Eighty kilometres of jackknives, hairpins, switchbacks, dips, and blind summits wind through the treeless glens along the Isle of Skye’s northernmost peninsula. The Trotternish Loop — a more poetic title for the serpentining sprawl of the A87 — is, despite my descriptors to the contrary, a forgiving stretch of asphalt for someone who has never driven on the left side of the road in his life.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a fourth year in St Andrews, in possession of a car, must be in want of an adventure. Sadly, the minimal class hours of an arts student does not correlate to the vast expanse of free time one might hope for.
“Gonna travel, gonna travel wild and free, I’m gonna pack my bags because this great big world is calling me”