Lexus LS460 Road trip
Discussion
In spring I will have owned my 460 for four years. It's a car that was bought with a singualar intention; to take my wife's ashes northwards to the Isle of Skye. That first trip was incredibly difficult, made easier only by the kindness of both old friends and new friends whose warmth and generosity made the trip the most memorable of my life.
Since that first trip I have returned to Skye a few more times. At times I was drawn there when days filled with aching loss and grief made the solitude of Skye a place of respite and comfort. My last visit was over two years ago and for some time now i've felt a deep calling from within to return to the mountain side where I scattered her ashes and for want of words, catch up and reconnect and tell my lass things private and important.
So, last Sunday I checked the oil and water, packed my suitcase, took a bag of walking clothes and in a loud and unexpected thunderstorm, left home. I've learned over the years of travelling for work that the delights of the M6 are best 'enjoyed' late at night and I set off with the intention of being North of Carlisle by early in the morning. For me, the journey to my lass only feels like it begins North of Preston when flatness starts to be replaced with rising hills, thinning traffic and a sense of climbing northwards into different scenery. Even in the dark, the shadows of the hills loom at the far edges of my vision until the climb to Shap signals the beginning of the change in my journey.
I arrive at Carlisle early in the morning and stop somewhere quiet for a few hours sleep. The plan I had was to catch up with family for a chat and a morning brew and having woken about seven, freezing in a cold car I went in search of both petrol and more importantly, a toilet! We met, at nine, had a good long natter about all stuff family and important and then about 11, the journey continued north again.
Carlisle soon became Glasgow and after threading my way through the M74's busy traffic the signs for Loch Lomond signalled the more beautiful part of my journey. I've always enjoyed this part of the route. It's slow, twisting and at the moment the road works with their temporary lights give the chance to stop for a few minutes and enjoy the views. If you've never been, do go, it's a wonderful place and such a contrast from the close bustle of Glasgow.
Past the loch, the road starts to climb. The LS is hadly the best car to enjoy these roads on in a true PH manner, but even wrapped up in wallowy Japanese barge there is a true sense of occasion in feeling the engine brush off the rising hills as it pushes northwards. Every now and then, on the steeper climbs I can't resist dropping the lazy box into S and hearing the enginetake on the unmistakable sound of a V8. The climb to Glencoe is one I always enjoy and the surge of the engine as it overtakes heavy lorries and the last of the season's foreign plated tourist cars is an aural pleasure.
Fort William is next, reached in the early afternoon. I stop for a coffee and to stretch my legs and I take a short wander around the town. What strikes me are the number of boarded up shops and the sense of a place, once prosperous and well-to-do, now struggling with recession.
The last part of my journey north is one that gives me the greatest pleasure. Fort William to Skye... one of those journeys that begs for the 'right car'. I've often wondered what that car would be; small, nimble, Caterham sized? Germanic, RS, AMG or M 'shaped'? or what about a stonking great V8 just tucked in behind the ears... now there's a thought, that always makes me smile. I could have taken the ferry to Skye, the A87 must be one of the greatest driving roads in this country. It is a joyful collections of straights and curves that even in my barge, demand the driver take the line of least resistance. Try it folks, it is truly wondorus and at this time of year, blissfully empty of tourists.
In darkness now, about 5pm I arrive at my hotel on Skye. I've only stayed in this one place in all my visits but to me it feels like home; log fires, cozy sofas, no TV and the wonderful embrace of good food and friendly staff.
I eat late and sleep early and tuesday morning has my up early and looking at the loch on which the hotel sits.
Elgol... my lass is scattered on the hills high above Loch Slappin there the mountains meet the sea. I pack my gear and drive the twenty odd miles to where she is. it's about thirten degrees and as I leave the car in the carpark and start walking, it feels to me more like a day in spring rather than late autumn. I climb the steep paths, scrabble of wet stones and my feet sink into the sponge of sodden ferns and wet moss. I walk past a dense dark pine wood and my nose is filed with the smell of Christmas and warm fires. It brings back many memories of our christmasses together and our own home with a 'real' fire, that at Christmas always felt like an escape from the rest of the world and a chance for my lass and me to reconnect with each other.
