Over Moor and Meadow in the Highlands

I was driving alone north out of Lairg in the Scottish Highlands, thankful it was daylight and the sun was shining. At 1 p.m., I still had time to grab a late lunch (if I was lucky enough to find someplace that served food in this remote landscape), get to my destination and return to the cottage my husband, Don, and I had rented.

At night or in a typical howling Highlands storm, I would have been terrified on this lonely one-lane road about 30 miles from the north coast of Scotland. But in bright sunshine the exquisite tapestry of textures and colors was eye candy. This is Britain’s answer to Big Sky country.

In the distance clouds framed dark shadows of craggy mountains on the west coast. The nearby landscape was gold, purple and brown, thick with peat bogs, grasses and heather that parted gurgling streams, staining their rocky paths a rusty orange. Small blue lakes appeared now and then, and trees, when they appeared at all, were in clusters. The effect was of a huge expanse that never ended, an exhilarating and wildly beautiful space that left me feeling as if I were one of the last people on Earth.

The Highlands, one of Europe’s last great wildernesses, covers the northern part of Scotland, an area of about 20,000 square miles, roughly two-thirds the size of Maine. Don and I had hoped to visit the northern Highlands years earlier on a loosely planned trip, but an early snow in late August spooked us, and we turned west to the coast instead.

For this trip, hoping to experience the wilderness without sacrificing comfort, I leafed through a book of rental cottages I had picked up in an Edinburgh bookstore on a previous visit. The Gatehouse at Strathkyle Lodge sounded appealing--it was far away from cities and set in beautiful scenery. I phoned the owners, Gus and Tricia Head, to see if the place was still open, and after a lengthy conversation I booked a week in September. My plan was to see as much as possible on Scotland’s far northeastern coast, particularly the ruins left by the country’s Bronze Age inhabitants from about 100 BC. This coast doesn’t have the rugged landscapes and steep coves that the west coast does, but it is beautiful in a gentler way, with approachable beaches and sandy coves.

Several days before my drive, my husband and I had taken the train from Edinburgh to Inverness, the capital of the Highlands, where we picked up a rental car. Behind the railroad station was a large supermarket. We loaded up the car with enough groceries for a week.

The two-hour drive from Inverness to Ardgay was easy, taking us to an impressive viewpoint overlooking Dornoch Firth, a long inlet from the North Sea, past farm fields, moors and the 19th century Carbisdale Castle (now a youth hostel), and finally through winding, wooded hills overlooking the Kyle of Sutherland, a river-like body of water that narrows from Dornoch Firth.

The cottage was about 10 miles west of Ardgay (pronounced ard-GUY), a village with two small markets, a cafe, post office and gas station. Our home for the week was the reconstructed gatehouse of Strathkyle Lodge, a Victorian hunting lodge built by the Earl of Elgin in the 19th century. The estate comprises more than 4,000 acres, 200 of them wooded. Our hosts lived in the lodge; large but not pretentious, it was built of white-painted stone with black trim.

Rooms in the front of the lodge looked across a beautiful private lake, Strathkyle Loch, toward the mountains of the west coast, with forest on either side. Pine martens, wildcats, otters, deer and many bird species inhabit the forest. This is superb walking and hiking country.

Our cottage, built of native stone, had been restored to a miniature replica of a typical rustic Highlands hunting lodge. To one side of a center hall was a cozy winter sitting room with comfortable furniture and a fireplace; behind it was the kitchen. Across the hall was a paneled dining room, a summer sitting room, a half bath and, at the rear, a utility/mudroom with a washer, dryer and the only shower. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a bath with a large tub to soak in.

On our first night, Saturday, we scraped together a simple dinner with the groceries we had brought with us. But on our second day we decided to try dinner at one of the two nearby hunting lodges that our hosts had recommended. Gus warned us that the lodges required reservations at least 24 hours in advance. But we ignored his warning and took a chance on getting a table for that night. It was lunchtime, and we decided on a dry run during daylight.

We arrived first at the Achness Hotel, in a little community of scattered houses. After ringing the desk bell, we were greeted by a teenage girl, who, with a great deal of gravity, informed us that “dinner would be out of the question.”

