Susan Donnelly

Heading to Skye

After the West Highland Way race, we rode the train down to Milngavie, picked up our car and drove back to Ft. William.  The next day, we left for a few days of running and hiking on Skye.  The island has been on my dream list for as long as I’ve had one and we had only a day there on our last trip to Scotland.  This time, we stayed in Portree and had a few days to explore before we had to leave for home.

It’s a unique place with so much to see and so many trails that it’s hard to take it all in.  When trying to decide whether to spend one day or more, and what trails to do while there, I polled all the experts I knew – Mark Barnes, Jon Steele and internet acquaintance Ian Charters.  All three said yes, absolutely spend as much time there as you could, and Jon even recommended a must-do trail for us.  So much better than flipping through an impersonal travel guide!

Elgol and the Coast Path

If we did anything, we wanted to be sure to do Jon’s route, especially since he’d closed his e-mail with “please, please go, it’s beautiful.”

So we drove down to the tiny and remote coastal town of Elgol, parked across from a coffee shop in a small lot perched precariously on the edge of a cliff and pulled out the trusty OS map.  The route was even in our Skye hiking book so we read what we could about it.

The route out of town was easy to find and well sign-posted.  Just beyond the last house, we passed a pair of satisfied-looking hikers on their way back and then found ourselves following another pair in red and black rain gear.  We were running and I eventually caught them, assuming we would pass them as soon as Rob caught up but right about there, the terrain changed from grassy hillside to sea cliffs which make him nervous, and there was just enough mist to up the nervous factor by making the rocks wet.

But the views were worth it and got better as we went along – Jon was definitely right to recommend this one.  Even if we couldn’t see the whole view of the Black Cuillin mountains, which Jon said was fantastic, it was gorgeous.  The base of the mountains lower down from the cloud and sloped dramatically down to the sea and with the beaches and cliffs and the rest.  It was a lot to take in and we paused often to soak in the views.

When we finally got to Glen Scaladal, the hikers ahead of us were busy pitching a tent.  The guidebook had said few people see this and that it was worth the trip, and it was – soft, green and quite private.  It was a perfect spot to camp and easy to imagine spending a tranquil night here with the waves lapping at the beach…until it started to rain.

The rain got us moving.  We started the climb out of the glen to head along a second set of sea cliffs that seemed a little more dicey and now a little slipperier than the first set.  All too soon, the light rain turned heavy and the rocks became super-slick.  Our pace slowed to a cautious crawl.

Since we were going so slow, I took a pitstop while Rob went on ahead and when I caught up to him he reported “we’re stuck!” holding up a rope that was strung between trees, blocking the trail.  He sounded too hopeful, like maybe we wouldn’t have to go on but it turned out to be just a dead end where an earlier version of the trail had fallen into the sea (don’t think about that).  We took the higher path just above the slide and kept going.

Somewhere in here, Rob found out that his cold-weather crutch – Handwarmers – don’t work when they’re wet.  He had thought them invincible so this was a crushing blow, but it was good to learn this now when they were a luxury instead of a necessity.  Going slow, of course, meant we were’t working as hard and not generating as much heat.  I was almost ready to put on my rain pants.  Almost.  Once you admit it’s that cold or wet, things seems less fun.

We finally made it to Camasunary and looked around amid the driving wind and rain.  Rob said he’d read that the military built the house and subsequently abandoned it.  Some kind souls had piled the plastic beach trash into a large but tidy pile.  Another pair of hikers were in the area but headed north on a different track.

Unfortunately, the visibility getting worse and cold, even with the wind to our backs.  If we continued on to Loch Coruisk as Jon intended, our slow progress would likely continue and the slow pace up to this point had sapped any extra time cushion we would have had.  As much as I hated it, it wasn’t smart today to finish the route.

But Rob also wasn’t thrilled about the idea of returning to Elgol the way we’d come, now with the wind and rain in our faces (though if we had to, we would).

Fortunately, I had a secret bail-out plan.  We could take the dirt road from Camasunary to where it intersected the road we drove in on, and take that paved road back to Elgol.

