Road Trip Report: Loch Lochy and her locks

Scotland continued to outdo itself. She was like the prettiest girl at the party, and as she walked by, we all had no choice but to stare.

As we continued our drive from Glasgow to the Isle of Skye, we cruised through Fort William. Being the second largest town in the Highlands and sitting in the shadow of Ben Nevis, which is kind of a big deal being the largest mountain in the British Isles (I fact checked this little nugget), we really should have stopped. On the way back, we said. The Isle of Skye awaits! Well, we only stopped on the way back at an Asda to pick up a fan. More on that later.

Sorry, Ben.

Soon after leaving Fort William city limits, we came across Loch Lochy. And this time we stopped, because the name basically means lake lakey if my Gaelic is up to scratch. It’s about 9 miles long, and it teased us for quite a while as we drove the A82. How could we not pay her a visit?





So when the sign for the turn off came up, we took that left.

Lochy-5 And promised not to park overnight.

Laggan is the village at the top of Loch Lochy. Many battles have been waged here, like the amusingly named Battle of the Shirts. I know I should not besmirch the clans, but where was the Battle of the Skins?

<insert drum hit here>

If you happen to be driving by this lovely locale, there’s a pub on a barge in the canal named the Eagle.

I found the No Entry sign next to the Pub announcement to be quite unfortunate. I assure you that we decided not to frequent the pub since there were still unknown amount of hours of driving left, and we had a reservation to keep, not because of the sign.

Instead, we took a wander around the actual locks that have created the Caledonian Canal which separates Loch Lochy and Loch Oich. The Caledonian Canal goes all the way to Inverness. Ah, another trip, perhaps.

Gazing to the north wistfully at the barge pub. But to the south…

A much more enjoyable view.


We left our good friend Lochy as our next destination, the Skye Bridge, was calling.




And as she got further away, the A82 snaked around her banks and led us onward, as we had miles to go before sleep.

(If you enjoy these little posts, or hell, even if you just read them, give us a like at the bottom of the page here. It lets this writer know that someone is out there other than my supportive other half. Thanks, babe. xx)

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