THE HIGHLAND FOUR DAY CLASSIC
SEPTEMBER 2008

Are you sitting comfortably? Good.  This is the longest letter we ever received about the event

"The 2008 3 Day Highland Run… or…. How to travel over 200 miles a day while not knowing where you are"

First let me start this article with a warning. Do not read on if you want to know all the roads we went on, all the towns we visited or views we saw. My co-driver and I were sadly lacking our better halves and so, in the true spirit of manhood, can’t remember where we went – and although I could go through the chewlip route books we used and try to work it out, I do have a life you know. So, only read on if you want a flavour of the true behind the scenes life of the Highland run…. The usual health warnings apply, and if anyone takes afence, or even a small gate, then Chris wrote that bit.

Day 1 started at the Huntingtower hotel Perth (I remember that), there was a day zero for those coming up from the deep South  - some as far South as Lancashire[1], famous for its cheese and being opposite Yorkshire. (Chris wrote that bit). But Chris and I started on day 1, arrived at the hotel from my place near Aberdeen and immediately went in hunt of some coffee. On the way we found Mike Raven, fashonista, sporting knee length shorts – compulsory wear for Healey 3000 drivers. He carried out rigorous scroutineering checks on our Scimitar GTC, although from where he was standing I am not sure he could actually see it. Nevertheless, suitably scruited, we continued our search and tracked down some stewed grounds. We saw familiar faces, and again true to form, we could hardly remember anyone’s names.

Before we were allowed to go, there was a small cone test in the car park, you had to weave round some cones, stop astride a line and reverse back weaving round the cones again. Penalty points were applied if you didn’t do both trips in the same elapsed time.

A new Bentley something or other was parked at the side, scuppering any ideas of a flying attack of the cones in case gravel flew up, and as we had to reverse in the same time, this meant that even without the Bentley we probably wouldn’t. Very cunning that. Is it just me or does everyone get that real tight adrenaline feeling before something like this, it was like being back at school when the roll call was being called and you knew you had to shout ‘here’ without squeaking and being teased all day. Nerve wracking stuff.

Then at 9.24 precisely, we were waved of by the chequered flag and Mike’s wonderful other half, Catherine (I wrote that bit).

Now, as all of you know who have been on these kind of rallies before, there are two ways to enjoy them. One way is to pootle along, enjoying the roads and the scenery and stopping for coffees, teas, cakes and a little shopping. Cut the route here and there and so get to the lunch and evening stops pretty much on time. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that approach, nope nothing, nothing at all, not a thing, just as long as you move over for the drivers who enjoy things the other way…. The dark side. You can usually tell this driver by his arrogant air, his swagger to the car (yes, always a ‘him’), the rev of the engine, the manic grin and dilated pupils. For this group the scenes are a blur, the roads are to throw one’s self around, the scenery is for the navigator to glance at quickly in case part of it hits them, the coffee stops are for other people…

There is a third type, neither one nor the other – a kind of half life - and they transgress uneasily between the two camps, feeling guilty taking coffee stops and revelling in flying round corners. Chris and I fit in this third group, neither one nor the other – only we were suckers for pub stops at the end of the day, and dry roast peanuts.

So, our challenge was to catch up and overtake as many people as possible, having started at the back of the pack, before the lunch stop. The roads round Perthshire on a Friday are still pretty busy and we made some progress up the rank, but got stuck a great deal behind ‘moderns’. This was the first classic event I had taken the Scimitar GTC on (its Highland run in 2006 was with my better half and it was very wet, so we pootled). It did well, very well. The V6 2.8 had modified heads, and the 5 speed box (changed from an auto) meshed well and let her roar up the long climb to Glenshee (called Satan’s slide, it used to be called the Devil’s elbow – until they straightened it). I have to confess we stopped intending to have a coffee there, but the café was shut, so during the dithering all the cars we passed overtook us again.

Sometime around now we realised the loud squeal we could hear was not some sort of rodent awaking to discover it was under the Scimitar bonnet, but the disc brakes. Now, there were some good points about having loud squealy disc brakes (that worked fine and pulled up straight) and some bad points. They only squealed on medium to gentle application of the brakes, so the noise was very controllable, but not possible to avoid if stopping completely or nearly stopping. The noise was a good one, akin to nails down the blackboard, and with just the right pressure could be sustained for quite some time…

Coming up behind some ‘moderns’ who were just at that awkward speed, too fast to shoot by, too slow to be comfortable, we could squeal the brakes at ‘em. See that worried look in the rear view mirror, brilliant. Few except the most stubborn managed more than a few corners of that before they pulled in to let us by.

The lunch stop was somewhere between there and the Leicht (I can’t find the chewlip[2] books, bother). What can I remember about the lunch stop….. there was sandwiches and soup, tomato I think. [Found a bit of paper that says the Rowan Tree hotel, where ever that was].

By now everyone was in the swing of things, we were spotting friends of years before and making new ones. A red smoky E-type took our fancy, and at one stage tried to out accelerate the Scimitar – ha! Nice car, and driven by a lovely couple (did I say I was no good at names either?)[3][Steve and Deborah – ed]

We also ended up also going past the Leicht ski centre, but not at a time conducive for a tea stop. Chris was driving now, we do half a day each. Each of us would love the other to decide they don’t want to drive their half of the day, but unfortunately that never happens.

Another good bit about squealy brakes was Derek and Barry bating. Tagging behind their Sprite and squealing happily we were able to savour the flinching, wincing and anguished looks. Teach him for all those years of sheep jokes… [Ok you lot – not what some of you may be thinking, Clive’s Westland ‘grilled’ a sheep a few years back, Clive was navigator at the time – ed].

We ended up in the afternoon queuing for the ferry to Skye, we were all there lined up on the quay. A good chance to say hello to new cars and their drivers. The journey was a short one, the sea was calm, not a breath of wind. Dolphins came to the surface to take a look at us. The sun was shining and all was good in the world.

Once across the idea was to drive along the island to the bridge and off, but stopping first to do an auto-test. Unfortunately a car and a lump of stone blocked the access to the auto-test area. It had been a long day and we were all fairly tired, so I don’t think anyone was too upset.

We crossed back over the bridge and stayed at the Balna… Bal… some long word beginning with B hotel about 6 miles away from the bridge [Balmacara - ed]. A sign outside said ‘Friday night live music’. Oh dear.

The view from the hotel straight across the sea to Skye was wonderful, I almost feel a song coming on. The hotel its self was Edwardian/Victorian with lots of extensions of around 20 to 50 years old. Rooms were big enough, clean and quiet. The staff were amazing, mostly young ladies in their teens they smiled, joked and really tried to help. And they were all local – most rare in the hotel trade these days.

