The Highlands of Scotland carry an enormous baggage of romanticism, most of it involved with unsuccessful war, primitive fighting and failed rebellion, flavoured with barbaric food (haggis), barbaric drink (whiskey) and barbaric music (bagpipes). In addition, I can think of no more unsuitable garment than the kilt - worn, as everyone knows, with nothing beneath - for a country cursed with midges!
Nevertheless the scenery is grand and sufficiently wild and lonely for the most ardent hill walker, the people are friendly and the history is as old as you'll find anywhere else in Britain.
We start our visit to the Highlands with the Brochs of Glenelg - and if you don't know what they are, then you need to watch the film. After that we have the mysterious footprints of Glen Moriston, burned into the grass by supernatural power 180 years ago. Then we head to the little town of Fort William, nestling beneath the shadow of Ben Nevis.
At the other end of the Great Glen we view the Pictish stones of Fortrose/Rosemarkie and then head north to wild and lonely Cape Wrath - which fortunately wasn't living up to its name when we visited.
Dunnet Head offers stupendous views across the wild waters of the Pentland Firth to the Orkney Islands. On a clear day you can even see the Old Man of Hoy peeking over the intervening headlands of Hoy.