… to Sròn Vourlinn I will go (to the tune of “Tangle o’ the Isles” perhaps?)

Wednesday 19 October: It’s a fine, bright afternoon, perfect for the hills. Sròn Vourlinn is not a particularly high hill, but its shape is impressive, the view from the top is extensive, it’s in an astonishing area of impossible pinnacles and ridges – and being about a third of a mile beyond the range of most visitors, it’s quiet. Really quiet!
The path up past the two lochs meets the popular tourist path from the Uig-Staffin road in a rocky hollow, and suddenly there are numerous other people. Some of them are noisy – don’t they understand? Why are they here? Ah – I see. It’s so they can take selfies. From the convergence of the paths, the way climbs to Fir Breugach, where there’s a slightly awkward rocky step onto the main ridge. Here, most of the others seem to turn back along, and up, the ridge. Some will continue the way I’m going, but they only seem to go as far as the first (and possibly slightly higher) summit of the Sròn Vourlinn ridge. Then they take a selfie, turn around and head back again. Beyond this point, I’ve got that final third of a mile to myself, and at its northern tip, I’ll stop, sit down and take it all in (along with a square of chocolate…). This place is far too good to hurry!

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Tuesday 18 October: Duties done, I’m allowed out. Taking the car as far as the village hall, I’m walking along quiet roads to the grassy clifftop, where there are no paths, but the way is obvious… In the clear air, the hills of Harris, around 25 miles distant, seem closer than usual. Like my Flodigarry walk, I’ve got this little part of Skye to myself (and the sheep)

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Sunday 16 October: Stones and seals! Silhouetted against the southern horizon, I thought they were rocks, until they began to wriggle…

We arrived at our ‘northern office’ yesterday, after driving more than 300 miles, from Dunbar to the northern end of Skye’s Trotternish peninsula. I need a leg stretch – I’ll aim for the shore near Flodigarry. The route down to the sea is clearly marked and easy; the shore itself is very stony – bouldery for long stretches. It would be easy to turn an ankle, and there’s no-one else around. So progress is very slow – just under a mile taking just under an hour! Admittedly, I stopped to watch the seals for a while. Ascent from the shore isn’t easy either – the ground is steep and uneven, to put it mildly. Possibly one of the longest short walks I’ve done for many years! Nevertheless, it’s been a most enjoyable outing, just what was needed after that long journey.

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27 May – last day on Skye. It rained all day yesterday – heavy blustery showers, of the kind which seem to ‘merge into longer periods of rain’, as the Met Office likes to put it. Today will be altogether quieter – the wind has dropped, and I’m heading for gentler scenery, as seen from the forest road in Glen Hinnisdal. That should be ‘roads’, plural – at the start there are paths leading off to left – ‘Rathad na t-aibhne’ (river road) – and right ‘Rathad an t-seann bhaile’ (old town road). We’ll head for the old town (a few stones in the forest!) before wandering up the glen for a mile and back again, this time taking the river road to visit the magnificent falls on the abhainn Hiniosdail. Very pleasant, and definitely quieter – but there’s still some rain about.

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24 May continued: Starting from the same place as yesterday’s walk, I’m heading in the opposite direction. At first I skirt the clifftops, with one or two rather exposed spots between the fence and a near-vertical drop to the sea. The views to the south and east are extensive – Sròn Vourlinn’s startling peak dominates the near distance; the north-western highlands form an intriguing horizon. Descending to the grassy foreshore, a very faint path leads to the ‘Ferry Point’, where once perhaps there was a connection to the island of Trodday, a mile or so to the north. Remains of a couple of black houses, and a curious gap in the stony shore where a boat might possibly have been dragged to and from the sea, are the only clues remaining.
As I wander back, in no hurry, a seal pops up just yards from the rocks to see what I’m doing. Oystercatchers flit noisily along the shore.  Butterwort catches the eye in the grassland – and someone has buried a couple of camels…

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