I did not know until our second or third day on the Isle of Skye that one of the island's two nicknames is 'The Misty Isle'. (The other is 'The Winged Isle'.)
But I could have guessed that may be the case, since our first day on Skye's fair shores can be summed up as:
90% mist,
10% midges
... and 100% magic
After a breakfast of smoked salmon (because how often do you get this option?), we boarded the ferry to cross the Sleat Strait to Armadale.
Mallaig looked industrious and somehow timelessly charming as we chugged away. Once Europe's busiest fishing port for herring (in particular, smoked kippers), it's the demand from expensive restaurants in London and on the continent for langouistines that keeps the fishing industry alive and well.
There's some interesting public art in Mallaig but this example stood out: an 8-foot-high fisherman holding a little girl by the hand and pointing out to sea. The statue was made by Mark Rogers, an artist living on the nearby Knoydart peninsula, who gave it to the Port of Mallaig a few years ago. He originally made it with moulded cement over a chicken wire base but when he learned that it would be erected on the pier, he cut off the legs and re-cast them in cement to withstand gales. Apparently there is another statue of the same fisherman over on Knoydart, on the jetty at Airor.
Located on a skerry (a small rocky island or reef, too small for habitation -- sometimes called a "low sea stack") on the east side of the harbour's entrance is the Sgeir Dhearg lighthouse. Built in 1901, it's only 25 feet tall but is still active, with two flashes every eight seconds. The colour of the light you see depends on the direction you're approaching it from -- white or green -- I don't know which from where, though! The lighthouse is accessible by boat, but the tower is closed.
We climbed up to the top front deck of the ferry, where we could look down on our bikes.
Out in front of us? Only mist.
Until.... yes, it's Land Ahoy!
I said to Adam "Look, the Isle of Skye is only 200 feet high". He gave me a funny (uncomprehending but skeptical) look. I hurried to clarify: "Oh yes, there are mountains here but you can't see anything higher than 200 feet, can you?" (This exchange would not have stuck in my mind, except for something that came up later.)
We approached Armadale pier. My camera lens collected droplets.
As we neared the pier, the settlement emerged and took shape, but the cloud ceiling was still no higher than -- in my inexperienced judgement -- about 200 feet.
Once on land, we paused long enough to re-secure my rack, which had suddenly slipped in quite an alarming way back in Mallaig when we pulled away from our B&B.
This souvenir shop name made me smile. Who was Grumpy George, I wonder?
And then we were on our bikes, clipped in and rolling down the road onto the Sleat peninsula.
The road followed the south coast for some time. We moved through mist and fog.
I don't mind this kind of 'soft day'. I find it soothing and peaceful.
The Isle of Skye is -- in my fanciful mind -- somewhat like an animal sprawled out. Its limbs stretch in every direction. You can skirt around them but to get over them, well, you have to go up over them.
So here we were on our first day on Skye, skirting around the lower edge of Skye on the only main (ish) road, which goes northeast to meet with the only proper Main Road on the island, the A87, which comes off the mainland via the Skye Bridge and runs along the eastern coast up to Portree.
Anyway, to get to the A87, the road from Armadale has to get up and over one of the island's limbs.
Fortunately, the mist had eased slightly. I wouldn't say it lifted or cleared. It just.... thinned a little, enough that we could see the undersides of the clouds overhead.
Here we are, on the road to Broadford, the first 'town' on the A87.
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| Adam led for most of our riding, so this was a familiar sight. |
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| Map checking as we approach Broadford |
We stopped at the Co-operative grocery store in Broadford. It had started to rain. I bought various meats and cheeses and we had a picnic under the trolley shelter!
Then we set off west, bound for the village of Elgol at the end of the road running down the Straithaird peninsula.
We both commented on how hushed the landscape felt. I just love this.
(Wait til you see the photos from two days later, though.)
The one fork in the road isn't really a fork. The road to the left is a farm road but it looks like it ought to go somewhere. I imagine the farmers here get really fed up with tourists in fancy cars straying onto their land by taking that left turn. In fact, my memory from my last visit suggested we should be bearing left here. Good thing we checked the signs and our map!
This is the right way to go.
The road rose up amongst the trees and actually into the cloud. Adam glanced at his GPS and exclaimed "You're right! We're at 200 feet elevation". So the number I'd pulled out of the air that morning as the "height of the island" was by chance almost exactly right.
Our first glimpse of Loch Slapin.
Crossing what I believe was the first cattle grid (or "cattle guard" to Americans) of our holiday -- but by no means the last! -- in the middle of Torrin village.
A panoramic view of the Blue Cafe as we approach Loch Slapin.
Loch Slapin is in fact a large sea loch. The road circles it, taking in stunning -- did I say stunning? You'll have to trust me on this -- views of the Cuillin.
The mists swirled like the veil of a dancer, offering brief tantalising glimpses of the slopes. But this is all we're going to see. For today.
After circling Loch Slapin almost completely, the road curves around the headland and begins to climb.
And climbed some more.
And this was the hardest part of the day for me. The road is single track with plentiful passing spaces. But the volume of traffic quite surprised me. I seemed to be swinging over into every passing place, for vehicles either going up the hill or going down, sometimes because they needed to pass me but often more because they needed to pass each other and I just needed to get out of the way.
And this is when I discovered there is a definitely skill required to set off from a standstill on an incline, already in your lowest gear, with the bulk of the weight you're carrying on the back of the bike... and needing to clip into your pedals as soon as possible. A skill that is I hadn't envisaged or anticipated, much less practiced or perfected.
And then... there were the midges. Every time I stopped, I was swarmed. It seems they love damp, misty weather! We had insect repellent with us (more on that in another post) but had assumed that rain kept midges away. Quite the opposite.
And I was feeling quite hot and sweaty.
And Adam -- who is a natural, effortless (!) climber -- was very quickly nowhere to be seen, far off ahead of me and above me in the mist.
Tough work.
But in fact, it wasn't long before the climb was conquered and after a further series of rather steep rollers, in ever thickening mist, we arrived at the village sign for Elgol.
Normally, the views from this point are stupendous! Literally breath-taking. But today, the curtains were drawn. Adam was blissfully aware of what he was missing.
Since my last visit to Elgol, the community has gained a Highlander sentinel on the hill above the cattle grid.
We had no idea where our B&B was located but luckily spotted it just as we were about to cycle past it.
The day was not quite over*, but the journey was.
Today's journey covered 50km in 3.5 hours with an average moving speed of 14.2km/hr. I was actually quite pleased with this speed but it would in fact turn out to be our slowest daily average on our entire holiday.
*After a quick wash and change of clothes, we continued down to the pier to check on sightseeing tours for the next day, then went all the way back up the hill nearly to the cattle grid to make dinner reservations at Coruisk House for the following evening. After our lovely hostess put together a simple dinner of salads and meats, we had an early night and slept like the innocent.
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