The far north

Rubha Hunish: the northernmost tip of Skye. We could see it yesterday, over to the west. It’s a fine morning, and if I get there soon, I should be able to park the car without trouble. Without a doubt, it’s the only way to beat the hordes. The walk to the cliff tops (Meall Tuath and Meall Deas) overlooking the Hunish peninsula is becoming popular, but not all visitors are prepared to take the precipitous route down the cliff face. The peninsula itself is wonderful – gentle grassy slopes 50′ – 100′ above the sea, with superb coastal architecture along the east side – stacks, an arch – fine views and the sound of nesting seabirds. The views, admittedly, could be clearer – it’s been hazy all week, and we’ve barely seen the outer isles. But it’s great here – just me, the gulls, a few gannets, cormorants and – was that a golden eagle?

As I approach the cliffs for the scramble back up, there are one or two figures on the headland, by the bothy, and as I make my way back along the path, I meet an eclectic cross-section of humanity. Some respond to my greeting; others look straight through me. Did I fall off the cliff and perish? Am I a ghost?

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