‘There’s nowhere I’d rather be than the remote Applecross peninsula, perfect for solitary hikes, canoeing and peat fires’
The idea of a home “trip” can depend entirely, savagely so, on what age you are. Growing weary in the back of an Austin Allegro as a child, you simply long for entertainment. As a teenager, taking up too much room in the Renault, you damn everything with faint, bored praise. And then, suddenly, you hit your 20s, meet someone, and the idea of a day trip to a coast or castle or canal becomes embroidered with the idea of adulthood, paying for things on your own, with unique laughter and a dusting of lust.
Now I’m older still, the place I am drawn to, increasingly, rather than Tassie’s Bay of Fires or the Big Sur’s late golden light, is close to home: Applecross peninsula, Wester Ross, where my brother rents a but-and-ben, refurbished to grand enough if basic standards.