Highland cliff diving

As running has been hindered by an onset of tendonitis (leaving I hope and believe), I took a walk this morning. Full rest is for pansies.

I found a spectacular trail done by a garden centre in Portree. It leads through woods, a meadow, into a sheep field and onto a lumber road where pines are felled every 25 years or so. I was able to get in a great view of Old Man of Storr, some wildlife shots, and much needed explorer time. I really enjoy setting out and just getting lost. Finding a way home is mildly optional. I told the dynamic duo I’d be back in under and hour and not wanting them to worry I headed back as fast as I could. Honestly I could have been gone much longer as dad was still snoozing and mom forgot a watch. “What time is it?” surfaces every 5 minutes or so. I’ve been tempted to just buy her a watch.

Bluebells errywhere

Fairytale woods

Lovely creek at the base of the mountain

I found white blue bells! Whitebells?

Timber road- I was sure a truck would be zooming along

I also found a bird. Breed TBD.

Old Man Storr is that pointy thing way off in the distance, past Portree

Sunrise over the harbor

These guys were all over the place!

Pretty little bridges

Scottish breakfast is not for the faint of heart. Sausage, bacon, fried egg, potato scone, roasted tomato, toast, coffee and cereal. Oey. I suppose I should tell Christine, our B&B lady, that I don’t eat meat. At least not the oinking sort. 

We met a couple from Alaska at breakfast this morning who are touring about Scotland and driving themselves. Brave souls. The man actually said that he thought it was a bit cold here… and he’s from Alaska. At least my sentiments are shared. 

Luckily we were picked up first by Steve today and I got front and center, a much better view than yesterday in the very back smooshed against the glass behind the particulars. 

On our way out, Steve stopped at the base of the Black and Red Cullin mountains, the Black being a newer and taller set formed via volcano (67M years ago) and the Red being older, some of the oldest in Scotland (200+M years old). He also told us, rather re-reminded us, of the “hell race” which is a speedy scramble up to the top of a very pointy peak. The fastest has been done from the base and back in just under 50 minutes. Honestly, I’d really like to try it and see how fast I can do it. I’m sure it’s nowhere near that time… but I want to do it. Another bucket item. Masochist. At least I know what I am.

The hill that hosts the hell run is that pointy bit. Yes, I'm 100% serious.

We passed by an old battlefield, imagine that, and Steve told us it was the most haunted outdoor area in Scotland. The solidifying report was a pair of Czech men who unknowingly camped in the area and were awoken around 3 in the morning to find a set of highland soldiers, totally transparent, marching about in full war gear (aka kilts) carrying weapons of all sorts. What they didn’t know is that they had camped out on an ancient battle ground of the MacDonalds and MacLeods where 700 met 700 and only 8 walked out alive. Since then, there have been reports similar to theirs for centuries. The Czech men, as you can fathom, nearly wet their pants. After acquiring a translator the police was informed of what they saw. Concern and excitement from the police force turned into a routine visit once they realized it was just another encounter with the ghosts of armies past.

Along the same lines of old historical stuff, we went for a walk through another sheep field to see Dun Beag Broch, a pre-Christ living structure. It was once inhabited by pagans who likely used a lovely nearby level rock to kill some wee animals to sacrifice. Unlike the states, the Scottish don’t give a teeny sheep butt if we crawled all over the structure. So we did.

Grazing right at the base of the structure

Entrance to the abode

In front of the storage compartment

Mom and dad modeling the happy home. Practically a sale ad.

Being an animal science kid and having shown sheep, I was that geeky traveler that asked after the sheep breeds. The cute little fluffs we saw climbing to the Broch were Hebridean sheep, of which there are also Blackface Hebrideans. These are quite common in Scotland for meat as a lamb and wool as an adult. They actually use these for the spectacular Harris Tweed brands, sold alongside Dubarry boots (drool). Steve also mentioned the Cheviot breed as one of the top three here. We unfortunately saw a dead little tyke on the way down and I asked what predators might have done the deed. Wildcats (rarely spotted), foxes and golden eagles would be suspects. Apparently the 8ft wingspan golden eagles wouldn’t think twice about going for the wee lambs but if it was an eagle’s work we probably wouldn’t see any remnant of the fuzzy victim. 

