Driving the NC500 through the Scottish Highlands

Driving the North Coast 500 – Ullapool to John o’ Groats or Mountains, Lochs, Seas, and Midges

| 2suitcasesfor2years

True to form, blustery afternoon winds were ripping the clouds apart as the CalMac ferry steamed past the Rhue Lighthouse, heading into Loch Broom and the ferry dock at Ullapool. Being one of the last cars to board the ferry, we were one of the first off in Ullapool, and decided to pull over out of everyone else’s way to get our bearings before taking a spin around the village. Ullapool isn’t a particularly large village, only a couple of blocks, but within ten minutes of folks disembarking from the ferry, there was no sign of life on the streets. Granted, it was a Sunday, but in August, which is the tourist high season, and it felt like a ghost town. Fortunately, we did find the local Tesco supermarket open, and we bought some provisions for breakfast the next morning, as where we were staying for the night, the Altnacealgach Motel on Loch Borrolan only offered dinner.

We were back on mainland Scotland and on the NC500 again, after modifying our NC500 route to include the Isles of Skye, and Lewis & Harris, for seven days of exploring those interesting islands.

Scotland is so outstandingly beautiful, and with every twist and bend in the road there always seemed to be another vista worthy of photographing. While the roads around the Highlands are in excellent condition, our one pet peeve is there are not enough designated vantage points to pull over and take pictures from. Often, we u-turned and pulled into a gated entrance to a field. Pulling over onto the hard shoulder wasn’t an option as The NC500 throughout the Highlands is mostly a two-lane road without shoulders. The narrower country roads off the NC500 have pullovers called Passing Places for when you encounter oncoming cars, but they are not to be used for parking.

Our recently refurbished room at the Altnacealgach Motel was nice and large. Most importantly it had a kettle for our early morning coffee. The motel is a modest place with 8 rooms, but it’s beautifully situated, a pebble’s toss across the road from Loch Borrolan. Dinner was simply pizza and chili, but quite good. https://www.altnacealgachmotel.co.uk/

Our 144-mile route along the NC500 to Balnakeil Beach then onward to John o’ Groats the next day was our longest drive in the Highlands. We figured as always, we’d make many other stops along the way, so planned for an early departure the next morning.

For a third day in a row, it seemed we couldn’t shake the overcast sky from the heavens and have a sunny morning. It was unusually dreary weather for a Highland August, so much so that many of the folks we encountered felt it necessary to apologize for the unusually dreary weather.

We followed the A837 north and stopped at Ardvreck Castle, once the seat of the MacLeods of Assynt, and Calda House, now ruins. The ancient 3-4 story fortified tower house dates to the late 15thcentury and is set on an island in Loch Assynt. It’s a dramatic setting, with the loch surrounded by the magnificent mountains Quinag, Ben More Assynt, and Canisp. A narrow, sandy isthmus connects the island to the mainland. Accusations of a sinister betrayal made by the MacKenzies of Wester Ross ruined the reputation of the MacLeods of Assynt and was believed to be the cause for the rapid decline of the MacLeods’ fortunes. A final battle between the clans in1672 forced the MacLeods to surrender their rule of the Assynt region to the MacKenzies. The Calda House was built in 1726 by Kenneth MacKenzie II of Assynt for his new bride who found the old fortress dreary and uncomfortable, and “much to her dislike.” Built with imported sandstone, her new mansion stood three stories high and had 14 bedrooms. As legend tells it, the joy of a new home only lasted until 1737 when a late-night celebration continued past midnight into the sabbath, and the house was struck by lightning. Only a bagpiper who refused to play on the sabbath survived. The castle stood strong until 1795 when a lightning strike also destroyed it.  It wouldn’t be proper castle ruins without a ghost and local lore obliged with the story of the daughter of the MacLeod chief, who threw herself from the tower of Ardvreck Castle when she realized her father had betrothed her to the Devil, as payment for the Devil’s help in building it.

We pulled over at several spots along the A894 in Unapool to take pictures of Loch Gleann Dubh. The views of the loch were gorgeous, and we were a little envious of the folks who owned homes above the loch and could enjoy this panoramic vista every day.

The road swerved through a mountainous landscape sprinkled with lochs. Clouds raced across the sky. Surprisingly this popular route did not have many restaurants open on a Monday. This was a near crisis situation for two under-caffeinated coffee aficionados.  Our  pursuit of coffee was almost a forgotten memory when we spotted a Spar grocery store in Scourie, adjacent to a caravan campsite overlooking Scourie Bay and a beautiful beach. Back in the car we enjoyed two cups of coffee and the view.

We eventually turned onto the A838 at Laxford Bridge and followed it to Rhiconich. Past the hamlet this section of the A838 narrows to a single lane track as it winds through a desolate landscape of rolling hills and heather land. It was on this stretch that we encountered oncoming “traffic,” the occasional grouping of 3 or 4 cars or caravan. The narrow road allowed two-way traffic, but in order to pass an oncoming car one vehicle has to pullover into a small bump-out called a Passing Place. These are well marked and spaced along the country roads, but you need to be on the lookout for approaching cars, as the protocol is for drivers to pull into the closest Passing Place on their side of the lane and wait for the other vehicles to pass. It took some getting used to. Surprisingly, the speed limit on these single-track roads is 60 mph, but we were only comfortable driving at half that speed. Donna says that’s because I drive like an old man.

We pulled over at the Geological Information Point along the bank of Kyle of Durness, a sea loch, to read the placard and stretch our legs. Here we were fortunate to spot a shepherd on an ATV, as he and his sheep dog herded a large flock of the wooly beasts down the side road to a new pasture. The A838 continued as a single lane road all the way to the crossroad in Durness. It was suddenly a sunny day!

The beaches along the coast of Durness were our main destination for the day. Compared to the barren earth toned landscapes we traversed earlier in the morning, the striking Caribbean blues of the ocean off Balnakeil Beach were exotic, and for a moment we thought we might have been transported to the British Virgin Islands. The wide white sandy beach stretches for nearly a mile and is flanked by dunes covered with beach grass. Following the curve of the beach to the Faraid headland and stacks is a popular walking activity. There was a strong breeze which discouraged sunbathers, but there were a few hardy folks willing to take off their shoes and dip their toes in the chilly water of the North Atlantic, which hovers around 56F/13.5C in late August.

The location of the Balnakeil Church overlooking the beach and bay must have been very inspirational back in the early 1600s when it was constructed atop the ruins of an earlier 6th century Celtic monastery. Services were held in the church for about 200 years before a new place of worship was built on the southern side of the hamlet.

Today, headstones in the graveyard surrounding the ivy-covered ruins are slowly being swallowed into the peaty earth. Some interesting folks are buried in the cemetery. Notably Domhnull MacMhurchaidh, a hitman for the Clan MacKay. He is believed to have murdered 18 people and dumped their bodies into the waterfall that runs down into the caves at Smoo. “Apparently, he believed the folklore tale that the Devil lived below the falls and thence his crimes would never be discovered.” Fearing his grave would be desecrated after his death he paid a princely sum beforehand to be interned in a tomb inside the church.

