There’s a party atmosphere around the lighthouse at Chanonry Point, near Inverness, Britain’s best place to see dolphins from land. It’s an hour past low tide and there are pipers, picnickers and children running barefoot across the long evening sands. Already in late spring, the sun seems to be barely setting in the Highlands. Walking along one side of the headland from the bus stop near Fortrose Cathedral (bus 26/26A from Inverness), the moss-covered pebbles glisten. Dolphins are not visible. But somehow it’s okay; The first of many reasons to return. It’s still light out as we walk along the beach to catch a 9pm bus, past wild lupines and views of Fort George and pink clouds over the Moray Firth. I’m in Inverness at the start of a week exploring Scotland’s wild north coast by train and bus.
The North Coast 500 is a victim of its own success. Designed in 2015 in the style of America’s Route 66, this 516-mile circular road trip around Northern Scotland draws thousands of motorists and caravans each year onto narrow roads with bottleneck crossings. Locals complain that the route’s popularity has driven up house prices and speak of it as a pre- and post-NC500. A few cyclists cover all or part of the route by bicycle. I explore some of it by public transport and on foot. It takes some planning. I’m used to the slight disappointment of missing the bus every hour; missing a weekly one is another matter. But first there’s an epic rail journey to enjoy.
The Far North Line passes coasts, woodlands, moors and mountains on its four-hour journey from Inverness to Thurso (advance tickets £16 one-way, scotrail.co.uk). One end of the Cromarty Firth, one of the three great estuaries, is full of reeds, waterfowl and rabbits among the tall grasses. The far end is full of disused oil rigs in the North Sea that were towed here when not needed. Against the vast blue of the Dornoch Firth, I can make out Skibo Castle, a massive baronial mansion that was the home of Scottish steel tycoon Andrew Carnegie. Later, as we pass Dunrobin Castle, we catch a glimpse of a half-timbered station building and turrets above the trees. The railway runs along the seashore between Brora and Helmsdale, passing through miles of deserted sand and cormorant-filled rocks.
We stop at Forsinard, in the middle of the marsh-filled Flow Country, where the old station building is an RSPB visitor center and an overwater path leads through bird-rich bays. Some children on the road are cheerfully waving at the train, and a deer runs past the window. broch, broch, hut circle, mound He insists that the map be written in Gothic letters. Usually I can only see recently ruined circular pens, but it’s clear that this is a very large and ancient sight. The North Shore visitor center in Thurso features intricately carved Pictish stones and Viking shield bosses.
After a half-hour drive through the steppe covered with cotton grass and dotted with sparkling lakes, I arrive in Melvich on bus number 803. I walk through the dunes to the beach, where oystercatchers fly over the peat-coloured waves. In neighboring Portskerra, carpets of sagebrush with purple orchids, doves and starry sky-blue flowers line a cliff-top path, and the harbor’s clear, sheltered waters are perfect for a refreshing dip at low tide. While warming up at Coastline Coffee Shop, I tell a fellow swimmer that I’m worried about missing the twice-weekly bus along the coast tomorrow, and she laughs and says someone will probably give me a ride.
It’s an hour after low tide and there are pipers, picnickers and children running barefoot across the long evening sands
Very early the next morning, I catch the 274 bus to Bettyhill, where the Strathnaver Museum reopened in April 2023 after a major renovation. Housed in a former church near the white-sand beaches of Farr Bay, the museum houses all kinds of antiques, from a Bronze Age beaker to a buoy made of dog skin. There is a lot of information about the Mackay Clan and the Highland furloughs that still feels tragic to some local people. “I hate sheep,” says a woman whose grandfather had to move. Later, as I wander the quiet streets near Tongue, I pass a roadside monument dedicated to local Gaelic poet Ewen Robertson. He wrote movingly about the permits that evicted Crofting communities from the land they farmed. Some of Robertson’s best-known lines curse the sheep and the treacherous duke for turning Sutherland into a desert.
From Tongue it’s a four-mile walk to Kinloch Lodge, where a group of us met for a walk through blue milkweed flowers and aromatic bog myrtle, and Loch an Dithreibh in the distance. This event is organized by the team from Feragaia, a distinctive non-alcoholic Scottish spirit distilled in Fife from a group of botanicals including west coast sugarweed, lemon verbena and blackcurrant leaves, from a farm in Perthshire. The walk is led by a ranger from Wildland, a long-term conservation project featured in David Attenborough’s Wild Isles. Their work includes reestablishing forests and restoring wetlands.
Kinloch Lodge, where we stayed, is one of Wildland’s portfolio of luxury properties. Outside, many of Ben Loyal’s peaks are cloud-covered or illuminated by a copper sunset. Other places to stay locally include the Tongue hotel (doubles from £158 B&B), a Victorian lodge with wood paneling, open fireplaces and mountain views that has been recently refurbished by the Highland Coast Hotels group. There’s also a hostel right on the beach, near the spacious Kyle of Tongue (doubles from £70, room only).
The next day, I follow a marked path over the rust-red Cape Rhian, through streamside bluebells and bright yellow broomflowers, to Varrich Castle. The steel viewing platform, added by Wildland in 2017, overlooks the mountains and sea lake. Below the village are gnarled beech trees, duck eggs for sale, a lone fisherman on the crumbling pier and Tongue House, another former headquarters of Clan Mackay. Norse Bakehouse serves home-cooked Italian cuisine, and the blue and gold view from the garden is one of many postcard-ready sea views.
Tomorrow I leave via Inverness, where the Caledonian Sleeper, which was taken over by the Scottish government last year, departs six nights a week (seats from Inverness to Crewe and London Euston start from £55). Walking to the bus stop in Tongue the next morning, the sunlight is bright enough to keep the sandflies at bay as we pass heather-covered rocks with strange markings. There were so many things I would have missed if I had driven along this road instead of walking: a marble white butterfly on the coconut-scented gorse, sorrel under the lime-green birches, the sound of mountain streams and a low-voiced cuckoo. Valley.
This trip was supported by Feragaia and Visit Scotland.