Isle of Skye

After 12 years of living in the UK and not having set foot in Scotland, 2019 was the year to change that. So when a friend offered to plan a group trip to the Isle of Skye based around hiking and eating, to say I bought my flights at neck-break speed is an understatement.

Getting to Skye from London is easy, and very affordable, but does require time-management: the flight to Inverness is a breeze at 1h20m from London, but then you’re met with a three-hour car journey to the beautiful Isle. It has to be said: the driving views are so gorgeous, so wild and breath-taking, that the three-hours feel like an absolute pleasure. A car is not only important in terms of travelling from the airport, but in terms of getting around the island. Put it this way: you’d be more likely to get a lift on good old Nessie than find a bus that takes you where you want to go. So get yourself an adventurous team, and hire a car.

Lochbay Restaurant

Day 1

Day one was a day filled with leisurely and beautiful travel. The flight was straightforward, and I was the first at the airport, so with a book in hand (always) I curled up into an airport-chair and waited for the rest of the gang to arrive. The sims were grey, the air was heavy with the threat of rain, but I was happy: because what is Scotland without the wilderness of a storm overhead?

JP and KFS arrived, one in a suit, the other tired from a long-haul flight undertaken the night before. It was lovely to see them, and JP kindly sorted out our hire car, and off we went. The drive was a beautiful 3-hours of Scottish landscape, and while KFS napped in the back to recover from lack of sleep, I stared out the window feeling the city-anxiety ebb away and get replaced with a wild tranquility.

When we got to the AirBnb I was blown away and I hesitate to share it on here because it was the perfect house, in the perfect place, with the perfect views. It might have officially been called Lochbay House but in all of our minds its true name rang out: Skyfall.

That evening we were due for dinner at our local restaurant, less than a five minute walk away, for a Michelin dinner. The Loch Bay Restaurant is a keeper for sure, and I plan on coming here again soon. I’ll say little about the meal so as not to waffle, but it was an absolutely lovely venue with a country-pub vibe that had absolutely no pretension or snobbery to it. Our waiter was attentive and very personable, and was happy chatting to us about the mite-season in the Scottish highlands, the best places to visit and the real length of some of the hikes C was threatening to take us all on. It was a gorgeous evening, and when the bill came around I was floored at how affordable it was (let's just say it cost less than some below-average restaurants I’ve been to in London). Scotland; you’re wining me over, blasted be your stormy nature.

Man of Storr and Cuith-Raing

Day Two

People had told me you could experience all four seasons in one day in the Isle of Skye. I’d laughed, remembering the British tendency to fixate on the weather and make it more eventful than it really ever was. Was I wrong? Beyond belief. On our hike around the Man of Storr we experienced a blazing sun that had me walking in a t-shirt, followed my a splattering of rain that had me quickly layering up in my wet-weather gear, back to a pleasantly mild partially clouded sky with a warm breeze, and, finally - and believe me when I tell you this happened- a half-an-hour snow storm. That’s right. A mother-freaking snow-storm. We scuttled to find a sheltered spot under some rocks, and ate our sandwiches watching as a carpet of white spread all over the mountain. Absolutely unreal. By the time we’d finished our sandwiches the sun was out again, and within minutes all the evidence that it had ever snowed was gone, the jackets and come back off, and I was left wandering if I was going mad and if I’d imagined the whole thing.

Our next stop was Cuith-Raing. The sun stayed out pretty much for the entirety of our second adventure, and it shone on as we were led up steep inclines, into rocky ravines, and had to do our best to slide down pebbly slopes. It had gorgeous views, I loved being surrounded by boulders that towered hundreds of feet over us, the force and magnitude of nature loud and clear in this wild and untamed country. As we walked back to the car 4 hours later I started hatching a plan so as to trick Sam into moving to Scotland.

A quick note on the hikes: Man of Storr I’d say is an easy walk - there are clear paths, and it's popular enough that there are many people around to chat to if you do get a little lost or overwhelmed, although the chances of that are slim as it’s incredibly accessible. Cuith Raing is a little harder, and I’d recommend proper hiking boots and a backpack with water and snacks for the journey. It has quite a bit of scrambling on the longer (and more adventurous) route, but there are shorter and more accessible options for those who just want a gorgeous walk around the mountain.

Neist Point Lighthouse, Coral Beach and The Three Chimneys

Day 3

Saturday was another foodie day, as C had booked us in for lunch at The Three Chimneys, another Michelin restaurant and once again at an absolutely jaw-dropping affordable price. A little fancier than The Loch Bay Restaurant, the food was still mouth-watering, and I don’t want to go on too much about the potato bread (the bread of my dreams, oh potato bread, where have you been all my life) but let me tell you it has quickly become a new obsession for me.

Post food C manoeuvred us onto the next items on the agenda, all roughly half hour drive from each other: Neist Point Lighthouse and the Coral Beach at Dunvegan. Both were beautiful places to visit: Neist Point had some gorgeous views from the cliffs, and don’t let the paved steps down to the lighthouse fool you: the way down may be easy, but the way up required a couple of stops and much, much, clutching at my racing heart.

