It doesn’t matter how many sheep I count. The anticipation of the days ahead wins out, and the phone next to me constantly buzzing confirms the insomnia is contagious. All went to bed hours ago, eager to be of fresh mind and body for the road. I had even invited the members of our motley crew over to my house under the false pretences of saving time, thus extra sleep, but they saw right through my snake oil - the pub would have come calling and this trip is far too important for that nonsense. Still, the WhatsApp group would not stop pinging its excited messages across the airwaves - even the witching hour passed without a ceasefire in transmission.
There’s a good reason for our enthusiasm. Ahead lies a road trip of epic proportions – fifteen hundred miles over four days and three nights on a mission to sniff out the best roads Scotland has to offer. This isn’t a road test, it's an adventure with the best possible company - bucket list stuff. The three cars we are taking certainly aren’t rivals, more like a progressive ownership curve. A finishing order isn’t the objective, but it doesn’t mean a few questions can’t be answered along the way.
Copious amounts of tea and biscuits were sacrificed refining the details of the plan, a route that pierces through the heart of the Trossachs before slingshotting around Ben Nevis and tracing the coastline to the Isle of Skye. The best of the NC500 follows, then it’s an abrupt turn South at Kylesku, seeking out the Cairngorms and the challenging Old Military road.
The warm night air is making it even more difficult to settle, but it would be churlish to curse it. We are about to be blessed with the hottest Easter weekend on record, yet a week ago the trip was in jeopardy due to gloomy weather reports. A Nürburgring pilgrimage, the Isle of Man and even Ibiza were floated as alternatives. The cutting 4.15 am alarm call will be the least pleasant experience of the trip - whilst the urge to abuse the snooze button is strong, abuse from a late arrival would be stronger so I leap out of bed and hit the road. But already the night has claimed its first victim as I leave the house. Paul sits in the BMW M2 Competition, impatiently waiting for his co-pilot to rise. Soon a bleary-eyed Chris emerges, muttering something about a faulty alarm clock.
News relayed, I dial back the cruise control of the Mini JCW to 65mph and enjoy seeing the mpg counter climb north of fifty, impressive for a car loaded with the essentials of highland survival - sandwiches, snacks, water and fermented hops. It’s even more impressive once the recent hike to a rolling road verified 299bhp, courtesy of a Bluespark tuning box, is factored in. Fifty to the gallon is certainly a number that won’t be seen again over the next four days.
Meanwhile, somewhere over the North Pennines a third car is making progress, our meeting point and breakfast awaits. Only it’s heading in the wrong direction - the night has claimed a second victim as Marek, the man behind the lens, is on the phone apologising profusely for forgetting his cameras and having to turn around. A second round of sausage and egg butties is ordered. Thirty minutes later a sheepish-looking M135i pulls onto the car park, its owner craving caffeine. Addictions and rumbling bellies satisfied, the convoy settles into an eco-pro cruise along the M6 for the long journey north…
It doesn’t matter how many sheep I count. The anticipation of the days ahead wins out, and the phone next to me constantly buzzing confirms the insomnia is contagious. All went to bed hours ago, eager to be of fresh mind and body for the road. I had even invited the members of our motley crew over to my house under the false pretences of saving time, thus extra sleep, but they saw right through my snake oil - the pub would have come calling and this trip is far too important for that nonsense. Still, the WhatsApp group would not stop pinging its excited messages across the airwaves - even the witching hour passed without a ceasefire in transmission.
There’s a good reason for our enthusiasm. Ahead lies a road trip of epic proportions – fifteen hundred miles over four days and three nights on a mission to sniff out the best roads Scotland has to offer. This isn’t a road test, it's an adventure with the best possible company - bucket list stuff. The three cars we are taking certainly aren’t rivals, more like a progressive ownership curve. A finishing order isn’t the objective, but it doesn’t mean a few questions can’t be answered along the way.
Copious amounts of tea and biscuits were sacrificed refining the details of the plan, a route that pierces through the heart of the Trossachs before slingshotting around Ben Nevis and tracing the coastline to the Isle of Skye. The best of the NC500 follows, then it’s an abrupt turn South at Kylesku, seeking out the Cairngorms and the challenging Old Military road.
The warm night air is making it even more difficult to settle, but it would be churlish to curse it. We are about to be blessed with the hottest Easter weekend on record, yet a week ago the trip was in jeopardy due to gloomy weather reports. A Nürburgring pilgrimage, the Isle of Man and even Ibiza were floated as alternatives. The cutting 4.15 am alarm call will be the least pleasant experience of the trip - whilst the urge to abuse the snooze button is strong, abuse from a late arrival would be stronger so I leap out of bed and hit the road. But already the night has claimed its first victim as I leave the house. Paul sits in the BMW M2 Competition, impatiently waiting for his co-pilot to rise. Soon a bleary-eyed Chris emerges, muttering something about a faulty alarm clock.
