Still at the Old Man of Storr car park we availed ourselves of the loos again (not quite as pristine as they were a few hours ago) and ate our sandwiches sitting in the car, even though it was still only 1130.
The next bit of the plan was to drive north and all around the top of the island, seeing whatever there was to see, so a few random images with detail if I can remember where we stopped.
The Old Man clear as anything in the distance.
Lealt Falls had another very good car park and walkway but if I'm honest, once you've seen Iguazu Falls nothing else comes close.
I can see a little fat piggy sitting upright in these rocks!
Then on to Kilt Rock, so named as the rocks are supposed to resemble the folds of the material.
The view in the other direction was pretty lovely.
There was supposed to be a nice waterfall here too - Mealt Falls (internet image)
Unfortunately despite the recent torrential rain, this is what we saw.
Not really even a trickle.
These wild foxgloves are all over the place, loving the damp condition.
And wild irises too.
Just as I was getting back in the car I heard bagpipes and presumed it was coming from the car next door. I realised though that there was a lone piper standing on the cliff top - worth a couple of £ in his collection pot for these pictures.
I'm quite surprised how few old stone cottages/barns there are, either in good nick or tumbledown. Most buildings appear to be in very good condition with the vast majority painted a uniform white. Here are a couple of old ones I must get to use sometime in a composite.
Driving further round on the narrow roads with p*ssing places we came across this lovely bucolic scene, but sadly without the favourite lens I haven't captured it very well.
The sheep certainly don't stop and wait in the passing places.
We were very close to the area known as Quiraing, which from what I can gather is basically an area of landslip formed in the ice age which has left interesting land and rock formations - essentially a larger version of the Fairy Glen. But, having already conquered The Old Man of Storr, neither of us felt we had enough in our legs for another long walk; particularly as we really want to visit the Fairy Pools tomorrow and I’m already carrying an injury.
So we carried on round the top of the island as Ian was keen to visit the Skye Museum of Island Life, but unfortunately when we got there it was closed (and had been for some time) due to Covid. So a few images of the cottages taken over the fence.
A real shame it was closed, I might have got loads of good elements for composites and of course Ian would have enjoyed learning the history.
Just up a track from here is Kilmuir Cemetery, the resting place of Flora MacDonald whose claim to fame was sheltering Bonnie Prince Charlie after his defeat at Culloden in 1746 (turns out it was only for a day and, not long after, she then emigrated to America).
Wandering around graveyards is always interesting and this time was no different; we were amazed to see this new looking one. (Lee) Alexander McQueen was a Lewisham born fashion designer who sadly took his own life at the young age of 41. He apparently identified strongly with his Scottish heritage; his father having been born on Skye.
This WWI monument is beautiful in itself.
But I think it looks like a demure lady with her hands clasped in front of her and she wears the mosses like a cloak.
On the board at the entrance were details of a grave in the shape of a soldier and Ian of course found it, hidden behind a large mausoleum.
Said to be the grave of Angus Martin who had a reputation of being
fearless and going out to sea in any weather (which earned him a lasting
nickname of Angus of the Wind or Storm). He also earned himself some
good press for his time spent fighting in Ireland. The story goes that he stole this slab from a
king’s grave on the holy Isle of Iona so he could have it for himself. The more plausible version is that he took it
by arrangement with Clan MacDonald to bring it to their cemetery in Kilmuir.
We also enjoyed this gravestone's inscription "Donald Gordon Steel - Killed by a boulder while climbing Ben Dearg" chiselled on the very appropriately boulder shaped stone.
Many of the graveyards we've passed have been very, very simple with just headstones in neat lines, but this one was more like a traditional graveyard with individually designed memorials and seemingly randomly placed.
Some memorial stones referred to several family members, some of whom were interred elsewhere and there seemed to be many people called Murdo, which means sea in Gaelic, so understandably a popular name for an island.
There wasn't a great deal more of interest to see, other than the lovely landscape, of course, and as we weren't able to check in to our B&B at Flashader (here I go again; Flashader, Flashader ........) until 16:00 when we came across this loose lamb desperately trying to find a way back into its field, we stopped to watch.
