The first day our guides drove us to the Pinnacles, a jagged rock formation crowning a series of mountains a few miles inland. Inland was slightly warmer than the coast, but in the middle of summer the temperature averages about fifty degrees Fahrenheit which I personally enjoyed, but my teenage American travel mates endlessly griped over. And ironically, while the air is bitterly cold, the sun extremely harsh; the northern Arctic circle weather was a healthy mix of between freezing cold and sunburn. Scotland was the last place I expected to come home from with a tan even with SPF 30 sunscreen. Skye is exceptionally rugged and harsh-- in the 1930's the remaining inhabitants requested that they be evacuated by the government because life was simply too harsh-- it has only been recently that tourist destinations have sprouted up in the area, and even then signs of civilization are few and far between, not to mention seasonal. Indeed there are far more sheep than humans, a few of whom we became rather well acquainted with due to their bleating by the windows at night. Yet the lack of people continues to preserve the pristine beauty unique to the Highlands.
Our guides explained that we would be taking a route straight up the mountain (when you climb straight up, you gain a much better understanding that the term "Highlands" refers to the slope of the mountains, not just because the region lies geographically north), then coming down to a lake and looping back to our starting place. They quite literally walked up the mountain as if it were no different than a stroll though a park, we figured that Highlanders must be part mountain goat to survive the unforgiving terrain let alone scale it effortlessly. As the out-of-shape Americans trailed behind, we encountered a delightfully Scottish surprise: frigid, saturated mud. The entire mountain was soaked, so in addition to climbing almost straight up, each step involved prying one's cold and wet feet out of the sludge-- if you've ever tried to walk up a wet sand dune, multiply the effort by ten and you'll be in the ballpark of what it takes to hike around Scotland. Should you go this area, waterproof hiking boots are an absolute must. I was the only one in the group with the foresight to bring a pair, leaving the rest of the group whining about what they thought were the early signsof trench foot by the end of the day. The first mountain took us about an hour of trudge up. We found a small ledge to sit for lunch with a panoramic view of what appeared to be all of Western Scotland. That very spot is hands down one of if not the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. It's just one of those incredibly peaceful places where all you can do is stare at the landscape and forget the near heart attack on the journey up; the particular range looked exactly like Rohan from The Two Towers minus the city of Edoras. But the plateau was far from the top: two hours and myriad leg cramps later we reached the summit, and somehow the grass is even greener when one is half dead from exhaustion. Of course our guides didn’t even break a sweat while we struggled to keep up. The view from the top is truly surreal; the Pinnacles remind you of you’re insignificance as a human being. From the top you can see all of Skye which is as desolate and lonely as it is beautiful. Looking out from the top of a mountain is the only way to fully experience the Isle!
We munched awhile on the snacks the owners packed us while a couple of the kids decided that it would be a really bright idea to play tag on the edge of the cliff. Personally I found this to be a simple matter of Darwinism, but with insurance liabilities our guides just didn’t seem to share my opinion. After a few choice photo-ops and ogling the view, we packed our stuff and headed down. Galumphing up the mountain was far less strenuous than the journey down, not only because of sliding down wrist deep in mud, but when descending one gets a visual sense of how far down you’ll plummet should you make one wrong step! So steep was the muddy slope coming down that I and my group mates literally had to crab-walk; the only casualty was one girl who twisted her ankle—only one sprained ankle was apparently considered fortunate for the reputation that particular climb held. By the time we reached the bottom we were half soaked with mud which gave me an entirely new appreciation of Pictish warriors who not only lived in this region but marched into battle naked, often in winter. And only a land so unforgiving as the Highlands could have hosted battles of the Scottish hero, William Wallace. At the bottom of the trail was the “lake” (a black swimming pool sized bog that looked like swamp-monsters might creep out of at any time), complete with authentic Scottish leeches stuck to the sides of the kayaks. Inviting as the leeches were, we decided to skip the dip in the lake and instead shower away the remaining layers of mud. The excursion ended when our guides ferried us back to the lodge, looking as though could take the route three more times that day no problem. |
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