One of the first decisions anyone has to make in doing the trip is getting to, and back from, the ends. Wherever you happen to live in the country this will likely double the mileage and duplicate parts of the journey so I decided on an unusual route which would add a many extra miles but so what? This was to be an enjoyable adventure not a trial. Lands End is the most Westerly point of mainland Britain but by adding the other ‘Compass Points’ to the list, Lizard Point (most Southerly), Lowestoft Ness (most Easterly) and Dunnet Head (most Northerly) a circular idea was taking shape.
Affectionately known as Rivet (from its number plate, and therefore I’m its ‘Pop’) my XJ-S had experienced a hard and generally uncaring life before I took pity on it in 1996. What I describe as a ‘rolling restoration’ over the years, has resulted in a mechanically sound and very reliable if somewhat tired looking car when viewed close up. The XJ-S model range has been described in various ways by many people over the years but has always been a Grand Tourer in the true sense of the word. My planned trip would put this to the test.
My journey’s start was by following the old A30 coaching road, which runs from London right down to Lands End in Cornwall. The original A30, for much of its distance has been by-passed by other faster roads leaving much of the character of the villages and sights along the way much as I remember them as an excited schoolboy on family holidays in the 1960’s From Basingstoke to Salisbury much of the highway is aligned with the Roman road resulting in being as straight as a die for miles and miles gently rising and falling as it follows the hills and downland.
The 404 ft spire of Salisbury cathedral is truly a magnificent sight towering above any other building in the city. Salisbury posed a problem, should I follow exactly the A30 route right through the centre or should I use the by-pass to continue my journey? I decided to take the easy way, this was to be a journey of pleasure, not a pilgrimage study of a medieval road.
The A30 took on a slower pace until merging with the traffic from the A303 before Honiton and becoming even busier once the southern end of the M5 joins before Exeter. A break was called for soon after, so the famous ‘Jamaica Inn’ on Bodmin Moor was a welcome diversion off the dual-carriageway.
Suitably refreshed and the fast road continued until again becoming a quiet road once more at Penzance. Very soon we were at Lands End. Many people speak of their disappointment of reaching the most Westerly point of mainland Britain, I suppose it can seem a bit commercial, but in fairness I thought it mostly retained a sense of isolation and, well ‘endness’.
The next stop on my route was a relatively short hop to Lizard Point, the most Southerly point of mainland Britain. The only thing there was a deserted car park on top of the cliffs. Not at all commercial!
Whilst on the Lizard peninsular I paid a visit to the Goonhilly Earth Station to see the spectacular radio dishes. Now was to be the long haul eastwards to and around London on to Lowestoft Ness, the most Easterly point of mainland Britain. The Ness was actually quite difficult to find. Lowestoft, it seems hasn’t yet woken up to the geographical importance of its best landmark and not one sign helped me to find it. However, tucked behind gas holder, next to the 126 metre high 2.75 MW output wind turbine I located the ‘Euroscope’ a large flat circular structure with destinations and their distances inscribed around its circumference.
On the road again, I travelled through the flat open reaches of the Norfolk Broads, the Wash and the Fens eventually crossing the Humber suspension bridge into Hull. With a span of 1,410 metres and 155 metre high towers the Humber bridge is truly a marvel of modern engineering and for seventeen years held the world record as the longest single span suspension bridge.
Heading ever North using the A1 road the ‘Angel of the North’ sculpture was a welcome sight at Gateshead near Newcastle upon Tyne. The 200 tonne Angel is Britains largest sculpture, at 20 metres high with a wingspan of 54 metres. My next stop though was Lindisfarne (Holy Island) The causeway floods at high tide and I couldn’t risk waiting if I got the timing wrong, so I stayed on the mainland just in case!
Across the border into Scotland and over the Forth Road bridge. Not quite on the scale as Humber, but still very impressive with a 1,005 metre span and a tower height of 150 metres. The bridge is literally overshadowed by the famous Forth Rail bridge which everyone admires. Completed in 1890 it must rank as one of the finest pieces of Victorian engineering. I parked the XJ-S underneath at North Queensferry to take in some of the atmosphere which was overwhelming. The thundering sound of one of the 200 or so train movements that across the bridge daily literally shook the ground, even without a train passing, there was the constant hammering and general noise associated with the ever present maintenance duties being carried out on various parts of the steel structure.
