Hillwalking and Roaddriving

Sunday June 18, 2017

Early next morning, after snatching a light breakfast in the dining room of the B&B, the family drove off into clear blue skies over the Isle of Skye countryside. They were going to see an old man on a mountain. 

Only a few cars dotted the parking lot to the trail-head. Equipped with Tripod and a pair of walking sticks, B, AJ and TwoSon started on the gravel path up the mountain. A cool wind pushed and prodded them as they progressed up the rocky, muddy trail, but soon their destination was in sight: an unusual rock formation protruding from the mountain, bathed in wind and mist. It was The Old Man of Storr. 

On the way up, AJ took pictures of flowers, known and unknown to her. One, the bog cotton (Eriophorum angustifolium), had tufts of cotton-like material at the end of stems, dotting the hillside and lining the trail all the way up. Beyond a sheep gate and a herd of sheep, the trail grew steep, with ledges of stones to serve as stairs in the mucky peat ground. Loch Leathan, filled with rocky islands, and the Sound of Raasay lay glistening in the sun far below them. 

Above them, near the top of the mountain outcroppings, ravens played and tumbled around the craggy rocks, soaring on the wind, just because they could and God said it was good. 

“We could have made it up to Vernal Falls (in Yosemite National Park) if we had these,” B said. The metal, fold-away sticks provided additional points of balance on the rocky, uneven ground as they climbed. It reduced the amount of balancing and corrections and stumbles that one had to constantly adjust to, and that saved energy. 

The Old Man of Storr (middle rock), and companions

While B was busy getting the perfect shot of The Old Man of Storr, AJ and TwoSon  explored the area. A herd of sheep, pressed close together and running for their lives crossed the path below them, followed by a shepherd on a 4 wheel ATV and his four sheep dogs. 

The black and white shaggy dogs ran with boundless energy over the hills, as if the only thing they wanted to do was to run, and to stop would be treason, though they did pause to lap water from puddles sometimes. The dogs ran like they loved their job, wanting only to do the will of their human master and craving his approval. 

On the walk down, AJ slipped once, B once, incurring muddy hands and pants. TwoSon stayed upright.  

At the bottom of the mountain, they got out of the cold whipping wind, and back to the trailhead parking lot where they waded through a now-packed lot to their warm car. The narrow, one-lane road was also congested with cars parked on both sides.

Their next stop was at the Quiraing, a scenic area full of towering mountains with expansive views of the sheep valley below and surrounding lochs. This time they were too late to get a good parking spot and were forced to park off the one-lane, two-way road, in the mud. 

The fresh air revived them, as well as the fact they had to be ultra-vigilant for cars while walking to the trailhead. Short-croppped, tough Heather grew all over the flats and hills. Once on the trail, B walked out toward the edges of cliffs for pictures, AJ and TwoSon stayed safely back. Soon the trail started to hug the mountain side, narrowing, leading through mud, grass, rocks, boulders and once passed over a small water.

Dogs were a common sight on the trail. One enthusiastic dog pulled his man onward to adventure with uncommon exuberance. The family only went a third of the 5 mile trek, turning back when the stunning views and landscape became commonplace in their minds. 

There is something about walking through sheepy, expansive green, rocky landscape, that sinks almost imperceptibly into your soul, lifts the spirit and distracts you from even the most pressing worries of the work. And then when you are done, that magical something is sucked and shocked out of you by the harrowing experiences of driving on the narrow crowded, back roads of Scotland. Is it worth it? Yes.

Driving, especially in new and exciting countries, under unfamiliar traffic patterns and laws, and in ultra-crowded conditions was a sort of crucible for B and AJ. Because so many of the “passing places” were filled up with parked cars, it was paramount that drivers use the tiny berm to squeeze past each other, and this caused not a little bit of “freaking out” on AJ’s part, especially when the car was in imminent danger of being stuck in a muddy ditch, with a line of cars wanting to get past. Her “freaking out” would then make B freak out. Ires would eventually settle once they were out of the fray, and that–the ability to get angry, or upset or panicked with one another, then let it go into the wind, forgive if there is something to forgive–is what counts, that is the ultimate teacher and strengthener in these instances. 

A View in the Quirang

Despite the harrowing experiences on the single lane roads, AJ and B were getting used to navigating and driving in Scotland and realized that in UK and probably all of Europe, driving was an intense activity. One didn’t drink coffee, text, phone, or trifle with anything else in the car while driving. It’s eyes on the road, both hands on the wheel, full attention to driving and arriving safely. There are too many hazards, especially for people used to driving on spacious roads with ample, low berms and on the right side. 

They stopped at KiltRock for 5 minutes, a cliff of basalt columns of rock that reminded one of pleats in a kilt. The parking lot was full of buses and the family had to look over the heads of crowds of tourists to see it. There again were ravens playing in the wind, hovering in the updraft as if suspended in midair. 

Back in Portree, they ate lunch at Caledonian Cafe. AJ had smoked salmon, but skipped dessert to visit the Portree Knitwear Shop to search out wooly souvenirs. She walked out with a wool scarf, a wool sweater, a Isle of Skye tee-shirt for the boys (or, if the boys, who don’t like “things” on their shirts didn’t want it, it was hers) and a wool skirt (on sale). She bravely resisted the temptation to buy another wool blanket (she had 2 wool blankets at home, though not in tartan), because it wouldn’t have fit in her suitcase. 

Portree, Isle of Skye

Back at the Stormy Hill B&B, the family rested and read or other wise distracted themselves, since B had planned for a late night watching the sun go down on a coast line cliff. 

Later that day as they drove along the one-lane roads to their next destination, they kept a watch out for Highland Cattle, those beautiful bovines with long shaggy hair, and although they spotted a few, the creatures were never in a good spot for pictures.

They passed regular cows, sheep in the road, cute white houses and farms to Neist Point Lighthouse where 3-4 RVs had managed to travel (the roads were very narrow) to stay the night. B and Tripod found a spot on a cliff overlooking the lighthouse and peninsula while AJ and TwoSon took a hike to the lighthouse, through sheep pastures.  By then, they had become accustomed to watching out for “cocoa puffs” or sheep leavings everywhere they went. 

Walking back from the lighthouse, AJ and TwoSon encountered a couple and their toddler in mid-meltdown. His parents tried dragging him, then letting him sit and wail. It was melt-down toddler time, past 9pm, but the little guy’s parents probably didn’t realize it; AJ hadn’t, until she looked at her watch. 

Scotland is located around 57 degrees North latitude, and it was close to summer solstice, which meant that light lasted until late into the evening, and sometimes into the morning the next day. Michigan summer days were long, but nothing like Scotland’s.

They met up with B, perched on the side of a cliff waiting for good light for pictures, but the perfect conditions never came. By the time they got back to the parking lot, a group of campers had set up tents in the grass overlooking an amazing view of the sea and were cooking a late dinner. 

AJ and TwoSon walking back from the lighthouse, and sheep