In the evening the owner (we think she was) sang a traditional song for us. None of us could understand a word, but she could sing. Live entertainment was promised for the next day (we were staying the Sat here as well).

The evening blurrrs, there was food, drink, conversation, more drink and a bad head the next morning. I knew moving from Whisky to beer to red wine was a bad idea.

Saturday

Luckily Chris was driving the next morning. In the afternoon we were going to go over Applecross – a road that is very special to me, and so Chris agreed to let me swop driving sessions. We decided leaving early was a good idea, as there was an autotest on the airfield on Skye and the earlier we were there the less waiting we would have and the fewer cars to get stuck behind – and the best selection of sandwiches at lunch! (I am giving away all the tips).

The day started misty and damp. The Scimitar being a plastic car the windscreen wipers refused to work for a few miles before kicking in. These electrical problems are almost inevitably an earth fault. The roads were largely empty and we sped along. Glimpses of views would emerge from clouds draped across the mountains. The eye would be drawn up, where seemingly impossible jagged peaks would hang suspended in the air. It was all rather surreal, or perhaps it was the red wine. It was so hard to judge scale against the white background, were these mountains or small hills?

As we carried on the mists cleared a little, still no wind, and the views became wonderful. A stone seemingly balancing on its end appeared at the bottom of a cliff, was this stone 100’s of feet tall or under 100? Who cared, it looked stunning.

We reached the airfield. Apart from the marshals we were the second car. So far the plan was working. We parked. A plane was standing at the side of the runway, a rare visitor on a mercy dash. A woman had managed to persuade a pilot due to go to Stornaway to take her to Skye as her mother was critically ill. One of the marshals had then taken her to the town. The plane was now stranded there due to the poor weather. Other cars streamed in and parked in a different line to us, suddenly we weren’t near the front anymore! We moved. The cones were now back in place (after they had to be whipped away for the plane) and we were ready to start. John gave the drivers a briefing.

It was about now we noticed the midges. The day was warm, damp and no wind – they were in their element. Little creatures buried themselves under caps, up trouser legs, crawled over ears, noses, faces. Arms flayed around, those in saloons got in and closed the windows, it was agonising. John was a man immune, the dark flies showed up against the grey of his hair, they were crawling and biting all over him and he didn’t scratch, wince or grumble – just amazing. He calmly briefed us not noticing these little blood suckers at work at all. I seem to remember my grandmother (a Lancashire lass) had some saying about sense and feeling…

First the route was demonstrated, cones had to be weaved around, 4 cone ‘garages’ arranged like petals around a flower had each to be driven into forward and in reverse, then there was a long straight to some cones which had to be gone around anti-clockwise and then flat out back to the initial set of cones for weaving around and the flying finish across a line. One car went, volunteers to go next were called for. Lots of drivers shuffled their feet and looked away, those 4 garages looked impossible, oh for a mini. Chris decided we would do it next – so we did. He made a valiant effort, but those garages, especially with a long car… Anyway at least we got away from those midges. We never did find out what our place was, but we sure weren’t in the first three. Needless to say we heard later that Derek and his amazing blue Sprite won – though his brother Barry was actually driving….

Now the roads and views just got better and better. Being challenged in the hair dept I usually wear a cap whilst in the car, but with a red raw forehead from bites, hat off, high speed, damp air – lovely.

We went up a limb of Skye and cut over a small ‘white’ road to Uig, what a road. It twisted and turned, leapt up and down – apart from the odd scare with sheep, it was just a pleasure. I began to feel quite jealous of Chris.

We carried on round Skye and back over the bridge to the mainland and towards Applecross stopping for lunch somewhere or other. I think we had… soup and … sandwiches – I think this one was vegetable broth and it helped my head, both the banging inside and the itching outside. [Broadford Hotel - ed]

Now for the bit I loved. The rain started a bit, but not so much we had to put the roof up. The mists closed in again and the headlights were needed. At times visibility dropped to just 30 feet.

We approached Applecross from the south. What hairpins. The last time I did this I was in my 1948 Healey Westland (current re-build) and Dave was driving. Dave was an accomplished rally driver and taught at Silverstone and elsewhere. He jammed the Westie in 2^nd gear and spun the wheels around and up the hairpins. Worked fine for the first one, and almost went straight into the rock face on the second.

Right, 2^nd gear, floor the accelerator, hard over on the wheel, the wheels span and we shot round the hairpin. Yes! Second hairpin – bloody hell, where did that rock face come from. That one needs more practice.

I just love that drive. We finished Applecross and headed towards the B.. hotel again, the route taking us through Loch Carron, a long ribbon of a town overlooking the Loch. A stunningly beautiful location and famous for its café and pub. By now the brake squeal was getting to us as well, its novelty had worn off, we needed a bit of R&R and the B.. hotel didn’t have any real ale. So the pub called, real ale, dry roast peanuts, power turns around hairpins – it just doesn’t get any better than that.

We got back to the hotel about 7, to be told off by Mike. He had been worrying about us, Chris whispered, ‘it is like living with your dad’. There had been an accident, Bernard had come off the road on a slippery patch and badly dented the side and rear of his 3000. He and Clare were fine, which was the important thing, but a sad incident.

Our landlady and a man (probably her husband) on an accordion entertained us that evening. They were good. I wouldn’t go out and buy the CD, but a good evening’s entertainment. We listened to music while Barry told us the tale of his near escape, (how come these things always happen while he is driving?). He saw a motorbike approaching rapidly round a bend on the wrong side of the road coming towards the Sprite and hoped the bike had spotted him. He had time to tuck himself into the edge and next second the bike was upon them coming straight at them and Barry was sure he was about to feel a lot of pain, or see a white light. Then the bike managed to ‘wobble’ upright, avoided going into a slide, tore past the front and just missed clipping the rear of the Sprite. The last glimpse Barry had was the bike leaning over again back on the wrong side of the road. A wider car and the rider and driver might not have survived.

A karaoke was going on in the bar and the waitresses had clearly been told to drum up some custom. Barry went over to get some beer for us (the pump was off in the main hotel) and reported one desperate DJ offering free drinks to anyone who would sing, some bar staff clustered together and a lady shrouded in a cloud of smoke. None the less, by the end of the evening we hear that a number of classic car drivers were seen and heard singing and swaying over there. Us? Chris and I were knackered again and spent a delightful evening setting the world to rights with Derek and Barry. I am sure we solved all the world’s major problems, I can’t remember the details I just have a feeling that compulsory classic car ownership was key. We ended crashed out about midnight.

