A Journey through Skye

What to say about Skye? There is so much really. It was almost upsetting how much of it that I wasn't able to explore. In that way, and in others I will mention along the way, taking a three day holiday there was almost like a microcosm of this year long adventure here in Edinburgh. What I will say for Skye is that I am have not a doubt in my mind that God created it on the same day he did the Sawtooths, the Wasatch Front, and Barton Creek Spring. In spite of how brief my visit was, it quickly established itself as a place that I imagine will pull at me if I ever chance smell the heavenly combination of rain, sea and pine or hear the a low rumbling of thunder overhead of bleating sheep.

Our holiday began in the wee (but almost alarmingly light hours) of the morning. The moment we stepped outside of our flat to catch our 4:50am train at Waverly Station, the rain started to dot the pavement. By the time we made it to our "Caledonian Sleeper", we were wet up the knees of our trousers. In spite of the inclination I had to be frustrated, how could I expect anything different when heading to the West coast of Scotland? Matt and I dozed off and on during our trip up to Fort William being awoken occasionally by pines scraping the top of the train to look out the window and watch the landscape become increasingly rugged and the weather moodier.

From Fort William we picked up our poetic "Jacobite Steam Train" to take us the rest of the way to Mallaig. This was Matt's touch to the planning. If it's going to be a long trip up, might as well take the scenic route. It provided some inspiring views and fun touches along the way.

In Mallaig we realized Matt was in desperate need to be outfitted with some rain gear. Thus began the short life of our green poncho pics. After we had lunch of PBJs and then onto a ferry that took us over to Skye.

Once checking into our spartan but tidy *Bayview Hostel in Portree, we thought in spite of the merciless rain, it was time for a wander about the town. There were all kinds of views and treasures along the way including finding rabbits running crazy-cute through an astonishingly green field and dolphins jumping around boats moored in close to the shore. Poor Matt's poncho, however, was already nearing the end as apparent in the flappy shreds of his hood seen below.

Planning for the next day turned out to be a discouraging affair. Though we had scoped out the bus system ahead of time, we didn't realize how evenly spaced out each bus would be. With only three routes run a day for each area, there seemed only time for one great adventure and then being dropped off for a 2nd (with no way back to Portree besides hitch-hiking). But there was so much to see and we hadn't the funds for a car rental!

Alas, we resigned ourselves to taking the ambition down a notch and planned a morning hike up to Old Man of Storr in the morning then a rush back to try and make it out to the famous Eilean Donan castle. The hike was glorious and without a doubt the highlight of my trip. The midges were fierce and the weather threatening  but I couldn't have been closer to heaven. Just look for yourself!

So with that high, came a plummet when we completely missed our bus (thus scratching our brilliant plan) out to Eilean Donan due to a complete misunderstanding of how to read the unbelievably counter-intuitive bus schedule. Another tick for how this trip was a microcosm of time in Edinburgh. A great adventure or discovery is usually followed by a moment of utter frustration (I don't understand this country! Why don't they do things this ______ way?) and feelings of complete incompetence. 

Though with that familiar brilliant-plan-failure feeling, comes this incredible ability to cope. So we bounced back by having a good picnic of homemade sandwiches and crisps, then booking a wildlife tour through the Portree bay (notice Matt's new and improved raincoat. Still cheap but not as prone to shred or becoming billowy in a windy storm as that of the green poncho).

This was followed by a wee rest, some chipy (along with some terrible fishcakes that I had great fun pelting mangy seagulls with) and a hike around the shores, putting us back on top.

So we hit up Eilean Donan the next day (thanks to our new bus schedule savvy-ness). And it was a marvel - truly lived up to its photogenic reputation.

I would be interested in learning what the story was behind these wooden sea creatures in the shadows. Indeed, after encountering the campy touches and wax figure reenactments inside, Matt and I were validated in our resignation in being too cheap to pay to get into any other castle until this one (that is for this whole last year mind you). Still the views offered were worth our student fare.

We journeyed backwards a piece to Kyle of Lochalsh to be ready for our 5:15 train. To pass the time we had ourselves a serving of Cullen Skink (the best so far we've had) and took a ride on a genuine glass bottom boat through the bay.

This gave us a chance to get some better views of the only bridge connecting Skye to the mainland, a lovely Stevenson lighthouse, get a real aquarium experience and a close encounter with the seals. To think the sun came out long enough to burn our faces and necks less than 400 miles south of Iceland! Perfect finish.

Finally the train ride back. Such a long trip back - 7 hours. To begin, we were buzzing with euphoria as we watched the intense mountain and seascape pictorial scenes zipping by our window from Kyle of Lochalsh to Inverness. Then followed this subtle feeling of despondency, as if it was the saddest thing that I wouldn't be able to stay and see more of this place. I was just getting the hang of this whole adventure. How upsetting that it was over so quick. However, long journeys can have an interesting effect for closure. As the landscape became tamer and as night settled in, I started to get anxious to return. Suddenly I began to see (and to be honest smell) how dirty my clothes were. I became aware of how much I needed a good shower, haircut, and some clothes that didn't have fuzzy spots where my backpack rubs. By the time the train pulled into Edinburgh Haymarket station at a few ticks past midnight, Matt and I were utterly fed up with the drunks that had hopped onto our last train and were practically running home past the ribald NEDS in the street. We couldn't think of anything better than coming home.

Adventuring cool places, at this "student-salary" stage of life takes a toll and sometimes you don't realize it until it's time to return. This a good thing to have realized just over a week before I have to get on the plane that will take me back from whence I came. Transitions can be a tricky business but it turns that a really intense (both with ups and downs) holiday can bring you to terms with almost everything you need to be ready for the next step.

*In spite of the exhausting format of a hostel we were lucky to be paired up both nights with good roommates. The first night we got a good hour chat with an Aussie and English couple and then the next night with a couple of Canadians lads who had an unbelievable enthusiasm for 80s action films - giving Matt and them loads to talk about.