I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t know much about Sutherland before I came here. I didn’t even know it was called Sutherland. I just knew that there was a bit of road between Inverness and John o’ Groats to drive up and then I’d be driving along the north coast. Most of that, apart from the north east corner containing Wick, John o’ Groats itself, and Thurso – which is Caithness, is Sutherland.
Sutherland, as is probably obvious, basically means ‘southern land’ which seems rather surprising given how little there is further north of here, at least in the UK. It was so named from the standpoint of Orkney and Caithness apparently where presumably they think of England as ‘even more Sutherland’ or something. Probably not.
I had read that the drive up to John o’ Groats was a bit lacklustre in comparison to the rest of Scotland. I had heard people warn others off of the NC500 along the north coast, saying there were better places to go and less busy. That the trip to John o’ Groats had to be done and ticked off but don’t expect any wow factor. Well I can attest, and given the level of my readership I feel it’s responsible to do this without fear of causing the place to be overrun, that it’s absolutely marvellous.
The first place I stopped north of Inverness was Golspie. I didn’t know much about that either. You can probably tell I don’t go overboard on the research element of this trip. I do a bit of research, I don’t want to miss out on something I know I’d really love. But I just have a few main places in mind and then other things appear to fill in the gaps. I find it fun and surprising and there’s always something. I’m sure I have missed a few things along the way. But I’ve never been bored and I still love discovering places I didn’t expect.
So it was with Golspie. I stopped there because it had a car park and I wanted a coffee. So I parked in the car park and went to find said coffee. Except I was immediately distracted because the car park was next to a nice little beach with lots of wading birds, including some plovers which are just the cutest – the way they zoom along, their little legs working nineteen to the dozen before suddenly stopping to look for food then zooming off again. I watched them for a while, walked to the end of the short stretch of sand, took some pictures, then walked back past a friendly local lady wrestling with a very wet dog. It felt nice there, and welcoming.
In the next couple of days I discovered the hike up Ben Bhraggie to the Duke of Sutherland monument which despite only being 400m has spectacular views and was spectacularly windy. Then checked out some of the local ‘Wildcat’ mountain biking trails, had a shower at the swimming pool, yet more fish and chips and found a couple of nice places to sleep with good phone signal. It was like they’d designed the place for me. I don’t think I ever did have a coffee.
Once I’d finally torn myself away I made it as far as about five miles up the road to Brora. Where I discovered more friendly locals and some really good ice cream. I’d heard that the beach was pretty nice so wandered down to check that out. It was unbelievable. Miles of golden sand, clear water and with the ever present green hills in the background. More birds, wading and splashing about in the sea. And there was hardly another soul on it! I had this huge paradise almost entirely to myself, and the little group of dog walkers I did encounter were all super-friendly and waved happily at me.
I left Brora with renewed determination to make it to John o’ Groats the next day. I just needed somewhere to stay that night. There was a highly recommended spot in a village called Helmsdale another few miles up the road so I stopped at the harbour there to sleep. As always I went for a quick walk around, then hit upon a minor issue because the public toilets were closed. Thankfully there was a hotel with a bar so thought I’d use the facilities there but felt I should get a drink or something so asked for an orange juice and lemonade. It was a really great setup, a little bar in the centre of the small room with people stood all around it on three sides all talking to each other.
And that was it. Soon I was caught up in a conversation about their Highland Games the next day, all the places people had come from, the local traditions, and how I should definitely go to the games and how the next night an entire pipe band would squeeze into this little bar and deafen everybody. And that it was both torturous and not to be missed.
And so of course I stayed, and had a great day at my first ever Highland Games and went back to the hotel bar to see everyone afterwards. So it was that another two days passed with no shortening of the distance between me and John o’ Groats. The next day however, I finally made it.
As if that wasn’t enough, the other side of Sutherland, the north-west part that goes all the way up to Cape Wrath, where you hope not to be hit be a wayward shell from the military exercises there, contains Sandwood Bay which is possibly the more magical beach I’ve ever set foot upon and Lochinver, where I sit writing this, which is another lovely friendly village.
Sutherland has been wonderful. It’s stunningly beautiful, and in places feels incredibly remote. The single-track roads around the north-west are exhilarating and have wonderful views. The beaches are the best I’ve seen anywhere in the UK, the people are friendly and welcoming, if you love being outdoors and active there’s a lifetime’s worth of terrain to explore. The wildlife is abundant and you’ll see creatures you’d struggle to get a glimpse of anywhere else. As if to prove my point after I’d written that sentence I went out to find something for dinner and found myself walking along the street with two deer in tow.
I’m leaving here soon, heading south from Lochinver towards Ullapool and I’ll remember it fondly. It’s been a long way to get here, physically and metaphorically. But I’m very glad I did.