Postcards from Skye

‘Listen to the silence, be still and let your soul catch up.’ – Scottish Proverb.

The Beauty of Skye

Visiting the Isle of Skye has long been on my bucket list. I could never quite believe that a place so beautiful and wild could exist in the UK. To see it with my own eyes is every bit as wonderful as I could have imagined.

The landscapes on Skye are varied, vast and breathtaking. There is a little bit of everything for the traveller on Skye. There are castles, cliffs and crags. Meres, moors and mountains. Endless waterfalls. Silvery still fingers of sea, snake endlessly inland until they finally taper out in a bed of burnt orange seaweed. A narrow, exuberant stream tumbles down the hillside to meet the loch, carving a boulder-strewn path to the bigger expanse of water. Around every corner, every bend in the road, there is something new to see.

A Plethora of Stunning Landscapes

The plethora of stunning landscapes means that every image comes easily on Skye. I merely turn my camera towards the next gorgeous scene and boom, great photo. Putting together this latest installment of my Postcards From… series is difficult however! Narrowing down the photos to just seven of my favourite images is infinitely harder than actually taking them! But, among the seven, you’ll find some pictures that aren’t only my favourites from Skye, but are some of my favourite photos ever.

In Skye, I have found a rugged wilderness closer to home than any other I’ve ever discovered. It makes my heart sing and my mind race with endless possibilities. I feel the stirring of creativity. I’m already planning my return, mulling over when I can next go back. Until then, I have my memories, and these photos, to tide me over.

The Tallest Mountain on Skye.

We feel like the first people on the mountain. Starting at 9am will have that effect. You feel alone and intrepid in the pristine wilderness. We hike for about an hour beside the stream, with its gushing waterfalls, swirling whirlpools, bubbling rapids and gin clear water. It is our rushing companion, the water tearing downstream to end up, way back where we have come from, in Loch Slapin.

We feel like the first people on the mountain, but we aren’t. Halfway into the second hour, as our climb intensifies, two men come bounding down the boulder strewn track above us. They descend rapidly, following the stream. A cheery and brisk ‘Morning!’ and they are gone. We continue edging uphill, they continue their enthusiastic downhill plunge. Soon, they are mere bright specks among the autumnal hued foliage.

Faced with a wall of scree, I check my ascent and sit a while beside a still, quiet mountain lake. There is no need to reach the top of the mountain. I am not a Munro-bagger and I am enjoying the walk, rather than the triumph of the summit. There is nothing to gain from going further, nothing to lose by sitting a while beside the lake. I enjoy the warmth of the early autumn sunlight on my upturned face. This is the life.

Searching for Fairies.

We drive slowly up from Uig and are thrown into an other-worldly landscape. On both sides, many mounds rise up, ringed with hundreds of very narrow pathways. Each mound looks like it is slowly slipping, inch by inch. Not for the first time, I press my face to the window, in awe at the strange scenery beyond.

‘On the right, the Fairies run their rabbits around the mounds, using them as pack animals to carry Fairy goods. To the left, the paths are made by the Haggis, a shy, retiring creature with two legs shorter than the others to accommodate the constant difference in height as they run endlessly around the mound…’

P and I exchange glances with a grin as our driver launches into an explanation as to why the mounds are ringed with strange narrow paths. The local folklore makes the place seem all the more magical and mysterious. We wander through and around the mounds, admiring and marvelling over the crazy geology. It feels like we are on a different planet. It is easy to believe the folklore of Fairy Glen.

As we walk back to the minibus, P and I ponder the plural of haggis. Is it ‘haggises’ or ‘haggi’? After some debate, we settle on the latter, but I’m curious – what do you think?

The Western Tip of Skye.

Take the road to Dunvegan, but before you quite reach the town, turn down the narrow lane heading west. Drive to the end of the road, circumnavigating Loch Mor, admiring the cliffs as you descend towards the ocean and finally, you’ll reach a non-descript car park on the western tip of Skye. You won’t be alone, there’ll be other people milling about, cars backing into spare spaces. This is Neist Point, the most western tip of the Isle of Skye.

Out on a finger of land with cliffs that drop dramatically down to the sea, there’s Neist Point Lighthouse. Climb to the headland above the peninsula and you reach an outlook with a perfect vantage over the lighthouse and the Outer Hebrides.