Soon heading North on the A9 and the scenery gradually starts to change to hill and mountain. By-passing Aviemore the road eventually descends into Inverness. Crossing the bridges of the Moray Firth, Cromarty Firth and Dornoch Firth the A9 road winds ever northward. As with the road near Lands End, numerous cyclists were pounding this road in either direction, no doubt some with a finishing line in sight and others with great apprehension of what they had started. We join the A99 across the wild moorland through Wick and finally on to our destination of John O’Groats.
I was pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere there, very similar in many ways to Lands End, but in a more relaxed way. Admittedly I had arrived in the luxurious style and comfort of a Jaguar compared with many of those muscle-aching, blistered and exhausted souls powering human powered transport. I raise my hat to every one of them though. Now John O’Groats may be world famous and it is also agreed that it is the most Northerly village in mainland Britain but it isn’t the most Northerly point. That distinction goes to Dunnet Head some 15 miles to the North West which is where we soon find ourselves. The single track road up to Dunnet is pleasant enough, almost free of any traffic, winding and climbing ever upwards to reach a good car park by the lighthouse on top of cliffs some 100 metres above the wild seas of the Pentland Firth.
So that’s the four ‘compass points’ and the Lands End – John O’Groats journey completed. It would be a pity though to have come this far only to turn around and go back the same route so the next planned part of my adventure was to begin. The islands of the Outer Hebrides!
Following the road westwards, we headed through the town of Thurso, past Dounreay nuclear power station, Durness, Laxford Bridge and eventually on to Ullapool. The scenery of this particular run was truly magnificent and memorable. Much of the road is single track with passing places, but with a good surface, light traffic and excellent visibility the XJ-S glided along taking all the bends and hills alike in its stride without any complaints or problems. Driving these single track roads it is generally considered good manners to use the first available passing place to give way, and although an approaching car could be seen a good distance away, it became a gamble as to who would give way first! With a very few exceptions, the etiquette was observed by both parties resulting in a friendly raise of the hand or thumbs-up between myself and the other passing motorist. This was to become a rule of the road for the next few days!
At Ullapool we board the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry ‘MV Isle of Lewis’ sailing to the Outer Hebrides. A comfortable two and a half hour crossing with magnificent views of the Summer Isles ends with us disembarking at Stornoway.
I visited the world famous Callanish Standing Stones on Lewis. Thought to be some 5,000 years old this ancient stone circle surely equals Stonehenge in complexity and as with the Wiltshire stones no-one yet knows the reason for their existence.
The isle of Lewis isn’t mountainous, more a rolling landscape of peat bog, wetlands and generally, well nothingness. I don’t mean that in a bad way, the solitude and isolation was different to anything I had experienced so far and I found it to be quite thought provoking. In many places the peat had been cut for fuel by local crofters, one can only imagine what this land would be like in the depths of winter.
Heading south towards the Isle of Harris the landscape changed once again. Lewis and Harris aren’t separate islands as such, but have very different terrain. The weather at this point was changing for the worst, I had experienced unseasonably beautiful clear skies until now, but I had heard on the radio that a change was on its way. Heading over the increasingly rising hills I was following a flatbed truck, at a fair distance to be fair, I was in no hurry and in such cases I always follow with plenty of room so that the diver in front is not intimidated. Luckily I was, as a large plastic drum fell off the back. Watching it tumble and bounce this way and that steadily towards me I was anticipating which way to steer. As luck would have it, the barrel found itself bounding off the road and down a steep embankment. The truck driver must have sensed this happening as he slowed, just as I did. The barrel must have been empty though as he happily continued on his way without stopping. I followed him all the way down towards the harbour at the small town of Tarbert.
Continuing southwards, I easily found the small ferry terminal of Leverburgh.
