Of on a Yomp!
We have been on Skye for some time now and apart from a couple of short walks, a boat ride and traipsing round the few shops there are, we haven’t done much. We don’t feel too guilty about this as we are on holiday after all but do think we should do a bit more exercise. If we don’t, and after eating all the munch Mel has bought, Ethel won’t be able to carry us home!
The problem with Skye (and Scotland in general) is the right to roam/access. This means that within reason, you can access the land wherever you want. Whilst wonderful for experienced map readers (which we are not), this has clearly reduced the need for footpath signs. We had no idea where to start or where to go once we had started or where we end up and knowing our luck and past history, we would probably end up lost on top of a Monroe without any equipment. Therefore, and after a bit of trawling the internet, I found a walk on the most westerly point on Skye. There was a good route up to a lighthouse, a chance to see nesting sea birds and, more importantly, somewhere to park.
So off we headed to Neist Point and for a change there wasn’t any wind, and the sun was shining. We have been so lucky with the weather on this trip as it has been sunny most of the time. We parked on top of the hill and headed off. Our survival rucksack contained exactly 2 packets of crisps and half a bottle of water.
As we had parked on top of a hill, the only route open to us was down. And by God it was steep. Some thoughtful soul had put in a proper path (not for us I suspect, but for the lighthouse keeper when it was manned) and there was a handrail for some of the way which Mel and I held on to for dear life. All the way down, I was secretly panicking about how I intended to get back up the hill.
But the views were worth it. They were spectacular and as the land jutted out into the sea on 3 sides. We wandered off the path repeatedly to walk to the edge of the cliffs and look down at the amazing drop to the sea. I sent a message to Callum telling him that Scottish climbers are bonkers enough to climb these cliffs and I note that he didn’t reply (probably not brave enough).
Over one cliff edge, we found shags, guillemots, cormorants, and lots of varieties of gulls nesting and the noise was mad. At one point, Mel and I had to kneel to see over the edge, so we were less likely to topple over and the whole experience, whilst fascinating, was quite scary. We eventually made it to the famous lighthouse and to be honest, it was quite disappointing as it had been left to face the elements alone. If some time and money was spent on it, it could be a good tourist attraction, but I guess the remote location presented a lot of access problems.
We continued around the different headlands and couldn’t be bored with the views. It is impossible to describe the beauty of the area, especially in such gorgeous weather. In front of us was the sea with an assortment of islands in the distance – some uninhabited, all around us were sheer cliffs rising from the depths of the sea and as high as high can be. At our feet was heather, moss, tiny weeny flowers and tough, scrubby grass – all chomped short by the local sheep and rabbits. In places, the water in the peat seeped through and we had to be careful not to get wet feet.
We sat on a usefully placed rock and ate our crisps, all the while simply staring at the scenery. Once lunch was finished (it took about 3 minutes), we plodded on and found that on one side, the land sloped down to the sea edge. That meant some type of beach and Mel was lost to me. As ever, she was off with her eyes down, scouring the ground in case she caught a glimpse of a ‘special’ rock or trophy of all trophies, a shell. I followed her in a more sedate manner across the rocks and hoped I wasn’t going to break my neck.
Mel pointed something out in the distance and neither of us could work out what it was. It was a weird colour and lay in between the rocks like pools. We wondered if it was human effluent being discharged into the sea. We hoped not. But when we got closer, we were surprised as it looked like sand. But sand shouldn’t be here amongst these rocks – it was so out of place. What we found was amazing. Thousands and thousands of shells had been smashed to smithereens on the rocks over probably years, leaving a sand like material between the rocks. The pieces were no bigger than grains of sand but were sparkly – it was very pretty. The downside of this was that there weren’t many complete shells for Mel to collect.
After all this excitement, we realised the tide was coming in and knew we couldn’t delay the yomp back to Ethel much longer, so we set off. And very soon, we wished there was a cable car. Seriously, it was so, so steep and we did our normal trick of pretending to look at the view every time we had to stop to breathe – which was every 30 seconds. This is always made worse by being overtaken by other people who are clearly much fitter than us. Mel unhelpfully reminds me that I am not young anymore and I mentally promise myself that I will lose weight and get fitter – a promise I know I am unlikely to keep. After forever, we make it up the mountain and feel like death. You must believe me when I say it was really step – I am not pretending. We finally get back to Ethel and have to allow ourselves time to breathe again before heading back to the site.
The next day, we move sites and sadly leave the wonders of Skye and head down to Oban as the journey home begins. Rory has just finished the West Highland Way and has walked 100 miles in 6 days alone (what an idiot) and was in Fort William before heading home. As we had to drive through Fort William on our way to Oban, we arrange to meet up for an hour. This was very surreal. Rory lives in Devon, Mel and I live in Surrey, and here we were eating a big mac in Scotland. I must travel a long way to see my son these days it seems!
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