Over the Bridge to Skye

If that title seems a bit familiar, it’s a modified version of the last line of the Outlander theme: “…over the sea to Skye.” The words were penned by Robert Louis Stevenson, a solid Scot from Edinburgh, which he set to a traditional Scotch tune.

15 July 2018

We’ve just arrived in Edinburgh, Scotland’s capital and second largest city. Back to hard-paved streets and noisy traffic in narrow canyons between tall stone buildings. Ah, but Edinburgh does indeed seem like a fine city. There’s a lot going on, with the streets full of shops and busy engaged (and engaging!) people. And we have yet to make it to the Old Town, where the good stuff is. We will do more exploring tomorrow; we’re staying here for a week, let's not rush things!

The last couple of weeks have been lovely, though, being away from the noise and traffic. Since arriving in Bergen, Norway on June 7 we’ve been in a series of major cities (the Seven Cities, we’re calling them). Now, for the last two weeks we’ve been in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, delightfully rural and picturesque. We started in Glasgow, flying in from Amsterdam, to start our 90-day out-of-the-EU period. We picked up a car at the airport, and have been auto touring since. From Glasgow in the south we drove past Loch Lomond to spend a few days in Oban, a small but popular town on the west coast. From there we caught a ferry to the Isle of Mull and a quick drive across it to catch another ferry to Iona – but I think we’ve already talked about Iona.

Once back in Oban, where the ferry left us, we headed north, past Fort William and west again to the Skye Bridge. Intrigued as I am by the idea of a bridge leading to the sky, this bridge took us across the water to more land; specifically, the Isle of Skye. We’d planned a couple of days in the south of the island, and a couple more in the north. Now having been there I realize we could have stayed much longer! There are endless rolling vistas, twisting roads, blue water, green hills, brown beaches. And sheep. Everywhere, sheep. It’s what they do, in the highlands and islands. And the summer lambs are big enough to wander on their own, but still close to mama. (Or is that maaaaaammmma!)

We didn’t know what to expect, on the Isle of Skye. My research had turned up a number of hot photo spots to visit, but as usual, the reality never matched the photos. It was much, much better!

The first spot we went to, called Sligachan, was very crowded. Huge weekend crowd, we thought. Rare sunny day, everyone getting out. Cars parked along the road all the way to there. Ah, but we soon found this was not just any day; this was the day of the annual foot race, up a 2000 foot mountain. It was a charity event, and a very popular one: we were told there were something like 250 entrants, plus all the support folks – family and friends – to see them go. Once the runners were off – and we watched, astonished, as the runners shot up the face of this distant cinder cone – we started exploring the trails that started at race headquarters, a well-established hotel.

See that tiny stream of white in the lower third? That's the runners, headed for the top. And back!

It didn’t take long until we were out of sight of the hotel, and the cars, and all the people. We headed over the low rolling hills towards the south, and the endless, open green country broken by rolling hills. Since we weren’t prepared for an extended hike we didn’t go far, but a check with the map showed this trail ran for some 14 miles, to the south tip of Skye. Fabulous! Maybe someday we’ll be back…

 

Fourteen miles to the south end of the island.

Awaiting the runners return on the bridge at Sligachan

Our next outing was to the lighthouse, the Neist Point Lighthouse, built to guide ships passing between Skye and the Ulst islands to the west. This is one of the featured points on Skye, shown in all the tourist brochures, so we didn’t what to miss it. Getting there involved some very narrow roads, up and over those rolling hills through endless grazing land. And sheep. Always sheep. While we’d gotten pretty good at the Scottish single-track roads, with the periodic passing places that require levels of cooperation between oncoming drivers that is rarely seen in the US, these roads had a new wrinkle: blind summits. Bit of a white knuckle experience: driving on a one lane road, coming over a hill not knowing what may be on the road coming towards us! We had some interesting encounters, but nothing traumatic.

We soon made it to the coast, encountering the long trail of cars parked along the road well before we got to the cliffs overlooking the ocean. We hiked along the paved road to the trailhead, and then down down into the valley and up the other side until we could see the lighthouse, far below.

View from the car park; the lighthouse is hidden by the cliff

Paula contemplating the long descent to the lighthouse

The lighthouse is a complex of buildings, well below the cliff where we were standing. We invoked our oft-repeated manta, “what goes down must come up,” and decided not to actually visit the lighthouse itself. After all, we were on the hill overlooking the jagged, rugged coast of Skye. The seas were calm today, lapping at the base of enormous cliffs, the sky above blue and white. Why ruin that with pointless physical effort? Paula headed back, I stayed, but instead of heading down to the lighthouse, I started climbing further up the hill we were on. I was quickly passed by a couple of boys, 10 and 12 or so. I asked if they were going to the top. They barely paused to say, yes. How could I stay behind?

Me, at the top of the cliff 

Classic view of the Neist Point Lighthouse

View back toward the car park.Cars are visible at the far right, top

The boys were soon joined by their mother, and I made a long slow climb of it to allow them to enjoy their time at the top. I arrived just as they were leaving, and the mother offered to take my photo. So, I’ve got that moment! After a brief rest, and time for a 360 degree photo, I headed back down. And then back up out of the valley to the car park above. Then we started the long slow drive back, stopping now and again to check out the sheep.

 

Sheep guarding the road to the lighthouse

We wait in a passing place for traffic to clear. Sheep are doing what they do: eat.

The Old Man of Storr is a famous rock formation rising above a valley and is on the must-photograph list for the Isle of Skye. The road to this venue was better, and the string of cars parked along it even longer.

We made it to the base of the formation, from which the shape of the rocks can be examined. (Yes, we made it, along with a passel of families with 6 and 7 year old kids. OK, so I guess it wasn’t quite that tough…). After taking the requisite photos Paula was ready to head back, but the trail – and many of the visitors – climbed further upward. So did I…

At the base of the Old Man of Storr

View to the north, back down the trail

Eventually we got to the top and to the endless views across the top of Skye to the sea and further islands beyond. Stunning! I found these landscapes, blending into seascapes, more satisfying than the iconic photos of the Old Man I had seen. It was worth the extra effort!

Looking out from the peak to the distant ocean

Looking back down at the Old Man

That afternoon we headed for the Quiraing – the name derives from Old Norse brought by the Vikings, as do many place names in this part of the world – along a desolate single-track road between the tiny communities of Brogaig and Uig. Right from our arrival at the car park it was clear this place was special, even after all the extraordinary landscapes we’d seen. As we hiked along I mulled over what the signboard at the trailhead said: 8^th & 9^th century Highlanders hid their cattle in the folds of these mountains to keep them from Viking raiders. It gave a further poignancy to my hike, as I negotiated the narrow trail cut into the steep cliff, black rock rising above me to the left; and to the right, a steep drop opening to the coastal plains and the flat ocean beyond.

View from the trailhead out over the Quiraing

We didn't have to go far for this perspective

View of the trail. I made it to the "notch"

I went up and over, the trail went down and around...

But again, we had not planned to devote a full day to these explorations. Eventually I came to a narrow pass between cliffs (was this were the cattle were hid? I kept wondering) and decided it was time to return. I added a stone to the cairn slowly built up by previous decades of hikers and turned back, the trail a thread reaching into the distance.

Sheep 

So now we're in Edinburgh, in the Lowlands. In a few days we'll get another car and head further south to the Lake District in Northeast England, and eventually to London for the month of August. Maybe then we'll have a chance to catch up to the month of June...