News relayed, I dial back the cruise control of the Mini JCW to 65mph and enjoy seeing the mpg counter climb north of fifty, impressive for a car loaded with the essentials of highland survival - sandwiches, snacks, water and fermented hops. It’s even more impressive once the recent hike to a rolling road verified 299bhp, courtesy of a Bluespark tuning box, is factored in. Fifty to the gallon is certainly a number that won’t be seen again over the next four days.
Meanwhile, somewhere over the North Pennines a third car is making progress, our meeting point and breakfast awaits. Only it’s heading in the wrong direction - the night has claimed a second victim as Marek, the man behind the lens, is on the phone apologising profusely for forgetting his cameras and having to turn around. A second round of sausage and egg butties is ordered. Thirty minutes later a sheepish-looking M135i pulls onto the car park, its owner craving caffeine. Addictions and rumbling bellies satisfied, the convoy settles into an eco-pro cruise along the M6 for the long journey north…
I
By Craig Toone
Photography by Marek Barnet
Taking the High Road
Our very first article that inspired the magazine and its name - an ambitious 1,500-mile road trip into the heart of the Scottish Highlands and along the best of the North Coast 500, using a BMW M2 Competition, modified Mini JCW and a BMW M135i
The adventure proper begins at Aviemore. The tourists head for Loch Lomond, but we have an ulterior motive for coming to the Trossachs. The A809 & A81 have acted as the perfect palette cleansers after the motorway, but now our target is in sight – The Dukes Pass. The innocuous turn-off Aberfoyle High Street didn’t show much promise, but immediately the forearms are given a workout as we’re pitched into a series of wide, sweeping hairpins, constantly climbing. Once scaled, the road levels off but undulates with constant direction changes, never letting the cars settle. Any straights are short but sweet, the speedometer acquiring a quick thirty mph before the brakes are tasked with scrubbing it back off again. The corners keep coming, a kaleidoscope of turns of all shapes and angles.
Up front in the M2 Chris is using all his race craft but the hyper agility and low mass of the Mini are what count up here, meaning despite the difference in skill it’s easy to maintain touch. The Mini is aided by a couple of tricks up its sleeve – the car is both lower and wider to the tune of 30mm thanks to the fitment of the optional KW coilovers, 15mm spacers all-round and 17” wheels wrapped in performance-orientated Michelin Supersport tyres. The new suspension setup and stickier footprint have combined beautifully to eradicate the standard cars’ floaty behaviour, locking down any pitch, dive and body roll. Beforehand, the centre of gravity felt as if it gathered at a point around the driver's shoulder line, giving a distinctive and unpleasant top-heavy feeling to the handling balance. Now however, the Dan Tien is significantly lower, the mass of the car pivoting into a turn from your hips, each axle sharing the load rather than rolling into submission.
The steering's glassy initial turn in has also been eradicated, the chassis now able to make sense of the quick steering rack - command and the car responds to the exact degree and tempo, with an economy of movement the other two simply cannot match. This isn’t a complete transformation, however - power understeer is the default safety net, quickly becoming excessive if you overcook things, and for all its accuracy the finer details still remain elusive. A change in surface? Seen and heard but not felt. The transition from grip to slip? Not well-telegraphed.
You end up searching for alternate answers, learning to extrapolate the limit of adhesion through the seat of your pants and the oration of the tyres - assuming you can hear them over the racket of the JCW’s sports exhaust. Another optional extra party piece, the carbon-tipped pipes emit a riot of pops and bangs that ricochet back off the rock face and chase you up the road. It's little wonder the Bluetooth fob to operate its valve comes with an anti-social behaviour warning.
As Loch Achray comes into view the exhaust valve is quietly closed in order to not disturb the Lady of the Lake. Glencoe is the next port of call and I slip behind the paddles of the M2, but it’s an uneventful if highly pretty, commute over to our first overnight stop of Fort William. All around us gentle slopes give way to towering jagged peaks and every side road shows promise - it takes considerable willpower to resist their siren call but tiredness and range anxiety curb our enthusiasm. In this environment the M2 reigns supreme, picking off traffic with absolute authority, its companions no match for the rapid-fire gear changes or top-end reach of the additional turbo. If only the voice generated in the process had more personality. One detour we do take is to Appin, where Castle Stalker stands isolated on a small island, stoically guarding the coast of Loch Linnhe.
A swim, steam, sauna and shower later we’re sat in the hotel bar with a beverage in one hand and the menu in the other. Upon seeing two unfinished Macaroni and cheese pass by we decide to take our chances with the trip advisor lottery and head to the Fort William high street. After some hangry bickering, a small bistro is chosen and seafood, burgers and fries are washed down with Peroni and a side of car chat. “The Dukes felt like a rally super stage. Short in-gear bursts then hard on the brakes for the next bend. Left-right, left-right. The M2 felt like it was on a Scalextric track that you’d put together without any thought. The car defied its weight, tyres grabbing at the tarmac pushing us into the bolsters with every turn of the wheel and twist of the road” says Chris in between a mouthful of fries.
