Overlanding Scotland Part 1: The Wrong-Side Drive to Glencoe

No plans, a rented Land Rover, and my first time behind the wheel in a left-side driving country make for a great adventure in the Highlands of Scotland.

This is Part 1 of a 3-part article series on Overlanding Scotland. Click here to read Part 2.

As a sparsely-populated country with jagged landscapes, Scotland is a prime destination for wild outdoor adventures.

There are only about 70 people per square kilometer. Two-thirds of the population lives in the southern part of the country near Edinburgh and Glasgow. And once you head north, there aren't many folks around. Throw in remote single-lane roads, cloud-covered, snow-capped mountains, waterfalls, and unpredictable weather, and it’s a great place for a rugged road trip.

A couple of months before arriving, I discovered Scotland Overland, a company that rents out fully equipped Land Rover Defenders and Toyota Hiluxes. As an overlanding and camping enthusiast, I had already made several trips across the Southwest in my 4Runner and other rented vehicles and across Costa Rica with an FJ Cruiser.

So, I contacted Scotland Overland and put down a deposit on a Land Rover. The "plan" was to figure things out when I got there. I had a National Geographic Roadmap of Scotland, a Rough Guide, and only a vague idea of where I might like to go. I would just let the story write itself along the way.

Travel plans? Make them as you go.

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Adventure in the Defender

I woke early on a typical gloomy morning in Edinburgh and taxied to the headquarters of Scotland Overland in Peebles, a charming little town in the Scottish Borders of about 9,000 people. Peebles has a slower pace of life than you find in Edinburgh, and there are buildings dating back to the 1200s.

Scotland Overland's warehouse was almost like an overlanding museum or showroom. It had several squeaky clean, meticulously maintained Defenders and a Toyota Hilux. The shelves were stocked with all the gear anyone could need for any adventure. Cargo boxes, rooftop tents, ground tents, stoves, pots, pans, refrigerators, extra batteries, knives, tents, and tarps.

Scotland Overland Headquarters.

Duncan Stewart, owner of Overland Scotland, greeted me with a warm smile and a handshake. I was the first customer of the season, he said. Scotland's winters can get quite nasty, but it was now mid-March. Snow was just starting to thaw, most low temperatures were now above freezing, and conditions were becoming a little better for camping.

He showed me around the warehouse. We shared a bit about our own adventures. I told him about my experience camping and overlanding in my own 4Runner and other rented vehicles. Duncan told me he started Scotland Overland about 13 years ago after a trip to Africa, where he rented a rig from an outfit down there. "I came back and figured I’d apply that business model here," he said. Over the course of a few years, Duncan acquired several new Land Rovers and a mountain of adventure gear while attracting adventurers from around the globe.

Coincidentally, he had been to my hometown of New Orleans and had driven around several parts of the United States. "If I can learn to drive on your side of the road, you can learn to drive on my side," he said. "Ten minutes after leaving here, you'll be good."

Duncan went over a map, handed me the GPS prefilled with some waypoints and interesting campsites, and bid me farewell. I did one more check, adjusted my mirrors, carefully shifted the Defender into first gear, and headed out onto the road.

Duncan points out a remote beach campsite in Skye.

The mere act of driving in Scotland was already going to be an adventure. Traveling on the "wrong side" of the road while steering from the "wrong side" of the vehicle is a whole new experience. Everything is backward and awkward.

It gets even more confusing when you enter the roundabouts. While the one-lane roundabouts are straightforward, the two and three-lane ones can get tricky. At intersections, you make a right-hand turn from the left side and then must go straight into the left lane.

Adding to the complexity is that many European vehicles have a different gear setup. Reverse is where first should be; third is where first should be, and so on. Even if you're a master of manual transmission, shifting with your left hand is a new experience. I'd also be driving a Land Rover Defender, a big vehicle by British standards, and on roads made for tiny cars. At nearly 8 feet tall, it was potentially tipsy on corners and in high winds, with an awful back blind spot that made it difficult to see who or what was on the rear side.

Before getting to Scotland, I read several articles and watched several YouTube videos about driving on the other side. Nearly all said to opt for a small vehicle and to get an automatic transmission to reduce the complexity. "Not having to shift gives you one less thing to think about," said one article.

But screw that, I told myself. If I'm going to adventure in Scotland, I'm going all in.

Roundabout to the Highlands

Driving at first was clunky and a bit dangerous. My first stop was the local grocery store, where I entered the wrong way and almost rammed an old lady head-on. I then nearly clipped another vehicle as I pulled into a parking spot. Two people stopped and gave me puzzled looks, so I waited for them to go into the store before getting out of the truck.

I picked up just enough supplies for a couple of days, figuring I'd grab more stuff along the way. I had salmon, chicken, rice, veggies, some fruit, and a couple of snacks. Unfortunately, I'd have to put my wine and beer back as it was only 9:30 a.m., and liquor sales didn't start until 10.

Grabbing a couple days worth of food from a local grocery in Peebles.

Getting out of Peebles and heading the right way was a bit stressful. Somehow, the GPS sent me on several wrong turns, or so I thought. After a few more near accidents and multiple trips around roundabouts, things started to improve when I hit the freeway from Edinburg to Glasgow. I rode the slow lane (the left lane here), drove straight, and had the opportunity to slowly acclimate to wrong-side driving without worrying about roundabouts or any other complexities.

