Pie in the SKYE

I couldn't fit this picture in anywhere else, but I just thought it was really neat. It's also an entirely accurate representation of how dark this forest was (it was sunny on the rest of the trail).

So what have I been up to, you ask?

Whoop-dee-doo. (Bussing through the Highlands.)

How is the Isle of Skye, you ask?

*yawn* (View of Storr Mountain.)

Gosh, I dunno. It’s pretty okay, I guess. I GUESS.

Ho-hum. (View from the Old Man of Storr.)

I spent most of my time on Skye at the Skyewalkers Hostel, which was appropriately decorated with cardboard standees of your favorite Star Wars figures adorned with bits of tartan and humorous speech bubbles. I was excited to come here because it was the highest-rated hostel I had yet seen on Hostelworld.com, and it did not disappoint. The night I arrived, I was told there would be a jam session. Sounds good, thought I. As I prepared dinner, I met a group of language-school students (five from Switzerland and one from France) and we shared our stories. One of the Swiss guys looked exactly like a young Ralph Fiennes. In any event, after the meal we went outside to the geodesic dome (!) greenhouse/lounge because the Swiss kids thought that’s where the jam session would be. I gave them a personal ukulele concert before we eventually decided we should go back into the main common area to see what was up.

The players (not visible: Patrick).

Inside, we found this: Brian and Lisa (the hostel owners) playing harmonica/mandolin/banjo and guitar, respectively, along with a friend of theirs who had brought an Irish flute, a set of tin whistles, and a cittern. A cittern, before you ask, is somewhat like a bazouki in appearance, but it is said to be the closest modern equivalent to the original Scottish guitar. Everyone else from the hostel was sitting around these folks listening as they played primarily Scottish folk tunes, but between every song or two the musicians eagerly prompted guests to pipe up with traditional songs from their own countries of origin. Of course, I played along with my uke, mostly doing background strumming and stuff, but I got a few solos. It was the best hostel experience I’ve had yet.

The first thing you should know before I continue is that the hostel is located in Portnalong, which barely qualifies as a city. There is approximately one regular bus per day – maybe two, if you’re lucky – running between Portnalong and the main city of Portree. So the next day, I left the hostel intending to walk 3 km to the nearby Talisker whisky distillery, take the tour, then hitch around the island. Instead, moments after I stepped outside, a bus rolled by, and I decided to hop in and buy a day pass (6 pounds, which paid for itself after two uses). The bus driver was a friendly and very chatty mid-fifties English guy who, upon hearing my previous plans, decided to tell me everything he could about the Talisker distillery so that I wouldn’t need to worry about having missed it. We also had a long talk about the United States, American Football, technology, etc. That is, he would ask me a question, I would get halfway through a response, and he would interrupt to counter it with his own interesting anecdote. Good times.

The Old Man of Storr. It's deceptively enormous, considering it's a freestanding pinnacle 3/4 of the way up a proper mountain. You may notice a tiny, tiny man standing on a stone to the right of it with his arms outstretched.

Anyway, I managed to bus to the Old Man of Storr, a landmark stone outcropping that requires about an hour and a half hike to reach. It was a very satisfying walk, and rewarded me with one of the best views I’d had yet. After making my way back down and getting back on the bus, I just stayed on as it looped around the northern part of the island and enjoyed the scenery. Unfortunately I did not have time to make another stop, because that would have caused me to miss the only bus back into Portnalong. Don’t worry, though – the bus stories get even worse!

It's a cow, you dolt.

The next day, which was Sunday, there were no buses. Anywhere on the island.

So in the morning I met a German girl named Julianne and we left the hostel to do a coastal circuit. We walked to one nearby bay, then along the coast to another nearby bay, then back into Portnalong. The views along this walk were also fantastic. Varied, too! Cliffs, waterfalls, hills, plateaus, fields, etc. The best part of this walk, though, was that we met up with a pair of older guys, brothers named Paul and Frank. They were EXTREMELY London; they frequently said things like "cor" and "daft". Their primary purpose for visiting Skye? Catching, documenting, and photographing all varieties of local insects, the holy grail of which being the elusive Talisker Moth. Awesome, right? They taught us all kinds of stuff about local flora as well as identifying a great number of interesting insects caught between the four of us. The hike lasted a leisurely six hours, and we were with the guys for five of them.

Talisker Bay in the mist.

That evening, I learned just how poorly I had been planning this leg of my trip! I had been intending to take a bus from Portnalong to Portree the next morning, then Portree to Mallaig (on the mainland), then take a 4 PM ferry to the Isle of Eigg. Then it turned out I’d been misreading the ferry schedule, and there was only one per day. At 10 AM. However, this too was doable – there was a bus from somewhat-closer Sligachan to the Armadale pier at 7:40, at which point I could take a cheap ferry to Mallaig then to Eigg! The only risk was that I’d have to hitchhike the eight miles or so from Portnalong to Sligachan. I decided I didn’t have much option, so I decided to go for it.

Now believe it or not, I actually DID hitch a ride from the hostel to Sligachan with about fifteen minutes to spare. Thank you, Peter McKinley, wherever you are. Then the bus didn’t come. Hmm…I flipped open my Skye bus schedule and read it more thoroughly to discover that the bus I’d been counting on only runs on school holidays. Trust me, it was REALLY poorly marked, and not separated from the regular schedule at all. So basically, there was no way whatsoever for me to go to the isle of Eigg. What a sad occurrence…

So, I spent one night longer than I had planned on Skye. This time, I chose a hostel right in Portree which was not particularly impressive but at least was a stone’s throw away from Skye’s central bus terminal. I explored the town, did some walking in the hills, and took a much-needed nap. Not as interesting as walking around the sparsely-populated home of my forefathers, but I guess some things just weren’t meant to happen.

Anyhoo, tomorrow I fly into Belfast to meet up with my family! Hooray! Til next time!