A monument to the Durness born poet Rob Donn, aka, the Robbie Burns of Gaelic poetry, also stands in the churchyard. He never learned to speak English and composed in Scots Gaelic. His poems sometimes contained bawdy verse and satirical social commentary, but they were faithfully memorized and orally repeated around Scotland for 50 years before the first printed versions were available after his death.

Elizabeth Parkes, the aunt of John Lennon, is also buried in the churchyard, and he is said to have visited Durness frequently. It’s believed locally that his song In My Life, “There are places I remember,” reflects his experiences in the area.

Since the 1500s, one of the historic residences of the chiefs of Clan MacKay, Balnakeil House has commanded a prominent spot across from the ancient church, with a sweeping view of the beach. The current, bright yellow dwelling on the site dates to 1744.

Continuing our travels east on the A838, a two-lane road again, we stopped at Durness Beach. Though much smaller than Balnakeil, its waters were still a pristine blue and the beach, which backed to a steep slope, had dramatic rock outcroppings. 

Farther along from the overlook above Ceannabeinne Beach we watched paddle boarders in wetsuits set out onto the calm waters.

With our stomachs growling, we were beginning to envision all that lamb on the hoof turned in to chops; lunch was finally procured at the Norse Bakehouse in Rhitongue. This is a fine family-owned establishment that has probably saved the lives of many tourists driving the NC 500 on a Monday. It was an excellent casual restaurant, with indoor and outdoor seating that serves sandwiches, soup and pizza. Their coffee was wonderful and the food was fairly priced. https://norsebakehouse.wixsite.com/my-site/dinner-menu

“From Land’s End to John o’Groats.” We made it! Though the expression usually relates to traveling from the tip of southern England. We had cheated and started in Inverness and headed south to Edinburgh before going west across the Highlands to the Isles of Skye and Lewis and Harris. Then returning to the mainland and driving north along the west coast to John o’Groats, traditionally considered the northernmost point on the English mainland, though the designation actually belongs to Dunnet Head, about 13 miles west. Our own expanded version of the iconic NC500!

The clouds had thickened again by the time we arrived at the famous signpost overlooking a small harbor, and the sea. That’s pretty much the main drawing card to the village, which otherwise feels like an outlet shopping center. But it’s considered a must stop for most tourists before they continue on to explore the immense beauty of the northern Highlands. That seems to be the case since 1496, when King James IV granted a license to Jan de Groot, a Dutchman, to operate a ferry between this northern-most port in Scotland to the Orkney Islands, which had recently been acquired from Norway in 1472, as the resolution of an unpaid dowry for the King of Norway’s daughter Margaret’s marriage to James III of Scotland.

Business boomed for the enterprising de Groot and he was eventually able to build a large octagonal house with eight doors, in the center of which was an eight-sided table, designed so his seven sons seated at the table would be recognized as equals, as there was not a head of the table.  Over time Jan de Groot was anglicized to John o’Groats.  A modern art installation, in front of the John o’ Groats Hotel, now occupies the spot where the family home once stood. But a nod to his legacy was incorporated into the Victorian era John o’Groats Hotel built in 1875 with the inclusion of an octagonal tower in its design. The hotel now called the ‘The Inn at John o’Groats’ underwent an extensive renovation, which included a modern Norse style extension in 2013, and now features individually unique, self-catering apartments with 1, 2 or 4 bedrooms. https://www.togethertravel.co.uk/destinations/scotland/john-ogroats?guests=1&nights=1&bedrooms=0

Outside of town Leonna and Adam, the innkeepers of the John o’ Groats Guest House, warmly greeted us when we arrived very late that afternoon, but still with enough time for a short rest before dinner. While the inn looks a little spartan from the road, our accommodation was quite large and comfortable. https://www.johnogroatsguesthouse.com/

We were enjoying a whisky before dinner when Adam came into the lounge to mention that the sunset that evening, after several cloudy days, looked like it could be quite spectacular. Now, we had read about the intensity of midges during the summer months and came fully equipped to ward off the tiny nuisances with all sorts of repellents: bug sprays, lotions, insecticide wipes, and head netting. We were prepared! But in our almost two-week long trip through the highlands, we hadn’t encountered any – none, nada, zero, zip – until I spontaneously grabbed my camera and rushed outside to the corner of the building. Suddenly I was engulfed in a swarm of nearly invisible Culicoides impunctatus, the Highland Midge, Scotland’s most ferocious foe, and reportedly the reason why the Highlands remain so underpopulated. I was woefully unprepared! If anyone was watching me, I must have looked like a dancing fool with one arm frantically waving about my head as I tried to level the horizon through the viewfinder of my camera to capture the sunset. Thankfully there were still a couple of sips of whisky left to settle my nerves.

The dinners and breakfasts that Leonna and Adam created over the next two days, which showcased locally sourced provisions, were especially delicious. Their inn was one of the nicer places we stayed during our travels through Scotland. We would definitely return.

The next morning, we caught the ferry to Orkney.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

The North Coast 500, kind of – Part 4: To The Isle of Lewis & Harris or Standing Stones, Blue Skies and Rain

| 2suitcasesfor2years

Under layers of clothing, our bones still shivered as we stood bundled against an unusually cold August wind on the top deck of the CalMac ferry.  The port of Uig on the Isle of Skye vanished on the horizon behind us as we steamed across the Little Minch channel to the Isle of Lewis & Harris in the Outer Hebrides, the island chain off the west coast of mainland Scotland.

On reading how busy the summer ferries are we had made our car reservation for the passage in the early Spring, as soon as the CalMac timetable for the year was published.

Our interest in Scotland has been piqued ever since hearing the entrancing song and watching the intriguing landscapes in the opening credits to the Outlander television drama. The ancient standing stones seemed to call us, and what better place to see them than on Lewis & Harris. And if you have made it all the way to the Isle of Skye, it only takes a little more effort to reach the outer island.

The two-hour ferry crossing passed quickly under a brilliant blue sky, but within fifteen minutes of landing in Tarbert we were caught in a shower while taking pictures of the small port. The weather changes quickly all across Scotland, even more so in the Outer Hebrides, which feel the full force of the North Atlantic winds.

Within minutes it was sunny again as we drove across the interior of the island to the Gealabhat B&B in Callanish, our base for two nights, and within walking distance of the legendary Calanais Standing Stones site 1. https://www.9callanish.co.uk/

Relentless winds over the millennia have left an austere yet beautiful gently rolling landscape of boglands and heaths, with only the hardiest of trees left standing sporadically about on the island. Though it’s the perfect terrain for the native Scottish Blackface and the Hebridean sheep breeds which have adapted well to the island’s rugged terrain and harsh climate.

It was late in the afternoon by the time we arrived at the standing stones, which was perfect as the weather was still nice and we had this amazing site practically all to ourselves. Older than Stonehenge, the circle is believed to have been erected by a thriving ancient community nearly 5000 years ago, around 2900BC, as a celestial calendar that aligns with the orbits of the sun and moon.

Surprisingly, the extent and height of the complex arrangement of over 50 stones was not fully realized until 1857, when peat cutting around the site revealed the full extent of the impressive, megalithic ritual structure, which was mostly covered by 6 feet of peat.

Do we hold hands and dance around them, meditate or dare touch them?  Over the next two days we returned at sunrise and sunset to experience the wonder of this magnificent site.

A brief shower passed, but by the time we turned into the driveway of the B&B a rainbow arched across the sky. A good prediction for the weather ahead, we hoped.

Gregor’s friendly, “Ceud Mile Failte,” (one hundred thousand welcomes) greeted us as he ushered us into his family’s traditional croft home that has been operating as a charming three-bedroom inn since the early sixties. He hadn’t noticed the rainbow and joked of his now lost opportunity to discover the pot of gold. We didn’t realize when we made our booking that the proprietor was also a popular Gaelic TV chef who hosts a cooking program produced on the island. The Outer Hebrides are one of the few areas in Scotland where Scottish Gaelic is still spoken as the everyday language. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6EAvaVkjRo4

Staying at this B&B was one of the nicest experiences we had while traveling through Scotland. While the rooms are small, they were tastefully decorated in meticulous details that included Harris Tweed draperies and throw pillows, woven on the island, and we enjoyed listening to a small flock of sheep baa-ing under our window. The meals that Gregor created for breakfast and dinner using locally sourced food stuffs, and seasonal vegetables freshly harvested from his garden were delicious. Cordial conversations with the other guests around the communal dining table were also a highlight of our stay.

With only one full day on Lewis and Harris, we headed north to the Port of Ness and the Butt of Lewis Lighthouse, a distance of 35 miles, 57km, on the A858. Though only an hour journey without stopping it would take us much longer, with multiple stops along the way and back.

The island is actually one large land mass connected by a narrow isthmus at Tarbert. But the delineation is more topological, with the northern part of the Island, Lewis, being rolling moor and peatlands, while the southern part of the island, Harris, is more mountainous. The name “Lewis” comes from the Old Norse “Ljóðhús,” which is marked on medieval Norwegian maps of the island. Harris is derived from the Old Norse word “hærri,” meaning ‘higher’, which references the hillier terrain of the southern part of the island.

It was a cold morning and a tease of blue sky showed through the clouds as we walked the path to the summit of a knoll where the Dun Carloway Broch ruins commanded the spot. Brochs are cylindrical cone shaped, dry stone towers that stand about 40ft, 12m, tall when complete. The unique Iron Age structures, with an inner and outer wall design, separated by a stairway that winds to the top, is a building method only found on Outer Hebrides, Orkney, Shetland, and the Scottish mainland.

The Dun Carloway Broch is believed to have been built around 200BC by a local chief as a symbol of his status. Excavations and oral tradition show that the dwelling was used almost continuously across the centuries, up until the 1870s when it was last used by “a respectable looking family.” From the knoll we watched a farmer with his dog herd a flock of sheep into a pen.

At Gearrannan we experienced what life was like in a blackhouse village. The homes in the 1700s coastal hamlet share the long elliptical shape and utilitarian design of the turf house in Glencoe, where folks lived in one end of their dwelling and kept their animals in the other. The blackhouses are more substantially built utilizing thick stone walls with an earthen core, and layers of thatch roofing held down by weighted fishing nets. With a fire in the hearth, they provided a welcome shelter away from the harsh weather of the Outer Hebrides. Folks lived in the village until the 1970s when the last elderly residents were moved into newer housing with indoor plumbing, and which didn’t require the continual maintenance that the ancient blackhouses did.

The village remained deserted until 1989, when a local preservation trust set about restoring the dwellings of the village. Today it’s a remarkable living museum with craft demonstrations in some buildings and old-timers sharing tales of life on the island. Some are the individual blackhouses are even available for vacation rental and one is also used as a hostel for budget conscious travelers. https://www.gearrannan.com/

Cloudy skies continued to follow us as we stopped in Bragar to see the Whale Bone Arch. This is an easy site to miss; we drove by it twice, as it wasn’t well marked and it’s set back from the road, but it is very close to the Grinneabhat Community Center. The story of the arch starts in 1920 when local fishermen spotted the carcass of a dead 80ft long blue whale with an unexploded harpoon imbedded in its back. They decided to tow the monster to a more accessible location in Bragar Bay, where hopefully a commercial whaling company would retrieve it and pay a reward for finding the valuable hulk that was worth about $30,000.00 in 1920.  A whaling boat from Harris, on the southern part of the island, came but was unable to remove the now firmly beached whale.  The enormous carcass began to rot. Island authorities in Stornoway were contacted, and they expressed interest in the problem, but failed to respond. It wasn’t until local folk feared death from a putrid plague blowing into the village from the rotting remains that authorities told them, it’s your problem, dispose of it yourself. Villagers shared the now stinky task of boiling the blubber down to oil for casking and bottling.  Eventually only the skeleton remained and the local Postmaster and general merchant, Murdo Morrison, expressed an interest in taking the harpoon and the whale’s lower 25ft long jawbone, to create an arch over the gate to his home. It had been almost a year since the whale was first discovered when a team of horses pulled the 4 ton jawbone along a sandy track on a sled to Morrison’s home. One day the charge in the harpoon exploded as Morrison was cleaning it. Fortunately, he had it pointing away from himself at the time, and the only damage was a large hole left in the wall of his workshop. After slowly deteriorating for nearly a century, the jawbone underwent major restoration in 2000 and was encased in fiberglass to preserve it.

“Drive a little, then café,” we like to say, and the perfect spot was just across the road at the Grinneabhat Community Center. It’s an interesting spot with a no-frills café, serving good pastries and coffee. It also has accommodations for tourists to rent. https://www.grinneabhat.com/ After our coffee we stopped in one of the halls to browse a small community sale, where local folk had tables setup and were selling hand knitted hats, scarves, and mittens along with various knick-knacks. To Donna’s delight, she found a lovely teapot set in purple and green, resembling the thistle, which is Scotland’s national flower and emblem, and a symbol of Scottish independence.   The ceramics were made on Lewis & Harris by Scotia Ceramics, a company that is now closed. It was only £5, and it’s a treasured souvenir from our trip to Scotland.

Farther along we stopped at a recreated shieling hut built by the Barvas and Brue Historical Society in 2017. These small shepherds’ huts built of stone and thatch were usually windowless and only had one door that was placed on the side of the building that was away from the prevailing winds. The huts were once a familiar feature that dotted the landscape across the vast windswept moorlands of Lewis & Harris. They were purely spartan, but they provided shelter against the cold and rain as folks tended their flocks of sheep throughout the year, as they moved them between grazing areas. 

Golden sand and turquoise blue water filled our view as we stood on the cliff above the tidal harbor at the Port of Ness and watched seagulls circle above a fisherman on the breakwater, in hope of retrieving scrapes of bait. The Caribbean color was unexpected for an island surrounded by the North Atlantic. The man-made harbor experiences an extreme tidal range in late August that swings between 15ft at hightide but leaves the boats in the harbor waterless and resting on the sandy bottom at low tide. The Breakwater café, on the heights above the harbor, with its huge picture windows overlooking the coast, was the perfect spot for lunch. The food was very good and reasonably priced.

Revitalized after lunch, we headed to the northernmost point on the island, the Butt of Lewis Lighthouse. It was built in 1862 on a ferociously wind battered headland surrounded by a raging ocean. We dared not to get too close to the edge for fear of being swept away.

Earlier we had passed St Moluag’s Church, spotting it in the middle of a large field surrounded by grazing sheep on our way to the lighthouse, but we had a difficult time actually finding the path between the croft houses that led to it. Eventually we spotted an obscure sign and small pullover between the homes on the main road from Port Ness to the village of Eoropaidh. The parking area is about 1000 ft before the turn to the lighthouse.

We followed a fenced pathway, no frolicking with the sheep permitted, to the ancient stone building. Outside behind a low stone wall stood a tall, intricately chiseled Celtic cross. The door to the sanctuary was open. Once inside, it took a few minutes for our eyes to adjust to the darkness, but finally a large interior was revealed with a small stained-glass window behind the altar, which brought a bit of bright color into the monochrome earth toned interior. Otherwise, it was a chilly space that didn’t appear to have heat, but we saw cushions on the church pews, which indicated that it was still used for services.

Tradition believes the church was built in the 12th century, above a 6th century ruin, by a Norse prince who had converted to Christianity. It’s named for Saint Moluag who, with Saint Columba, were the first Irish missionaries to bring Christianity to the people of Scotland. Surveys reveal the church underwent several expansions and alterations until the 16th century but has since remained true to its ancient core. We headed back towards our B&B after this.

Obsolete, abandoned red phone booths, some just seemed randomly placed in the middle of nowhere, were a curiosity across the island, and always reminded us of Superman and Dr. Who.

Different configurations of standing stones can be found in various locations across the island. But one of the more intriguing ones was the single stone, Clach An Truishal, in the hamlet of Baile an Truiseil. It’s a gigantic lichen covered monolith that looks like a dagger thrust into the earth by the hand of God. Oddly, it stands alone, within sight of the ocean, down an isolated farmer’s track, between two stone walls that separate crofter’s fields. The 19ft tall stone was once part of a larger stone circle, but unfortunately, in the early 1900s the smaller stones were broken apart and incorporated into the nearby field walls and also used as lintels in several local crofter’s homes. Though as ancient as the Calanais Standing Stones, local tradition believes the Clach An Truishal stone marks the grave of a great Norse warrior or, alternately, is the site of a momentous clan battle, the result of cattle rustling, between the Morrisons and the Macaulays in the mid-1600s.

Just off the A858 in Shawbost, we followed a gravel trail through rolling heathland to an ancient Norse mill and kiln set along a stream that flowed to the sea. During the Viking era the water-powered technology of the mill was essential for grinding grains like barley and oats into flour, a staple of the islander’s diet during that era. The kiln next to it would have been used to dry the grains before grinding, as well as for smoking fish and meat for preservation. Pottery vessels known as a ‘crogan’ or ‘craggan’ would also have been fired in the kiln.

Back in Calanais we stopped at the standing stones again to enjoy the wonder of them one last time before dinner and our departure from the B&B the next morning.

We thoroughly enjoyed Gregor’s hospitality and cooking skills, but regrettably it was our last day on the island, and we hadn’t toured the southern region of Harris. Hopefully, we will get the opportunity to return one day to explore more of Lewis & Harris, along with the other Outer Hebrides islands. But our plan for the day revolved around our reservation for the 3pm ferry from Stornoway to Ullapool back on the Scottish mainland.

Spontaneously we turned off the main road after we spotted several standing stones in a field far from the road. This turned out to be Callanish Stone Circle II which is set in a fenced cow pasture. To our delight several hairy coos were vigorously scratching their backs and necks against the ancient obelisks. It was funny to think that the monuments, once an ancient society’s connection to the celestial heavens, were also humble, utilitarian bovine rubbing posts.

Instead of taking the A858 and A859 to Stornoway, we chose to follow Pentland Road, a weaving, slow, 12-mile-long route through the Lewis highlands. The area is a barren, treeless wilderness of rolling heathland that stretches in all directions as far as the eye can see. A lone car whisked by going in the opposite direction.  Sheep, along with an occasional hawk circling overhead, were the only other signs of life.

It’s difficult to believe that the island was ruled by basically two clans starting with the Macleods of Lewis in the 1300’s, but their 300-year stewardship was fraught with feuds and various rebellions. In 1598, King James VI sent the “Fife Adventurers,” a group of lowland gentry and farmers from the Scottish mainland to Lewis to establish a colony, but the clans defeated their efforts. In 1610 the powerful Clan Mackenzie of Kintail, in the Scottish Highlands, purchased the Fife Adventurers’ charter for the island, and successfully subjugated the island’s rebellious clans.

The Mackenzie Clan remained in control of the island for nearly 250 years until 1844, when it was sold due to financial difficulties, to the Far East trade magnate Sir James Matheson, for £190,000. Shortly afterward he built Lews Castle on a hill across the harbor from Stornoway. He also oversaw the “clearances” of over 500 crofting families from the island to make room for industrial scale sheep farming. Many of the tenant farmers, left without homes, were forced to emigrate to Canada or other British colonies to seek better opportunities.

After Matheson’s death the island was eventually sold for £143,000, in 1918, to William Hesketh Lever, Lord Leverhulme, the soap magnate and founder of the business that would eventually become the Unilever conglomerate. He invested heavily in expanding Stornoway’s burgeoning fishing industry, and other projects with the hope of lifting the town’s economic prosperity.

The islanders resisted his plans to make them employees, and in 1923, a now discouraged Leverhulme gifted Lews Castle and 64,000 acres of land to the Stornoway Trust, a community-owned land trust. During WWII the castle was used as a military hospital and then served as the home of Lews Castle College until 1988, when structural issues forced the school to relocate. After extensive renovation and modernization the castle is now a multi-function destination that offers luxury accommodation, holds a museum dedicated to island life, and hosts weddings and other events. 

On the far side of Stornoway we viewed the Aiginis Farm Raiders’ Monument. Our first thoughts upon seeing the hull shaped monument was that it must mark the site of a Viking raid, but we were totally off in our speculation, as the twin pillars commemorate a January 1888 event in which 400 brave men and women from Point Peninsula, risking imprisonment for their actions, stormed the farm in an attempt to reclaim it for small-scale crofting. This was still the era of the “clearances,” and folks were tired of being forced out of their ancestral homes for the benefit of a few landlords who wanted to raise sheep and cattle. The government sent in the army to take back control of the farm, but by the early 1900s, after other protests across the Outer Hebrides and the Highlands, land reforms were slowly underway, and Aiginis Farm was divided into a number of croft plots.

The ancient ruins of Eaglais na h-Aoidhe, St Columba’s Church, were just past the Raider’s monument. It’s an intriguing old church that is believed to have been first built in the 6thcentury, with the chapel and churchyard later becoming the burial site for the Macleod Chiefs of Lewis. Slowly the boggy soil of the cemetery is swallowing many of the historic gravestones under the ground.

Being from the US, the land where every store is open seven days per week, we were surprised to find that most businesses and restaurants were closed on Sundays in Stornoway. Fortunately, we found the Hebridean Bakehouse, a standing-room only, petite pastry shop that makes the most lusciously sinful sweet and savory temptations. There was a long line out the door and down the block. We enjoyed a tasty picnic in the car before driving onto the ferry for the crossing to Ullapool on Scottish mainland.

 “Slán go fóill,” till next time, Craig & Donna.

The NC500 Part 3 – Adventures on Skye: Mountains, Rain, Whisky and Oysters

| 2suitcasesfor2years

With only two full days on the Isle of Skye, the largest of the Inner Hebrides islands, we were up before dawn and headed out to hike the Old Man of Storr. We had read so much about the Old Man of Storr trail being the most popular activity on Skye that it we thought it wise to get an early start. Several cars were already parked in the lot, still wet from an overnight rain, when we got our ticket from the parking kiosk.

Even in places you wouldn’t expect, paid parking seems to be everywhere across Scotland, and since it’s the UK there’s video surveillance too. At the unmanned attendant’s hut a note taped to the window advised of “less than ideal wet conditions” on the mountain. We had hoped for a clear morning, but the mountain was shrouded in mist.

The first short stretch of the trail was moderately steep and would have been easier if our heart rates were up, though the incline soon lessened after rounding several switchbacks. When the trail leveled, we turned around to survey how far we had climbed and were rewarded with a spectacular view of morning light, in golden rays, cascading through the clouds onto the Sound of Raasay.

It began to rain by the time we reached a set of rough stone steps that would have taken us higher up the slope, but the rocks were getting slippery, and we decided to turn back.

We thought the morning was cold and had suited up with several layers under our rain gear, and were totally surprised when several guys in shorts and just t-shirts, obviously vacationers from the Artic Circle, passed us on the trail, followed by a young couple carrying a toddler.

Even though we didn’t make it as far up the mountain as we would have liked, we enjoyed the views.

By the time we returned for breakfast at The Rosedale Hotel in Portree the clouds were clearing, and we were able to admire the view of the harbor from a window table.

Afterwards we walked along the waterfront, where the view across Loch Portree, with boats rocking at anchor, resembled New England waterscapes from the coast of Maine, in the United States.

Our plan for the day was to make several stops at scenic sites as we headed north from Portree along the coast of Skye’s Trotternish Peninsula. We decided to look for dinosaur footprints at An Corran Beach before turning west across the highlands to Uig, then continuing a southern loop back to Portree.

This time as we approached Old Man of Storr the morning’s mist had lifted, and the mountain’s rugged peaks were clearly visible. The parking lot was also completely full.

The one good thing about all the August rain was that the rivers were high, and the waterfalls were thundering furiously. We had to wait for a few minutes for parking space at the Lealt Fall View Point. Strong winds buffeted us as we walked out onto the viewing platform.

Actually, two waterfalls can be seen from this spot: one flowing from a stream called the Ford is directly across from the platform, while the larger one to the right cascades 90 feet down from the Abhainn An Lethuillt, the River Leath.

From the ridge above the gorge carved by the falls, we followed the water flowing to the sea. The wind on this headland was extremely ferocious and we were fine as long as we had our hoods up and turned our backs to it. But as soon as we turned around a gust of wind threw my hood back and blew my baseball hat off my head. Really, it wasn’t my hat – since I had lost my own, I had borrowed Donna’s this morning, while she was still sleeping. The red hat had a long and colorful history, and was a treasured companion that she had worn on many adventures. The salt in the wound was that it settled only about 12 feet out of reach, down a very steep grassy slope, too risky of a spot to try to retrieve it. Months later I am still hearing about how untrustworthy I am as a hat borrower. I’m a lucky guy if that’s the worst of her grievances. The vistas surrounding this area were beautiful regardless of the weather.

The sun was finally out when we stopped a little farther north at Mealtfalls where the waters of Loch Mealt spectacularly plunged 180 feet onto a rocky coastline and the sea, from a notch eroded into the 295 feet high cliff face of Kilt Rock. If viewed from the sea the basalt stone columns of the cliff face are said to resemble the pleads of a Scottish kilt.

The scenic drive north along the coast was stunning and we stopped many times to take photos. The sun was still shining, but the wind was blowing a “hoolie”, lifting swirling sprays of water into the air from the surf crashing onto the beach when we reached An Corran Beach.

The beach itself is very nice, but since 2002 when a local dog walker discovered the three-toed footprints of a Jurassic era Megalosaurus in rocks newly exposed after a large storm, it’s been a popular destination on Skye. We searched along the rock shelf at the water’s edge, but an incoming tide hindered our exploration.

Our hunger pangs began pinging around noon, and we stopped at several local restaurants only to be discouraged by the long waiting times for a table. We continued our drive. The issue wasn’t that the establishments were full, but that they lacked the seasonal staff to serve the customers adequately. This situation is a consequence of the Brexit maneuver that restricts foreign workers from entering the United Kingdom. This situation was mentioned to us several times by unhappy locals.

Following signs in Stenscholl for the Quiraing Pass we turned onto a serpentine single-track lane that climbed a 14% grade to an elevation of 856 feet above sea level before reaching a viewpoint.

With every fifteen miles or fifteen minutes the weather changed on the Isle of Skye, for better or worse. The deep grey sky was very forbidding and as soon as we opened the car door the rain poured down. The viewpoint and the trails leading from this scenic spot rival the Old Man of Storr’s, and are very popular for the views of the east coast of Skye and the highlands that can be seen on a clear day. It was raining too hard for us, so we continued across the highlands toward Idrigill on the west coast.

The interior sections of Skye are now vast wilderness areas with few signs of folks living in the area. But that wasn’t the case in the early 1800’s when the hills and glens of the island’s highlands supported over 20,000 crofters, tenant farmers, before the notorious “clearances” removed folks from the land to make way for large industrial scale sheep flocks. Many families emigrated to America, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand seeking better opportunities. A slow decline of Skye’s population continued into the 1970’s when it reached a low of 7,100 people. The most recent census shows the island’s population growing to 10,000 residents.

The sky was clearing once again when we reached the Idrigil Viewpoint. It was a splendid spot with panoramic views of Uig Bay and village. We finally had a late lunch at the Anchorage Cafe, across from the ferry terminal. It was nice to familiarize ourselves with the area, as we’d be taking the ferry from the Uig port to the Isle of Lewis and Harris in two days.

After lunch we drove up the western side of the Trotternish Peninsula to the Skye Museum of Island Life, which is a collection of thatched roofed stone cottages showcasing the way folks lived on the island centuries ago. Sheep and several hairy coos shared a bucolic pasture next to the museum when we pulled into the sunny parking area. But it was a deceptive moment of fair weather, and we were soon darting between the buildings, in the lulls between downpours, to see the interesting array of artifacts from seafaring, farming, and other trades on display.

We returned to Portree in time to snag a coveted parking space along the quay in front of our hotel and spent the rest of the late afternoon visiting the various shops in town. Our best find was in the charity shop along the waterfront where I was able to replace Donna’s hat with a warm woolen plaid cap. For the bargain price of fine pounds, she was willing to overlook a moth hole in the tweed.

We set out late the next morning to explore the western side of the Duirinish peninsula, visiting the village of Stein and Dunvegan Castle, both on the shore of Loch Dunvegan, but miles apart. Then heading back towards Portree and stopping in Carbost, on the Minginish peninsula, at the end of the day.

It was an overcast day from the get-go and we took the drive slowly as we followed the A850 though the countryside. At the head of Loch Greshornish we turned off the main road and followed a narrow lane into the village of Edinbane in search of a place to stop for coffee. The village was very quiet and didn’t show any sign of life, even though it was a weekday in the August high season, and several inns were shown on our map. We did encounter an unusual traffic sign that boldly warned with its red triangle that we were in a “Free Range Children” zone. It touched our hearts and made us laugh, while we remembered being kids with hours of unsupervised freedom to roam about. We’d seen many signs warning of stags, hedge hogs, and red squirrels throughout the highlands. Even a road crossing sign near a retirement complex in Edinburgh that featured the silhouette of an elderly couple using  canes, that made its point quite effectively with a touch of humor. Back on the main road the take-away coffee at the filling station didn’t appeal to us so we continued on our way.

Our approach to Stein looked like the soft edged, muted colors of an impressionist painting through the windshield, as the wipers didn’t work fast enough to whisk the heavy downpour away. The rain was too intense to get out of the car. So, we drove slowly through the village looking for a place to turn around, until the road suddenly disappeared as a boat ramp into the sea. Gloomy, wet, and unpleasant, it was definitely a “dreich” day, as the Scots like to say.

With everyone on Skye looking for an indoor activity to do, the parking area at Dunvegan Castle was full. There’s only so many castles you can see before they all begin to feel the same, and we had stopped at several earlier on the mainland, so we didn’t feel totally guilty when we decided to head to lunch instead. There are several restaurants that sit along the road through the village of Dunvegan. Dunvegan this, Dunvegan that. Of course we had lunch at The Dunvegan, a small five room inn overlooking the loch, which features a very nice restaurant along with a café, and deli for takeaway. Even though it was very busy on this inclement day, we found it relaxing, and the staff was very nice. Just down the street, a restored one-room crofter’s cottage houses the quirky Giant Angus MacAskill Museum. It’s run by a distant relative of the seven feet nine inch tall giant who was born in 1825 on the Isle of Berneray, in the Outer Hebrides. I guess that’s close enough to be considered a hometown boy, even though he spent most of his youth growing up in Nova Scotia, Canada after his parents emigrated. His height and strength eventually brought fame and fortune to the gentle giant called Gille Mór (Big Boy) when he toured the world with P.T Barnum and Tom Thumb, the world’s smallest man. Performing before Queen Victoria, she declared him the “strongest, stoutest and tallest man to ever enter the palace.” For a while he was listed in the Guiness Book of Records as the world’s strongest man. Statues of Angus and his stage partner Tom, along with his size 18 boots, and a replica of his huge coffin, fill the space. 

We arrived too late for the last tour of the distillery at Talisker in Carbost, but nevertheless we enjoyed sharing a flight of three single malt whiskies aged for 10, 18, and 25 years, while standing at the bar, as the tasting area and showroom were full of folks escaping the rainy afternoon. Our young barkeep was a well-versed whisky sommelier who described the “smoky sweetness intertwined with distinct maritime notes,” as he guided us through the subtle influences the haar, the sea mists that blow in from Loch Harport has on the aging process. He poetically used a cask full of adjectives to describe the Nose – floral seaside aromas, with gentle smoke palate; a malty creaminess and finish; sublimely spicy; a kick of cloves; an exquisite lingering saltiness.  All were very nice to sip slowly, and on a damp rainy “dreich” day like today we fully appreciated the healing properties of Scottish whisky and why some refer to it as the “water of life” in the highlands.

Just up the hill from the Talisker Distillery is The Oyster Shed. Occupying a metal farm building,

it’s a local no frills, order at the counter joint, with incredibly fair prices, that serves the freshest seafood caught locally that day. We ordered a dozen oysters and a bowl of mussels along with cans of Irn Bru, a fruity carbonated soft drink often referred to as “Scotland’s other national drink.” We sat outside around the corner of the building at a long, shared picnic table with other customers. Simple, delicious and authentic, it was a great way to cap off our day. Parking can be difficult here, so be patient; experiencing the Oyster Shed is well worth the short wait.

The next morning in Portree was beautiful and also our last day on Skye. We made the best of our time before catching the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry from Uig to Tarbert on the Isle of Lewis and Harris, in the Outer Hebrides. Overlooking Uig’s harbor we stopped at Captain Fraser’s Folly, a stone tower built in the mid 1800’s on the spot where Fraser’s Kilmuir estate Factor collected rent from the crofters that lived on the land. Fraser and his Factor were not popular during the clearances and often had to seek shelter in the tower from tenants evicted from the estate. Once in 1884 they even had to ask the Royal Navy to help secure their safety.

Skye’s legendary Faerie Glen, known as a place of myth and wonder, was only a short distance away from Fraser’s Folly, in the hills above Uig. It’s a magical spot, centered with concentric rings of stones, under a rocky hilltop that resembled ruins, that’s called Castle Ewen. The landscape surrounding the glen is rugged and covered with gnarled trees and heather where, according to legend, the Faeries of the glen lived. One of the ancient folk tales speaks of a Clan MacLeod chief that lived in Dunvegan Castle and married a Faerie princess. She stayed with the chief for a year before returning to her world, but left with him a Faerie flag to protect the Clan MacLeod from evil and bring victory in battles. It’s reportedly brought the clan good luck over the centuries.

Inexperienced with car ferries, we made sure we were early in the queue at the Caledonian MacBrayne pier. We had purchased our tickets online, months before, as soon as their summer sailing schedule became available. We read that while being a last-minute walk-on isn’t a problem, car reservations during the summer high season fill quickly. There were special lanes for each category of vehicle – car, camper, truck and bus. Vehicles without reservations get driven on last or not at all depending on available space. It all worked very smoothly with a ferry attendant scanning the barcode of our printed ticket and directing us into the correct boarding lane.

Surprisingly, the ferry was very quickly loaded and with a blast of the ship’s horn we departed Uig and headed across the Minch, the body of water that separates Skye from the Isle of Lewis and Harris. 

Till next time, Craig & Donna

P.S. According to Sir William Connolly, Scotland’s favorite retired stand-up comedian, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, just the wrong clothing, so get yourself a sexy raincoat and live a little.”

The North Coast 500, kind of – Part 2: Glencoe to the Isle of Skye or Castles, Lochs and Legends

| 2suitcasesfor2years

Rain pounding on the skylight woke us and revealed a grey day with not an inkling of sun in the sky. A real “drookit” of a day our innkeeper called it at breakfast. The tumultuous weather in the highlands is always a topic of conversation. “When the sun shines it’s glorious. For the other 364 days of the year we Scots amuse ourselves with over 100 Gaelic words to describe the variety of rain, and 421 words to describe the intricacies of snow.” It was a form of entertainment for our ancestors as they sat around the fire at night, in their ancient turf and creel houses, he related with a smile. With the way the weather blows in off the Atlantic Ocean, it’s possible to experience the four seasons in one day in the highlands. It’s a “dreich” day this morning – gloomy, damp, and grey – but the sun will most certainly shine later between sporadic showers. “It’s God’s way of cleaning the coos.”

True to his prediction the sun broke through clouds that were being torn apart by the wind as we stopped along Loch Lochy to photograph the multi-hued pinks, whites and magentas of the wild bush vetch growing along the side of the road. On the loch a sailboat was running downwind at a good clip with only its mainsail set. Our plan for the day was to head north from Glencoe along the A82 before following the A87 west through the highlands and across Loch Alsh to the Isle of Skye and end the day in Portree.

As the road turned west, we turned to the right and followed signs to Invergarry and Glengarry Castles down a narrow lane through an old growth forest. The ruins of Invergarry Castle eventually revealed itself from behind a curtain of woods. Sunlight cascaded through ruins. Only a few walls of Invergarry Castle remain, but in its glory it was a five story L-shaped structure with a six story tower, and seat of the Chiefs of the Clan MacDonell of Glengarry, a powerful branch of the Clan Donald. Clan legend believes that in the early 1600’s the stones for the castle’s construction were passed hand to hand by a chain of clansmen from the mountain Ben Tee, five miles away. The castle had a short and turbulent history. Oliver Cromwell’s troops attacked the MacDonnells for supporting King Charles I and burned the castle in 1654 during the Engilsh Civil War. Rebuilt, the MacDonnell’s castle was used by the Jacobites in the 1715 and 1745 rebellions. Bonnie Prince Charlie visited the castle after raising the Scottish flag on the shore of Loch Shiel at Glenfinnan when he returned from France, and again, to rest, after his devastating defeat at the Battle of Culloden in 1746. As part of a systematic suppression of the Highlands the castle was destroyed again, but two walls refused to fall, as if symbolizing the Scots’ refusal to yield the British crown.

The castle was abandoned, and by 1760 the chief of the Clan MacDonell was in the new Invergarry House, just a short distance away from the ruins of the castle. In 1960s Invergarry House was reborn as the Glengarry Castle Hotel.

“Drive a little then café,” is our motto on road trips to break up our drives and Glengarry Castle was the perfect stop for our mid-morning caffeine compulsion. To describe Glengarry as a castle might be stretching it a little. It’s beautiful building, more accurately described as an estate home or chateau. It’s now a lovely hotel that harkened back to the reserved elegance of an earlier era. From its comfortable sitting room we enjoyed our coffees, and watched several boats motoring along Loch Oich. We lingered. From north to south the lochs Ness, Oich, Lochy, and Linnhe connect to one another via a series of locks along the Caledonian Canal which traverses the highlands to form a sixty-mile long intercoastal waterway that starts in Inverness and ends at Fort William, connecting the North Sea to the Atlantic Ocean. Conceived to give employment to highlanders displaced during the clearances, the canal was constructed in the early 1800’s and was designed to accommodate large merchant sailing ships. The canal reaches its highest point, 106 feet above sea level, at Laggan, between Loch Oich and Loch Lochy. One of the canal’s significant engineering feats is Neptune’s Staircase, a series of eight step locks near Fort William.

We rejoined the A82 for a few minutes before turning onto the A87 and followed it west along a route that paralleled the River Garry, before rising higher into the mountains and reaching the river’s source, Loch Garry. The views of Loch Garry under clearing storm clouds were spectacular, and we stopped several times, but the most rewarding photograph was taken from a farmer’s gate that led to an open field, high above the loch.

From the rocky beach at Loch Cluanie it was apparent that our luck with the weather was changing, and that “tha stoirm mhor ann,” was brewing with darkening clouds.

It was a real pish-oot by the time we sought sustenance at The Pitstop at Kintall, across the road from Loch Duich.  It’s one of the few eateries along the A87, and the folks that run it are good-humored angels. Their wings were especially visible the day we stopped. The small restaurant was full of people seeking shelter from the storm. Just inside the door, a large queue of dripping wet folks huddled, and created a loch size puddle as they waited for tables. On a nicer day the restaurant’s picnic tables outside would have easily accommodated everyone. Fortunately, the kitchen was quick, and folks didn’t linger. Their coffee was good, and the food was delicious.

The rain was lessening when we spotted the St Dubhthac’s Church on a small hill above Loch Duich and did a quick U-turn to investigate its ruins. It’s a pretty setting atop the hill with views of the loch and mountains covered in the purple heather blooms of summer. The exact date the church was built is unknown, but it’s believed to have been constructed in the 11th century shortly after Dubhthac a popular priest, and great missionary walker venerated for his evangelistic efforts, visited the area. An ancient cemetery, the Clachan Duich Burial Ground (“clachan” meaning stone or church in Gaelic) surrounds the ruins, and was the traditional burial place for many Clan Macrae chiefs over the centuries.

After the Battle of Glenshiel in 1719, the church was used to treat wounded Jacobite soldiers. Consequently, British troops later torched the church in retaliation. The church was eventually rebuilt and used into the 1850’s, but was left to neglect after the “clearances” reduced the area’s population. Today modern pilgrims can follow the St Dubhthac Way through Glen Affric via Chisholm’s Pass, along what is believed to be the evangelist’s original path through the highlands.

Fickle weather continued to plague our day, but we weren’t deterred from enjoying the moody weather when we visited Eilean Donan Castle, one of the Scottish Highland’s most iconic sites. Having invested in some good quality Gore-Tex rain gear that actually kept us dry made all the difference. And what better way to experience the harsh conditions of life in medieval Scotland than on a cold stormy afternoon in the highlands. Seems many other tourists felt the same way, and the parking lot for the castle was nearly full. https://www.eileandonancastle.com/?s=tickets

Eilean Donan means “Island of Donan” and refers to St Donan, an Irish missionary, who lived on the small island for a short time while he traveled through the western highlands and isles introducing Christianity to the Picts in the beginning of the 7th century. Later the island held an early Pict fort.

In the12th century a larger castle was built on the strategically located tidal island, situated at the confluence of three sea lochs: Loch Duich, Loch Alsh, and Loch Long, to defend the area from the frequent Viking raids that were happening at the time.

By the 14th century the castle was the western stronghold of the Clan MacKenzie and their allies Clan MacRae. Siding with Robert the Bruce, the MacKenzies granted him refuge at the castle after his defeat at the Battle of Methven in the early 1300’s, before he became the King of Scotland.

These were brutal and lawless times in the highlands and vividly illustrated in a gruesome event in 1331 when fifty “mysdoaris” (mis-doers) were gathered and executed, their heads then put on pikes along the castle’s walls to deter others from wrongdoing and assure the Warden of Scotland, who’s visit prompted this massacre, that there was law and order in the region.

During the unsuccessful Jacobite Uprising of 1719, Spanish troops allied with Bonnie Prince Charlie and exiled King James II were garrisoned in the castle. That May three Royal Navy frigates sailed into the lochs and bombarded the castle. After the Spanish forces surrendered, the British sailors used 343 barrels of gunpowder that the foreign troops left behind to blow the castle to smithereens. Some believe the ghost of a fallen Spanish soldier still haunts the isle.

The castle was left in ruins for nearly 200 years before Lt Colonel John Macrae-Gilstrap bought the island in 1911, and with the help of Farquhar MacRae set about rebuilding it over the next twenty years. Not knowing what the original castle actually looked, it’s believed Farquhar envisioned it in a dream. Surprisingly, years later when old plans of Eilean Donan were discovered in the ancient archives of Edinburgh Castle, his vision was confirmed as true to the original design. The only addition was the multi-arched stone footbridge we were about to cross above seaweed covered boulders exposed with the low tide. Wonderfully evocative on a moody rainy day, the views of the castle surrounded by water and mountains on a sunny day must be spectacular. No wonder it’s one of Scotland’s most photographed treasures.

It continued to be a dreich afternoon as we followed the A87 over the Kyle of Lochalsh, the narrow strait that separates the Isle of Skye from the Scottish mainland. The Sligachan Old Bridge was our last stop of the day before reaching Portree. It was designed by the famous Scottish architect Thomas Telford, better known for Dean Bridge in Edinburgh and the locks of Neptune’s Staircase on the Caledonian Canal, and it was built in 1810 with rocks collected from the river over which it spans. There is a mystical quality to the often mist-covered landscapes on the Isle of Skye. Fabulous tales of faeries and myths of ancient warriors inhabiting the land have been passed along by oral tradition throughout the Highlands and the Hebrides Islands since primitive folks first settled the region around 7000BC.

Two legends are associated with the River Sligachan. The first is the ferocious battle between Scáthach, the chief of a tribe of skilled female warriors, who had a fearsome reputation and was said to be stronger than any man, and Cú Chulainn, an Irish hero and demi-god who sailed to Skye to prove his strength against her. The battle raged for weeks. The earth shook as their weapons struck the ground, creating rivers and mountains across Skye as they wrestled in combat.

The second legend is the tale of the magical powers of the River Sligachan, when Scáthach’s daughter, Uathach, was granted eternal beauty and wisdom by following the guidance of faeries to dip her head into the icy water of the River Sligachan, for a very specific seven seconds and then let the water on her face air dry. It’s not as easy as it sounds considering the temperature of the water and that you have to get on your hands and knees to accomplish it. But she succeeded and was given a vision that the aroma of a wonderfully cooked meal would entice Scáthach and Cú Chulainn to stop battling. It worked and the combatants, realizing they were starving, called a truce.

Afterward Scáthach agreed to train the Irishman in her ways of warfare at her “Fortress of Shadows” on a remote windswept headland on Skye’s Sleat Peninsula. But the tale doesn’t end and continues to become a juicy Iron Age soap opera with Cú Chulainn seducing Uathach and killing her husband, then having a child with Scáthach’s sister and rival Aífe. Of course there are many versions of this ancient folk tale. The ruins of Dunscaith Castle, the 14th century stronghold of the Clan MacDonald, are believed to be the setting for this epic story.

The river valley and mountains west of the old bridge are called the Cuillin, an expansive area of pristine beauty with over 20 Munros, mountains over 3,000 feet high. South of the bridge the Collie and MacKenzie Statue, marks a trailhead into the wilderness, and commemorates the mountaineer and guide who mapped hiking routes across the Cuillin range and climbed many of Skye’s rugged mountains in the late 1890’s and early 1900’s.

Winds change the weather quickly on the Isle of Skye and by the time we reached Portree and checked into the Rosedale Hotel, located along the harbor’s waterfront, the sky was clearing. It was the height of the summer season and unfortunately, we couldn’t reserve a room with a harbor view, but we were quite happy with our accommodations otherwise.

Each morning at breakfast, the sweet waitresses gave us the table with the best view of the harbor, as if in recompense for our view-less room. Free parking along the quay is possible, but it’s almost impossible to find a space. The hotel did provide directions to the free municipal lot across from Phil the Barber and the Portree Community Centre on Park Road, a short distance away, that worked out quite well.

Later, we shared a seafood platter at Sea Breezes, a small restaurant in one of the colorful 19th century buildings along the harbor front, where it’s recommended to be among the first in line when it opens at 5 PM. Our meal was delicious and featured locally sourced sea trout, mussels, and scallops harvested from the waters around Skye that morning.

https://www.rosedalehotelskye.co.uk/              https://sea-breezes-skye.co.uk/

It was long wet afternoon after we lost the morning sunshine, and we hoped for better weather in the days ahead. But as our hotelier reminded us “today’s rain is tomorrow’s whisky.”

Till next time, Craig & Donna

The North Coast 500, kind of – Part 1: Edinburgh to Glencoe
A Road Trip in Scotland:  Monks, Potters, Flowers, and Kelpies or A Day in the Highlands