Sunday dawned bright and clear. No wind again. Yesterday I had bought some midge spray, hooray, as we had another auto test. We said goodbye to the hotel beginning with B and the wonderful staff and went back to Skye across the bridge (now it is free, why not) to the airfield. It was the same test as yesterday, but without the 4 garages and with one extra cone to slalom around. My turn. Again, I don’t know what position we ended up in, but we weren’t in the top 3, perhaps I wasn’t allowed to run over the edge of the cones.

We then ended up queuing to get on a small ‘turntable’ ferry [Glenelg to Skye - ed] run by the Isle of Skye Ferry Community Interest Company – in other words volunteers from the local community. One of the operators told us they were going to keep it going as long as possible. The craft was clean and painted, but under the paint it was clear much of the steel railings and supports were half their original thickness. They even promoted it as an unusual place to get married! It is the last turntable ferry of its kind in Scotland, I hope they keep it going for many years. A seal popped up to say hi as we waiting to go on this little boat, 6 cars at a time. Our ploy of being off reasonably early put us on the second crossing. Watching the little boat come back for us was entertaining in its own right, the current in the channel was so strong the vessel had to angled off the far bank almost pointing directly upstream and was at an incredible angle when it reached our side. This is where the turntable comes into action, when docked, the deck then turns in relation to the hull (hence turntable) to let the cars on and off. Really charming, and a bit of cash would secure its future.

Another accident occurred, a minor one this time. Just imagine, 25 classics queued on a fairly steep hill, almost bumper to bumper…. How is your handbrake? The effect was like a stack of dominoes falling, bump, bump, bump until the little pile of cars finally hit someone who either had an excellent handbrake or was sufficiently used to old cars to leave their car in 1^st gear or reverse. Lots of stern expressions and bending round to look at chrome bumpers, but I don’t think any damage was done. The Scimitar was not involved! 

Immediately after the ferry was a distance test. Some sum about a motorbike travelling at one speed and then another – so we had to write down the letters we saw on a board at the side of the road corresponding to where we thought this fictional motorbike would be. A bit of a test of your arithmetic and your car’s mileometer. As ours seemed to be about 10% out compared to the distances in the chewlip books, we compensated and found there was no board at all where we wanted one. Oh well.

I am now completely confused whether we are still on Skye or back on the mainland, we crossed that bridge so many times… Anyway, off again, this time on the road back to Perth. Some great roads and staggering views in the sunshine again, but the Sundays are always a bit sad. The beginning of the end and all that, and as you get closer to Perth the cars on the roads increase and the pace gets slower, plus those brakes. They were now at the embarrassing stage and we tried continually to minimise their squeal, but to no avail. If anything they had got worse.

We stopped at a lovely looking hotel, somewhere or other and had, umm, I think it was soup and sandwiches. [Glenspean Lodge Hotel - ed] This time the soup was cracked wheat, ham and veg – I remember that one as Catherine didn’t like it.

At the hotel we were given the sheet for the navigation test. I like them, though I don’t think I have ever got one right. Chris and I joined large numbers of other people peering over maps, with furrowed brows. Start at grid reference…. Which comes first, ah yes – start there. Ok got that. Find spot heights in the following order…. Ok, pencil out and start marking the map. Leave the subsequent grid lines in the directions shown. Ok got that. Take the following junctions. Yes got that too. Use the herringbone diagram to navigate the junctions…. Hmmm. After asking two other groups to explain this one as we just couldn’t make it work Mike admitted a slight error and gave us a correction to the diagram – and suddenly it all worked. I must admit it was easier than I remember before as the start of each different bit was accompanied by a grid reference, so you couldn’t go too far wrong.

I was back in the driving seat, and apart for 20 miles on the A9 (watch that one, almost every rally I have been on someone has been caught speeding on that road) the roads were delightful. We bowled along again, some good hairpins, almost doing a Dukes of Hazard over one bumpy section.  We were in the excellent company of a Porsche 911, even more modern than my Scimitar and a mad MGB. The Porsche outclassed our handling and acceleration, though it didn’t feel by much – but maybe that was just me dreaming. The MG, driven by Graham and Robert, was flying along. It won most of the auto-test awards that evening at the final dinner, and at the pace it was going it deserved to. Then the navigation section started. The hardest bit for us was not chatting so much we forgot to look for the boards. I think we got them all and then there was this pub. And dry roast peanuts. And real ale.

We got back to the Huntingtower hotel at Perth about 6.30 and readied ourselves for the farewell banquet. We were sharing a ‘chalet’, that sounded like an upgrade. However the smell of damp and cold clammy feel of what Chris labelled ‘the portakabin’ changed our minds. Still, we would not be in there long and the shower was powerful, even though the knob, the shower knob, kept on falling off. Designer jeans out, Chris put on his special number 7 Stirling Moss tie in honour of the occasion and we went down to the gathering throng. Just before 8pm we were ushered down winding corridors to the function room. For a hotel with such character this was a low ceilinged modern, very dull box. Still, it meant we could be noisy and not disturb anyone, plus we had our own bar. The food was fine, Mike made his speech and was heckled as usual – in fact all was good with the world once more. Sadly for Chris, no one recognised that having number 7 on your tie had anything to do with motorsport, and so he took it off in disgust (I’ll have it Chris). Also, the main prize of the evening was not awarded this year, the silly hat prize. Not enough people entered, we must do better on that one.

Chris and I were on a table with a Classic car Dealer, that breed of person whom sometimes we love and sometimes we hate. The Estate Agent of the Classic car world – just a little work needed, a most desirable car with unique design features, a unique fixer upper opportunity… Steve was entertaining and good company, but would I buy a second hand car off him?

We all drifted off to our rooms about midnight. Chris and I back to our ‘chalet’. All too soon we were up at 5am and off to drop him at the airport. A sad, sad thing the end of a rally, I always want these events to just keep going. I hate all those goodbyes. A whole year until the next one. I thought on the way home I would just pop in and see my Vixen to cheer me up. Unfortunately all that was there was the tubular frame, the engine was still at the specialist and the body in storage awaiting paint. Instead I was given a list of missing bits to chase and a bill. Oh well, she should definitely be ready for my next rally in May. I drove home desperately trying not to squeal the brakes…

Finally the organisers and marshals must be mentioned. Mike and his better half Catherine and Owen deserve special mention. Not only do they put more time into the organisation than anyone else, but it takes a significant chunk of their annual holiday allowance, over a week to check and prepare the routes. Not easy when you have a young family. Also to the marshals John, Nina, Steve and Charlie. They all do all those thankless tasks and are the focal points for complaints - and all too often we forget to stop and say thank-you. So, thank-you all.

