I finally made it to Lovat Highland Bothy after a bit of a faff on the road from Inverness. I'd set off full of beans, playlist blaring some indie folk tunes to get me in the mood for Loch Ness, but about ten miles out, I managed to spill half my takeaway coffee all over the passenger seat. Classic me – always turning a simple drive into a comedy of errors. Mopping it up with an old jumper while dodging sheep on the single-track roads, I arrived at the bothy just as the afternoon light was turning that gorgeous Highland gold.

Nestled right by the glassy waters of Loch Ness, this wee stone bothy felt like stepping into a postcard. Cosy as anything, with a wood-burning stove begging to be lit and a kitchenette that screamed "home-cooked heaven". My first thought? Food. I'd stocked up at the local Spar in Drumnadrochit on the way – nothing fancy, just tatties, venison sausages from the butcher's counter, some fresh Loch Ness smoked salmon, and a bottle of local Cairngorm ale. The bothy's got this perfect wee table overlooking the loch, so I cracked on with dinner straight away. Chopping onions on that sturdy wooden board, I felt like a proper chef, though my attempt at pan-fried tattie scones turned into more of a rustic mash. Still, slathered with butter and paired with the salmon, it was pure bliss. Washed down with that ale, watching the mist roll in – I could've stayed there all night.

Next morning, I wandered the short path to the nearest spot for breakfast supplies: the tiny village shop not five minutes away. They had these cracking local oatcakes and jars of heather honey that I snaffled up. Back at the bothy, I fired up the stove and tried my hand at a full Scottish – bacon rashers sizzling, eggs from who-knows-where (probably the farmer up the road), and black pudding that was surprisingly good for a self-taught effort. Sat by the window, munching away, I caught sight of the loch's surface rippling – Nessie having a kip, no doubt. It got me reflecting a bit, spoon halfway to my mouth: life's too short for rubbish brekkies. Here I was, miles from the daily grind, savouring every bite in this peaceful nook. Made me appreciate the simple things, like not burning the toast for once.

By lunchtime, hunger struck again, and I fancied something pubby. The bothy's spot means you're spoilt for choice within a couple of miles – I ambled over to the Fiddlers' Arms in Drumnadrochit, a proper Highland boozer with low beams and a fire crackling. Ordered the venison burger with chips, and oh, it was a belter – gamey, juicy, with a side of homemade chutney that had me scraping the plate. Pints of locally brewed stuff flowed, chatting with the barman about the best fishing spots on the loch. Back at the bothy by late afternoon, stuffed and happy, I fancied a go at baking. The kitchen's got all the basics, so I whipped up soda bread using flour from the shop. It rose a treat, but my oven timing was off – ended up with a gloriously charred loaf that tasted ace with cheese and more of that salmon.

Evening rolled in, and I couldn't resist another pub crawl, keeping it local. Popped into the Loch Ness Inn just down the way – same village vibe, same five-minute stroll. Their fish and chips were legendary: batter crisp as a Highland frost, haddock straight from the loch, mushy peas on the side. I nursed a dram of peaty whisky, eavesdropping on locals spinning yarns about monster sightings over their pints. Staggered back to the bothy under the stars, the loch whispering away, and rustled up a nightcap of cheeseboard remnants with my wonky soda bread. Curled up by the stove with a cuppa, I thought: three days of this food-focused bliss? Sign me up forever. First impressions? Lovat Highland Bothy isn't just a stay – it's a feast for the soul.