Rolls‑Royce Ghost versus the North Coast 500

I set out last week in the Ghost Black Badge to drive the 500 miles north from Inverness, up to John O’Groats, then left, past the Castle of Mey and into Sutherland, then left again and down the west coast to Loch Torridon and Applecross, and once more left for the finish, back in Inverness.

This route, long loved by car manufacturers for UK launches, and rightly so, given the vast wilderness, empty roads and perfect EU-funded Tarmac still available, has now been officially named the North Coast 500, or #NC500 if you’re under 40, in an effort to draw more tourists north.

I wish they wouldn’t; I really don’t want anyone else up here, ruining the solitude, populating the horizon, forcing me to pull into passing places on the single-lane roads that stitch the heathery mountain peaks together in a string of galvanised ruptures in the landscape, each giant rock a reminder of man’s frailty.

Unless, of course, you’re at the wheel of a Rolls-Royce Ghost Black Badge. And then, my friends, you are God. Or, more accurately in this car, some sort of highland Lucifer. This is a car designed for the edgier customer, the younger buyer with a bit more attitude, willing to take a few more risks and make a few more statements. And so the Spirit of Ecstasy is black. And the normally brightly polished external chrome work oozes a dark smokiness, and the wheels are 22 layers of carbon fibre, and the whole super saloon is very, very black.

Inside, Rolls-Royce designers have taken risks again: our Ghost was a mix of black and Arctic White leather hides, with contrast stitching and bright white piping, and, in a very bold move, the traditional burr veneer was replaced by a technical weave - a patterned carbon-fibre and aerospace-grade aluminium weave, across the dash and on the doors. Even the instrument dial tips were dipped bright orange.

As is the case with the Ghost since its inception, this is an extraordinary car to drive or to be a rear-seat passenger in. If you prefer to hold a steering wheel between your hands, the Black Badge Series gives you more horsepower (an extra 40bhp, taking it to 603bhp) and an upgraded eight-speed gearbox. You also have 620lb ft of torque on tap, making this strangely, and wonderfully, both an extraordinarily relaxed drive and also a sharply dynamic one when you tap into the power reserve. How do the engineers at the Goodwood plant do that? Normally driver wins at the expense of passenger, or vice versa. Never have the two been so equally catered for.

In the back, there are hectares of leg space and each seat nestles in its own leather surround, with a beautiful picnic table and TV screen resting in the back of the front seats.

But, joy of joys, the best part of this car is to be found in the ceiling, which has taken the night-sky roof lining of the concept car and carried it faithfully into production, so that, thanks to the beauty of a thousand little LED lights shining in the perforated leather, you can gaze at any constellation you fancy when you order your car. This stellar incarnation dims to nought when the door is closed, or you can choose to keep it on while you drive, and so, obviously, I drove the length of Wester Ross under the glow of a million softly lit fire flies. What a surreal, superlative, one-in-a-million experience.

You might think a Rolls-Royce is not the sort of car for a Highland fling, given the narrow, twisting passes and switchbacks that criss-cross the wilderness, and the engine’s tendency to suck in fuel as urgently as I drew in the crisp autumnal air from the seething sea. And, in that sense, if you really insisted on being dull and pedantic about the whole thing, you’d be right. But this is a truly awe-inspiring landscape, one that draws gasps and exclamations at every loch and glen you pass, and a Rolls-Royce is really the only car to match the dramatic landscape, pound for pound. On you drive, mile after mile, undaunted by the distances. We did 260 miles on day one and I stepped out of the car in beautiful Badcall Bay, where white fishing boats thrummed between autumnal islands, utterly relaxed and unaffected by six hours’ driving.

I can’t think of another car in which that would be the case. Perhaps a Bentley. Perhaps. But no one, no one, can match the waftability of a Rolls chassis. I want to do the whole thing again.

Price of the Ghost Black Badge: £215,640 (£259,080 as driven)