Who knows what the real Scotland is? Is it Kilts and painted blue faces? Or is it blue faces from the biting cold? Is it Bagpipes and tossing that thing they do? I wanted to find a version of real Scotland- So today we drove to Skye. For so many of us Scotland is the biscuit tin picture we see each Christmas. So today we drove to Skye. Oh yes, we also wanted to catch up with Ross while he had both feet in the same country - So today we drove to Skye. |
Siri excelled herself again getting us through the winding, twisting highland roads. After a couple of hours we were crossing the road bridge from the mainland to Skye.
Skye could seem like the ends of the earth. It is not easy to get to. But it is so busy. Every turn of the road shows more cars, walkers, bikers, and camping/ glamping vehicles. Of course, all sitting behind the mandatory tourist bus.. The roads are narrow for most of the trip. But we arrived. We saw way more than four seasons on our way. Bright sunshine, driving rain, drizzle, mist, low cloud. But I won’t complain, no snow. We also came to know and love the mizzle. Mizzle is miserable drizzle.
Skye does have a biscuit tin lid at every turn. The stark barren hillsides. The rivulets sparkling down the side. The bog. So much bog. It is mostly bog. But it is spectacular bog.
There is one problem with a biscuit tin lid moment at every turn. Tourists. Even here at the end of the season, at the end of the world, it is just so so crowded. And I am part of the problem I guess.
I like to think I know enough to keep out of other people’s prized photograph. Not everyone does.
I like to think I park this rented vehicle in an appropriate parking bay and not just meters from a bog. Not everyone does.
I understand why some of the locals want to limit the number of tourists on Skye.
Portree is the main town on Skye. It is full to bursting. How do the tour busses negotiate the tight turns on narrow streets. It is a real credit to their drivers’ amazing skill. Every second person needs twice the normal personal space to accomodate the pack they are invariably dragging around like a second skin.
To find a table for 6 (us and Ross and his gang) was a challenge. No point taking an outdoor table in this lovely bright sunshine. There may well be a blizzard behind the next tourist bus.
A local pub and a bowl of soup. We passed a wonderful afternoon with some delightful young people following a path I would not be brave enough for.
Then back to the place they are working while on this rocky, Scottish slab in the Atlantic Ocean. What a place! The Sligachan Pub. No I can’t say it, either.
Across the road from the pub Ross shows us a hill. It is like a rounded lump in the middle of a field. And it is the site of the Glamaig Hill Race. This is the biggest event of the year in this area. Every year in July hundreds of people arrive for the 4km run up and down the hill. The record for this race is about 45 minutes. The story behind it all is fantastic but look at the hill! This boggy trackless hill. The gravel beds you slide down in a final dash to the line.
They breed them tough up here for sure.
And everywhere is water. Fast running burbling water. Even the fields are mostly water or bog. It is not the kind of thing I will choose to walk across but heck they do. And they sink into the bog about 2 inches with every step so I am told.
Running water makes the perfect photography excursion for me of course. It sends me clambering over rocks and er… bog… to get the best shots I can find. I hope some of them below actually show a little of what this country is like. I love it.
So real Scotland. Hmmm I do think Skye is a great example of what we think of as real Scotland. This is biscuit tin images we see. This is what I will remember as real Scotland. In the nicest, kindest, most endearing kinda way.
Perhaps real Scotland is er…
bog.
And I love it.
Skye could seem like the ends of the earth. It is not easy to get to. But it is so busy. Every turn of the road shows more cars, walkers, bikers, and camping/ glamping vehicles. Of course, all sitting behind the mandatory tourist bus.. The roads are narrow for most of the trip. But we arrived. We saw way more than four seasons on our way. Bright sunshine, driving rain, drizzle, mist, low cloud. But I won’t complain, no snow. We also came to know and love the mizzle. Mizzle is miserable drizzle.
Skye does have a biscuit tin lid at every turn. The stark barren hillsides. The rivulets sparkling down the side. The bog. So much bog. It is mostly bog. But it is spectacular bog.
There is one problem with a biscuit tin lid moment at every turn. Tourists. Even here at the end of the season, at the end of the world, it is just so so crowded. And I am part of the problem I guess.
I like to think I know enough to keep out of other people’s prized photograph. Not everyone does.
I like to think I park this rented vehicle in an appropriate parking bay and not just meters from a bog. Not everyone does.
I understand why some of the locals want to limit the number of tourists on Skye.
Portree is the main town on Skye. It is full to bursting. How do the tour busses negotiate the tight turns on narrow streets. It is a real credit to their drivers’ amazing skill. Every second person needs twice the normal personal space to accomodate the pack they are invariably dragging around like a second skin.
To find a table for 6 (us and Ross and his gang) was a challenge. No point taking an outdoor table in this lovely bright sunshine. There may well be a blizzard behind the next tourist bus.
A local pub and a bowl of soup. We passed a wonderful afternoon with some delightful young people following a path I would not be brave enough for.
Then back to the place they are working while on this rocky, Scottish slab in the Atlantic Ocean. What a place! The Sligachan Pub. No I can’t say it, either.
Across the road from the pub Ross shows us a hill. It is like a rounded lump in the middle of a field. And it is the site of the Glamaig Hill Race. This is the biggest event of the year in this area. Every year in July hundreds of people arrive for the 4km run up and down the hill. The record for this race is about 45 minutes. The story behind it all is fantastic but look at the hill! This boggy trackless hill. The gravel beds you slide down in a final dash to the line.
They breed them tough up here for sure.
And everywhere is water. Fast running burbling water. Even the fields are mostly water or bog. It is not the kind of thing I will choose to walk across but heck they do. And they sink into the bog about 2 inches with every step so I am told.
Running water makes the perfect photography excursion for me of course. It sends me clambering over rocks and er… bog… to get the best shots I can find. I hope some of them below actually show a little of what this country is like. I love it.
So real Scotland. Hmmm I do think Skye is a great example of what we think of as real Scotland. This is biscuit tin images we see. This is what I will remember as real Scotland. In the nicest, kindest, most endearing kinda way.
Perhaps real Scotland is er…
bog.
And I love it.