THE HIGHLAND FOUR DAY CLASSIC
TOUR ~ 20-23 SEPTEMBER 2007

We set off for Scotland in heavy rain on the Wednesday night, deciding to meet up in Perth on Thursday morning. So a stop en route in Cumbernauld was booked.

Day One – Thursday – an early start, and nice weather for our drive to The Huntingtower Hotel. Here, we had the first of many exhaust scrapes, on a sleeping policeman in the driveway – little did we know, this had ripped off the rear exhaust mounting, which was to be the cause of many sparks on the roads through The Highlands!

We met up with Mike Raven, checked in, then joined the queue for our first Autotest, which involved a cone chicane, to be completed in the correct direction, as quickly as possible. As we were at the back of the queue, we were kept entertained by the various routes taken through the 50-yard course by the other cars. Next it was our turn – we managed it perfectly, albeit slowly! By now, it was 9:30 am and time for the morning’s Navigation Section – we were off!

Correctly identifying Ordnance Survey features was the key to success – no mean feat for the rookie Navigator! “Some experienced Navigators” Stuart & Jacqueline Hamilton in their MGB Car No.4 Half way through the section, we made a wrong turn, realised immediately and came to a halt, only to hear the screech of tyres and see smoke through the rear view mirror, as two other cars had mistakenly followed a little too closely. We all carried out an almost perfectly simultaneous three-point turn – much to the amusement of local onlookers! Back on track, we were going well when, in the middle of the road, a family of pheasants were jaywalking. As we approached, they scattered, but one decided to come back, and unfortunately …… well, the car behind got covered in feathers! (Poor pheasant.) After this drama, we finished the Navigation Section and were on the Tour proper, passing through the most beautiful countryside.

We joined some fellow Tourers where they had stopped for a coffee break in Edzell - we were ready for the rest already. Off again, we took our chance for a quick re-fuel – we weren’t sure how often this would be necessary due to the remoteness of the route and as this was the first big trip for the E-Type, fuel consumption was an unknown quantity! Then we were away up into the Cairngorms, stopping for lunch at The Nethybridge Hotel – considerably behind all the other cars though. After soup and sandwiches we were off into the mountains, via Aviemore with its ski slopes.

We encountered our first single track road, cattle grids and gates to be opened and closed as we passed through. We arrived in Inverness, much to the delight of checkpoint charlie, who had been waiting patiently in the pouring rain – it was, after all, 6:00 pm! A quick shower and change, ready to meet up with everyone for the first time at dinner. Our fellow Tourers were really friendly and eager to share their past touring experiences with us.

Day Two – Friday – we set out for the north of Scotland, but before we could leave the car park we had to negotiate the queue of cars that were waiting for the attention of the AA man. Out of the car park and our first mistake – a quick u-turn and we were on our way.

We drove across the Black Isle with its absolutely stunning scenery, across the Cromarty Firth Bridge and on to the A9, where the navigator was frightened by an interesting (aborted) overtaking manoeuvre! A stop for coffee, then off again on single track roads (with passing places aplenty) for the next 60 miles, passing majestic-looking lochs and mountains, before arriving in Tongue for lunch.

We had a wonderful meal in The Tongue Hotel, then filled up with petrol at the Spar shop, where we were given a potted history of the locality by the pump attendant - who we were to see a few weeks later featured on BBC2’s Great British Journeys – a real authority then!
Across the Kyle of Tongue Causeway into quite a rainstorm – thankfully, we were ensconced in the E-Type’s cosy cockpit, all the while seeing our fellow Tourers hastily putting up their roofs, or bravely battling with the elements – either way, they were obviously old hands. As the weather cleared, we followed the coast round the north west of Scotland, over some challenging routes, but with stunning views of ocean and coastline. Occasionally we hit blind summits, with just the expanse of EType bonnet and blue skies to gaze at. Then back to more conventional roads to rendezvous at The Dundonnell Hotel
with its loch-side location.

Another lovely evening – this time accompanied by rookie Highland Tourers, with interesting stories to tell of their travels on tours in other countries.
 

Day Three – Saturday – the following morning, not an AA man in sight as everyone departed the car park with no problems. We were off to Skye for our next Autotest on the island’s airfield. We found ourselves in convoy over Skye Bridge, behind the most enormous wind turbine blade – a wide load indeed!
 

After the Autotest we joined everyone in the Isle of Skye’s capital, Broadford, at The Claymore Restaurant for the most delicious fish chowder! Then a short drive over the hills to join the ferry which transported six of us at a time across the Sound of Sleat, back to the mainland. Yet again, another single track road and eventually on to the A82 through Spean
Bridge, past the impressive Commando Memorial. Not much later, along a forest track, a very enjoyable and exhilarating Autotest.
 

Nearing the end of the day and the Navigator took the wheel for the first time (not only on the Tour, but ever!) and realised just how difficult it was to stop the car - as the brakes leave much to be desired on a 41-year-old E-Type! We made it to The Stewart Hotel, to be met at reception by none other than Fort William’s answer to Basil Fawlty!!! That evening we had yet more interesting dinner company – together with Basil’s answer to cordon bleu cooking! The live band kept us singing and dancing well into the small hours, and a good time was had by all.
 

Day Four – Sunday – the morning after brought breakfast with a difference, together with much mirth – we none of us had seen so much toast and butter in one place! One final Autotest and we left the hotel. We passed signs to Ben Nevis and made one of our regular stops for fuel before driving along the edge of beautiful Loch Linnhe. Then we were off on another single track road up into the hills and back down again for perhaps the best lunch spread yet, in Dalmally. We set off on the final stretch via Glen Orchy, with a photo stop to capture the spectacle of it’s waterfalls and rivers in full flow.

Back on to the A82 and a chance to open up the E-Type along the wonderfully long, straight and empty road. Another refuelling stop at Crianlarich, then off the beaten track, this time beyond a Dead End sign (as instructed!), and up into the mountains on the roughest single track road yet, but well worth it – it wasn’t even marked on the map and we realised that we were two of the very few who would have seen these views – they were breathtaking.

We made our way back to the main road, and a checkpoint, before embarking on the final 15 miles of Navigation Section, which lead us back to The Huntingtower Hotel and marked
the end of The 2007 Highland Classic Tour.
 

After a quick drink in the bar, a final shower and change for dinner. Mike treated us to a rundown of events and announced the awards, including the long awaited, much envied, and very prestigious Best Hat-wearers of the Tour Award!! Yes, another table of different dinner companions, with stories to keep us amused. After a wonderful evening, we retired, worn out, with memories of one of the best four days’ holiday we’ve ever had – and with every intention of repeating the experience next year.
 

