U K | S C O T L A N D
G L E N C O E & T H E
H I G H L A N D S
O V E R V I E W
There are few landscapes more stirring, more severe, or more cinematic than the Scottish Highlands.
A tapestry of glens, lochs, and mist-covered mountains, where the light shifts by the minute and and the weather is happy to keep pace. And Glen Coe, perhaps more than anywhere else, is the Highlands distilled into its purest, most poetic form.
Driving through Glen Coe is magical. The peaks loom on either side — Buachaille Etive Mòr, the Three Sisters — shaped by ice and time, and by the ghosts of clans long vanished. This is the site of the infamous 1692 massacre, when members of Clan MacDonald were killed under false hospitality.
To this day, some guesthouses in the Highlands still hang signs reading “No Campbells,” a reminder of how long the land holds memory.
But this is also one of the most viscerally beautiful places in Britain. In the air, in the stillness, the rush of the River Coe cuts through ancient stone as it makes its way from the peaks down into the lochs and ultimately into the sea. Whether you come in winter, when snow traces the ridgelines, in summer, when the glen glows green with bracken, in the autum when it turns saffron gold, or in the spring when it lights up with flowers, it is impossible not to be moved by it.
And the Highlands stretch far beyond Glen Coe. There are ruined castles you can walk into unaccompanied, roads that vanish into mist, and a sense of scale that redefines your understanding of space and quiet.
You’ll pass sheep on absurdly narrow single-track roads, see deer silhouetted on ridgelines, and perhaps, if the weather turns right, you’ll catch the Highlands at their most characteristic — not in postcard sunshine, but in wind and rain, under skies the colour of pewter, when the landscape feels alive with something elemental.
God help us all, it’s tweed season here at least once per day.
Here's what we think should form the core of your experience:
Glen Coe’s Landscape & Legacy
Formed by volcanic eruption and glacial carving, the glen is one of Scotland’s great geological wonders. But for all its age, it is the human story here that leaves the deeper impression. The Massacre of Glencoe is still told as a cautionary tale — of trust broken, of clan honour, and of politics turned personal.
The glen’s scale invites walking — even short walks here can be deeply rewarding, and longer hikes take you into corries and high ridgelines where you’ll meet more sheep than people.
For photographers, it’s an ever-changing palette: brooding skies, sudden rainbows, and golden light breaking through rainclouds, as Jimmy Page said, albeit about his music instead: “a tapestry of light and shadow”.
Castles, Clans & Cinematic Roads
Part of the pleasure of Highland travel is the interplay of history and film.
You’ll drive through the stretch of road made famous in the James Bond film Skyfall, with Glen Etive unfolding in slow, majestic curves. Kilchurn Castle stands partly ruined but wholly romantic at the head of Loch Awe, while Innes Chonnel Castle — one of Scotland’s oldest — still watches silently over the water.
This is also where Braveheart was shot.
Many castles here are untouched by signage or rope barriers. You’ll walk through broken archways and peer out of arrow slits as if the 14th century had only just passed.
It’s this unmediated quality that makes the Highlands feel so immediate — time is a bit loosey-goosey here, and it's easy to slip into its layers.
Trains, Lochs & Highland Storytelling
The Jacobite steam train — known to many as the Hogwarts Express from Harry Potter — runs between Fort William and Mallaig, crossing the spectacular arched Glenfinnan Viaduct. But this isn’t just about fiction: the train follows a route built to connect the isolated Highlands, a story of remoteness and resilience.
Lochs reflect all of this back — Loch Shiel, Loch Awe, and Loch Linnhe among them. You’ll stop roadside to photograph them without meaning to, over and over again, as light and mood shift.
Everywhere, there are stories — of Jacobite uprisings, clan loyalties, fairy hills and standing stones, Highland clearances and resistance.
A good private guide here is not just a driver or a storyteller, but something closer to a cultural translator: someone who can show you what the Highlands have meant, and still mean, to the people who call them home.