The tree plantation ends and soon I stand above the loch at the place where my lass was set free. There are no words here I wish to share, but that the passing of time has blessed me with fewer tears and more the feeling of love eternal. I light a small tea light lantern I have bought with me since the last time and my lass's teddies, kept precious at home are released from their rucksack so that I, we and my lass can on his hill connect in the way we always did.
Time stops on the hill overlooking the lock. I could spend my life here. This place holds me like no other and I know that for as long as I can, I will come back to Skye and when the need from within calls me back, reconnect with my lass again.
Later, when the tea light is almost through, we travel down the steeppath again. The beauty of this place holds me fast and I struggle to leave. It's always a battle within, the stay, to dally a while longer becomes 'looking back', becomes maudlin and where is the line between quiet solace and reflection and instead back to grief and loss.
My muddy boots are replaced with trainers and the teddies once again go back into the boot of the car and I head for a drink and bowl of soup in Portree.
Now here's a road to enjoy, the road from Broadford to Portree is one that screams out for a 'V something'. It's 25 miles of twists and turns are to be relished. It's just long enough, just quiet enough, just 'enough'... to want to make me come back again and again to experience it. It has most wonderful views and just before Portree, those turn into the most wonderful hints of the jagged mountains that Skye contains. I'm not a climber or even a rambler, but even for me the attraction of wanting to 'just do it' is compelling.
Later, back in the hotel I relax and reflect upon this road trip. It's a long way from home, the sat nav says 655 miles each way and only the last 200 or so are actually interesting petrol head wise, but it's a journey I relish every time.
I leave early on Wednesday morning, after a huge fat breakfast and an ocean of coffee and arrive home in the early hours of the moment. One happy detour to see a man about a car sets my heart racing, but this trip, like all he others, leaves me feeling contented.
And the barge... well, it does evrything I want it to do. It makes the 450 miles of th journey effortless, and the last two hundred still pleasurable. When I thought of what car I was going to buy, the LS was top of the list. It just seems to be a no brainer to me. It's not got the drama of the big BMW's or the Mercedes, but it just works. I bought it at 40k, it's now on about 118k and I can see no reason for it not to reach 200k or above. Oh.. and that V8 engine is a gem and windows down, on that road to Portree, past the loch and up the steep hill, it howled like a banshee.
Until the next time Lily. It will be in the Ultima next time. The A87 demands nothing less that that Chevvy howl.
The road to Elgol...
A view that roots me to the spot every time I stand there.
The road to Portree..
A long journey..
Since that first trip I have returned to Skye a few more times. At times I was drawn there when days filled with aching loss and grief made the solitude of Skye a place of respite and comfort. My last visit was over two years ago and for some time now i've felt a deep calling from within to return to the mountain side where I scattered her ashes and for want of words, catch up and reconnect and tell my lass things private and important.
So, last Sunday I checked the oil and water, packed my suitcase, took a bag of walking clothes and in a loud and unexpected thunderstorm, left home. I've learned over the years of travelling for work that the delights of the M6 are best 'enjoyed' late at night and I set off with the intention of being North of Carlisle by early in the morning. For me, the journey to my lass only feels like it begins North of Preston when flatness starts to be replaced with rising hills, thinning traffic and a sense of climbing northwards into different scenery. Even in the dark, the shadows of the hills loom at the far edges of my vision until the climb to Shap signals the beginning of the change in my journey.
I arrive at Carlisle early in the morning and stop somewhere quiet for a few hours sleep. The plan I had was to catch up with family for a chat and a morning brew and having woken about seven, freezing in a cold car I went in search of both petrol and more importantly, a toilet! We met, at nine, had a good long natter about all stuff family and important and then about 11, the journey continued north again.