Many thanks to Mike and all the people (too many to name) who became our friends.
 

Steve Smith and Deborah Jackson

HIGHLAND 3 DAY CLASSIC TOUR 2006

(for a full colour report with pictures please visit the Main Highland 3 Day website at www.highlandtour.com)

22 to 24 September 2006

Branden & Kirsteen Heselton

Decisions

Having read about previous Highland Tours in the Austin Healey Club magazine, we have often thought about having a go ourselves, and when we read last years article in the March 2006 journal by Peter Austin, we decided to go for it.  We have a Healey 3000 Mk 1 BT7, which has been on the road for 11 years after our 10 year rebuild, but which we had never taken on particularly long journeys due to work and family commitments.  Hence, there was also a slight apprehension about going so far North and driving around some remote, narrow, steep roads and tracks in uncertain Scottish weather!  I should point out that Kirsteen is a Scot and I am English, which has its moments, and that we have had many excellent holidays in Scotland, but we also know how rugged and isolated the countryside can be, although this is also part of its attraction and beauty. 

The organiser, Mike Raven, welcomed our application and after some re-assuring telephone calls with him, we were booked in.  There were some 26 classic cars planned to take part ranging from 12 Healeys and 4 MGs to a couple each of performance Cortinas and Minis.  Many had taken part before, but there were a few novices like us.  Having made all the necessary preparations, such as packing some tools and spares, a petrol can and a few waterproof and warm clothes plus having the rear leaf springs replaced, we drove up from Somerset on the Thursday, some 434 miles, to meet the Team at the Erskine Bridge Hotel just outside Glasgow.  

The Start

After a good meal in the hotel and an opportunity to talk to some of the “old hands” as well as Mike and his team of organisers, we got some much needed sleep and were ready for the off in the morning.  Every morning Catherine (Mike’s wife – who I called Carol and Caroline for three days – I wondered why I got some funny looks!) gave each navigator a Route Book for the day, except for Charlie in his XJS who seemed to have lost his navigator!  He just followed the car in front. 

Cars were rubbed down from the overnight dew and soft tops stored away.  Silly hats were the order of the day – fortunately I couldn’t see what I was wearing.  Setting off at one-minute intervals we found our way over the Erskine Bridge heading for deepest Scotland.  We headed out on the road to Loch Lomand after which we had our first checkpoint at “Rest and be Thankful”, where there was a fantastic view across the glen.   We then had our first taste of driving on single track roads with passing places.  We were doing quite well until we met a white van coming round a corner far too fast to stop, so I drove round him on the grass verge – surprising how narrow the Healey is!

The drive cross country to the Tarbet Ferry was excellent, we were in company with Ross and Steve in their Cortina GT and Graham and Tony in their B Roadster, so there was some progressive driving!  At one stage we were stopped by a local bobby in his police car, which as quite surprising as we were on a single-track road in the middle of nowhere, but he was warning drivers of a tree across the road further on.  It was only after we had left him that I realised I had still been wearing my silly hat when I had been talking to him – decent of him not to comment.  When we came to the tree across the road, Kirsteen hopped out the car and pulled the branches back to let all 3 cars through – all in a days work for the navigator? 

Whilst waiting for the ferry at Portavadie, we had time for a coffee and a chat about the drive so far.  Everyone seemed to be enjoying the driving and the spectacular scenery.  With all the cars embarked, we crossed the Loch for Tarbet.  Leaving Tarbet behind, we followed the route crossing the Crinan Canal at one stage, as well as going on a road where we had to open and close the gates to get through.  It was on this stretch where we met a lady exercising her dogs in the middle of the road next to her house – seeing her in the distance, I had slowed down to 5 mph, whereupon she leaned in and told me to slow down – clearly she felt this was her private bit of road, which I could understand if she had lived there all her life, but from her accent she was clearly English up for the weekend in her holiday home!  The lunch stop was at the Cuilfail Hotel at around 3 pm with soup and sandwiches, which by then was most welcome - we had driven about 130 miles. 

After lunch and another 35 miles saw us entering the Highlands, and a further 10 miles or so took us to the Corran Ferry to cross Loch Linnhe, about 9 miles south of Fort William.  Before we got to Morar, some 60 miles away, we were given a little speed / distance test.  There were various alphanumeric boards placed by Mike at the side of the road to indicate a distance from a T-junction, and we had to choose the correct one using our self-calibrated car mileometers.  I think this was an exercise in preparation for the subsequent navigation tests.  

Finally, we reached Morar, where we checked in at the Morar Hotel at about 6 30 pm.  Here we learnt that Ross and Steve had literally lost their windscreen when a passing lorry had flung up a stone, which had shattered it.  Nevertheless, they had continued the drive, but with more fresh air than they had bargained for.  We had a comfortable room in the hotel with a cracking view of Loch Morar, the deepest lake in Europe, and enjoyed reviewing the days events with everyone else during the evening over a few drinks and a good meal. 

The Second Day

After a fine breakfast, we headed off to Malaig just a few miles down the road, where we queued up for the ferry to Skye.  We met up with Nick and his daughter Tara in their red Healey Mk 111 and Simon and Julie in their black Healey.  Nick had been having problems with his brake light switch, in that it was bust.  Ever resourceful, he had rigged up a set of wires from the switch, which Tara held and touched together whenever he shouted “brake”.  Neat solution, but I don’t think it will catch on.  This ferry was a 35 minute crossing, so there was time to get one’s sea legs and a cup of coffee.  Once on Skye, and some dozen miles down the road, we were taken down a private council road for an auto test.  The idea was to drive, one car at a time, as accurately as possible at 25 mph over an unknown distance (to the cars occupants), with one’s time at the start and finish recorded by the marshals.  Not very difficult really!  After that, it was back on the road for a drive round Skye.  Once again we took some single-track roads, with a few hairpins and steep descents thrown in for good measure. 

One thing I haven’t mentioned so far is petrol.  Clearly if your car is giving you about 20 miles to the gallon, on a good day, then you’re going to need to top up fairly frequently, given the mileage we were driving each day.  The advice was never to let your tank go below half full and top up when you had the chance – Mike had even given locations of garages in each of the Route Books, so there was no excuse for running out of petrol and getting stranded up some mountain pass, although Dave Bell in the Lotus Cortina had to borrow Mike’s spare gallon.

