At the beginning of the trip, we were seeing most everything through a filter; via the images the media had planted in our heads and had us raring to see Scotland for ourselves.

While we were standing on the edge of Loch Ness, with a view down to the taffy-colored ruins of Uruqhart Castle, my sister Janyce was reading aloud a historical plaque.

“…and the Jacobites,” she announced, “were later defeated at the Battle of Culloden—”

“Culloden? Was that in Outlander?” one of the women in our NextTribe travel group interrupted. “I’m sorry, but I only know places based on movies and what not.”

We’re taking another group to Scotland with Johanne McInnis, June 9-17, 2025. All the details here. If you’d like more details, join our Info Session on Oct. 2nd (with a chance to get a $400 discount on the trip). RSVP here.

Maybe this makes us sound a tad silly, but when you’re in Scotland with a bunch of women, Outlander comes up quite a bit. And so do a slew of other films.

That’s because Scotland—with its majestic scenery and ferocious history—is an ideal backdrop for drama, romance, fantasy, and the mystical. From the moment we drove out of Glasgow, taking in the ridiculously verdant greens, often overhung by the wispy gray clouds also known as Scotch Mist, my mind resorted to that cliché that what I was seeing before me looked like something out of Hollywood.

Which is another way of saying that the Scotland we experienced more than lived up to the Scotland of my imagination. And my imagination had set the bar pretty high. Yes, we hit many of the highlights of an Outlander tour of Scotland, but the journey together was so much more.

Outlander Rules

I knew that Outlander—the long-running steamy Starz series based on the popular steamy books about time travel in Scotland—would figure prominently in our tour through the country. I think the Scottish tourism board should be paying royalties to the show because surely it has prompted countless women to hightail it to the Highlands. Men have long been drawn to Scotland because of golf (where the game was invented) and whisky (spelled without an “e,” thank you very much). Now women have Jamie, the red-haired, kilt-wearing main character of Outlander, played by super-gorgeous Sam Heughan.

Indeed, we were only a few hours into our trip when we spotted a sign in a Scottish gift shop with Heughan’s photo below the words, “Some like it Scot.”

One gift shop proudly displayed a photo of Outlander‘s Jamie with the words ‘Some like it Scot.’

With visions of dancing a jig with a Jamie-look-alike, I confess, I arranged for the group to catch a traditional Scottish dance, called a Ceilidh, in the harbor town of Oban. I was excited when I saw a rugged man in a kilt come to the stage to play the bagpipes for the dancing. He was introduced as Angus. What a perfect Scottish name, I thought with a sigh. Other musicians played the fiddle and drums.

Dancing Our Way Through Scotland

I expected that some of the dancers would be in kilts but was sadly disappointed. Everyone on the floor was in street clothes, plus there was a conspicuous shortage of men for the dancing. No matter, we made the best of it. All of us ended up dancing with each other.

Angus called out instructions for different line dances (“spin to the left,” “make an arch”), and we had a couple of practice runs before the music for each new dance started in earnest. There would always be the clumsy moment when we ran into each other, or went right instead of left, but we couldn’t help but laugh at each misstep.

All of us ended up dancing with each other, due to the shortage of men dancing. I don’ think I sat down the whole time. I loved the music. The fiddle touched me deeply.

I don’t think I sat down the whole time. I loved the music. The fiddle touched me deeply. Maybe because it reminded me of the Blue Grass music I grew up hearing in the mountains of East Tennessee. But the bagpipes—they skewered my heart and fed into my Hollywood-fueled Jamie fantasy (God help me).

I wasn’t the only one. In our mini-bus the next morning, one of our group said, “I couldn’t help but think, Where’s Jamie?”

“Well,” I responded, as I flashed a photo I took with the the kilted one. “At least we had Angus.”

The Time Travel Rocks

Our Outlander-mania hit its high point after we visited Inverness and drove by the battlefield of Culloden—which was a major plot point in the show. But the place that played an even more significant role in Outlander were some slabs of rocks standing in the woods in a messy approximation of Stonehenge; one of these rocks was the portal Claire uses to travel back to the 17^th century.

The author of the Outlander series of books—the basis for the TV show—was inspired by an actual archealogical site called Clava Cairn. We were thrilled to stop there as we drove out of Inverness.

The actual site is more spread out than shown on screen. There are four or five different rings of rock slabs, with some earthen berms that were supposedly used for ancient burial rituals.

Our group, especially the hard-core Outlander fans, had a field day leaning against one of the rocks that inspired the famous, time-traveling portal on the show.

As you can imagine, the group—especially the hard-core Outlander fans—had a field day leaning against one of the rocks that, we were told, inspired the size and shape of the portal slab in the series. Many of us had our photos taken with the rock, and of course we had to yell out something like, “I’m coming, Jamie!” as we posed.

Our guide Jo took another tack. She spread out awkwardly on the ground in front of the slab, as if she was a discombobulated Claire, who had just come through the portal to her new time zone. We all had a good laugh over her hijinks.

Harry Potter, Here We Come: The Viaduct and Edinburgh

Other movies colored my senses as we traveled the Highlands. In the Eighties, I loved the movie Highlander, which starred Christopher Lambert, who looked every bit as sexy in a kilt as my man Jamie. As we drove by green, treeless mountains (called Bens here), I couldn’t help but think of the many scenes from the movie that showed Lambert training with Sean Connery in stupendous, high-altitude settings. The mist that often trailed through the glens like a bridal train made me think of Brigadoon, the Broadway show and movie about the tiny Scottish town that didn’t exist on any maps but remained frozen in time in the silvery fog.

On one of our first days, we passed one of the locations featured in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Castle Stalker is situated on an island in Loch Laich. I could almost hear the clip-clop of King Arthur’s “horse” as we surveyed the four-story, 14th-century tower—a vertical counterpoint to the expanse of shimmering lake that stretched to a mountainous horizon.

But besides Outlander, Scotland was most likely to evoke the Harry Potter series. Probably because J.K. Rowling began writing her books while living in Edinburgh. As we made our way toward Drumnadrochit (on the legendary Loch Ness), we made a short side trip to visit the Glenfinnan Viaduct, which was used in the Harry Potter films as the setting of the Hogwarts Express’ dramatic trip to the mythical school.

Jo told us that not long ago you had to hike along a ridge to get a good view of the viaduct. But now, there is a viewing area above a café and gift shop. After we’d taken in the thrilling vista—a man-made wonder stretching across a breathtakingly gorgeous rolling terrain—we had a small picnic near a path that led to the base of the aqueduct. 

We saw the viaduct where the Hogwarts Express makes its dramatic trip to the mythical school and the streets that inspired Diagon Alley in the Harry Potter books.

In Edinburgh, we walked by the café where Rowling reportedly penned her books (at least the first one), viewed the inspiration for Diagon Alley, and wandered through the graveyard that featured names that Rowling used for her characters. Several true Potter fans in our group opted for an Edinburgh walking tour devoted specifically to the books and Rowling’s inspirations.

Getting Grounded

Something happened, however, when we reached the town of Aberlour, in what’s known as the Speyside area of Scotland. This area is widely known as the main whisky distilling region in the country. But that had little to do with the change in the trip.

What changed is that our perceptions of Scotland were less about what we’d seen via Hollywood and more about the very real connections we were making to the land (post-dinner hikes in the late-night twilight were especially magical), the people we met, and to each other.

What changed our perception of Scotland were the very real connections we were making to the land, the people we met, and each other

I credit that to several things. Every group I’ve ever been with on a trip has bonded deeply. On this Scotland adventure, the ice was broken in a big way on our second night together as we fumbled through the dancing.

Then we came together even more so as we neared Speyside; our fascination with all things Jamie was replaced by another obsession. Jo and the driver of our mini-bus, Dougie, told us to be on the look out for Highland Cows, which are pronounced in the local brogue as “haylen coos.” These have to be the most adorable hooved creatures on planet Earth. They have long, shaggy bangs that cover their eyes, as if the Addams Family Cousin Itt has found a bovine nesting spot. Curving horns stick out from their head mops, and a big black nose completes the cuteness.

We made it our mission to find a herd of Haylen Coos, and driver Dougie was a willing accomplice. He often took us off the big roads so that we could drive along country lanes where farmers were more likely to be keeping livestock.

We drove by miles of glorious patches of farmland, billiard-table green and lined by stacked stone walls that were so perfect in their lichen-covered glory that you wanted to cry. We paid close attention to the copses of trees, the roll of the land, the ponds and river, swollen by rain. We’d shriek like girls at a Harry Styles concert when we saw some cows, only to squelch our cries when we realized they were “only” the regular kind. I don’t know how Dougie didn’t drive us into one of those rock walls.

Finally, on a stretch of thin asphalt en route from the town of Keith to a farm-to-table bistro in Huntly, we saw our prize! There was a group of the floppy-haired ungulates in the distance. Poor Dougie, his ears scorched for sure, pulled over, and we piled onto the side of the road.

