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| Cresting the 'backbone' of the island |
This day was a replay of the previous, in a minor chord.
We re-traced our 'steps', this time on our bikes rather than on a bus. So we saw almost exactly the same sights... but at a slower pace.
But the crucial difference today was the weather. Whatever and wherever we had yesterday, today it was the opposite. And while we enjoyed some sunshine and warmth while on the move, the mist and chill rolled in from the sea just exactly when we got off our bikes for a little sightseeing. Its timing could not have been worse. While I had taken arm and knee warmers and wore a somewhat-weather-resistant gillet, Adam (who to be fair does not feel weather fluctuations as I do) was in shorts and a short-sleeved jersey and opted to leave his jacket in our room. So in a reverse of fortunes, he suffered while I... not so much. Unfortunately, his discomfort forced us to cut short our visit to the Skye Museum of Island Life and we opted not to walk up the hill to the Kilmuir Cemetary (and Flora Macdonald's grave) at all.
So here are some photos from our day. It was wonderful to fly along quiet roads unencumbered by loaded panniers! And except for that badly-timed hour at the Museum, it was very nearly a perfect day to be out on a bike.
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| Loch Eyre, an arm of Loch Szinort Beag |
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| Climbing towards Uig in the mist |
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| Overlooking Uig |
We finally got a good look at a Hooded Crow, this one perched on a fencepost in a field.
We weren't feeling cold or too damp (yet) but were glad we had seen Uig in bright sunshine the day before. Otherwise, we might not have appreciated how lovely this small town, nestled in a cradle of hills, really is. Today, all was quiet and calm. Mist has that effect.
I snapped a photo of Adam as I straddled my bike facing Uig.
He then snapped a photo of me, looking back -- against a backdrop of the fog we had just emerged from.
We stopped at the small store in Uig to stock up on picnic provisions. It all fit into my seatpack, which I was very pleased with -- joining the SkinSoSoft, sunscreen and wet wipes.
Looking back again at Uig from the north side, having 'conquered' the climb and the hairpin turn.
We arrived at the Island Life Museum to feel a bit disoriented at the presence of so many cars and coaches crowded into one small place.
I should have foreseen that in June the place would be full of visitors. When my sister and I stopped here in October 2008, we had the place entirely to ourselves. I should not have expected that again this time but somehow, carrying those memories, I did.
While I'm confessing to disappointments, it was also disheartening to see a number of people viewing this site through camera lenses. This approach to "sightseeing" bewilders and angers me. And then there were others* upon whom this entire expedition was wasted.
The one aspect that seemed the same as my last visit was the weather: chilly and misty with poor visibility. It may as well have been late Autumn again now, rather than the height of summer. The difference though was that, when I was here before it was indeed Autumn and I was dressed appropriately: walking trousers, hiking boots and a GoreTex parka.
Before leaving, I ducked into the public toilets, having already confirmed that we would not find another one before Uig.
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| A sign of/for our times. |
Within a mile or two -- with a significant drop in elevation -- we emerged from the cold fog and it was June once again.
It was also time for lunch. In true audaxing style, we choose to have our picnic of cold meats and cheeses in a bus shelter.
Back to Uig --
A couple on laden touring bicycles went past me while I was in the lay-by taking photographs --
On the way back to Portree. We wondered if this is the furthest north that a Fridays Jersey has been? There is a highest altitude competition but we are not aware of a latitude contest. Perhaps we should start one.
That evening we had dinner in the Rosedale Hotel. We (or rather, I, as it's usually me who initiates conversations with strangers!) fell into conversation with the retired couple at the table next to us. They were travelling with a tour group and it soon became apparent they have lived in many places and travelled to many more, all over the world.
Finally I asked where they are originally from (being pretty sure from their accents they were West Coast like myself, possibly northern Californians). They demurred "oh, it's not any place you'll have heard of".
"Try me," I said.
"Grants Pass, Oregon" came the answer.
It was my turn to stun them when I answered that I came from a small town about 50 miles up Interstate 5 from there!
We were all trying new foods -- "cullen skink" for me (delicious!), and Skye's own speciality and upon which the local economy was based for decades, langoustines, for Judy.
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| (shudder) |
We covered the 35.6km of today's out and back to the Island Life Museum north of Kilmuir in 1 hour 52 minutes, with an average moving speed of 19.1.
Writing this three months later, I have to say I have lovely memories from this ride except for that hour or so at our actual Destination! That takes some admitting, because the Island Life Museum is one of the loveliest of the various tourist-y things on Skye and I whole-heartedly recommend it to everyone.
* One man and one woman (possibly both in the same coach group) were morbidly obese (and I use that term in its medical sense). They were clearly, truly physically unable to seize this opportunity to step back in time and immerse themselves in the environment, culture and history on offer here. They walked from each croft to the next, went inside, plopped themselves down on whatever 16th century piece of furniture was nearest, panted and sipped water, without so much as a glance at their surroundings heaved themselves up to lumber to the next croft. They were so consumed with the physical struggle of getting from one building to the next that they didn't look at any of the artifacts or read any of the informative displays. I truly felt bad for them that they couldn't take advantage of where they were or what was around them. The fact is, they were not enjoying themselves -- the woman was visibly suffering -- and I could not stop myself wondering, why on earth were they here?
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