Skye High Pt.2
That alarm went off at 5am. I'd positioned it so that I was out of reach of the snooze button and forced to get up to turn it off. Our eyes were still fuzzy from the wind of the Storr the night before, but through the cracks in the Wigwam curtain, a vague red glow could be seen outside, enticing us up. I've never got ready so quickly for work, but then my job isn't to view sunrises from the Quiraing, or to spend 20hrs of the day feverishly exploring one of my favourite locations in Scotland. Sadly (I'd take a low salary on that if anybody is offering, by the way).
The roads were quiet, the drive was swift. We turned off at Staffin to take the single-track road that leads up to the Quiraing car park. The last time I was in the area, the poor northern end of the Trotternish Ridge was under siege from the masses of tourists. The road edges were crumbling beneath the onslaught of tyres from food vans, SUVs, 4x4s, coupes, the grass was trampled into slippery mud by the thousands of feet padding along the headland while the rain lashed down in an attempt to rid the place of its invaders. I know I am also a tourist here, but if a place is full, I don't make myself a parking space on land that was never intended for vehicles. Nor do I pull up in a passing place. It was refreshing, then, to find the Quiraing empty save for ourselves and one other vehicle on this morning. The yapping dog in the back of that other car ruined the moment somewhat, but as we shut the doors of my own car, orange and yellow shafts of light began to slide around the edges of the peak between us and Digg, and the hound faded out into obscurity.
We spent a good hour on the edge of the hills, just enjoying the sun rise in silence. A couple of photographers arrived on the scene and became the unknowing subjects of my attempts at scale-based images. If I had my way, I would have spent a lot more time here, and would have followed the path to Flodigarry. As it happened, a couple of decisions had been made on the drive to the Quiraing that changed the intended layout of our trip somewhat.
The plan for the Saturday of our trip had long been to make the trek from Sligachan to Sgurr na Stri, and to take in the shores of Loch Coruisk. That's a fairly long walk of eight miles each way (if you don't wander, which I think we probably would have), but with the limited access to weather reports it seemed that this day was set to be the best of the trip, with forecasts of rain and even thunder passing over on the coming days. Loch Coruisk is a journey I still plan to make, but neither myself nor my brother get much time off work, and so instead we altered our plans to try and take in more locations while the sun was out and the travel was good.
We got back into the car, and picked out a couple of stops before a quick refuelling at the Wigwam. First up was Staffin Beach. I took my daughter here last year and loved the grey sand, island views, and general emptiness of the stretch of coast. Considering it was still around 7am on this trip, we found the beach in much the same state on my return to it. The tide was out, revealing the green-slick rocks with dinosaur footprints, and a few cormorants were making their morning rounds beneath the calm seas for unwitting fish.
It was a short visit, then followed by a quick stop at Kilt Rock and Mealt Falls. I'm really glad that I did stop here, because whilst my brother was taking a look at the falls (which were quite tame this time), I was looking up into the sky where I had seen the dark outline of a large bird.
Whilst the creature was circling above, I switched to my zoom lens for closer inspection. I was expecting a buzzard, as that is pretty much always what I see flying overhead (I do love a buzzard though!), but when I reached maximum zoom I realised the bird not only still looked enormous, but had to have been really high up as well. It was far above me, but I had finally seen one of the greatest eagles to grace the skies: the White Tailed Eagle (forgive the low-quality picture from shaky hands on maximum zoom...).
That bird alone almost made the entire trip to Skye worth it. Sadly, I wasn't able to see the eagle land, but if I had found where it had gone, we probably wouldn't have left Kilt Rock all day. As we've now covered the falls and sea cliffs here, I won't withhold the obligatory waterfall picture that comes with every visit to the site.
We made our quick stop back at the cabin, and then decided to set out for the Fairy Pools in Glenbrittle. The pools are another hugely popular location in Skye, and if you've heard of the island, then the chances are that you've heard of the Fairy Pools as well. A popular location for walkers, tourists, and photographers, even the drive to the car park quickly reveals why the place is held in such high regard. The Black Cuillins curve around the pool with great, rocky arms, while Sgurr An Fheadain looms ominously within the middle. From a distance, the 689m cut of grey rock seems an almost perfect triangle, a child's rendition of what a mountain should look like. That might be quite telling of my own mind that I happen to find Fheadain to be absolutely captivating, to the point where I just can't stop looking at it. Unfortunately, the road is fairly twisty during the final descent to the car park, so I wasn't yet able to give it my undivided attention.
Once again, we had come upon a car park that was quickly filling. We claimed one of the two remaining spaces, gathered our stuff, and headed off, laughing ever-so-slightly at the drivers that were obviously fuming at the lack of spaces as they filed in while we walked out. Our first port of call was to investigate the waterfalls that made up one of the many tributaries leading into the River Brittle. We failed to find the recess behind which I've seen a number of photographs taken, but chose to follow the stream down to the main path rather than spend time trying to find it. Much like my previous trips to other locations in Skye, my earlier journeys to the Fairy Pools had been cut short on both previous occasions, largely down to very poor weather. Right now, the clouds were parting, the sun was shining, and I was starting to feel the telltale tingle of sunburn on my face. It was only 10:45am.
