MINI Adventures on the NC500

Words and images by Dan Robson

May this year saw myself and a group of friends head north for what we hoped would be the ultimate driving adventure, Scotland’s legendary NC500. With its sweeping coastal roads, dramatic highland scenery, and mix of challenging bends and long, open stretches, it promised everything a petrolhead could want.

My chosen companion for the trip was my 2007 Racing Green R56 Mini Cooper which I’ve kept running (tooth and nail) for over 7 years. Not the most unique grand tourer perhaps, but the little car had plenty of spirit, undergoing a recent timing chain, front subframe, tie rods, anti roll bar links and plenty more stomach churning expenses to show for itself. The car handled well on the twisty roads and carried me faithfully for much of the route, although not without a touch of drama along the way.

I’d already driven from my hometown in Durham to colourful Annan the night before, before grouping up with the convoy at a service station in Stirling, very evocative of those classic Top Gear cheap car challenges. The line-up was a mixed bag; Calum’s Ford Fiesta ST, Callum’s Renault Mégane RS Trophy, Lewis’ Peugeot 208 GTI and Bradley’s Toyota Aygo (not a GR… I digress). From Stirling we cut across to the Falls of Falloch, Loch Tulla and into the vast Highland landscape of Glencoe, the roads reminiscent of Skyfall. Although in this case, Dame Judi Dench was replaced by a walkie-talkie companion. We called at Glenfinnan Viaduct (yes, the one where the flying Anglia chases the train in Harry Potter), passed Fort William and the Nevis range, finishing up at the official NC500 starting point: Inverness.

We traced the first leg of the route from Inverness calling at the fairytale-esque Rogie Falls, then to Applecross via the famous Bealach na Bà. If you’ve never tackled that road, it’s a rite of passage; hairpins, steep gradients, and views that stop you in your tracks. Not always ideal when you’re trying to keep momentum on a single-track pass! Fortunately the highlands are blessed with plenty of passing places, driving in a convoy allows safety in numbers and the Mini took it in its stride, bar a few oncoming motorhomes and vans which were, in all honesty far too hefty to be tackling these roads. The West Highlands are my personal highlight of the trip, passing Loch Torrid, Maree, Ewe and Little Loch Broom, as we arrived in the picturesque village of Ullapool.

The following day, the route carried us north from Ullapool and on to Lochinver. The scenery on this stretch defies description, mountains rising out of nowhere, vibrant Scotch broom in flower, lochs glinting in the sun, and roads that feel purpose-built for drivers. The group fell into a natural rhythm, each car gliding through the bends, occasional banter for the plume of intermittent smoke from my car (we’ll get to that later on…) and Bradley’s little Aygo revving it’s little sewing machine as we climbed gradients steeper than the Col de la Loze. We carried on up to Durness, visiting Smoo Cave, Talmine Bay and Lairg. With the occasional stop for photos and snacks breaking up extended periods of isolation alone at the wheel, driving in the highlands brings that sense of shared adventure and emotional reflection that only comes when you’re many miles from home with nothing but the road ahead.

After returning to Ullapool for a second night, we crossed to the east coast. By then the MINI had developed a bit of a… personality. A faint whiff of burning oil accompanied the more spirited sections. By the time we reached Castle Sinclair Girnigoe near Wick, smoke was curling from under the bonnet. My heart sank. A quick inspection with Callum revealed the culprit: the oil filter cap hadn’t sealed properly when I’d serviced the car. Under pressure it had been gradually weeping oil, coating the engine bay and burning off on the exhaust manifold. By the time we pulled into the car park, things came to a head. Oil was bleeding everywhere, and thick plumes of smoke poured from under the bonnet. It was dramatic — a proper movie breakdown moment.

Instead of pressing on without me, the group rallied, Bradley managed to find, quite miraculously – a garage open on a Sunday. Johnny’s Garage in Sibster turned out to be our saviour (I’m very grateful Johnny!) I limped the car over with the group, leaving a bit of a trail behind me, Johnny resealed the cap, and with a quick clean-up the Mini was back in action. Even more astonishing, the local Tesco in Wick just happened to stock the exact 5W30 oil I needed to top it back up. By the time we’d sorted everything, the afternoon had all but gone and I was 50 quid down in Castrol. With John O’Groats now out of reach, we turned south towards our night’s accommodation in Helmsdale, a bit tired and relieved that the issue hadn’t been worse.

The final morning we regrouped and travelled south along the eastern coast back towards Inverness, calling at the spectacular Dunrobin castle (like something straight out of the Sound of Music), catching a falconry show. Moving on to the Glenmorangie whiskey distillery, we picked up a bottle of single malt for Callum Robson, the mastermind behind our route. We were tired but exhilarated, with countless photos and stories to share. Despite its hiccup, the MINI had carried me over 1000 miles of some of the most breathtaking driving roads in the UK, and I couldn’t have asked for a better companion.