The Quiet Paths

May 2026

Highland Heatwave

After a wonderful two nights in Killin, we packed up on Monday morning and headed further north towards Glencoe.

The journey itself felt like part of the holiday. The road wound through ancient forests and broad glens, skirted the shores of lochs, and gradually climbed onto the vast expanse of Rannoch Moor. Few landscapes in Britain feel quite as wild or elemental. Stretching for miles, the moor is a mosaic of peat bogs, lochans, and rocky outcrops, shaped by ice and weather over thousands of years. Beyond it rise the mountains of Glencoe, their dark slopes and dramatic ridges etched against the sky. It is impossible to drive this route without stopping frequently to admire the view.

The area is also steeped in history. Glencoe is forever associated with the infamous Massacre of Glencoe in 1692, when members of Clan MacDonald were murdered by government troops who had accepted their hospitality. Today, the glen remains a place of immense beauty, though its turbulent past lingers in the landscape and stories told about it.

We arrived both early and hungry, so made a stop in Ballachulish to forage at the Cuil Seafood van — an absolute must if you’re in the area. Lunch consisted of perfectly cooked king scallops paired with local black pudding, enjoyed in the sunshine while looking out across the loch.

From there, it was only a short drive to Invercoe Campsite, our home for the next four nights.

Coincidentally, we arrived at exactly the same time as the UK’s heatwave reached Scotland. The skies were cloudless, the sun gloriously warm, and a gentle breeze drifted in from Loch Linnhe. We wasted no time settling in before spending a wonderfully lazy afternoon sitting by the water, enjoying the rare combination of Highland scenery and Mediterranean weather.

On Tuesday, I laced up my trainers and headed out for a long run. Starting on the Invercoe Forest trails, I followed the old Glencoe Road towards the location used as Hagrid’s Hut in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004).

The hut itself was only a temporary film set, constructed near Clachaig Gully and removed after filming, but the surrounding landscape remains instantly recognisable.

Looking across the valley, it’s easy to understand why the filmmakers chose it. The mountains seem to rise straight from the glen floor, creating a backdrop that feels every bit as magical as the films themselves.

The day was already warm, and before long my run had become a slower pace, interrupted by frequent pauses to admire the scenery. Some habits are difficult to break.

The afternoon was spent exactly as a holiday afternoon should be — stretched out on the grass, watching the loch, before finishing the day with a barbecue in the evening sunshine.

Wednesday brought more heat. Mark headed out on his bike while Pepper and I agreed that anything strenuous would be entirely unnecessary. Instead, we wandered around the beautiful Lochan Trails, where winding paths weave through Scots pine woodland and around small lochs that mirror the surrounding mountains.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent doing very little at all, which felt entirely appropriate.

The local fishmonger’s van visited the campsite later that day, and I quickly filled the fridge with fresh langoustines for dinner. Mark returned from his ride bearing gifts from the Stiff Peaks Bakery — fresh focaccia and an assortment of sweet treats for dessert.

Dinner was exceptional. Fresh shellfish needs very little embellishment, and paired with a chilled rosé wine it felt like the perfect meal for a warm Scottish evening.

Thursday was forecast to be the hottest day of the week. By this point, Pepper was beginning to look decidedly unimpressed by the weather. A thick Border Terrier coat is many wonderful things, but ideal for a Highland heatwave is not one of them.

I finally unpacked the paddleboard and spent the afternoon out on Loch Linnhe. The water was calm, the mountains reflected on its surface, and curious seals occasionally surfaced nearby to inspect the strange visitor floating across their patch of sea. A variety of seabirds drifted overhead and on the water, while the mountains stood silent in the distance.

Back on shore, dinner consisted of local venison burgers enjoyed in the last of the sunshine. Afterwards, we began the inevitable process of packing away chairs, tables, and outdoor gear in preparation for the following morning’s move.

Rain was forecast overnight, bringing an end to Scotland’s brief flirtation with summer. Our final destination of the trip awaited: the village of Luss, on the shores of Loch Lomond.

As the light faded over Loch Linnhe, I found myself reflecting on just how fortunate we’d been. Four days of sunshine in Glencoe feels almost improbable. The mountains, the wildlife, the food, and the simple pleasure of doing very little had combined into one of those rare stretches of holiday where time seems to slow down completely.

The road would continue tomorrow, but Glencoe had already left its mark.