602 - Neist Point
Today we got stranded in the Scotland backcountry looking for a cow.
It all started when we made a last minute decision to drive to the other end of the Isle of Skye. One of our side quests for Scotland had been to spot a highland cow, but not one had crossed our path yet.
And if I’m being honest, I thought this would be our easiest bingo card. Highland cows, if you didn’t know, are essentially hairy cows. You’ve probably seen one if you’ve spent any time browsing Instagram in the past 10 years. They’re everywhere on social media- so naturally, I assumed they’d be everywhere in Scotland.
Yet here we were, several days into our trip, and not a single cow had shown us its hair. Furry sheep, on the other hand, were in pure abundance. Hundreds. Possibly thousands. But it just wasn’t the same.
Thus, we decided to drive across the isle to Neist Point for sunset, sure we’d find at least one along the way. After all, this was the rural side of the island, which meant our chances of finding a hairy chonker would be exponentially higher.
The only problem was that sunset was in roughly an hour and twenty minutes, precisely the amount of time it’d take to reach Neist Point. Somehow it always works out like this.
Luckily we had our Mercedes AMG, and I’d now clocked 7+ hours driving this thing on the wrong side of the road. It was go time.
But after only 20 minutes of driving, our mission came to an end. A janky burger shop emerged at the bottom of a vast hill, complete with a field full of highland cattle.
A strange marketing effort, I must say. Here’s some cute cows to take a photo with- now buy a burger with them.
But nevertheless, I saw my opportunity and took it:
“Prince Charming”
Taken with Sony a7rIII + Sony 24-105mm f/4 G
[ISO 50 ~ 76mm ~ f/4 ~ 1/200s]
(Want a Print? Get one here.)
At this point, we could have quietly gone home. We weren’t too deep into the backcountry yet, I’d gotten my official photo of a cow, and we’d already had a full day of adventures. The Old Man of Storr and Quariang shoots were both this morning, mind you.
But… we decided to continue our quest to Neist Point. Because who knows if we’d ever be in this part of the world again.
Overall, it turned out to be a tough drive. These backcountry roads came with their own set of obstacles, and they weren’t very forgiving. You’d go up one hill and find a sheep in the middle of the road. The next, a pothole the size of a sourdough. And then suddenly a road would end in fences. It felt like I was in a giant game of the Simpsons Road Rage, on a quest to make a sunset delivery.
But when that clock hit ten minutes ‘til, we landed in the parking lot of Neist Point. Suddenly a beautiful cliffside expanse opened before our eyes, complete with a white lighthouse at the end.
Whoa…
I glanced up at the sun, which was conveniently positioned behind a cloud.
In approximately 90 seconds that sun would dip below that cloud, and the entire cliff face in front of us would illuminate. Like so:
“From Afar”
Taken with Sony a7rIII + Sony 24-105mm f/4 G
[ISO 1000 ~ 24mm ~ f/8 ~ 1/125s]
(Want a Print? Get one here.)
And here’s an alternate version, zoomed in:
“Torched Lighthouse”
Taken with Sony a7rIII + Sony 24-105mm f/4 G
[ISO 1000 ~ 67mm ~ f/8 ~ 1/125s]
(Want a Print? Get one here.)
My brain couldn’t process the amount of dopamine firing all at once. Here I was, on the side of a cliff in Scotland, with the most beautiful girl in the world, enjoying a sunset of magnificent proportions. We were hours from civilization, in a foreign land of beauty.
Life doesn’t get much better than this.
But the universe was quietly watching. Observing. It had other plans in store for us that night.
Due to the large influx of tourists in the area, we made the decision to leave shortly after sunset. I’d already snagged a photo, and if we could beat the traffic out, all the better.
Our Mercedes AMG quietly roared out of the parking lot, and once again, we were on the road. But we didn’t get far. Remember those sourdough potholes I was talking about earlier? Yea. We drove straight into one within three minutes and absolutely annihilated one of our tires.
Warning signals began frantically beeping on the dash, and we watched in real time as our tire pressure rapidly counted down to zero.
Our Mercedes Spaceship had been hit.
Now what? We’d rented this car approximately 6 hours from this location, the nearest small town with our hotel was an hour and a half away, and we were in a foreign country.
Alara was downright terrified, but she was keeping it cool. Luckily, I’d been down this road many times before- but I knew we had a long night ahead of us.
I sat back and weighed our options. Every car we thought we’d beat out began cruising by us, slowly gloating away into the night. And then as suddenly as they came, they left. Suddenly it became very quiet outside.
I got out and checked for a spare. The last thing I wanted to do was call Hertz. Being towed an hour and half back to town didn’t sound fun, and neither did the bill.
Yet, not a single spare was in sight. Well, that left one last option. Call Hertz.
I sighed and dialed the nine digit number into my phone. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. “Hertz Emergency Services, this is Bryan speaking. Can I get your name?”
Turns out they had one dude on the island working break-downs that night, and he was already working on three Mercedes with popped tires. The good thing was that Hertz decided they were going to fix and replace our tire on the spot. The bad thing was that it was going to be hours before they got to us, and all we had were a few measly peanuts leftover from Turkey.
Great Scott.
Now, let’s cut to a little history lesson. See, we’d happened to pull over right next to the Glendale Land Leaguers Memorial. So naturally, the first thing we did was get out and make sure we weren’t next to some haunted graveyard.
Turns out the memorial commemorated five farmer “martyrs” that were arrested (but not killed) for fighting back against an eviction to their rented land back in 1883. Their protests led to the Crofters’ Act of 1886, which made sure that crofters (farmers renting land in Scotland) were guaranteed tenure on their properties. A law that’s extremely relevant to your lives today.
After two hours of grieving our condolences to the local farmers of Glendale, our tire hero arrived.
Within 10 minutes we were back on the road again, this time much more cognizant of the treacherous obstacles laying in our path.
But… a new mission fell slowly into place. See, the last grocery store in town closed at 11pm, and were set to arrive at it precisely around that time, an hour and a half away. If not, we would remain hungry the rest of the night, because nothing on the entire island would be open.
Great. Just frocking great. It was one thing to have a popped tire. Another thing is to go hungry for a full night, after spending the whole day hiking.
I needed to dial in. Avoid the sheep, potholes, and road blocks like my life depended on it- all while zooming full speed down dark, foreign roads. Not to mention the fact that we were on the wrong side of the road, I was exhausted, and our “fancy” headlights were flickering around like we were in a fucked up Scottish dubstep concert. My entire career of racing video games had led me to this very moment. It was time to execute.
And… long story short, I did. We had a few hairy moments, but made it to the grocery store safe and sound- in the nick of time.
We ran inside, grabbed whatever was left, and paid the till.
Who knew day-old deli sandwiches, lightly-salted potato chips, and a Cadbury bar would be our best meal of the entire trip?
I’m on a mission to explore as much as humanely possible.
Want to see my progress? Check out the Adventure Map.
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