It doesn't really portray the poor little things distress. It just dashed up and down the road calling frantically and what surprised us most was that the mother didn't call back at all (maybe she'd had twins and was glad to have some peace). After it narrowly avoided getting run over about 4 times, I went to knock on a nearby bungalow, but the owner came out before I could figure out how her gate worked. The 3 of us then spent a considerable time trying to catch the creature or herd it to a place where it could get through the fence. At one point I even had the gate to the field open and it was heading straight for it at full pelt when suddenly it spied me and leapt about 4 foot in the air and then ran off in the opposite direction. After disappearing down a side road for what seemed like an age, we left the lady to report to the farmer and went on our way.
A few stills too (for when I turn this blog into a Kindle book as the video won't play).
I'm not surprised his eyes were closed and ears all over the place - poor little mite, I hope he was soon reunited.
We carried on driving and just past Uig (the uninspiring ferry terminus we'd visited yesterday) we saw this bird of prey hovering just above the road.
Rubbish photos but hopefully enough to correctly identify it as a Sparrowhawk (yellow legs).
It was just after 16:00 now and Dandelion No.2 at Flashader was well signed from the road (actually we'd driven through yesterday so knew exactly where we were heading). However the property was further off the road than we'd imagined, across its own cattle grid and behind a couple of other properties. A beautiful setting but when we got out of the car OMG the midges just descended on us immediately. I phoned the owner Morag to say we'd arrived and she quickly appeared from the adjacent property. The little annex is fab-u-lous, all you could wish for and I forgot to take any photos so these are from the internet.
A perfectly sized sitting/dining room.
Beautifully decorated bedroom (would have preferred a King Size but that's being fussy).
High tech shower room complete with blue tooth and clock on the mirror (wrong time!) and lovely walk-in shower
Plus a little area with basic crockery, cutlery, kettle, toaster and fridge full of goodies for breakfast. You really couldn't ask for more - except perhaps an inside mat to put my muddy shoes on (raining outside) but Morgan quickly provided a bin liner and I'm sure she was appreciative that I didn't want to spoil her beautiful carpet. Oh, and she'd been baking so there was fresh ginger cake and millionaire's shortbreads for us too - how thoughtful.
The idea of staying up here for the night was so we didn't have a 1 - 1 1/2 hour drive back to Broadford if we decided to stay out for a sunset at Neist Point, the most westerly point in Great Britain. By now it was about 17:00 and sunset proper wasn't until about 22:20 - a long time to stay awake. I felt so tired, I actually fell asleep on the little sofa for about 20 mins but the catnap was all I needed and we were soon on the road again (we're only likely to be here the once, so let's make the most of it; we can sleep when we're nearly dead). It was still about a 1 hour drive to the point, back through Dunvegan, after which the road was once again mostly single track with p*ssing places. Quite a lot of traffic, seemingly mostly 4x4 and camper vans of all shapes and sizes heading for the point.
Once again, lovely views but I tried not to stop too often otherwise we'd never get there!
When we got about 1/4 mile away the parking started all on the roadside but we drove on and fortunately right at the end there was a smallish parking area with a space for us (don't think it was disabled!). We'd already decided that the 30 min walk to the actual lighthouse wasn't what we were interested in; it was the view of said lighthouse and I'd read that the best place was up on the cliffs above the parking area. We headed off, Ian still determined to carry the backpack for me, but the track wasn't very clear and we kept walking onto very, very boggy patches which was OK for me in boots but Ian only had trainers on. So we retraced our steps and tried again nearer to the cliff edge.
Sometimes it's worth lugging a long lens around, just so you can see what you're missing when you're too lazy to walk. These people are on the top of bit of cliff that
sticks right up.
The light was OK, not as lovely as if we'd waited for sunset but we were tired and I've realised now I'm never going to take the super images I see on the internet (over manipulated or not) so I'm trying to content myself with taking good images for the blog and our memories. Tired as I was though, I couldn't resist a couple more sheep pictures.
It was still quite a long drive back to Flashader, but it was nice to be somewhere different and the B&B was very comfortable. We'd bought cheese and a couple of baguettes and some tomatoes so enjoyed a light supper when we got back.