Chapter 4 Achmelvich to Inverness

Passing places

It took me a while to revisit my original plan and finally shorten the trip into a three plus one day version.

Initially, the idea was to complete the NC500, stay at Applecross, continue towards the Isle of Skye for another two days, and eventually drive back to Coventry over the weekend.

The stays were booked.
The plans were made.
Everything was properly structured.

But somewhere during the journey, I decided to cut it short.

Not because I stopped loving it.

Maybe because I wanted to stop the song while the music still sounded beautiful.

So this day was naturally going to be longer than usual. I had merged the next day’s drive into this one, planning to complete the final stretch of the NC500, including Bealach na Bà, the steepest road ascent in the UK.

Surprisingly, abandoning the original plan and letting the trip reshape itself actually felt right.

Somewhere during those endless Highland roads, I started thinking about the passing places on single track roads.

At first they just looked like practical road infrastructure. Tiny spaces where one vehicle pauses to let another pass through.

But slowly they started feeling symbolic.

Sometimes journeys only move smoothly because one side chooses to pause for a moment.

Sometimes plans survive only because we allow ourselves to temporarily step aside and let life rearrange the road ahead.

And strangely, those impromptu changes often work out better than the perfectly planned version.

Of course, sometimes the opposite happens too.

But maybe that uncertainty is part of the journey itself.

Taking the conscious detour through Bealach na Bà felt personal for another reason too.

It was more than just a scenic route.

It was a deliberate test for myself.

For most of my life, I never truly considered myself a confident driver. Even after getting my license, some part of me still carried hesitation, especially with heights, steep roads, hill starts, and narrow passes.

And now here I was voluntarily driving toward one of the steepest and most intimidating roads in the country.

I wanted to prove something to myself.

Not that I was fearless.
But that fear and confidence could still exist together.

Every time I stopped uphill to let another car pass, I could physically feel the fear in my body. That slight chill in the feet, the tension in the chest, the quick mental calculations before moving the car again without rolling backwards.

And somehow, I realized that was exactly the same skill life often demands too.

Staying calm under pressure.
Holding control while fear quietly sits beside you.

Maybe I still haven’t figured out the missing piece completely.

But somewhere during that climb, I knew I was closer than before.

Eventually, Bealach na Bà was done.

Successfully.

And when I finally reached the hostel for the night, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment.

Maybe for a brief moment, it wasn’t just pride.

Maybe it was ego slowly peeking out too.

But I also knew life usually humbles us very quickly after moments like that.

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Polar Steps

That night was another shared dormitory stay.

I said hello to my roommate.

Mark Lethbridge.

A retired man who casually asked where I was from.

With a ridiculous amount of pride, I immediately told him about my trip. Lands End to John O’ Groats, the NC500, all done solo in my car.

Then I asked about his journey.

And within seconds, I felt completely humbled.

He calmly explained that he too was travelling across the UK.

But not by car.
Not even by cycle.

He had started from the Shetland Islands and was making his way toward Lands End and eventually the Isle of Scilly.

By walking.

What a man.

From that moment onwards, I slowly stopped talking and simply started listening.

I wanted to hear everything.
I wanted to admire him properly.

There was something deeply inspiring about the simplicity with which he carried such an extraordinary journey.

At some point, I asked how he tracked his trip.

That’s when he introduced me to Polarsteps and added me to his profile.

And even now, I still keep checking his journey from time to time.

Rooting for him from a distance.

Somehow, meeting people like Mark and McRobbie became just as memorable as the landscapes themselves.

Chapter 5 – The Missing Piece

The NC500 was officially done.

Now, to personally complete the journey, all I needed to do was park my car back home in Coventry and say hello to the people I loved.

My Volvo had driven beautifully throughout the trip except for one issue. It burned oil faster than usual. Nothing catastrophic, but enough for me to constantly monitor the levels and top it up every now and then.

Early in the morning, before starting the nine hour, 450 mile drive back home, I did my usual checks.

Checked the oil.
Topped it up slightly.
Kept the can back.
Checked the dipstick again.
Made sure the levels were fine.

Checklist done.

I started the car, turned on my favourite playlist, finely tuned my excitement meter, and started driving.

The roads beside Loch Ness were beautiful that morning.

The ETA looked better than expected.
Every overtake reduced it further.
The excitement meter slowly started climbing again.

And that’s when I noticed something strange.

A slight smell of burnt fuel inside the cabin.

Initially it felt normal.

Then gradually it became stronger.
And stronger.

After driving nearly 120 miles, I finally stopped for a break.

As usual, I did the first thing modern people do when confused.

I asked ChatGPT.

The response suggested checking whether oil had accidentally spilled during the top up.

So I opened the hood.

And my jaw dropped.

I had forgotten to close the oil filler cap.

Hot oil had splashed across the entire engine bay.

Absolute carelessness.

And somehow, in that exact moment, everything suddenly felt painfully familiar.

While I carefully made sure every complicated part of my checklist was completed properly, I had forgotten the most basic and obvious thing.

And for some reason, that realization hit much deeper than the car problem itself.

Because that was exactly what had been happening in my life for quite some time now, personally and professionally.

I constantly prepared myself for bigger battles while overlooking the smaller and easier ones.
I could tackle huge fears.
But somehow fail at the simplest details.

For a few minutes, I genuinely felt broken.
Now came the practical part.

I started calling nearby garages and service centres searching for a replacement oil filler cap.

Nine calls!

Every response sounded identical.

“Sorry.”
“Unfortunately not.”
“No stock.”

I slowly started giving up.

Then I called the Volvo service centre once again, the same place that earlier hadn’t answered despite multiple attempts.

This time they picked up.

And I don’t know how but they had the part in stock!

The only catch was that it would take around three hours.

I didn’t care anymore.
I was ready to wait.

My excitement meter had dropped back to zero anyway.

The service centre was still around fifteen miles away from where I stood.

So I walked into a nearby shop, bought a microfiber cloth, temporarily sealed the oil filler opening as carefully as I could, and slowly drove toward the service centre.

That twenty five minute drive strangely summarized the entire trip for me.

It brought together all the missing pieces.

Somewhere during that drive, I finally understood what had been bothering me for a very long time.

Sometimes it is the smallest things that matter the most.

And every time we convince ourselves that something is too small to matter, it quietly waits for the perfect moment to become the only thing that matters.

Three hours later, I finally got the oil filler cap.

My ticket to the final destination.

I fixed it!!
Started the car again, and continued the drive back home.

Back to Coventry.
Back to familiarity.
Back to life waiting on the other side of the road.

And after everything, the mountains, the roads, the strangers, the doubts, the fears, the passing places, the sunsets, the silence, I drove back to what probably mattered the most all along.

Homely meals waiting for me after days on the road.

Yes, Gopu had everything prepared 🙂

Told you!,

Love and happiness always finds its way, no matter what.