However, back to Skye.  We stopped at the Kilt Rock Viewpoint after 60 miles to see the waterfall going down to the sea and met up with a few other cars, had a chat and took a few photos.  Some of the views as we came down the mountain passes were quite spectacular, but in other parts, Skye was quite desolate and bleak.  Not a place to break down!  Another 40 miles on from Kilt Rock found us at our lunch stop at the Claymore Restaurant at Broadford.  Here there was a truly magnificent spread of food, almost a banquet, of soups, poached salmon, sandwiches and canapés.  I must say that I thought the salmon chowder was the best I have ever tasted – and the second bowl confirmed it!

Over lunch we were given the first navigation route directions for later in the afternoon.  Never having done this sort of thing before, Kirsteen was a little apprehensive to say the least.  Although I haven’t the space here to explain in detail these navigational exercises, suffice it to say you are given a set of OS map features in a given order with a start point, and you have to work out the route to the finish point.  On the way, you pass alphanumeric boards by the side of the road, which one records, and this shows if you were on the right route or not.  Mike is devious here, in that he places boards on the wrong roads too, so when you see a board you think you’ve got it right, but you haven’t!  Paul and Charlie (driving a Mini) joined our table when we were working through the clues, so we tried to pick their brains as we assumed they must know more about it than we did.  Either they were playing it very cool, or they really didn’t have a clue.

Back on the road after lunch, we gave the Airfield autotest a miss, and headed for the Skye Bridge.  Apparently seeing Paul and Lily start their run in the Fulvia in reverse was a sight to behold!  We did the nav route, got lost a couple of times, saw lots of cars going the wrong way (according to us), noted a few alphanumeric boards and went down a road to Stromeferry (which we didn’t need to) before we turned round and found the checkpoint.  Surprisingly, we did better than some!  After that, we then opted for the Applecross loop – climbing up a steep and narrow road with some serious hairpin bends to take a view at the top of the mountain, which was breathtaking.  Coming down the other side to Applecross was exhilarating too, but the brakes worked fine.  At Applecross, we took a 5 minute stop, and gave Charlie in his XJS some directions for the next part of the route, but he decided to go back over the mountain pass again, and find someone else to follow.

A few minutes later and Mike arrived in his Healey and we followed him for a while heading for Loch Torridon.  This part of the drive is quite fantastic, mostly along the side of the loch on a single undulating road, straight and fast in parts.  I only got it wrong once when I tested my new rear suspension quite heavily on a part of the road that resembled a Harrier Jumpjet ski ramp on a naval carrier!  The scenery was truly magnificent, but as time was drawing on, and we didn’t want to miss supper, we took the direct route at Shieldaig to Balmacara reaching the Hotel at about 6:45 pm, having done about 240 miles throughout the day.  This was a really nice hotel on the North shore of Loch Alsh in the Kyle of Loch Alsh.  Again we had a lovely room overlooking the loch and after a very swift shower and change we joined everyone else for drinks and a meal. 

The Finish

At breakfast the next day we learned that some had been out in the early hours trying to remedy a few problems on their cars.  Bernard had been helping Phil and Rosemary in their green 3000, trying to fix his clutch hydraulics (he had to pump the clutch pedal to change gear – tricky on the mountain passes), Clive had been fitting his overnight charged spare battery into his Scimitar and Nick was having another go at his brake switch. 

The weather forecast for the last day was a bit grim.  So far the weather had been brilliant, clear, dry, warmish except on the mountains when it was a bit fresh.  But the forecast for the last day was cloudy, turning to rain in the afternoon. 

After receipt of the final Route Book and the nav section clues, we were off on a fast road down the side of the loch in clear, calm conditions.  With hardly any traffic on the road, we passed Eilean Donan Castle (the one on the rock often seen on TV) and drove on the same road for 47 miles through Glenshiel and on to Invermoriston, where we turned right towards Fort William.  At Fort Augustus, we stopped for petrol, by which time it was quite cloudy and cold.  We met up with Ross and Steve at the pumps and Kirsteen lent Ross her spare hat as the lack of windscreen was turning his head blue.  Steve was wearing his Hi Vis jacket round his head – cool or not?

We headed NE alongside Loch Ness for another 15 miles or so and then started the nav test.  It is surprising how competitive one gets doing these little exercises, especially when it is clear one is totally lost.  Driver / navigator relationships can become a little strained!  We went through some beautiful scenery on a mountain track through farmyards and forests.  Eventually, we got back on a proper road and were caught up by Francis and James in their red Healey, sporting their new tam o’ shanty Viking hats.  We followed them for a while, before we turned off on another road, thinking we knew better, only to reach the checkpoint later from totally the wrong direction. 

By this time we were experiencing some occasional light drizzle – more like rain drops in the wind.  We kept the hood down.  The last section before lunch took us on a single-track road up and down the Slochd summit before reaching the Carrbridge Hotel.  We weren’t last in, I think Clive and Sue had that honour as their battery had packed in and needed changing for the other spare.  After a superb carvery lunch and pudding we hit the trail for the last time.  Opting to keep the hood down, despite all the signs and against common sense, we also bypassed the afternoon nav section, as we were a bit late.  We headed SW to Dalwhinnie (sadly not to the distillery), through Tummel Bridge at the side of Schiehallion, well in the clouds, and on to Kenmore.  The drizzle was getting more persistent now, but not enough to make us stop. 

The final challenge was a 10 mile section from Kenmore to Amulree over Glen Quaich on a very narrow single track road with hairpin bends, steep ascents and descents, in what by now was driving rain and flash floods.   Everything in the car was soaking except our bags under the tonneau.  Had we stopped to put up the hood, even those would have got soaked, so we just carried on, driving through rivers coming down the road.  Kirsteen was alternating between drying the inside of the windscreen and my glasses so I could see where we were going!  Happily the car never missed a beat, despite all the water everywhere.  Having covered about 90 miles since lunch, we came to the final checkpoint where John gave us a reassuring welcome, telling us that they had been watching the adjacent River Almond rise by about two feet since they had been there.  We were not surprised.

The last 15 miles of the afternoon took us to the outskirts of Perth via a garage for a petrol top up (getting seriously low, but still had the reserve petrol can in the boot) and then to the Huntingtower Hotel, where we met up with everyone else.  This was a lovely hotel with very comfortable rooms, and very hot showers.  The Highland Classic Tour finished with the traditional dinner, at the end of which Mike informed us of some of the successes and failures by the participants.  Congratulations went to Simon and Julie for getting all the nav sections correct (wow!) and to Derrick and Barry in their Sprite for being within two seconds of the target time on the 25 mph timed run. Commiserations went to Charlie for his timed run, which was clocked at 77 mph! 

