So we wake up. Throw the tent in the back of the car in record time, and head off to the bridge. We wave at the bargirl from the previous evening, as we inevitably pass her on the way. (It’s a small world up here)
The weather isn’t so good today. You can’t see the mountains we could see yesterday from the bridge. We push on anyway, marveling at the sparse land and hills which we can see. We drive on and in through Skye’s small towns. We are aiming for Portree, the island’s capital. There is very little in the way of civilization before Portree. Where the road forks left round the island and right round the island, there is a picturesque campsite at the foot of a cloud-covered hill. We jot it down in our mental notebooks, as a possibility to spend the night.
We are very excited to be this far North, and this gets us through traveling along bad roads in bad weather. Finally we get to Portree,( or Port Righ in the native Gaelic). It is a breath of fresh air, it is full civilization. The first we have seen since Fort William. We get out of the car, to go to the toilet, stretch our legs, and decide what we are going to do. We have decided to climb a small hill on the island, as something to do. We go to the hiking shop. The woman in the shop deserves a paragraph to herself.
On of our expedition party had decided that pristine white Nikes were not the required attire for climbing a muddy hill track. I was picking up some postcards to send off to prospective future visitors from around the world. The shop assistant came up, and with a cheery smile offered me coffee while I looked around. She was very bright and cheery and friendly. I think it comes from being in the middle of nowhere. There was far less of the dry grumpiness, which I’ve come to love about Glasgow. It really brightened our morning, and with this newfound cheeriness, we traveled further with the intention of climbing a hill called the Storr. This required that we travel further north than Portree. This took us onto a one-way dirt road where you pull to the side when you see an oncoming car. This gets repetitive. You give the car in the other direction a lackadaisical wave, as you slowly make your way along these roads. We decided that this customary wave was not meaningful enough. We started to wave out of the windows enthusiastically whenever we passed cars. This put a smile on most drivers faces, as they saw some large hairy Scotsmen waving out of the windows of a cherry red Beetle with a sunflower on the dashboard. It cheered them up!!!
The old man of Storr.
Still buzzing from my experiences on a Munro the previous week, I was determined that we at least got a little walk while on the same island as the most impressive mountain range in Scotland. My walking round Scotland book had two walks which were non-Munros meaning they are a little easier, and more likely to be possible for amatuer’s without much bother. We decided on the Old man of Storr walk as it was first on the road, and initially we thought it was the old man of Stoer – which is much further north. The old man of Storr is a finger shaped structure of rock which juts out of some very interesting rocks beside a hill called the Storr(700 odd metres).
So we set off on a woodland path(Theres a recurring theme in Scottish hill walking here). Soon we are experiencing what I had experienced the previous week. Three steps in and you realise that you are no longer 12 and mountain climbing requires more energy, which was far more easily expendable a few years ago. For some reason, I seem to have broken through this valve last week, and I am bounding up the path with far less problems than last week. I’m not one for exercise, but in a week, I seem to be fitter, healthier and thinner. After a little climbing through trees etc. we evertually see the old man of Storr poking through the cloud. The weather is going to really put a damper on views, but I’m glad to be getting out of the car.
As we get a little higher, the views out to the sea become far clearer, and I am really glad we came to skye.
The walk is now more of a struggle as the last remaining sustenance provided by the mornings haggis and bacon rolls(You couldn’t make it up!!!) disappears. Once the woods have cleared we get a great view of the surrounding rock formations around the old man of Storr. It’s a far different view and climb than last weeks attempts. The rocks are very otherwordly. Anyway more of that later. We are spurred on by the following comical sign:
There are so many tourists going up here that we feel pretty safe. Once through the fence, you are now on a hill side, the breeze is slightly cooler which helps as the path is getting steeper. Its now a real challenge to spur yourself(and your mates) on to getting up as far as the old man. I promise that we can stop for lunch once we reach a large rock where the path turns in on itself. We struggle up the path, and sit down for a good rest and to tuck into a cold tin of soup each with a side order of a morning roll and a mars bar. It doesn’t matter what you eat when you are climbing, it always tastes wonderful.
