Walking on Skye

While crossing the Atlantic we met an English geologist, Peter, who emailed us a few hikes he recommended on Skye. Most of them had the caveat, "must be clear weather to take this hike." Unfortunately Skye means "misting cloud" in old Norse, and we can see why, as the clouds rolled in late Wednesday morning and setttled on the tops of the mountains.

Feeling intrepid, however, we headed to the Old Man of Storr rock formations determined to follow one of Peter's recommended hikes. The first part took us through a dark pine forest (see how dark it is in the picture? The flash was on and I lightened the photo digitally). The trees drop their needles on the bottom, feeding all their nutrients to the to the top, so below the canopy it looks like a spooky dark and dead forest.

Emerging from the forest, you immediately see the rock formations, including the tower referred to as the Old Man. These are basaltic rock from old volcanoes carved up as the glaciers moved through.

Up to this point we were on the main trail, but now the directions said to head off to the right. I had taken detailed notes off the website because the directions were often as vague as, "when the field to your left has no stones, turn and climb up to the ridge." We climbed over a fence, passed a bunch of surprised goats, and continued around the back of the rock formations, where we suddenly found ourselves high above a gorgeous valley. At this point it begins to drizzle a bit, and the wind starts to blow. Like, really blow. Like at times you have to hunker down so you don't get blown over.

But really, the gusts are just occasional, so we keep going. Once we get up to the ridge, we are supposed to follow it west for a bit, being careful not to get too close to the escarpment as apparently the rock is crumbly and liable to collapse. The rain and wind at this point are so bad that John has to stop every five minutes to clean his glasses, and the rest of the time he has to hold them on his face for fear they'll blow off. The visibility is about 15 feet and we are hard pressed to know whether we are even on the ridge, much less heading west.

When John learns that to get back down the hill we're supposed to follow a specific gulley, and we can't see the gullies for fear of getting too close to the escarpment, we give up, retrace our steps and decide to go to the Talisker whiskey distillery instead.

On the way back down the Old Man of Storr formations have become shrouded in cloud as well. John says he finds it creepy, but yet his hair takes the form of devil's horns....