The biggest unplanned detour went to Philip and Glynis in their Mazda, who did a 55 mile round trip to Glen Elg on the last day, bagging a pheasant as well, I believe, and Mick and John had an unfortunate incident (allegedly) with a sheep in their 100/6.  The airfield autotest was won by Kevin Willers in his MGC and for some reason the silly hats competition went to Kirsteen and me (Mike announced me as Bernard, so I guess we were quits on the names front) and everyone was presented with commemorative crystal whisky glasses to round off the formal part of the evening.  The bar stayed open well into the following morning.

Impressions

It was a fantastic 3 day tour of the Highlands over some challenging roads and through some of the most impressive countryside in Britain.  Mike and his team (Catherine, Owen, Gordon, John and Nina, Mike and Judy) had put in an enormous amount of work to ensure an enjoyable and successful event, and received very grateful thanks from us all.  Overall, we drove about 800 miles in the 3 days, plus another 800 miles to and from Somerset.  It is very much an event for those who enjoy driving and putting their cars through their paces, in some beautiful countryside on challenging and enjoyable roads.  It was really good that there were enough people there from different age groups, as well as an assortment of classic cars.  Everyone was very helpful and we made some good friendships.  We are certainly planning to go again next year, and I know Mike is already planning the route!

EVENT REPORT (2003)

THE  HIGHLANDS (VIA NORFOLK)

WE’LL BE BACK

A report on the 2003 Highland 3 Day by Sylvia Bales

I’d like to include “our” trip up to the Highlands because although it took us all day it was superb – why superb you may ask – what’s so special about the A17’s, A47’s and A1’s of the world?  Well, when you’re in the Healey, top down (of course) sun on your back and wind in your face roaring along – then its special.  When we reached the A74 it was like driving through a beautiful water colour, this roller coaster ride takes you through the pretty countryside where I’m sure James Herriot got his inspiration for his vet series.  I’m an avid fan of his and as we travelled his pages unfolded before my eyes.  On one particular stretch when we were looking “down” on two jets strutting their stuff over the sunlit valleys of patchwork fields, we felt privileged to be there.  Some 8 hours into our journey we reached Edinburgh but couldn’t find the Firth bridge and it started to rain at about the same time as we started to ache, so we dug a bit deeper for a bit more enthusiasm.  The nice taxi driver, who told us to take the Forth road over the Firth bridge wasn’t pulling our leg!!  It was now 6pm, nicely raining and we were tired, Bill didn’t want to put the hood up – I did – but he had to concede when the rain got heavier and the spray from the lorries added to our degree of dampness.  We reached our hotel at 7pm (10 hours journey) tired and achy but very happy.  We’d made it – we’re here in the Highlands, we said “we’ll be back”.

This is where Mike and Co ( Mike Raven and Owen Drew) take over because even now on Thursday evening he is busy taking care that we are included over at the Lovat Hotel although we are staying at the Queen’s.  So a short trip over to the Lovat and there they all are, smiling happy faces (that’s the cars in the car park) and their owners all equally smiling and happy in the restaurant, we were pleased to see so many friendly old faces – a few not so old and a few new ones.

When we finished our last Highland Trip we vowed we would be back, but over the last 2 years there have been many times that Bill would not have been able to drive the Healey out of the garage, Bill’s doctors even suggested selling the Healey!!  Sell Henry!!  NEVER – its unthinkable because even if he is sitting quietly in the garage waiting for the turn of the key Bill doesn’t want to let him down, he is Bill’s responsibility and therefore Bill needs to drive him and so here we are……….

Day one – Morning- Perth to Nethybridge

Amongst the Healeys is a Morgan, Phil and Rosemary Thorpe’s Datsun, a Mini Cooper and     MG’s, a few bonnets are up, the sun is shining and Mike’s got his flag.  We are all assembled nicely outside the Lovat waiting for the “off”, we are car 5 but we set off 4^th.  You see the 4ths and 5ths always get mixed up in Scotland!  It reminded me of the football results when it was Forfar 5, Fife 4!!  I’ve carefully studied which way to go when we leave the car park – to go the wrong way here would be akin to getting the £100 question wrong on Who Wants to be a Millionaire – someone will do it one day and I’d really laugh but I don’t want it to be me.  Bill would not drive back past you all, we would wait till you had all left hiding round a corner!

The morning was an approximately 134 mile run through pine forest, over bridges spanning beautiful wide shallow rivers full of trout and salmon, across fords which can rise to 6ft, along the single tracks past the Balmoral Estate into the most beautiful countryside imaginable, onwards towards lunch and Nethybridge.  About 10 minutes from our lunch stop high up in the hills we all came to a standstill.  The culprit was a coach which had caught fire and burnt out.  No one was hurt, so everyone felt justified in whingeing because we were all late for lunch and cold having stood around for 45 minutes high up in the Highlands.  A superb lunch although everyone, on spying the soup pot rushed over to find it hot – but empty!!  The jolly owner of the hotel wanted a photo of all the cars outside to add to his collection of other events which have used his spacious amenities.

Day One – Afternoon- Nethybridge to Inverness

We were off at 2.40pm – our lateness due to the coach fire not Bill’s diversions into seafood restaurants!  We have approximately 85 miles to do.  We are now climbing higher and higher, snow poles line the roads , pine trees as tall as Big Ben and we watch a baby red squirrel crosses the road – the ferns are turning to gold, Aviemore is green and gold and I wonder what she looks like dressed in silver and white when the hikers leave and the skiers arrive – at Feshiebridge dozens of white riverlets join together tumbling down the hills creating a waterfall which in turn crashes into a beautiful emerald green Loch, natures very own colour chart is in abundance, 40 odd miles further along we slowed down as a group of mechanics were all gathered around Phil and Rosemary’s  - quick decision here, and as we had already robbed them of their oil (thanks Phil) we decided this was our chance to get in front so we shot off!!  Surely we won’t be last tonight!  For the next 5 or 6 miles I studied my directions carefully as they looked somewhat peculiar (I wish there was another Healey in front or even and MG!) – just before you joined the A9 at a T junction going right it seemed you have to take an earlier right hand turn – I told Bill to slow down, but the A9 was only yards away when the other right hand turn which was just a single track came into view – “that can’t be it” said Bill in a weary tone which he saves just for my navigating – “it is, it is” I shrieked all excited because I thought of the other cars behind catching us up.  So up there we went with Bill convinced it was wrong.  I was really relieved when just a few miles along this pretty track Mike and Co have found us, Phil and Rosemary come into our rear view!!  We pulled over and waved them on, so much for our bit of glory!  At about 5pm we reached the RSPB nature reserve and Loch Ruthven, the sun was still managing to peep through clouds of white and the ever increasing thundery greys, the whole area was dappled with the dark greens and greys of threatening rain and now and again the soft pinks and flame oranges and the sun struggled to splash her own colours around before slipping away for the evening, a beautiful end to a beautiful day – The Craigmonie Hotel was a welcome sight.  I’d long lost any feeling in my rear end and so day one came to its end with all the cars safely put to bed and all the owners easily slipping into a happy evening of fine food, good company and lots of laughter.