We turned uphill past a small waterfall on the old “road” that looked unnavigable by anything less than a Land Rover.  The rain pelted us and I was happy to have ended the route early – no more dramatic but dangerous sea cliffs needed in today’s equation.  This return looked straightforward on the map – up and over the Am Mam pass, then down to the rest of the road to Kilmarie, then back along paved road to Elgol.  Rob brightened visibly.

The bail-out route did have it’s advantages – no repeated trail, so some new sights.  It turns out that Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull fame once owned Kilmarie house and it was easy to see why from the view.  We also got to stop at a small cemetery along the road and read the gravestones.  There was one O.B.E. and plenty of interesting lives to imagine there but the one that stuck in my mind was placed by a Japanese-named wife of the occupant and ended the obligatory dates and notes with  “we really had fun together.”

Because of the wind in our ears and rattling our jackets, we couldn’t hear and had to keep checking the road ahead and behind as best we could.  Thank goodness it was a remote road with a dead end in Elgol and little traffic, but drivers probably wouldn’t expect runners (though I hoped they would at least expect sheep).

Finally back in Elgol, we were almost at the car when some women in an Audi stopped to ask us (of all people) where “the” restaurant was.  I laughed and pleaded ignorance.  Poor woman, the road was so steep it took her a couple of tries to get the car up the hill without stalling.

We got back to our car and made it back to Portree in time to get a great dinner at Cafe Arriba (highly recommended for vegetarians!) and get ready for the next day’s exploration.

Quiraing Day

This morning, we made several sightseeing stops on the way up the Trotternish Peninsua to our trailhead.  First, we checked out the sea cliffs and the views of the Old Man of Storr (that we hiked around on our last trip here), then walked down to see the waterfall at Lealt Falls (a hike that was actually in our book, but where the dirt underfoot was like thousands of miniature ball bearings), the vertigo-induced cliffs at Kilt Rock and Mealt Falls, then detoured at the beach in Staffin and learned from the visitor’s information sign that there were dinosaur prints in the rock that had been discovered after a storm.  We couldn’t resist and since the tide was down, we detoured to look for one and maybe found one that wasn’t covered with algae and seaweed.

Then, finally, we drove up the road to our main destination for the day – the Quiraing – one of the most popular hikes on the island and kind of a must-do.  Today, we let the car do all the hillwork.  The switchbacks were impressive and Rob kept eyes glued to the road with me looking above for on-coming traffic to safely navigate the one-lane road dance on a busy, tourist-filled day.

We finally arrived and found a parking spot among the cars and people and even buses (yikes!) occupying space in the small lot perched on the windy hilltop.  There was even a snack truck parked in one corner and doing a brisk business.  The wind was blowing like crazy and tourists clearly not dressed to hike for anything besides sitting on a bus were scattered perilously along the edges of the nearby cliffs, running around and snapping photos.  I couldn’t watch.

We geared up and took off, eager to get out of the mayhem.  It took only a minute to get away from 99% of the people but the trail looked like it would be another white knuckle hike for Rob.  The route, for the most part, was perched along the steep side of the mountain we were thankful not to have to pass any other hikers.

Halfway through, Rob hung out and waited while I checked out The Prison, one of the more distinctive rock outcrops where Scottish farmers used to hide sheep from Viking raiders.  The maze of rocks must have made it easy, since as careful as I was, I still took a wrong turn on the way out of there.

Of course, the fog that had turned to mist now started to turn to rain but no big deal.  We’d had unusually good weather the rest of the trip and this wasn’t a gale.  We took the rest of the route out to the end, where it peters out and you have the option to hike back along the top of the plateau or return the way you came.  The bowl we were in was empty of other people and silent except for the sound of raindrops.  Kicking a rock made an echo.  We stood for a while and looked at the rock formations, letting the peace and timelessness soak in.

Since visibility was disappearing on the plateau above us and it was the day before we had to drive to Manchester to fly home, we decided it wasn’t a good day to take the chance on getting epic and chose to return by the same route.  It turned out to be great decision.  We had the trail to ourselves and now that the rocks were swathed in fog, we got treated to some otherworldly views.

Thanks to our friends that recommended it, our brief time on Skye was a great way to round out our vacation but we’re already planning to spend more time here on the next trip.

Posted: Wednesday, July 14, 2010, 11:30 am | Tags: Blog | Respond | Trackback