Within a couple of hours, I had driven nearly 100 miles and was entering the real Scottish Highlands. I slowly climbed to higher elevations, and snowcapped mountain peaks appeared behind the clouds. The roads got a little narrower, and the traffic got lighter. I pulled over in a layby to put on a knit hat and an extra layer of clothes.

Hitting the Highlands

Camping at the Red Squirrel

Near Glencoe, I headed off down a single-track road to my first campsite. While I generally try to avoid organized campgrounds and head to more secluded areas, Red Squirrel Campsite seemed like a good place for my first night to get there before dark and check out my gear. Red Squirrel is nestled in the mountains of Argyll and runs along the River Coe with more than 22 acres of woodland, where you're mostly free to camp wherever you'd like.

All the best sites on the river have already been taken. So, I grabbed a small pitch across from a campervan, pulled out my rooftop tent, and shook out a chair on the side of the Defender. After a week of concrete, horns, traffic, and packed subway cars in London, this was exactly what I needed.

Red Squirrel Campsite

I bought some firewood and made some small talk with Liam, the camp host. Upon finding out that I had no wine with me, he said he was going to town later and offered to pick me up a couple of bottles. "No man should ever have to camp without wine," he said.

I handed him twenty pounds.  

Hike to Clachaig

Just before sunset, I hiked down the road to Clachaig Inn. As much as I love staying in remote places, I also love camping within walking distance of a bar. I've been to several places in the U.S. Southwest and in Central and South America where you can pitch a tent in a quiet area and then hike a mile or so through the desert or jungle to get your drink on. It's quite an interesting dichotomy to just emerge from the woods and walk into a bar.   

Clachaig was only about a mile from my camp, but it was a beautiful little hike. Cloud and mist rolled over the mountains before me, and there was little sound other than my footsteps crunching the ground below. The cool breeze nipped at my face as the moist air left condensation on my jacket.

I eventually came across one of the endless dry-stone walls scattered about Scotland. Dating back to the 14^th century, these walls were often built to divide fields and retain livestock. But many still stand today. The wall came down the mountain and ended up right near the foot of the Clachaig Inn.

The trail from Red Squirrel to Clachaig Inn.

The Inn was almost like something you'd see in a movie, with whitewashed walls, whiskey barrels outside, a steep black roof, and illuminated windows that glow yellow at night. Clachaig dates back to 1864 and is a popular stopover for climbers and backpackers making their way through the Glencoe trail system.

The Clachaig Inn.

I walked around the back of the building to find the Boots Bar, a traditional Scottish pub with stone walls and an old tree trunk that serves as a supporting beam. It was packed, with a few dozen people quietly talking and laughing. Many were in hiking gear, some with backpacks. Others appeared to be mainstream British travelers on a road trip in Scotland. There was a cozy fire in the middle and at least a half-dozen dogs in the place. The menu had a couple of interesting options, including a "Highland Game Pie," which included whatever wild animals they could kill and may still have shot in it. Today, it had rabbit, venison, pheasant, mallard, partridge, and pigeon, cooked together in blackberries and gin. While it sounded interesting, I settled for the Aberdeen burger and a pint of Sheepshagger's Gold Lager.

The cozy pub in back of the Clachaig Inn.

Beware the Moon

I had a long day and was ready to get back to camp after a couple of pints. But the rain kept on. After accepting that it was unlikely to clear anytime soon, I zipped my jacket, buttoned up my hood, and headed out into the darkness.

Cold rain blew sideways. I had come prepared with enough waterproof winter gear for the nasty Scottish weather, but raindrops were now hitting me square in the face. There was a three-quarter waning moon in the sky, but clouds obscured it, making a pitch-black night unlike any I had ever seen. My headlight illuminated the darkness, barely enough to see twenty feet of gravel ahead of me. I walked up the embankment to catch the trail that ran parallel to the road.

While it was only a mile back to camp, it was dark, cold, wet, and lonely walk.

The dark hike back to camp.

I’ve never been scared of hiking alone at night. I've hiked by myself at night in the woods, jungles, and desert many times.

But there was something creepy that evening: being in the highlands, walking to a pub…a full moon that I couldn't see. The whole thing reminded me of the pub scene and Moors attack scene in American Werewolf in London. Two young American backpackers visit the Slaughtered Lamb pub, and things get tense when they ask about a pentagram on the wall. "Stay on the road. Keep clear of the moors…Beware the moon, lads," men warn them as they leave.

They were later viciously attacked by a werewolf.

I saw that movie as a kid in 1981, and the scene was so terrifying that it still haunts me 40 years later. And it was exactly in a place like this—hiking back from a pub in the highlands—that it happened.

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Fortunately, there aren't any werewolves in Scotland, or even regular wolves for that matter.

Countless wolves roamed the Scottish highlands thousands of years ago, but due to attacks on humans and folklore, they were eventually all killed off. It's up for debate as to who took out the final wolf and when, but the last reported sighting was supposedly in 1888. There's talk about reintroducing wolves back into the wild in the United Kingdom, but for now, there isn't a single predator in Scotland to worry about on a nocturnal hike.

Needless to say, I made it back to camp in one piece. Liam had left two fine bottles of Shiraz on my front seat. I wasn't yet ready for bed, and it was still raining out. So, I had a couple of glasses and read a book in the front seat of the Defender before climbing up to my tent. Little did I know Scotland's slow driving and temperamental weather would have me spending a lot more time in the vehicle than I had planned.

wind

Taking refuge from the wine and rain in the truck.