After descending the long muddy ruts toward the frigid Loch, plodding along the seaweed- and lichen-strewn beach, crossing between rows of stacked quartzite and limestone cairns, and plowing through a loose graveyard of ancient coastal rocks, I came to the stream crossing. It was a perfect Scottish autumn afternoon, which meant it was 47 degrees and pissing rain. The buttery soft faux-leather of the seat, steering wheel, and armrests were heated enough to scotch an egg. The same couldn’t be said for the spotter on the near side of the shore, who had clearly been standing in the squall for some time, awaiting our arrival.

“Is it quite toasty in there?” he brogued when I opened the window. I felt terrible about the prospect of responding honestly, so I just shrugged, but the heat exhaling through the open double-pained glass provided a clear answer.

“Just stay on the path and stay steady on the throttle,” he said. And I was off. The cold water was deep enough to swamp the front “off-road” camera, and I briefly glimpsed a sub-aquatic view of the tannic river on the center console display, as if through a scuba mask.

This all occurred not only in a Range Rover—among the contemporary vehicle brands considered most prone to voltaic glitching—it was the all-new $140,000 Range Rover Electric . 5kWh battery fully submerged, nothing fritzed out. With my foot pressed on the accelerator, it crept along the seabed, wading through three feet of pure Caledonian brackishness, and led me out onto the other shore.

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