Carlisle soon became Glasgow and after threading my way through the M74's busy traffic the signs for Loch Lomond signalled the more beautiful part of my journey. I've always enjoyed this part of the route. It's slow, twisting and at the moment the road works with their temporary lights give the chance to stop for a few minutes and enjoy the views. If you've never been, do go, it's a wonderful place and such a contrast from the close bustle of Glasgow.
Past the loch, the road starts to climb. The LS is hadly the best car to enjoy these roads on in a true PH manner, but even wrapped up in wallowy Japanese barge there is a true sense of occasion in feeling the engine brush off the rising hills as it pushes northwards. Every now and then, on the steeper climbs I can't resist dropping the lazy box into S and hearing the enginetake on the unmistakable sound of a V8. The climb to Glencoe is one I always enjoy and the surge of the engine as it overtakes heavy lorries and the last of the season's foreign plated tourist cars is an aural pleasure.
Fort William is next, reached in the early afternoon. I stop for a coffee and to stretch my legs and I take a short wander around the town. What strikes me are the number of boarded up shops and the sense of a place, once prosperous and well-to-do, now struggling with recession.
The last part of my journey north is one that gives me the greatest pleasure. Fort William to Skye... one of those journeys that begs for the 'right car'. I've often wondered what that car would be; small, nimble, Caterham sized? Germanic, RS, AMG or M 'shaped'? or what about a stonking great V8 just tucked in behind the ears... now there's a thought, that always makes me smile. I could have taken the ferry to Skye, the A87 must be one of the greatest driving roads in this country. It is a joyful collections of straights and curves that even in my barge, demand the driver take the line of least resistance. Try it folks, it is truly wondorus and at this time of year, blissfully empty of tourists.
In darkness now, about 5pm I arrive at my hotel on Skye. I've only stayed in this one place in all my visits but to me it feels like home; log fires, cozy sofas, no TV and the wonderful embrace of good food and friendly staff.
I eat late and sleep early and tuesday morning has my up early and looking at the loch on which the hotel sits.
Elgol... my lass is scattered on the hills high above Loch Slappin there the mountains meet the sea. I pack my gear and drive the twenty odd miles to where she is. it's about thirten degrees and as I leave the car in the carpark and start walking, it feels to me more like a day in spring rather than late autumn. I climb the steep paths, scrabble of wet stones and my feet sink into the sponge of sodden ferns and wet moss. I walk past a dense dark pine wood and my nose is filed with the smell of Christmas and warm fires. It brings back many memories of our christmasses together and our own home with a 'real' fire, that at Christmas always felt like an escape from the rest of the world and a chance for my lass and me to reconnect with each other.
The tree plantation ends and soon I stand above the loch at the place where my lass was set free. There are no words here I wish to share, but that the passing of time has blessed me with fewer tears and more the feeling of love eternal. I light a small tea light lantern I have bought with me since the last time and my lass's teddies, kept precious at home are released from their rucksack so that I, we and my lass can on his hill connect in the way we always did.
Time stops on the hill overlooking the lock. I could spend my life here. This place holds me like no other and I know that for as long as I can, I will come back to Skye and when the need from within calls me back, reconnect with my lass again.
Later, when the tea light is almost through, we travel down the steeppath again. The beauty of this place holds me fast and I struggle to leave. It's always a battle within, the stay, to dally a while longer becomes 'looking back', becomes maudlin and where is the line between quiet solace and reflection and instead back to grief and loss.
My muddy boots are replaced with trainers and the teddies once again go back into the boot of the car and I head for a drink and bowl of soup in Portree.
Now here's a road to enjoy, the road from Broadford to Portree is one that screams out for a 'V something'. It's 25 miles of twists and turns are to be relished. It's just long enough, just quiet enough, just 'enough'... to want to make me come back again and again to experience it. It has most wonderful views and just before Portree, those turn into the most wonderful hints of the jagged mountains that Skye contains. I'm not a climber or even a rambler, but even for me the attraction of wanting to 'just do it' is compelling.
