I’ll never forget the drive up to our holiday spot near Inverness – we’d piled into the car from Edinburgh, full of excitement for a proper Highland getaway with mates, only for the sat-nav to chuck us into a massive downpour just past Beauly. Sheets of rain hammered the windscreen, and I took a wrong turn onto some narrow B-road, ending up bogged down in mud for a good half-hour while we laughed it off with thermos flasks of tea. By the time we arrived, soaked but buzzing, the clouds parted just enough to reveal this cracking renovated holiday home on the outskirts of Muir of Ord – a spacious, family-run gem with those classic tartan carpets greeting you right in the hallway. It felt like stepping into a warm Scottish hug, perfect for our group, especially with the hosts sorting a private whisky tasting that evening. First impressions? Spot on.

We’d planned epic hikes around the River Conon, just a stone’s throw away, and the place couldn’t have been better placed for it. Day one dawned crisp and clear, so we laced up our boots and headed out for a gentle riverside wander – the water sparkling under blue skies, herons flapping lazily overhead, and not a soul in sight. It was pure bliss, that fresh Highland air filling our lungs as we chatted about nothing and everything. We even spotted a few salmon leaping, which had us proper chuffed, imagining ourselves as intrepid anglers (though none of us had rods).

But oh, the British weather – it’s got a wicked sense of humour, doesn’t it? Next morning, we woke to horizontal rain lashing the windows, turning our ambitious plan for a longer loop towards the nearby hills into a right old scramble. No point fighting it, so we adapted: donned our waterproofs and embraced a muddy tramp along the riverbank paths instead. Slipping and sliding, we giggled like kids, one mate face-planting spectacularly into a puddle (he’s still sore about it). It wasn’t the grand adventure we’d pictured, but there’s something magical about those soggy Highland walks – the mist rolling in, the scent of wet earth, and that cosy pub lunch waiting back in the village.

By afternoon, the sun cheekily peeked out again, so we nipped over to the Muir of Ord golf course trails for a breezy stroll – undulating paths with views over farmland, gorse blooming yellow even in the chill. The weather flips kept us on our toes, forcing impromptu changes that made the trip all the richer. One evening, mid-whisky masterclass in the lounge (the host brought drams that sang of peat and heather), I had a quiet moment reflecting on it all. Here we were, a bunch of city folk, mud-caked and windswept, yet utterly content. Those hikes, good days and grim, reminded me why I love Scotland – it doesn’t hand you perfection on a plate; it makes you earn the joy, one soggy step at a time. If you’re after a base for weather-proof walking adventures with your crew, this corner of the Highlands delivers every time.