So we backtracked to the Oykel Bridge Hotel, located on a lonely road that leads to the west coast. When we asked about lunch, they set up a typical but delicious Scottish buffet of Scotch eggs, various salads, cold cuts, breads, cheeses, liver pate and desserts. When we asked if we could come back for dinner that night we were politely told that they required 24 hours’ notice. Back to the cottage we went for scrambled eggs, ham and salad.

Later we learned the policy is not as arbitrary as it seems. Because the hotels plan meals and provisions carefully for their weekly guests, they couldn’t accommodate drop-ins. Also, because it was September and the end of hunting season, the hotels were about to close for the winter and were winding down their services. We made reservations at the Oykel Bridge for the next night by phone.

The next day we explored the quiet town of Dornoch. The venerable 13th century Dornoch Cathedral, built of yellow sandstone and looking like a castle, dominates its center. The town bookstore, around the corner from the Tourist Information Center, had helpful owners and a great selection of books on the area. But the town’s main claim to fame is the Royal Dornoch Golf Links on Dornoch Firth.

Just outside Dornoch is Skibo Castle, which achieved its most recent fame as the site of Madonna’s wedding, although it has a more notable history. Originally the home of a distinguished Scots family, it was purchased by Andrew Carnegie, the American steel tycoon, in 1898. An impoverished 13-year-old when he left his native Scotland, he returned as one of the wealthiest men of his generation. He spent a fortune rebuilding the castle and used it as a retreat. It has been converted into a genteel and pricey hotel, private club and golf course. It is not visible from the road, but it is worth a detour just to see the luxurious public rooms on the ground floor.

While Skibo Castle exudes the gentility of an English gentlemen’s club, Dunrobin Castle, still a private residence of the descendants of the dukes of Sutherland, has the opulence of the Victorian age. It is the largest house in the northern Highlands and one of Britain’s oldest continuously inhabited homes.

The Sutherlands at one time were among the largest landowners in Western Europe and played a part in the infamous “Highland Clearances” of the early 19th century, forcing peasants off the land to make way for sheep. Thousands of crofters emigrated or perished.

Only 10% of the castle is open to the public, but the views of the North Sea from some of the rooms make it worth a visit. It looks like something torn from the pages of an old children’s storybook, with its round turrets, conical spires and gray granite exterior. Although it has 13th century origins, it was rebuilt in the 19th century to replicate a French chateau. With its fairy-tale appearance and its formal Italianate gardens that march to the sea, Dunrobin seems out of place in this wild country.

At the Oykel Bridge Hotel that night, we were surprised to discover that, in spite of the hotel’s casual air and rustic furnishings, guests dressed for dinner, which was served promptly after the 8:10 p.m. gong. Men wore sport coats or suits, and women wore anything from long skirts to cocktail dresses. We overheard affable conversations around us, mostly about fishing.

Fishing is taken very seriously here in Scotland. In the reception hall I leafed through a leather-bound ledger in which fishermen recorded their catch of the day, listing the date, type of fish, weight and where it was caught.

As we waited in the lounge for drinks to be served, I chuckled to hear one man with a very English accent order a martini “with just a teardrop of vermouth, if you please!”

The weekly guests sat at the tables apparently assigned to them for the duration of their stay, while we were seated at a rather inconspicuous table beside the kitchen door. For two people who had been dining on scrambled eggs, the table and the buffet meal--of lentil soup, deep-fried prawns, roast beef, potatoes, green beans, carrots, rolls and three desserts in addition to fruit and cheeses--were more than satisfactory.

I had set aside the next day to hunt for ruins. Since Don is not a sightseer, he stayed at the cottage and took walks on the days I went exploring by car. I had become intrigued with prehistoric ruins, known as brochs and cairns, after reading about them in guidebooks and seeing a BBC film. In certain regions, primarily in remote areas of western Scotland, the ruins are the only evidence of human occupation during the Bronze Age.

The Ferrycroft Countryside Centre outside Lairg, about a 45-minute drive from the cottage, had an archeological walking trail on Ord Hill that led to several cairns. Some were 5,000 years old, but only one--at the top of the hill--was still standing. As I reached the crest and the cairn came into view, a Highlands wind hit me in the face and gave me a taste of the rugged weather here.

The cairn, which resembled a massive pile of rocks, looked no worse for wear. About 6 feet high and 50 feet in diameter, it had an entryway to underground chambers that was visible, although collapsed inside. The chambers were used to bury the dead, the brochure said, but some experts believe they may also have been used for ceremonies.