A (live) cheeky little bugger

Stopping precariously on a wee tiny road, we ran into a small house and got run over by the peculiars, to see the Giant Angus MacAskill museum (if you could name it that) who was a literal goliath, standing at 7ft 9in. He used all of his 425 pounds to earn a living in the Canadian circus. 

I feel tinier than usual

Afterwards we headed to Dunvegan Castle where we were met by midges in troops. Side note: do not agree to be sprayed by bugspray. Bugspray in one’s eyes, nose, mouth and hair is extremely unpleasant. Not recommended. The midges are not that bad. I maintain that Georgia mosquito bites are far worse.

Half blind, we made it through the entry gardens to the castle, yet another privately owned estate. The movie (10 minutes of yawn) gave a little history on the place, owned by the MacLeod clan for centuries. The current holder visits a few weeks at a time to “care” for the place. Read: VACAY!

The interior was yet another old building with old furniture and lots of artifacts. The exterior was spectacular. Gardens everywhere! Walled gardens, wooden gardens, water gardens, and flowers galore.

Castle exterior

I love playing with flower photos

Monkey Puzzle tree: the origin of onyx

Scottish woodlands

Is this a real life Avatar movie?

We drove from there is Uig, pronounced “oooo-ig”. It just makes me want to eat figs.

 

Learn something new every day: apparently the first slaves came to America on “coffin ships” from Scotland. This is thanks to Cromwell and his asinine nature during the depopulation of the highlands up until 1810. The tenant farmers living in "black houses" were given 24 hours notice before their inhabitants had to leave as their home was burned to bits. Why black? Because (1) of the dark granite that built them back in the 1300's and (2) burning peat for fuel (smells like a cigar). Some were inhabited until the 1930’s.

We also visited Flora MacDonald’s grave. At one point in history she helped the “bonnie” (pretty) Prince Charles and is a bit of a heroine here. A Scot would probably smack me for being so casual about her efforts but I need a textbook to keep up with all this history. Visitors wanted to take home a chunk of Flora so badly that they literally defaced her memorial and has since been replaced. That’s respectful. 

The old cross

Beautiful surrounds

Driving efficiently, we passed the Duntulum Castle. The place was abandoned by the MacDonald’s after a newborn son of the clan fell to his death with his wet nurse off the castle walls into the sea. Devastation is familiar to the place as years later some young lads were exploring the place and fell when bits of the castle gave way. They were okay from what I can tell, but it was enough to get the whole place fenced off.

We also passed a folley which looks a lot like a guard tower. Apparently in Scotland it was the thing to go on tour, similar to an Aboriginal walkabout, when men came of age and the richest of them built folleys. These folleys are known as the rich boy’s magnets, which are on display as they tried to make them in the style of the places they visited. Sounds ridiculously expensive and unnecessary. 

As if Steve isn’t awesome enough, he laid his driving neck on the line for us today. He took us up into the cliffs of Quiraing, known for their abundance of dinosaur fossils, to take in some spectacular views. On the way up we certainly miffed off quite a few other drivers, but we were bigger. 

The views were worth it. 

Mom: "Don't get too close to the edge!!" Already did, ma.

It was quite chilly, but so worth the spectacular views

On the way back down, Steve got in a wee pickle as we nearly drove through a guardrail which would have done nothing for the coach van, and off a cliff. We had to unload the bus to grant Steve the lighter load to back up and then make the turn. I thought he had everything under control until I looked over and saw a red-faced Scottish man uttering some choice words. I then realized that this was actually a near cliff diving experience we were about to have. Luckily the bus got turned around right, a few other small cars were sufficiently pissed off at us, and Steve resumed his efficient driving down the cliff side dodging kamakazi lambs as they lept in and out of the roads. 

Beyond that guard rail is a sheer cliff. This is the FRONT of the bus. We had about 6ft to go until doom.

We had a quick photo stop at Kilt falls, named such for the patterns on the wall faces, and Old Man Storr. I spent more time getting pictures of the sheepies than of Storr since I saw it this morning on accident with a better view. The misty rain wasn’t doing us any favors.

I battled tooth and nail with the "particulars" to get this one. It was a mob scene.

Dinner was fabulous at a tiny 16-seat harbor side restaurant where I got my salmon fix. Mom commented “can’t you buy a pack of this at home since you love it so much?” No, not on a grad school budget. I won’t buy meat in at home, period. It’s too much money. Eggs for days.

Had those chunks of the smoked stuff been on plastic forks the tongs might've broken it was so heavy. So much salmon.