‘Children see magic in the smallest adventures’: exploring Scotland with my four-year-old | Highlands holidays
‘There! There – I can see it!” The cries of my four-year-old echoed around the ruins of 13th-century Urquhart Castle, causing a group of US tourists to come running over to the corbelled bartizans (overhanging turrets) where we stood. “It’s Nessie, I saw her,” he insisted, pointing at the ripples spinning out from the back of a sightseeing vessel on Loch Ness.
This was day four of a budget, week-long Scotland adventure for the two of us, and we were spending the day in Drumnadrochit, on the shores of the country’s most famous body of water, looking for the fabled monster.
It wasn’t the first time that reality and wishful thinking had seemingly combined on this holiday. When I told people I was going to take my son on a week-long trip across Scotland and my budget was £500, they were sceptical – especially as we were travelling in the school holidays. But as a woman who likes a challenge, I was up for proving them all wrong.
We’d begun our adventure in Glasgow, having travelled by train (£30), then picked up a cheap hire car for the five-hour drive to the Isle of Skye. Accommodation on Skye is pricey, but I had a secret weapon – my tent.
The car journey was punctuated by stops at lochs so enchanting they could have been lifted from the pages of a children’s book. We finally reached the island and checked in at Camping Skye, a community-owned campsite by the sea in Broadford. For the £16 cost of a pitch, we spent the evening playing beneath the flanks of Beinn na Caillich, eating chips and mushy peas from the local shop, and roasting marshmallows on a firepit.
The next morning, primed for a mini-expedition and stocked up with supplies, we drove to the southern enclave of Elgol. The crowds who flock to the island for the Fairy Pools and spectacular Quiraing rock forms melted away as we went deeper into the countryside. We pulled over at a nondescript parking area and I explained the plan to my son. We were going to walk about 2.5 miles (4km) to our accommodation – and no, mummy couldn’t carry him as I would be carrying all our supplies. Excited by the carrot on a stick in the form of a bag of Percy Pigs, we set off, me with a full backpack, him clad in waterproofs, clutching a walking pole.
“I can do this. It’s going to be hard, but it’s going to be worth it,” I heard him muttering to himself as the ascent kicked in. Along the way I pointed out the purple petals of the devil’s-bit scabious flower – mythology claims the devil was so enraged by the plant’s healing properties that he chewed its roots, leaving them short and jagged. My son loved how stories such as this and the landscape combined, and it distracted him from the climb. When we reached the highest point, we could see down to Camasunary Bay, and the thought of playing on the beach made our descent fly by.
Our accommodation was a free (unbookable) bothy and, being first to arrive, we picked the top bunk of the sleeping platform, and I laid out our things. As more people came, my boy confidently greeted the guests as though welcoming them into his own home, proudly telling them this was his first bothy.
That evening was spent running around on the near-black sand beach just outside the door, making trenches, cooking pesto pasta on my camping stove and laughing at the “loo with a view” that sits above the bothy on the hillside.
Having stayed in many bothies over the past 15 years, I had wondered how taking a child would pan out. But his presence brought everyone together in an amazing way, and by 9pm all 12 residents were fast asleep, likely lulled by the white noise I was playing for him on my phone.
Next morning, my son’s determination to reach the car was only eclipsed by his desire to have ice-cream for breakfast, which I had promised as an incentive to climb up the hill. He was beaming with pride when he told the owner of The Creel pop-up cafe by Elgol harbour that he’d walked more than 5 miles “all by myself” and made friends in a bothy.
From there, it was back to the mainland and a two-hour drive on to Drumnadrochit for a stay in a private room at Loch Ness Backpackers Lodge (£60), with an afternoon spent in the nearby Loch Ness Centre, learning all about Nessie. After the novelty of sharing a bunk bed (me on top, him below), the next day was reserved for paddling in the shallows of the loch, running around the aforementioned Urquhart Castle and getting visitors’ hopes up with proclaimed sightings of the legendary plesiosaur.
That afternoon we journeyed to our final stop – the Cairngorms national park. At the reindeer centre in Glenmore Forest, we met the UK’s only free-ranging herd (which had been brought here to be checked over by a vet) and joined a scavenger hunt designed to teach children about these creatures. We ended the day at Loch Morlich, building sandcastles with children my son befriended in that easy way kids seem to do. I pointed up to the summit of Cairn Gorm – the sixth highest mountain in Britain. “That,” I told him, “is where we go tomorrow.”
After a night in a camping pod at the Speyside Trust’s Badaguish outdoor centre (£75), we braved the mountain during rain squalls on a guided hike (£35) which involved taking the mountain railway to Ptarmigan top station at 1,097m, then an hour’s walk to the summit. As we stood on the misty peak, our guide told us we were at 1,245m. I’ve never seen such a proud look on my son’s face.
The UK’s highest restaurant, the Ptarmigan, sits at the railway’s top station, and we indulged in hot chocolate before exploring the learning zone’s exhibition, with its panoramic film showcasing the landscapes around us in much better weather than we experienced. There are also interactive sandboxes where children can create their own natural environments. We rounded off the day by taking the train back down and going tubing (£15pp), laughing gleefully as we slid down the purpose-built dry slope in giant rubber rings.
Determined to make the journey home part of the adventure, I had booked the sleeper train back to London – our biggest indulgence at £170 for a cabin with a private loo and shower. Dusk hit as we boarded in Inverness, and the sky began to turn black outside the picture windows while we ate macaroni cheese in the dining car and my son told incredulous strangers about our adventures.
The truth is that kids love holidays – but they love spending time with their parents most of all. And by taking my son on my kind of adventure, I had bonded with him in a way I never thought possible. Children see magic in even the smallest of adventures – and their enthusiasm is utterly infectious. Our total spend after six days away was just under £500 which, when I think of the memories we have made, and the stories my son continues to tell, seems to me the best buy ever – even more fantastical than a magic monster that lives in Scotland’s largest loch.
Phoebe Smith is the author of Wayfarer: Love, Loss and Life on Britain’s Pilgrim Paths (Harper North). To buy a copy for £9.89, go to guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply
