Kyleakin, Skye

Yesterday I left Portree early to ride to catch the ferry 40 miles away. The forecast was for heavy rain and wind in the afternoon, but morning looked ok, just the inevitable drizzle. Ha. Fifteen minutes later the rain was coming down in buckets and the headwind was blasting me. Drenched and chilled I stopped after 10 miles at a hotel, thinking to get a taxi to the ferry port, only to find out that all ferries were canceled. I had of course made hotel and train reservations, all now lost if I couldn't get across. The very helpful receptionist took pity on me and suggested I flag down a bus to the mainland via the Skye bridge, but the driver said he had no space to take a bike. Back to hotel, the receptionist gave me a free cup of tea, said they had no rooms available, and after some effort found me a place to stay, the last bed available at the Saucy Mary bunkhouse 25 miles away. So I head back into wind and wet, and eventually the sun comes out in the afternoon, so much for believing Skye forecasts.
Kyleakin is a very pretty village at the base of the Skye bridge. The bunkhouse was like a dormitory, complete with drunken students making noise all night. But I did meet roommate Florian, an art student from Stuttgart studying at Edinburgh, out on a quick walking tour; he attempted Ben Nevis but rain turned him back. We ate dinner together and had a great conversation. Exhausted I did manage to sleep despite the carousing, but decided to stay another night at the backpacker hostel nearby, cheaper,

quieter, cleaner, nicer. The ferry reported a high likelihood of "service disruptions" the next few days, so I'm stuck on Skye, not the worse place to be.

"Saucy Mary" refers to a Norwegian princess married to a MacKinnon chief, whose ruined 15th century castle Moil is a wet walk from the village. The loch is very narrow  there, making it easy to block it with a chain and thus collect tolls from passing ships. 

Portree Skye-seeing

Drizzle begins while boarding tour bus, 11 of us, 2 couples, Australian and Canadian, the rest German guys. We go first to the Old Man of Storr, driver Cathleen (native, fluent in Scot Gaelish, former nurse then school bus driver, now tourist guide, sweet old lady) drops us off at 10 and says we have 2 hours. Most of the German guys don't leave the flat ground near road, the Australian couple walks with me uphill for a while, but it gets steep and muddy and they slow down. I go all the way up to windswept gap between the weirdly shaped pinnacles, no real views as mist fills in, then head back  down after less than an hour. Get back at 11:30, the tour group is waiting, but no bus. Apparently Cathleen noticed she had a soft tire, went to have it fixed without telling the group. Some of the Germans seemed to have been drinking to fill the time, the rest just standing around mildly complaining in the drizzle. But back in bus, on to see more misty hills and seaside cliffs, lunch, crofter village museum, the Isle of Skye brewery sales outlet, and a fairy glen before returning after a very full, wet and windy day, happy tourists all.

Portree excursion

The bus tour I had booked yesterday was canceled last night due to mechanical problems, rescheduled for Thursday. So Gordon the most enthusiastic hostel employee I've ever encountered suggested I take public transportation -- bus to Dunvegan to see the castle. Drizzle begins, low clouds, out toward west. Dunvegan Castle has been the seat of the MacLeods for 800 years, continuously occupied, each chieftain adding and remodeling. Lots of portraits, silver, mementos of Africa/India as you might expect. But a real dungeon, an ancient iron sword, and a "fairy flag" -- piece of faded silk brought back from an early crusade, supposedly magically protecting the clan.

Walked back to village to see the other local highlight, the giant Angus MacAskill museum. This is a project of a direct descendant, Patrick MacAskill, who created this shrine with just his own funds and energy. Angus was born on another Hebridean island, so no connection to Skye, emigrated to Cape Breton where he was discovered/exploited, touring with Tom Thumb in the 1850's, dying relatively young from brain disease.

Patrick was easily persuaded to pose with this replica of his 7ft 9inch ancestor.

And drizzle/light rain mostly ended this evening, time for a stroll to the pier.

Portree, Skye

After breakfast in this old hotel noticed this curiousity hanging on the wall.

Ferry to Skye, windy, some fog/cloud but slowly clearing. Wind gusting SW as I rode south, but relatively easy 16 miles to Portree. Scenery not that interesting along the way, until the sunshine comes out in Portree, picture postcard pretty town.

Town a bit twee, touristy and pricey, but still enchanting -- I'm a sucker for sunshine any way I can get it these days. Might be rainy tomorrow, but I decided to stay a couple of days,  cheaply at the hostel (old post office) painted in astonishing primary colors, taking an all day minibus tour of Skye highlights tomorrow.

Drinking tonight at MacNabs Inn, known for its local ales but staying for the juke box -- locals making bizarre selections as young folks shoot pool, some sporting vintage outfits, leather pants or tweed suits, all while listening to Gene Vincent, Elvis, Sex Pistols, disco. 

And of course the Isle of Skye pipe band is out on maneuvers, practising in the town square this otherwise quiet Tuesday night.

Tarbert, Harris, Outer Hebrides

High wind, drizzle, 2 1/2 hour ferry from Ullapool to Stornoway, and I consider my options for the 25 mph headwind afternoon ride to my hotel at Tarbert, 36 miles away, the ferry port to Skye. Check tire pressure at bike shop, then think about taxi for part of way. As I walk bike back to port a woman asks how my trip is going, and suggests asking at the bus station next to ferry. Couldn't hurt. Sure enough, ok to take bike at discretion of driver, next bus to Tarbert in 1/2 hour. Ok by driver, bus not at all crowded, just charged for 2 tickets, 1 for me 1 for bike, total 9.60 pds -- about cost of ferry ride to here. So I rode in style for the hour ride through the barren, wet, windy moors, passing several cyclists out there at the mercy of the headwind. And drizzle, and blowing rain.

Based on my observations today, Lewis/Harris island really only fit for sheep, peat, and midges. And no real ale in the bars in this small village, settle for chilled bitter. Tomorrow another day, another ferry.

Ullapool

Sun rose out of sea fog this morning in Durness, and the day stayed mostly sunny, just beginning sprinkling when I arrived in Ullapool 70 miles later. This NW corner of the Highlands is most magnificent, only complaint the midges biting me even while I rode.  Serious climbs and harrowing long descents, 16% grades downhill. Stark and beautiful, my cell camera not capable of doing it justice.

View from my late lunch tearoom in Elphin, looking back north, as it began to seem that the forecasted rain would catch me before Ullapool.
Tomorrow morning ferry to Stornoway on Lewis, Outer Hebrides.

Durness, Western Highlands

Rain and wind early morning, then sun. Another beautiful day in Bettyhill, saying goodbye. Down and up, views and wind from south, I'm going west, some steep climbs and fast descents, nice Saturday for riding, and there are bunches of riders doing a 60mile challenge ride on the road. Meet Simon, retired manager of tea and coffee plantations in East Africa, visiting his brother who just bought house near Bettyhill, out for a loop ride. We chat while riding, then stop for tea and cake in Tongue. He heads back, I cross loch on causeway and climb back up, on plateau pass by stacked peat blocks.

Then down and south around a deep bay, midges suddenly start attacking. Keep moving, pass Rupert, also biking toward Durness, too buggy to chat. Stop at cafe for tea and scone late lunch, Rupert comes in for a big meal, camping, touring, planning on wintering up here, writer, direct marketing his book about living in Tibet. We chat about divorces, his and mine, Buddhism, traveling by bike. Drizzle then shower so no hurry to get back to midges. Rain stops, ride last 8 miles to Durness. I go to hostel and register, then ride into village to store, checking food options, limited. Rupert already shopped, see him heading to campground. Back to hostel, clean up, eat snack then walk to Smoo cave, before going to hotel bar for dinner. Extremely noisy Saturday night crowd.

Partial rainbow on way to Durness.

Smoo Cave interior