My walk took longer than I had expected, and I turned back, putting off my visit to another relic for another day.

Thursday I drove north, 30 miles past Lairg on a one-lane road, with only the company of the BBC, which was talking about bird life in the Orkney Islands and the history of barbed wire. In the meantime I enjoyed the spectacular scenery, since speed was not an option on the narrow, winding blacktop. I had seen no cars in my rearview mirror. Only a handful had passed me going in the opposite direction, a maneuver that involved either me or the other car pulling off into a signed “passing place” to allow the other to proceed.

According to my detailed British Ordnance Survey map, a road turned left outside the village of Altnaharra, and Dun Dornadilla broch was about 10 miles farther. Just before Altnaharra, which was hardly a town, I spotted a white frame building with “Altnaharra Hotel” on the front in large letters.

There were a few cars in the parking lot, but when I entered the hotel, not a soul was in sight. In the bar I found a bell on the counter and jangled it. A smiling young woman bustled in from the kitchen, wiping her hands.

“Can I get some lunch?” I inquired with trepidation, remembering the reception at the other hotels when we showed up unplanned.

I could, but there were no choices--only celery soup and a dinner roll, but it was enough to sustain me for my trip to the broch.

After another 30 minutes’ drive, Dun Dornadilla broch appeared beside the road overlooking the picturesque Strathmore River Valley. Ben Hope, at 3,000 feet one of the country’s highest mountains, loomed to the north. Part of the broch’s tower was still standing, but much of it has been destroyed over the ages. A large plaque described its purpose and history. Brochs, built by people of the Bronze Age, are above-ground, circular stacked stone structures 30 to 40 feet in diameter and about 30 feet high, with hollow walls 15 feet thick and a turf or thatched roof. The outer walls were built with an inward slant, so they resemble the cooling towers of an atomic generator. Archeologists are not sure of their purpose, but brochs may have served as short-term defenses during intertribal battles. Dun Dornadilla was impressive, a sentinel in the wilderness, and while it lacked the visual impact of a castle, to my mind it was more amazing, given its age.

Consulting the map again, I saw the northern coast was only another 12 or so miles up the road. But if I went that far I would feel compelled to continue exploring, and I just didn’t have the time. I had to head back to the cottage because our host had invited us for a drink at 7 p.m. I turned back, more confident on my return trip now that I knew I faced nothing more formidable than wandering sheep.

I made it back in time to enjoy a glass of wine just as darkness started to close in on the view of the loch outside the lodge’s drawing room window. As I stood there watching the colors of the sunset, I realized that anywhere you go in the Highlands is a feast. A feast for the eyes.

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Guidebook: Scotland’s High Road

Getting there: Aer Lingus, KLM, United, Lufthansa, Air New Zealand, Virgin Atlantic and British Airways have connecting service (change of planes) from LAX to Edinburgh. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $863 until June 17, when prices increase to $1,091.

A first-class BritRail seat from Edinburgh to Inverness costs $64; (877) 677-1066, fax (877) 477-1066, www.britrail.com.

Telephones: To call the numbers below from the U.S., dial 011 (the international dialing code), 44 (country code for Britain), 154, the area code, and the local number.

Where to stay: We booked our cottage through Gus and Tricia Head, owners of Strathkyle Lodge, Ardgay, Sutherland, Scotland IV24 3DP; 942-1203, strathkyle@aol.com. The cottage, which can sleep four, costs $800 for one week.

Where to eat: Oykel Bridge Hotel, Rosehall, Lairg, Sutherland, Scotland IV27 4HE, caters to anglers fishing the Oykel River; 944-1218, fax 944-1384. Buffet dinner about $35 per person. Hotel has a rod room and tackle shop where anglers can buy licenses and get advice.

Achness Hotel, Rosehall, Lairg, Sutherland, Scotland IV27 4BD; 944-1239, fax 944-1324. Buffet dinner about $33 per person.

For more information: British Tourist Authority, 551 Fifth Ave., Suite 701, New York, NY 10176; (800) GO-2-BRITAIN (462-2748), www.travelbritain.org.

Scottish Tourist Board, 23 Ravelston Terrace, Edinburgh, Scotland EH4 3TP; 131-332-2433, www.visitscotland.com.

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Nancy Baird is a freelance writer who lives on Camano Island, Wash.