Built in 1909, the lighthouse was manned until the system became automated in 1990 and no longer required daily maintenance. It now remains as a beautiful, remote and somewhat wild location, located at the end of the road.

On a sunny day like the day we visit, you can see the hulking Hebridean islands silhouetted on the horizon, tempting, suggestive of future adventures. On a windy day like the day we visit, you’ll get your clothes torn at and your hair pulled free in a frenzy. If you turn your face, you’ll be left breathless with eyes watering in a second. I perch behind a rock, momentarily shielded from the elements and I soak up the scene before me. The image you see below was captured during this brief moment of respite.

The Old Man of Storr.

As we climb out of the carpark, we are met with a chill breeze that slices through my thin jacket. I shiver and march forwards, determined to get my blood flowing and keep warm. Looking back, some way up, we see great curtains of rain sliding in off the sea. Soon, it hits us, rattling against our hoods, icy needles stinging exposed flesh. We press on. Rainstorm after rainstorm flows in, drenching us and then moving onwards only minutes later. Low clouds swirl around the crags above us. They draw steadily closer as we inch up the narrow path.

Once near the top, I break away from the group and walk towards the edge of the cliff. Laid out below, a vista of road, moorland, loch, all reaching down to the sea beyond. The wind swirls past, whistling eerily through the grass and between the towering, silent monoliths. They loom overhead, dark and menacing, lending a sinister feel to the place. A raven croaks somewhere close by.

It is easy to let my mind run away momentarily. I imagine fairies, ghouls and spirits all make this place home. It feels mysterious and ancient, a place of myth and legend. Rocks, old as time, jut from the mountain and make odd shapes in the mist and clouds. The secrets of the Storr are not be given up easily.

Where River Meets Sea.

Our second to last stop of the day, as the light is slowly turning from harsh midday to mellow, blue evening. Mealt Falls plunge 55m down to the ocean below. They roar as they make their thunderous descent, smashing onto the rocks below. The world has taken on shades of blue and grey, the sky overhead is dotted with fluffy clouds. The scene is at once both dynamic and calming, with a relaxed colour palette contrasting with the never-ceasing movement and crashing of water.

In the distance, Kilt Rock dominates the eyeline. From our promontory overlooking the view, we can see over the Sound of Raasey to the west coast of mainland Scotland. We are teased by high mountains in the distance, soaring up into the low-slung clouds, calling us. They’re to be saved for another day, another time. We are not done with Scotland.

Weary, and with heavy drops of rain beginning to fall, dampening the tarmac, we return to our minivan and start the final journey back to Portree. Just one more stop and then back to our B&B, hot showers and food. It has been one of the most wonderful days of the year.

Hinterland Viewpoint.

A quiet moment, looking out across Skye. Just a light breeze and the bright sunshine for company. A moment to consider my privilege and luck to be able to explore the UK during 2020, one of the most difficult years experienced globally for decades. Brief time to think about how fortunate I’ve been throughout, despite the strain of the year.

We don’t have enough time to hike the Quiraing.

‘It’s something to come back for,’ we say to ourselves, as we admire the view from every vantage point we can, with the little time we have spare.

There is a lot of Skye to go back for. We want to go back during ‘normal’ times and experience the local hospitality more thoroughly. We want to eat out every evening, drink in the Portree pubs and see the island through non-pandemic eyes. But this brief respite, a short break at the beginning of October, before winter descends and the darkest times before the dawn arrive, is everything.

Morning Maelstrom.

We drive out of Portree at 8am, as the sky is lightening. The day is calm, promising a day of clouds, blue sky patches and little or no rain. Throughout our entire stay in Skye, the weather has been largely kind. Ahead of us, this final day, a hike up the tallest mountain on the island. Behind us, in the past few days, a wonderful break away from our London lives.

We’ve gloried in the splendor of the scenery, indulged in delicious food and seen as much of Skye as one can see without full access to a vehicle. Our expectations before we arrived were high, and Skye has exceeded them. Who knew, we say, in wonderment, time and again, that there could be such a beautiful place in the UK?

NB: We took a tour with Skye Minibus Tours while visiting the Isle of Skye. We would highly recommend them – their service is second-to-none and Rob’s knowledge about the island was vast! If you’re visiting Skye and don’t have your own vehicle, book a tour with them and you won’t be disappointed!