Seven-year-old Sophie hadn’t meant to steal her school friend Paul’s thunder. The eyes of the entire class widened in awe as Paul told proudly how he had seen a golden eagle at a birds of prey centre during his holiday.

Sophie, albeit gauchely, trumped him with: “Well, I saw one flying above my head in the wild in Scotland”.

That’s the nature of Scotland, as we soon discovered. It rather brought to mind the great Texan boast that everything is bigger. Certainly to someone who lives in a crowded city, everything about the spectacular landscape seemed magnified, from the towering mountains to the vast lochs, even the size of the deer. That’s not to mention the nip in the air, too.

I’m not alone in saying this. Hundreds of people every year visit the club site at Culzean Castle purely for the spectacular sunsets.

And what sunsets! The view from our pitch towards the Isle of Arran really was up there with the best of them; Ayers Rock, Monument Valley and the Grand Canyon included.

At the Luss site, we met people who joined the club simply so they could experience the incredible dawns right on the shores of Loch Lomond.

So when we dropped down into the valley at Glencoe a week later, the cloying mist simply served to enhance the dramatic contrast between the sunlit beauty of Culzean and Luss and this most moody of places.

It made me recall the first time I camped at Glencoe, in a tiny tent, and being spooked so much by the thought of ghosts of the 1692 massacre that I made myself sick. Thirty years on I can laugh about my silliness; but, with the shrouded mountains looming over me, the eerie atmosphere was undoubtedly still there.

We’d chosen these three sites for our two week touring holiday to experience just such contrasts.

And explore we did; coming across cute rescued seals, deserted beaches and the most opulent of castles. We shivered halfway up one of Britain’s highest mountains whilst those on the ground were still wearing shorts. We walked in the footsteps of famous travellers and skimmed stones across Britain’s largest expanse of fresh water at Loch Lomond.

From our first site at Culzean we squinted from the windows of the adjacent castle to just make out Northern Ireland, 60 miles away, as the late US president General Dwight Eisenhower must also have done. With its fabulous views across to the bird sanctuary at Ailsa Island, then Holy Island, Arran and the Mull of Kintyre, it was easy to see why he loved to visit here. For me, though, it was the romance of the place at sunset, when it became truly magical.

We’d spent our days at Culzean strolling through some of the 600 acres of woodland, gardens and deserted coastline. A dolphin forms part of the castle’s insignia though, sadly, we failed to spot any. However we did find cormorants and gannets a’plenty at Port Carrick, undoubtedly the nicest of several small beaches below the cliffs on which the castle is perched.

Sophie particularly loved the early evenings at Luss, when a multitude of rabbits hopped about the site.

We had been a bit startled, though, when what looked like the remnants of a half demolished steelworks – but was actually a huge sculpture - greeted us at Balloch, the southern gateway to the loch. This was closely followed by the sight of not only a McDonald’s but also an outlet ‘village’, complete with department store and  French market, right on those bonnie banks.

Thank goodness, then, that just a turn of the roundabout brought us a heartening glimpse of the unspoilt rest of the loch.

A few minutes’ leisurely stroll from our pitch took us to the postcard perfect estate village of Luss itself, with its small pier from where we could have taken boat trips.

If I thought it was going to be a peaceful spot, I was very wrong. It has to be said here that I found the noise of the busy A82, which runs parallel to the site, constantly intrusive. Only by sitting at the edge of the loch could I drown out the traffic hum with the lapping of the water.

Later that day, though, provided me with another dramatic change of scenery - what I have to say I love most about Scotland.

It had been slightly unnerving to wind along the A83, towards Inveraray, clinging somewhat precipitously to almost vertical mountainsides, high above Glen Croe.

The head of this lonely pass is named Rest and Be Thankful. In 1748 soldiers toiled long and hard to construct the old road at the bottom of the glen, thereby opening up the Highlands. The exhausted men had erected a stone – long since replaced – marking their achievement and urging future generations to be “thankful” for their efforts.

Standing in the clouds in this wildest of spots, the old military road still clearly visible, I certainly did, though not without a mixture of both sadness and admiration.

Dr Samuel Johnson, the famous lexicographer, poet and biographer, who also “paused for breath” here, called Glen Croe a “black and dreary region”. It is certainly bleak and moody, but therein lies its attraction.

It was our trip up Aonarch Mor in the Nevis range, from Glencoe, which Sophie will always remember. Particularly so, because it’s the highest she has ever been on a swing – in the clouds in a small playground at 2150ft. Perhaps even more so because of the biting cold, even in August, and despite our wearing several warm layers, plus gloves, hoods and scarves. Aonarch Mor is only 400ft ‘smaller’ than neighbouring Ben Nevis and our enclosed gondola took us as far as the top station, halfway up.

It was an exciting time for the mountain. Preparations were in full swing for the UCI Mountain Bike and Trials World Championships, in which hundreds of the world’s most daredevil riders hurtle down what looked like a formidable obstacle course. The best do it in a few minutes. It took us a more sedate 15 minutes to descend.

But this is what sums up Scotland for me. It can be a giant outdoor playground where you can stretch yourself physically, or a place to relax and appreciate the scenery. Either way, it’s breathtaking.

Camping and Caravanning Club magazine

Aberdeen Press and Journal