Only a small ferry, the hour long sailing was really interesting as the ship meandered in and out of the many small islands scattered around between the islands of Harris and my next port of call, Bernaray. As with many of the islands of the Outer Hebrides, this one is joined by a causeway to North Uist Between here and the island of Benbecula it’s actually very difficult to decide whether the causeways and bridges are joining a multitude of tiny islands or bridging an uncountable number of lochs and lakes, either way the road is once again of an excellent standard. Continuing through South Uist I was lost for words at the beauty of the landscape, as the storm of the previous day had cleared, the light was so clear, the air so unpolluted all the colours of the island seemed to be greatly enhanced with vivid azure blue and purple freshwater lochs and big bright blue skies.
Near Stonybridge there was a small car park next to the war memorial on higher ground so I stopped for a while.
Looking around from this vantage point I was astounded at the peace, beauty and solitude of this island, these sights and memories will stay with me for ever.
I had a little more time before my next ferry sailing so with a bit of difficulty I found one of the famed beaches of South Uist near a place named ‘Gearraidh na Monadh’ (Garrymoney!). The pure white sandy beaches of South Uist really have to be seen to believed. I parked the XJ-S and wondered onto the shore, for miles in each direction as far as the eye could see there was no one. Absolutely nobody. I sat there listening to the sound of waves and seabirds for perhaps a couple of hours, exactly how long I don’t know, time wasn’t important there. There were no other sounds to be heard at all, no cars, no people, no aircraft. This was indeed solitude, but not loneliness. This was a good place to be.
Eventually and with some regret I had to move on. I had a ferry to catch and this one, the ‘MV Lord of the Isles’ sailing between Lochboisdale and the Scottish mainland town of Oban wouldn’t wait for me or the Jaguar. The ‘Lord of the Isles’, a Glasgow built 85 metre length ‘Ro-Ro’ ferry is a stocky powerful ship, which she needed to be traversing these notoriously stormy seas every day. The five hour crossing was quite a rough experience, the weather turning once more to wind and rain but eased greatly once passing the Island of Coll and entering the Sound of Mull. The bleak hills of Mull gave way to the colourful town of Tobermory where the harbour facing houses are all painted in differing cheerful pastel colours. More commonly known by younger television viewers as the fictional setting of Ballamory, it has become a place of pilgrimage in it’s own right.
The ferry crossing had given me time to reflect on the journey so far, the Hebridean islands were indeed a special place, unspoiled beauty, tranquillity and peace in a setting of unparalleled scenery.
Disembarking on the mainland at Oban, the dream soon vanished into a haze of seemingly distant memory. I’ve been to Oban many times before and it’s a lovely small Scottish town, but for me now, it seemed too busy, too crowded, I felt compressed and enclosed, I needed the open road. I guess that’s the effect of the Hebrides.
On previous visits to Scotland I had always followed the banks of Loch Lomond from Oban. This is a very special and beautiful part of Scotland but the penalty is that in order to head South, you can’t escape the fact that you have to travel through the heart of Glasgow. I just couldn’t cope with that at this time so decided to head Eastwards instead towards Stirling. I really didn’t care about time or miles anymore, the XJ-S was so supremely comfortable and enjoyable that it was a pleasure. Whilst looking at a map of my route I saw that the ‘Falkirk Wheel’ was not far south of Stirling so that was to be my next stop.
The ‘Falkirk Wheel’ was built quite recently in 2002 on the Forth & Clyde canal to raise or lower boats some 35 metres in height to replace the flight of 11 locks originally lost during the closure of the canal in the 1960’s.
This was my last stop in Scotland, from here it would be the efficient but lethargic route of the M6 heading towards home. As I had covered some of Britains most magnificent bridges during my travels I felt that I really needed to complete the circle by crossing the Severn Bridge, this would also involve me travelling, if only briefly, the roads of Wales. A circumnavigation of Wales looks promising for future travels but for now I would be content to continue south on the M5 then the M50 until Ross-on-Wye through the beautiful Wye Valley past Tintern Abbey to the original Severn Bridge at Chepstow.
The last part taking me along the M4 back to my original starting point some 2500 miles previously. All the time the XJ-S has just run and run without any fuss. I’ve read all the stories including E Type replacement, Quirky styling and many other reports both good and bad but for me what a superb means of travel. A Grand Tourer of the true intended fashion indeed.
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