"LOOK at that, it says it’s an electric campervan.” The portable kettle boils on the electric hob as a group of hikers ambles past, pausing to take note of our conspicuous vehicle as I potter about inside. The lay-by of the Three Sisters viewpoint in Glencoe is teeming, and our novel ride catches the attention of many.

Admiring the view over a cup of coffee, the splendour of our surroundings re-inforces my slightly gloating sense of smugness, as the occupant of the only clean-driving vehicle in sight. You can’t help but feel a touch virtuous as a non-polluter, travelling without guzzling petrol and emitting fumes into such awe-inspiring surroundings. It is a feeling that intensifies as three coaches simultaneously pull into the lay-by, spilling forth hordes of camera-ready tourists and we decide to move on.

The Ampervan is the all-electric camper recently launched by Scotland-based e-mobility specialist, Munro Wilson. With the space of a van but the manoeuvrability of a car, it is based on the Vauxhall Vivaro-e model, with roughly 120 miles of range on a 75kWh battery. Boasting a fold-down bed, an electric hob and all the bells and whistles to make #vanlife as comfortable as possible, this is a vehicle made for good, clean adventure.

With just five days to play with, after collecting the van from the village of Duns in the Borders, we follow a route carving a path through the Highlands, navigating the A82 to the shores of Loch Lomond, then on to the heartland of Scottish mountaineering in Glencoe.

The National:

From here, we skirt the mighty, snow-shrouded Nevis range and venture north-east to the giant sleeping mountains of the Cairngorms, before winding down south again along the coast to North Berwick.

For a first-time automatic, van and EV driver, collecting the Ampervan is daunting, made no less nerve-wracking by gale-force winds that make it feel rather like manoeuvring a sail. But as the wind dies down and we hit the road heading north past Edinburgh, I quickly become accustomed to the smooth and eerily silent style of driving and eventually stop reaching for a phantom gearstick.

The van is equipped with futuristic features that seem more suited to the helm of the Millennium Falcon – from the practically autonomous cruise control to the rearview mirrors that make reversing into camping bays and charging points a doddle. It’s a far cry from my battered crisp packet of a petrol car left at home.

Our initial major stretch of the trip, from Duns to Loch Lomond, reveals the two primary requirements for what it means to successfully travel in an EV – patience, and planning.

When we eventually reach our overnight stop at Firkin Point, what we had estimated to be a three-hour journey has taken closer to six, after stopping twice to charge.

It soon transpires that “Rapid CSS” charging points are the Holy Grail for EVs, taking between 45 minutes to one hour to reach full battery. Our first mistake is using a typical “Type 2” charger, which says we will need four hours for a full charge.

Lesson learnt, we deliberately search out CSS points, and encounter many a dour-faced Tesla driver along our travels, irked to have a coveted spot nabbed by the van.

We top up on charge if covering any distance more than 50 miles to stay on the safe side, and it is advisable to plan to cover no more than 200 miles in a day.

The process of charging itself proves exceedingly simple, a bit like plugging in a giant hairdryer.

For finding charge points and planning routes, the ZapMap and ChargePlace Scotland apps become our bible. The latter was ideal for finding points compatible with the free charging card provided with the van, whilst ZapMap offered real-time availability, indicating the type of point and any fault updates.

The National:

We are both surprised by how well developed the charging infrastructure is in the Highlands, and find points in the most unlikely of places.

With boots still wet from the thundering Falls of Falloch, we leave the van to charge in Crianlarich while savouring the firelit warmth of the hotel next door.

Following a night on the mountainside, the van recharges at the Glencoe Mountain Resort’s CSS point, while we do the same with hearty breakfast baps in the Two Corries cafe.

In Kingussie, a spot by the village hall provides ample charge for an hour while we hike up to the Ruthven Barracks. Public car parks, hotels, and the odd service station prove to be the safest bets.

After nights spent sleeping soundly in perfect privacy in the back of the van, we glide seamlessly back along the coast to return our ride as wannabe electric converts, eco-consciences clean, and bodies re-charged.