Day 3: A day in Inverness & Loch Ness

3:45 am and wide awake.
The sun was already up, casting a pale light across the Highlands, and I began to wonder if darkness even exists in May in Scotland. Our campervan, noble beast that it is, was tilted just enough to stop the shower from draining properly. A mild inconvenience, easily solved with a 6am plan: change into day clothes, skip the shower (for now), and drive two hours to Inverness.

It was my turn behind the wheel of our house on wheels — a challenge I accepted with bright-eyed enthusiasm, mostly because it was highway all the way.

The trickiest part?
Adjusting to miles instead of kilometres, and trying not to get too distracted by the sheer majesty of the Highland hills and their gloriously woolly sheep with black faces.

The hills looked like they’d been draped in green felt — pool-table smooth in some places, forest-moss textured in others. The trees reminded me of those planted around 1800s Georgian homes in Tasmania, where settlers once tried to recreate their distant version of “home.” We passed castle after castle, distillery after distillery, and wide rivers with mist dancing across the surface like ghosts doing morning stretches.

Newtonmore & the great grocery hunt

Desperate for food, caffeine, and a functioning bathroom, we stopped in a small village called Newtonmore. I counted down the minutes until the Co-op Food supermarket opened at 7am, while RaRa discovered what he later declared “the finest public toilet in all the lands.”

Inside the Co-op, I gathered a modest bounty:
Macaroni and cheese, cottage pies, yoghurt, berries, apples, crunchy salad mix, stringy cheese (a mistake, as Lark would later abandon it in the shower), and Digestives biscuits for tea-dunking purposes.

I skipped the tea aisle entirely — we’d “borrow” some from a castle soon enough.

Eggs were a surprising delight at £1.90, a far cry from Sydney’s current going rate of one soul per dozen.

An overseas affair (with Starbucks)

But still, something was missing — a warm, caffeinated hug in a cup.

Back home, I only flirt with Starbucks during pumpkin spice season. The rest of the year? I'm loyal to sticky chai and almond matchas in cafés with woven lampshades and ironic playlists.

But overseas?
Starbucks and I have a quiet little romance — one that only rekindles abroad and is never spoken of back home. No judgment. Just caffeine and closure.

Inverness in full swing

Inverness turned out to be a gem of a daytrip. We began with our trio of beverages at Starbucks on Rose Street, taking turns having a quiet moment with internet, while the other parent entertained Lark next door at Smyths Toy Store — where she promptly entered a state of plastic euphoria.

She bounced wildly on the toddler trampoline, drove her first Maserati (in reverse, of course), and fell head over heels for Snickers from Bluey — immediately requesting a twinset. RaRa, soft touch that he is, caved to at least one purchase. Snickers now joins us on our journey.

From there, we made our way to Leakey’s Bookshop, Scotland’s oldest secondhand bookshop, tucked inside a converted church. Dust, creaky floorboards, and the distinct feeling that you might accidentally summon a ghost just by reading aloud.

At The Victorian Market, I picked up a tartan scarf and some postcards, while Lark attempted to shoplift a Loch Ness Monster egg cup — not successfully, but with enthusiasm.

We meandered along the river to the Inverness Botanic Gardens & Café, where we shared a cheese scone with butter and blackberry jam. Crumbly perfection.

Then we wandered across to Ness Islands, crossed whimsical footbridges, admired the trees, and eventually made our way back along the river to the campervan.

A soft landing at Loch Ness

We ended the day at Loch Ness Caravan Park in Fort Augustus.

Jet lag had fully taken me down.
I was one with the mattress.

But RaRa — night owl, snack hero, beacon of beige cuisine — pulled together a dinner of macaroni and cheese with a side of chicken nuggets. A warm bed. A warm meal. A small, snoring toddler wedged between us. It was pure bliss and I’ve never felt happier.

No Nessie sightings that night.
But if she had shown up, I’d have offered her a nugget and asked if she was tired too.