Coral Beach was an absolute beauty too, and on a hot summer day I imagine it would be magical to swim in the crystal clear (and probably still ice-cold) waters. First of all, we saw seals. Curious little bobbins poking their little shiny heads out of the sea, observing us two-legged creatures on the shore. Second of all, the entirety of the area around the beach was a home to rabbits that would dash into their underground caves as we approached. And, finally, atop a little hill, was the perfect spot to watch an absolute stunner of a sun-set.

It was a drowsy car ride back home, but I was excited: JP was the chef of the evening, and he had gone fish-shopping and had been boasting all day about a king-sized salmon from the local fishmonger who apparently was the supplier to both The Three Chimneys and The Loch Bay Restaurant. Oh, and he was also making steamed muscles. To say my mouth was watering by the time we walked into our little Skyfall home is an understatement.

I also want to introduce a game C brought into my life, and I think it is worth including in all group holidays until the end of times: the wine game. Ah, an excellent and sophisticated game who’s aim is to test you palette, and make you question the true worth of wine. The basics? One person scouts out 5 bottles of wine: 4 of them can be of varying degrees of cost but they have to be supermarket-bought. The final bottle has to be a £20+ bottle from a reputable wine house. The participants all sit in front of five glasses of wine, no idea which is which, and will have to submit themselves to a set of questions prepared in advance by the wine-maester (or sommelier, whatever) and will finally be asked to identify the glass which they think contains the King of wines amongst them all. It’s a really enjoyable game.

Faery Pools and Sgurr Alasdair

Day Four

Sunday was Fairy Pools day. Although we’d been told it was a highly tourist spot, we still felt it was one of those “got to do it” points of interest, so bright and early (read: 10am) C, JP and myself left for the Fairy Pools. I'd say this is the latest I'd recommend getting to the Pools: it was already fairly busy when we got there around 11am, and when we left a couple hours later it was rammed. Also, the on-site parking for the pools is £5 cash for the day so have that handy.

In terms of the Pools themselves: the first leg of the gorgeous formations was busy. The thing is, with Skye, it’s so expansive and so open that even though it was crowded it definitely didn’t feel claustrophobic or frustrating. Even better, the further you went into the valley, the more the crowds thinned, so I really must say it was a lovely and comfortable experience.

After the Fairy Pools JP decided to head off home, and C and I went off to climb the most scramble-heavy-scree-filled mountain I have ever climbed before. We headed off to Glenbrittle Campsite which is where the Sgurr Alasdair hike commenced. We had a scrumptious lunch at the campsite’s cafe, and got ready for our climb.

I have both everything and nothing to say about Sgurr Alasdair. The warning about the arduous scree climb wasn’t misplaced, and in fact I would encourage them to change “arduous slog” to something closer to “once you get to the point where you wish you’d never started, you’ll have got a third of the way up.” C and I got snowed on, hailed on, rained on, with intermittent glimpses of blazing sun. Scottish weather has its own laws, and as we neared the top of the mountain the concern that we’d be snowed under, iced over or sunburnt were all on the table.

Once you leave that scree-hell behind, you come to the almost top of the mountain, and there's a nice little flat bit to rest, eat some snacks, and take some pictures. This is where I made a choice that I can’t regret, but which was, in all senses of the word, utterly reckless. To our right was the final peak we had to climb - a careful choreography over a rocky, pathless ridge would take us to the top of the highest peak on Skye - and despite all my instincts screaming that it was risky and could bring my mother much grief, we grimly set forward to conquer the mountain.

This climb was one that has to be done with patience and care, even on dry days. Snow landed on the rocky peak making our footholds wet and slippery, if not icy at times. And yet, when we reached the peak, the clouds parted for a little while, and we might not have seen as far as a clear blue sky might have let us, but to see these wild mountains enveloped in mist, wish a curtain of rain shimmering further on: I felt like we could not have got a more Scottish view. My heart swelled and filled itself with the soul of Scotland (all the whilst my thighs tightly griping the precarious rock I was sitting on for fear of falling). Soon C nudged me as the rain clouds inched nearer to us, and down we climbed (successfully only due to C’s navigation skills since I absolutely did not remember the route we’d taken to climb up).

Taking the scree downhill consisted of slip-n-sliding down the mountain - much easier, much faster, and with a promise of dinner on the table by the time we got back, the snow and rain piling up on us hardly bothered me. The final walk back down did involve slightly shaky legs and an awareness of future muscle pains to come, but once again clouds had cleared and we had views of ocean and mountains and I was blissfully lost in nature.

Homeward Bound

Day Five

Monday was an early day - a 7am start to drive back to the airport (worth noting: there are no buses to the airport this early in the day, so guys if you plan on getting back to Inverness from Skye via public transport plan ahead). Despite struggling with the early start, the drive was rewarding as we watched the sun climb into the blue skies above us, and with nothing but empty roads it was smooth sailing. JP and I talked everything Dougal (four-legged angel), everything food (one of the top reasons I think life is worth living) and generally philosophised about as many subjects as we could cover on our drive back to Inverness. It was a gorgeous way to say goodbye to Scotland. Actually, I take that back. Not “goodbye”. Rather, “see you soon”.

The Uncasual Traveller