I’ll never forget the drive up to Glencoe – or rather, the comedy of errors that got me there. I’d set off from Fort William early, buzzing with that proper holiday anticipation, windows down, playlist blasting some cheesy Highland tunes. The plan was simple: zip along the A82, soak in those epic views of the loch, and arrive at my cosy bungalow in Onich feeling like a proper adventurer. But no, fate had other ideas. First, the sat-nav decided to throw a wobbly just past the Nevis Range turn-off, rerouting me down some narrow single-track that had me white-knuckling the wheel, dodging sheep and praying no tractor would appear round the bend. Then, as I finally spotted the village sign for Onich, a sudden downpour hit – classic Scottish welcome – turning the windscreen into a blurry mess. I pulled over, fumbling for my screenwash, only to squirt it all over my lap. Sodden trousers and a sheepish grin in the rear-view; I looked like I’d already hiked Ben Nevis.

By the time I rocked up, I was half an hour late and feeling a right muppet, but blimey, what a first impression. Tucked between the dramatic jaws of Glencoe and the brooding bulk of Ben Nevis, this little bungalow in Onich is pure magic. It’s one of those unpretentious Highland spots – think welcoming wooden porch, flower boxes nodding in the wind, and windows framing views that make your jaw drop. I stepped inside, dripping a bit, and was hit with that instant ‘ahh’ of home-from-home comfort: open-plan living with a cracking wood-burner ready for cosying up, a kitchen stocked for a full Scottish fry-up, and bedrooms that promise deep sleeps after a day out. The location? Spot on. Fort William’s just eight miles down the road for grabbing supplies at the Tesco, but you don’t need to go far – it’s right in the heart of adventure central.

That first evening, after hanging my wet jacket by the radiator and brewing a massive mug of tea, I wandered out to the garden. The sun was peeking through the clouds, gilding Loch Linnhe and those rugged hills beyond. I could practically hear the call of the trails – the Devil’s Staircase hike starting practically on the doorstep, or a gentle stroll along the shoreline where seals bob about like cheeky locals. I pictured myself the next day, maybe renting a bike in Fort William and tearing down the Nevis Range paths, mud-splattered and grinning like an idiot. Or just meandering the Pap of Glencoe paths for those postcard views without breaking a sweat.

Sitting there, nursing my tea, I had one of those gentle moments of reflection. Life back home’s a whirlwind of deadlines and drudgery, isn’t it? Here, with the mist rolling in and the hills whispering secrets, it all felt miles away. Sure, the arrival was a faff, but it made the payoff sweeter – this is why we do these trips, right? To remind ourselves there’s more to life than sat-nav tantrums. If you’re after a base for proper Scottish escapades, you won’t go far wrong with a spot like this. I’m already plotting a return, minus the rain-soaked trousers next time.