Later, back in the hotel I relax and reflect upon this road trip. It's a long way from home, the sat nav says 655 miles each way and only the last 200 or so are actually interesting petrol head wise, but it's a journey I relish every time.
I leave early on Wednesday morning, after a huge fat breakfast and an ocean of coffee and arrive home in the early hours of the moment. One happy detour to see a man about a car sets my heart racing, but this trip, like all he others, leaves me feeling contented.
And the barge... well, it does evrything I want it to do. It makes the 450 miles of th journey effortless, and the last two hundred still pleasurable. When I thought of what car I was going to buy, the LS was top of the list. It just seems to be a no brainer to me. It's not got the drama of the big BMW's or the Mercedes, but it just works. I bought it at 40k, it's now on about 118k and I can see no reason for it not to reach 200k or above. Oh.. and that V8 engine is a gem and windows down, on that road to Portree, past the loch and up the steep hill, it howled like a banshee.
Until the next time Lily. It will be in the Ultima next time. The A87 demands nothing less that that Chevvy howl.
The road to Elgol...
A view that roots me to the spot every time I stand there.
The road to Portree..
A long journey..
Edited by drivin_me_nuts on Friday 14th November 11:01
Thank you for all your replies.
Yes indeed, my returns to Skye are an emotional experience. As times pass, the emotion changes and the rawness of grief is in part being replaced by the bewilderment at how quickly time moves on. I am grateful that with the passing of time, the worst of the hospital and hospice memories have now faded and the sense of deep anxiety that was barely contained within, is also now fading to something far more manageable. My lass's cancer definitely changed me to. It's only now do I feel that i'm beginning to return to something more like the 'real me'.
I got back in to my barge on thursday morning to do a short trip. Is the measure of a good car that when you sit back in the seat again, part of you thinks something like 'well it's only five minutes up the road - you ready to do it again?' I huge part of that is down to the car - it's undemanding and unassuming and just gets on with the required job drama free.
... as for the instant read out showing 90 - yes, perhaps it would be surprising to know that it does it for quite longs periods of time; down hill mainly! I filled the tank three times. The first block to Carlisle showed 29.3mpg. Then the part to For William showed 26.1 and the return, filled in FW, on Skye and then back down past Carlisle again ,showed 28. That's par for the course for this lump on long ascents and twists and bends. (It will do about 480ish miles on a full tank at motorway/fast road type speeds)
As for the hotel, it's this http://www.eileaniarmain.co.uk/.
It's a very popular hotel and even off season is busy. It's perfect for me.
Yes indeed, my returns to Skye are an emotional experience. As times pass, the emotion changes and the rawness of grief is in part being replaced by the bewilderment at how quickly time moves on. I am grateful that with the passing of time, the worst of the hospital and hospice memories have now faded and the sense of deep anxiety that was barely contained within, is also now fading to something far more manageable. My lass's cancer definitely changed me to. It's only now do I feel that i'm beginning to return to something more like the 'real me'.
I got back in to my barge on thursday morning to do a short trip. Is the measure of a good car that when you sit back in the seat again, part of you thinks something like 'well it's only five minutes up the road - you ready to do it again?' I huge part of that is down to the car - it's undemanding and unassuming and just gets on with the required job drama free.
... as for the instant read out showing 90 - yes, perhaps it would be surprising to know that it does it for quite longs periods of time; down hill mainly! I filled the tank three times. The first block to Carlisle showed 29.3mpg. Then the part to For William showed 26.1 and the return, filled in FW, on Skye and then back down past Carlisle again ,showed 28. That's par for the course for this lump on long ascents and twists and bends. (It will do about 480ish miles on a full tank at motorway/fast road type speeds)
As for the hotel, it's this http://www.eileaniarmain.co.uk/.
It's a very popular hotel and even off season is busy. It's perfect for me.
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