We picked our route along the well-made paths that wound alongside Allt Coir' a' Mhadaidh, listening to the rush of water as it spilled into the blue pools, through the colourful rocks, and around the smooth, age-carved stone. Despite the huge number of people walking by us, I quite enjoyed the company at the Fairy Pools (unlike my usual, solitude-loving self), as they really show off the scale of the surrounding area. We walked until the path became nothing more than a line of footprints in the mud, evidence that most folk turn back after seeing the bulk of the blue pools. I wanted to get closer to Sgurr An Fheadain. I doubt I'll ever climb it, so this peak can rank #1 in my all-time favourite unclimbed peaks. Even so, as I got closer, I found myself scouting out the best options for a route around the back of it. The peak seemed to tower over me, no matter how much further I walked. It also never seemed to come within reach, almost like it occupies its own realm. We stopped for a bite to eat (two of my four bags of jerky), and I used my brother to try and capture a sense of scale of the (still distant) peak.
With all the stops for photographs, we were eating heavily into our day. I packed my camera away, and we made a 45 minute dash to the car. We decided to travel over to Talisker Bay now that we were in the general area. After nearly being swallowed up by an array of gaping potholes, I parked my car up by the side of a peacock. Again, if you're in the market for a trip to the beach at Talisker, try heading over early in the day. There is space for fewer than ten cars based on the arrangement we found upon arrival!
The walk to the beach was a pleasant one, leading us through a leafy, green path covered by lichen-coated trees, before passing a grand, white house and following a gently winding path with the rising headland flanking our left. Plenty of sheep trotted about, and were perhaps a little too inquisitive about where I chose to relieve myself once the few folk on the horizon disappeared from view.
I was busy scouting the cliffs on the far side of the path for more eagles when the route rose up and finally revealed Talisker Bay. Another beach resplendent in dark sand, slick with the incoming tide, and showcasing impressive reflections of the headland in the afternoon sun. To get to the beach, navigation of rocks and pebbles must come first. A fun little game, but unfortunately, these rocks have become the home for an enormous amount of rubbish washed up from the seas. I don't know if it just the increased focus of sea plastic in the media, but the waste on beaches in general seems far more prominent than I've ever known it to be. An unhappy blight on an otherwise hugely impressive and tranquil stretch of Skye coast, and something I feel I would happily spend a day helping to clear up had I the bags for it.
After a solid thirty minutes or so exploring the beach, it became very apparent that the previous night's meagre meal and a small amount of beef jerky today wasn't going to satisfy my stomach with all the walking we were doing. We decided on dinner at Seamus' Bar at the Sligachan Hotel. The walk back to the car treated us to fantastic views of Preshal More, a local lump of a hill that I was surprised to find only reached 320m. I suggested a wee nip up, but was summarily shot down by the suggestion. Another one to add to the list of places to return to in future, then. I'd expect that the views from up top would be incredible, though in honesty the face we were looking at didn't look easily scaleable.
As we arrived back at Sligachan, the scenery was even more impressive than they had been the day before thanks to a smaller amount of cloud and more light rays. We had a quick wander among the river rocks before heading inside for fish and chips (which were delicious, by the way, and thoroughly recommended). It was around 6.30pm now, and we were debating over whether or not to head to Niest Point or the Fairy Glen. We agreed on Niest Point for Sunday evening, and set off in the direction of Uig for tonight. The drive was a lot shorter than I remember it being, and we made it to the glen to be greeted by a perfectly still loch and only one other visitor. Annoyingly, that visitor was in a camper van and parked just so that they interrupted the awesome mirror image that was found in the loch (yes, I'm that guy).
The loch had a sodden, bloated, and decomposing sheep carcass in it that gave off an awful stench as I crouched nearby to take a picture (I'm sure it deflated slightly at this point too). Still, the camper van was the eyesore on this occasion.
I was a little bit disappointed with this visit to the Fairy Glen. Last year there had been some amazing circular arrangements of rocks on the short grass of the floor of the glen, conjuring up images of nighttime rituals, dancing spirits, and folklore tales. This time, although the large twirling circle remained, many of the smaller designs had been removed and were just either piles of stones or bare grass. This is only my second visit here, and I don't know whether or not these designs are subject to frequent change or whether some fool had seen fit to redesign the area. Maybe the fairies didn't like them.
The reason that we had left either Niest Point or the Fairy Glen as a destination for later in the day was simply down to the desire for a decent sunset photo. While the rest of the day had been astounding weather-wise, the clouds were thick this evening, and not a hint of sun was granted passage to the glen. Sadly, the Fairy Glen was not quite as magical as it had seemed on my previous trip, and as the day was finally drawing to an end we made our way back across the island to our wigwam. Not really a downer of an ending, but certainly the least interesting stop in our long weekend away.
Skye High Pt.3 is also available on this site...