My first 36 hours in Scotland: Fog, Ruins and Black Labs
After months of anticipation, we finally arrived in Northern Scotland on June 13th, catching a puddle jumper for our connecting flight between Dublin and Aberdeen. I was joined by a group of friends — though not all of them shared my passion for landscape photography, we were all excited to experience the Highlands together.
We rented a car at the airport and drove straight to our first lodging in Speyside. The recent rains had just begun to ease, leaving behind a thick, drifting fog that moved lazily across the countryside. The occasional downpour still swept through, but it only added to the mood. From the bay window in our rental, I could see rolling green hills dotted with cows, a nearby farmhouse, and a chimney exhaling soft curls of smoke. It felt cozy, almost otherworldly — the kind of scene you want to tuck into your memory forever. I managed to grab a photo of it, and it quickly became one of my favorites.
The dreamy farmhouse that could be seen from our bay window.
That first night was low-key. We made dinner, shared a few drinks, and took a walk up the drive behind our cottage to a patch of trees. Across the road were cows and sheep grazing, and to our surprise, the farmer from the nearby house walked over with his two friendly dogs to ask how long we’d be staying. We never caught the dogs’ names (shame on us), but it was such a warm welcome to the area.
The view of our Airbnb from up the road, with Tramlines running through the fields.
The next day we visited Ballindalloch Castle — my friends were more interested in touring the inside of the estate, but I was drawn to the grounds. While they explored the gardens, I wandered down a long road that led to an unused entrance to the property. A beautiful old bridge stretched across a river there, and eventually they joined me to explore the archway and stroll along the riverbank.
Archway at unused grounds entrance.
Earlier that day, as we wandered the estate grounds, we came across a sign that read “Caution: Red Squirrels.” For whatever reason, it struck us as hilarious — perhaps because we never actually saw a single squirrel during our trip. Later, I learned that red squirrels are actually endangered in Scotland, and now the sign feels a little bittersweet in retrospect — a small reminder of what's been lost and what's worth preserving.
Red squirrels are native to Scotland and are most commonly found in coniferous forests, particularly in the Caledonian pine forests of the Highlands. Scotland is a stronghold for red squirrels, with an estimated 75% of the UK's population residing there. However, they are still considered a threatened species due to habitat loss and competition from the invasive grey squirrel, which also carries squirrelpox, a deadly virus to red squirrels.
We grabbed a quick lunch at the castle café, where we unknowingly met the laird of Ballindalloch himself. He was dressed like a classic countryside gentleman — driving cap, vest, and, notably, the only person allowed to drive a Range Rover on the pedestrian-only grounds. He greeted us with his two black labs in tow and asked where we were from. When we told him Boston, he chuckled and said there must not be too much of a culture shock. I joked that some of the Scottish accents were hard to understand — he agreed, saying he runs into that problem himself. It wasn’t until later, when we asked a staff member inside the castle, that we confirmed who he actually was.
While my friends headed to their first whisky tasting (at Glenfiddich, I believe), I took the opportunity to revisit Auchindoun Castle — a site we’d quickly stopped at the evening before but hadn’t been able to explore because of a downpour. To reach the ruins, you park at the end of a small farm road and follow signs down a half-mile path past a few houses and open fields.
Auchindoun is mostly in ruins, but many of the outer walls still stand. The air was damp and quiet except for a group of goats or sheep nearby who kept yelling — their loud, drawn-out bleats echoing across the hillside made me laugh more than once. I learned from one of the signs on-site that a former lord had once burned a rival’s wife alive here — a jarring reminder of the brutal history these walls have witnessed.
Auchindoun Castle ruins
Despite the castle's haunting past, I found myself more enchanted by the landscape around it. Silver birch trees, slightly twisted and silver-toned, framed parts of the hilltop, and though I tried, I struggled to capture them the way I saw them. That’s the strange magic of Scotland — it’s almost too much to fit into a frame.
That evening, I drove around a bit more, took a few short walks, and eventually returned to our accommodations for dinner with my friends. It was only the beginning of the trip, but already, I could feel myself settling into the rhythm of the place — the mist, the quiet, the space to just see.
Tramlines in a field close to our accomodations.
