A very long time ago now, I had a wonderful job that took me, every weekend, driving around Britain. By the time I reached Scotland, I knew… barring disaster… whether I would have some time to spare before I needed to be back so that I could wander away from the planned route. On a couple of occasions, I had made the time to visit a magical spot I had seen many years before on holiday. That first time, I had only glimpsed it through the trees. On subsequent visits I had explored a little, but I had not felt it prudent, especially as I was technically at work, for a woman alone to go wandering the forest paths too far from the road.

I had never known what the place was called and, in the days before online mapping, it was not so easy to find out. Even so, it was this spot I was hoping to find once more after we had left Loch Ness. The trouble was, I had never approached it from this direction, nor could I recall the road numbers I had used so long ago; memory can be a fickle beast. On the other hand, I have a pretty good memory for roads and places and I was relying on that, and Stuart’s map-reading skills, to find this very special place.

Coming from the opposite direction than usual, and after a decade or so had passed since my last visit, my memories were vague at best, but a signpost for Kinloch Laggan seemed familiar. I remembered a long lake with a castle, perhaps, or a big house on its shores and a small beach. One thing was certain… with the distance that we still had to travel, once committed to a road, there would be no chance to go back and try another… and there are few to choose from in the Scottish Highlands.

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