoint. I sprinted across the top of the Storr to look down at the Old Man. At the time I think I must have felt how a dog feels when he is finally let out of the car and into a big grassy field. The wind whipped up a frenzy in me that only the perfect blend of oxygen and chill and pride and freedom can create. That might have been what this whole trip was about: the freedom to take it, to do it alone, to leave it relatively unplanned.

I think that freedom is what set me up to do what I did on the second half of my trip. I boarded a train with every intention to only take it a few stops and continue my hiking journey. But I had worn down my feet after so long in my hiking boots, and the moment I sat down by the window, watching the scenery go by, I decided it was time for a change of plan. That’s the beauty of a pass like the highland rover, unlimited train travel in the north means I don’t have to know where I’m going, I can always ride one more stop. So I took that to the extreme and headed all the way up to Thurso, close to John o’Groats, the Scottish mainland’s most northerly point.

I love the north, of any country really. In Scotland, as in Canada, there are less people in the North: less residents, less tourists, less people. And much, much more land. From Thurso, I could see the Orkney islands, the ruins of the castle, the point of John o’Groats, and more gentle, rolling hills than those that had surrounded me on the west coast. I stopped in at a little whisky distillery up there, Wolfburn Distillery, a rekindling of the legacy of an old distillery that had stood just a little further up the creek in the nineteenth century, one that had used the same water source.

“Today’s rain is tomorrows whisky!” My tour guide declared to me. She was very sweet and did an incredible job of communicating the founder’s vision for the distillery. I had also been to Talisker Distillery on the isle of Skye, and though the tour had been excellent it gave one the impression of being on a conveyor belt of visitors. Whereas Wolfburn took clear pride in their process and seemed genuinely excited to welcome you. They were also the only distillery who let me into their store rooms, having correctly assessed that I was not capable of pocketing a cask. Wolfburn Distillery also sets itself apart from other young distilleries by prioritizing the flavour instead of putting ages on their bottles. By dodging the age trap they were able to focus on creating the most harmonious and unique marriages of their casks. They do have one ten year, which is excellent, but I cannot recommend their other whiskies enough.

One of the downfalls to the highland rover is the relatively few days that you have to actually use it. All four of your travel days must be within eight consecutive days. By the time I arrived in Aberdeen I was absolutely exhausted and, because I was meeting a friend in Glasgow the next day, I had less than twenty-four hours in the city which was not enough time to properly explore.

If you do come to Aberdeen, know that it has a surprisingly good culinary scene. I had lunch at The Craftsman Company near the train station, and breakfast the next day at Books and Beans, both of which were excellent and certifiably unique. I would have loved to have made it to The Tippling House and had a whisky flight, but after so much travelling I was ready to drop dead. I did make it to the Maritime Museum which does an excellent job of detailing the city’s history and relationship to the North Sea and the modern oil industry’s role. I caution all visitors to museums with exhibits sponsored by oil giants that these exhibits offer a somewhat skewed perspective on the industry. Still, it’s a vital part of life in the area and deserves a visit.

Had I had another few days in Aberdeen I also would have gone on a tour of the seaside villages of the area and ideally a whisky tour of the famous surrounding Speyside Whisky Region. Aberdeen is often skipped over by tourists in Scotland, but I do think she still has lots to offer.

I did not visit Inverness on my Highland Tour. The friend I met up with in Glasgow was already planning on taking me, but as the unofficial capital of the highlands it’s undeniable charm and the famous Loch Ness makes it a popular stop. I loved the city for her small-town feel. If you are interested in checking out Loch Ness then there are a ton of cruise options and bus tours leaving from Inverness or you could rent a car to visit her banks. I suspect the Cruise offers better value for money, particularly for the solo traveller.

I finished my tour with a long nap on the bus back to Glasgow, a bus ride which mercifully lasted an extra half hour, affording me some much needed sleep. There are some places where you go, have fun, and leave feeling content and satisfied. You came, you saw, you conquered. But I left the highlands with the bone deep knowledge that I was coming back. I

For a practical guide to the places I visited, see my Highland Rover Visitor’s Guide.