After grabbing the last onion ring Marek admits the challenge was too much for the pursuing M135i “I bravely fought with the law of physics trying to move the mass of the BMW from right to left quick enough, to stay behind the nimble Mini and more powerful M. Then the brakes started losing the battle, increasing in heat with every corner. Over this rollercoaster road, the car felt like it reached its limits and started showing its weaknesses. No matter how hard I hustled, I simply couldn’t keep up.” Marek consoles himself by calling for the dessert menu...
The adventure proper begins at Aviemore. The tourists head for Loch Lomond, but we have an ulterior motive for coming to the Trossachs. The A809 & A81 have acted as the perfect palette cleansers after the motorway, but now our target is in sight – The Dukes Pass. The innocuous turn-off Aberfoyle High Street didn’t show much promise, but immediately the forearms are given a workout as we’re pitched into a series of wide, sweeping hairpins, constantly climbing. Once scaled, the road levels off but undulates with constant direction changes, never letting the cars settle. Any straights are short but sweet, the speedometer acquiring a quick thirty mph before the brakes are tasked with scrubbing it back off again. The corners keep coming, a kaleidoscope of turns of all shapes and angles.
Up front in the M2 Chris is using all his race craft but the hyper agility and low mass of the Mini are what count up here, meaning despite the difference in skill it’s easy to maintain touch. The Mini is aided by a couple of tricks up its sleeve – the car is both lower and wider to the tune of 30mm thanks to the fitment of the optional KW coilovers, 15mm spacers all-round and 17” wheels wrapped in performance-orientated Michelin Supersport tyres. The new suspension setup and stickier footprint have combined beautifully to eradicate the standard cars’ floaty behaviour, locking down any pitch, dive and body roll. Beforehand, the centre of gravity felt as if it gathered at a point around the driver's shoulder line, giving a distinctive and unpleasant top-heavy feeling to the handling balance. Now however, the Dan Tien is significantly lower, the mass of the car pivoting into a turn from your hips, each axle sharing the load rather than rolling into submission.
The steering's glassy initial turn in has also been eradicated, the chassis now able to make sense of the quick steering rack - command and the car responds to the exact degree and tempo, with an economy of movement the other two simply cannot match. This isn’t a complete transformation, however - power understeer is the default safety net, quickly becoming excessive if you overcook things, and for all its accuracy the finer details still remain elusive. A change in surface? Seen and heard but not felt. The transition from grip to slip? Not well-telegraphed.
You end up searching for alternate answers, learning to extrapolate the limit of adhesion through the seat of your pants and the oration of the tyres - assuming you can hear them over the racket of the JCW’s sports exhaust. Another optional extra party piece, the carbon-tipped pipes emit a riot of pops and bangs that ricochet back off the rock face and chase you up the road. It's little wonder the Bluetooth fob to operate its valve comes with an anti-social behaviour warning.
As Loch Achray comes into view the exhaust valve is quietly closed in order to not disturb the Lady of the Lake. Glencoe is the next port of call and I slip behind the paddles of the M2, but it’s an uneventful if highly pretty, commute over to our first overnight stop of Fort William. All around us gentle slopes give way to towering jagged peaks and every side road shows promise - it takes considerable willpower to resist their siren call but tiredness and range anxiety curb our enthusiasm. In this environment the M2 reigns supreme, picking off traffic with absolute authority, its companions no match for the rapid-fire gear changes or top-end reach of the additional turbo. If only the voice generated in the process had more personality. One detour we do take is to Appin, where Castle Stalker stands isolated on a small island, stoically guarding the coast of Loch Linnhe.
A swim, steam, sauna and shower later we’re sat in the hotel bar with a beverage in one hand and the menu in the other. Upon seeing two unfinished Macaroni and cheese pass by we decide to take our chances with the trip advisor lottery and head to the Fort William high street. After some hangry bickering, a small bistro is chosen and seafood, burgers and fries are washed down with Peroni and a side of car chat. “The Dukes felt like a rally super stage. Short in-gear bursts then hard on the brakes for the next bend. Left-right, left-right. The M2 felt like it was on a Scalextric track that you’d put together without any thought. The car defied its weight, tyres grabbing at the tarmac pushing us into the bolsters with every turn of the wheel and twist of the road” says Chris in between a mouthful of fries.
After grabbing the last onion ring Marek admits the challenge was too much for the pursuing M135i “I bravely fought with the law of physics trying to move the mass of the BMW from right to left quick enough, to stay behind the nimble Mini and more powerful M. Then the brakes started losing the battle, increasing in heat with every corner. Over this rollercoaster road, the car felt like it reached its limits and started showing its weaknesses. No matter how hard I hustled, I simply couldn’t keep up.” Marek consoles himself by calling for the dessert menu...
"We’re making progress but taking our time. Inputs are measured and deliberate, short shifting through the gears, letting torque do its thing. We navigate around a series of breathtaking lochs under the watchful eyes of the Five Sisters of Kintail, each shoreline influencing the road in its own unique manner"