We called to them, but the “coos” were as cool to us as petulant toddlers. We cooed over the baby that was frolicking then nursing its mother. Eventually, I decided to go over the barbed-wire and try to approach them, which certainly gave Dougie another spike of his heart rate.

Good sense soon returned to me and I made it back over the fence and into the mini-bus. A few yards on, we saw that one of the bulls (certainly not a “coo”) was close to the road. He was black (we thought they mostly came in brown) and gorgeous. We all got out again and made photos with him in the background.

By the time we got to dinner, we could talk of nothing else but our triumphant sighting. That’s when I learned from the restaurant manager that the Highland cows can be quite aggressive when protecting their babies and you’re never supposed to get close to them. Boy, did I feel like one of those a stupid tourists who approaches buffaloes in Yellowstone National Park.

Our Glue: Traveling With Our Scotland Expert

Plus, there was Jo, our Scotland expert. Part mother hen, part goofball, with a good bit of sunshine thrown in, she kept our spirits light with her mugging, self-deprecation, and story-telling. Her love for the country is infectious, and she seems to know everyone. It had been five years since she’d visited from her native Canada, but she frequently ran into pals in shops and restaurants, and when word reached the grapevine that she was in the area, we got special invitations to events.

She also introduced us to many of her friends—including the restaurant manager who pointed out my cow folly.

We visited the farm belonging to Ann Miller, a woman who worked for years in the distilling industry and told us about the important role women have played in Scotland’s whisky heritage. We gathered for a wine tasting (each wine paired with an appetizer worthy of inclusion in The Bear) at a restaurant owned by two sisters who knew Jo well. Four more of her friends joined us for what became a lovely testament to female fortitude.

We gathered with a Scottish woman and her friends for what became a lovely testament to female fortitude.

Jo began by telling her story of building a life after leaving her family at age 17 because she was pregnant. Other women—Sarah, Helen, Allise, Steph, Lauren—talked about the challenges they faced creating a life that they love. Jo asked two of the travelers in our group—one woman who gave a child up for adoption when she was young and one who climbed the ranks to colonel in the U.S. Army—to share their stories. Tears were shed, not in sadness but out of respect and admiration. And recognition.

“I realized that I’ve lived through some things, too,” said Judi, my younger sister, who had a bit of wetness accumulating along her lower lashes. “I thought maybe I’m strong too.” The discussion later at dinner centered around how women’s struggles and accomplishments are so often overlooked, but so worthy of awe.

On our way into Edinburgh, we stopped at the home of another one of Jo’s friends. Jacque served us hearty homemade soup—with delicious bread and salad. She poured wine for us and treated us like long-lost pals.

She lived at the end of a small gravel road, with fields of sheep (but no cows) around her. We walked out to one pasture at the edge of a stone ruin and gave some morsels to the (sometimes aggressive) ewes and their completely captivating lambs. As we looked out at those frolicking babies, kicking up their little hoofs and nuzzling their mothers, I’m sure many of us were thinking what it must be like to live here, to be of this land, to speak with an endearing brogue, to have this history.

Do We Need an Outlander Tour of Scotland?

One of the hallmarks of a NextTribe trip (besides dancing whenever possible) is meeting local women in our destination and, if we’re lucky, visiting their homes. That’s when the tourist façade really comes down.

On the drive from Jacque’s house and into Edinburgh, we talked about how special it was to feel like we’d made friends here. We had traded contacts with Jacque and the women at our wine-tasting gathering. They begged us to look them up if we were back in Scotland. We invited them to call us if they were ever near our homes in the States. I felt that for both groups—visitors and locals—our worlds had expanded in a meaningful way.

I knew that my connection to Scotland had changed. I felt for both visitors and locals, our worlds had expanded in a meaningful way.

In Edinburgh, we visited many of the “important” sites, ate in stellar restaurants and sighed at the beauty of the sun setting (around 10:30 pm) over the steeples of Old Town. I knew that my connection to Scotland had changed, however, when as I walked along the Royal Mile, I spotted a man in a kilt next to a sign that said “Outlander Tours.” He was trying to attract attention of passers by. “Come see the places where Jamie and Claire would have visited,” he shouted.

I kept on walking, not tempted in the least to join such a tour. I realized that the Scotland I experienced—the Scotland of warm, welcoming women and landscapes of mountains and farmland—needed no help from the Scotland we see on the screen.  

Photo collage, top, by Jeannie Ralston.