I was concerned at the bottom of the hill that 3 litres of water might not be enough between the two of us, but this falls by the wayside, when some typical American toursists pass. Not only are they going up the storr path(a 5 hour hike), rather than the simpler old man path, they say that they regretted not bringing any water. No wonder the mountain rescue teams are kept in a job. I wouldn’t fancy a flat 5 hour walk without water in what has become quite a sunny day, but climbing along a sharp ridge of rocks where there are signs everywhere telling you not to go any further is just madness. I realised on Ben Lomond how much you have to respect nature.
Weare puggled. I decide that I am going to go a little further up into mordor for a few photos, and then, we’ll hit the road again. The weather is now beautiful, so we are keener to get road the island.
I head further up the path – and with each step, you get further into these otherworldly rocks. There is a great needle of rock. Which is a structure is far more impressive than the old man. You can imagine a giant being impaled on this in some alien fight across planets.
The ground below me is now all shingle – its very dangerous, as pointed out by the following sign:
I decide that I am going to climb up to the bottom of the old man – as there isn’t really anywhere to fall to on the back side of it. Behind it, you stand in a valley of these amazing rocks:
So I clamber up a landslide of shingle in order to get to the foot of the old man. I soon regret doing this, when I realise how long it’s going to take me to get back down, but I did rise to the challenge of reaching at least a little peak. The ground around the bottom of the old man is other worldy, it’s hollowed out a little like a cave, which adds to the sense of adventure.
From here I can see down to all the people below, and I realise how high I am. There is really a magnificent view on what has become a wonderfully sunny day.
So we go back down – full of adrenalin and proud to be Scottish mountain climbers. Theres always that bouce in your step on the way down having achieved something. In the car park we meet some English tourists, who go on and on about how beautiful our country is. We can only jokingly inform them that it’s a shame about our neighbours. I think the joke was taken in good spirits. They als tell us that at one point while out walking, they asked a passing driver if he knew where X was. He replied “aye” and drove on. Such is the dry wit of Scotland.
So its further on round the island. The weather is unbelievable – it’s rare to see sctland like this, and theres a real feeling that we may never see this part of Scotland in such beautiful weather again. We are pretty thirsty and cood do with refueling in the form of some water. We manege to stop at a little village store. They have about 3 cans of cola in the fridge and a bottle of irn bru. We realise how remote “remote” is, and how we have become accustomed to having evain available more readily. The next real stop is at a viewpoint which over looks some cliffs and a pretty waterfall. It’s a real tourist trap, mainly cos of the following views:
Theres a huge sign with lots of languages. The English at the top says “Crumbling rocks onto sheer drop cliff – beware” or whatever. An American woman pnders as to what all the other weird and wonderful languages could mean. My mate informs her, that they say “If you drop you’re false teeth – you’ve lost them”
And we’re off again – the single track roads are in full flow again – as is the enthusiastic waving. The views we can see here are the outer Hebrides. You also get to see some good views of another very different mountain range called the Quarraing, which include a hill with a completely flat top. The locals even play shinty on it. Maybe we’ll climb that next time.
This not only makes us feel very adventurous and far north – but we also decide(Probably because of the monotony of winding roads) that Hebrides could be a type of transvestite.
At a reasonable rate we manage to get back round to Portree and buy ourselves some dinner for the evening. We have decided to drive back round through the cuillins, and make camp back in Kyle of lochalsh, in order to see as much as possible in the short time we are out driving.
After portree we make our first stop off at Dunvegan castle – it’s pretty disappointing. Maybe just beside the mountains – or maybe cos it cost us to get in, and all we wanted was a leg stretch:
This area of skyw is different again, it between two pininsulla’s so has stiller water, more like lochs. We continue on down, in the baking heat looking forward to the vistas we know we’ll get at the cuillins
After a quick detour to talisker distillery,
We have views of some of the nicest mountains in Skye/Scotland/UK. They really are beautiful. Photos can’t do them justice, you just have to go. I will one day make it up at least a little bit of these mountains.
We kind of know that that’s it. We’ve see Skye in a day – its been wonderful. I’m sure we became a little more patriotic today. We take a small detour via Armadale to confirm that we’ve missed the last ferry, but gte to marvel at the millpond like sea, and the views of the mainland:
and also take a quick look at the island of Eigg:
The evening finishes back in Kyle of lochalsh, with a campfire on the beach over looking the cullins by night,
And Eilean Donan Castle
Until tomorrow…..
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