Day 2 – Morning – Inverness to Tongue

Start 9am, skies grey, but as we head off towards Wick back into sunshine – today’s drive we have been told will be more dramatic that yesterday’s!!  So here we go – past the oil rigs looking like giant meccanos way out to sea, and then up, up and away, we thought Cromarty Firth was particularly beautiful and before our coffee stop towards Laid we’d driven along roads with mountains way up high on our right sloping gently away into pine forests, on our left pure magic.

The ladies looking after us at the coffee stop had a wonderful sense of humour and dotted around the café were lots of little ditties.  In the ladies loo was one dedicated to the Angler and the last verse went –

And upon his return

He smelt of strong drink

And  there was no truth in him ---------

Now does that sound familiar?  Now off we go towards Tongue and our next checkpoint – we followed wide shallow rivers along a single track road, the only other occupants being a group of cyclists who must have got fed up with waving us on – 14 miles further we came to Crask where unbelievably there was just one house on one side of the road and one pub on the other.  On a one to one situation the men all thought it the perfect place to live!

We were now way up in the hills with the snow poles again lining the road we pulled off the track just to sit and experience the sheer vastness and beauty of it all and wondered how these folk cope when the snows arrive, further along we stopped again by a bridge spanning a wide shallow river of rushing waters, one side and the other side of the bridge pools of deeper waters where Bill informed me there would be lovely fat salmon.  This is where he would like to spend a week.   We steadily climb even higher until the sunshine disappears and we are among the clouds and their dampness, not exactly rain, because if it rains we put the hood up – Bill doesn’t like the hood up so he decides its not raining, just damp!  However upon reaching our lunchtime stop – possible last in – we find the early arrivals had had a deluge of rain and apparently there was a mad scramble from the hotel lounge to the car park to get the cars rainproof – so the early birds don’t always get the worm.  Sometimes they just get very wet!!

And so after a superb “top-up” of calories we are off again, the afternoon run is approximately 140 miles Tongue to Dundonnel, petrol is required and Bill sees his chance to quiz the petrol man about the fishing in this area.  We were stunned to be told that a rod for the day costs £900 and you have to put the first one back!  The accommodation in the area are mainly lodges at £14,000 per week which includes 8 rods but there is a waiting list!!  We are even more stunned when we see our first beach – I’m ashamed to say that I/we didn’t know Scotland had such beaches as we encountered that afternoon.  We stopped many many times that afternoon, the sights were too good to miss.  The sun was shining again and there were even swimmers – what a beauty Scourie turned out to be again.  We stopped by the jetty chatting to a charming lady who had lived there thousands of years, she pointed out the red necked diver and we sat and watched him diving again and again catching his supper  - Drunbeg , Clachtoll,  Strathan ooh’s and aah’s of the beaches and seascapes all along the drive we even found a cottage to buy and phoned the agent, but it was already sold!  What a beautiful afternoon – we always come to a time where we have to head for home, today home is the Dundonnel Hotel still some 40 odd miles away, trouble is with Mike and Co you never quite know how long his 40 miles might take, so we reluctantly put our blinkers on and head for home, the Lochs, rivers and mountains and waterfalls are a mere blur, a wonderful day but 4 more hours would have helped – Mike and co work so hard to get the venues right for our lunchtime and evening stops , this important part of the event, this is clearly indicated by the sumptuous evenings.  What is so great is that when dinner is served you never know who you’ll spend the rest of the evening with – but one thing you can be sure of is that it will be fun.

Day 3 Morning Dundonnel to Loch Carron

A beautiful crisp sunny morning perfect for the group photo, now being taken in the car park.  Lots of jostling going on as we all try for the front row – vain lot- all of a sudden we are off – waved off by Mike – First!  Not another Healey in sight!  This was scary, but that’s how it stayed for 1and a half hours, we raced along “don’t let anyone pass” was my frequent plea – above the wind I didn’t see much, there was no-one a the “possible checkpoint”s and no one at the “possible autotest” although we pre-decided we would pretend not to see anyone anyway!  We caught sight of rainbows over mountains and beaches as Gareloch, Kinlochewe flashed by , we bumped over cattle grid over cattle grid over cattle grid – yet another rainbow at Annet but after 67 miles out there on our own we threw the towel in – the pressure got to us!  We pulled in for Scallops at Ardheslaig, we stopped again to view the harbour the beach, the fishing boat, this is more like it – this is us.  Now we are going up Applecross the other direction of 2 years ago – how clever – how different it all is – we bounced our way up into the clouds ears popping and slid back down again – thank you Mike and co for including Applecross again.  Lunchtime we stopped at the wonderful Loch Carron Hotel and we always say “we’ll be back!”

Day 3 Afternoon Loch Carron to Arduaine, the final run

Hoods now have to go up  ITS OFFICIALLY RAINING and that’s how it stayed all afternoon all the beautiful places Kyle of Lochalsh, Strathacarron, Plockton, Drumbuie the Caledonian Canal Bridges, more single tracks, Fort William, Ben Nevis, Oban were all viewed through our rain splattered windows but all were beautiful in their soft grey Scottish Mist, completely different to when the sun is shining of course – but a different beauty to be sure.  And so we make our way to the Loch Melfort Hotel for our final evening, a beautiful hotel sat on this beautiful Loch and again we say it – we must come back.  We were tired and our rear ends numb, but we’d made it.  I gave Bill a big hug, a well done hug, an I’m proud of you hug, a we’ve done it hug.

The evening was grand.  Lots of the men had their DJ’s on and did us proud – what a handsome group the Healey Club made as we all made our way into dinner.  The banter and laughter throughout the evening is so much part of it.  The speeches got the usual jeers and cheers.  A special thank you Mike and co for such a wonderful event, your efforts were truly not wasted.

Now its time for our goodbyes as we have to be off at 6am in the morning.

But not before, thank you Bill because despite the pains you suffer, your determination and your will made it all possible, you said we’d be back – and we were!

Bill and Sylvia Bales – Austin Healey 3000 Mk III