Trips - Part 2: The Isle of Skye
The drive from the Yorkshire Dales north to just this side of the Isle of Sky was as we expected - long. But it was worth it. I’d opted for an alternative route that was 30 minutes longer, but took us through a different part of the Highlands than we’d be driving on the way back, skirting Cairngorms National Park (a must visit if we return). Fortunately we didn’t have any significant rainfall, so we could enjoy the sights, even through we didn’t make any stops - I knew we’d be pushing it to beat sunset and I’d rather not be driving the bimobil in unknown areas in the dark. Things clouded up quite a bit as we were approaching our farm campsite for the night, just west of Eilean Donan Castle (of Highlander and multiple other movies fame), and although we circled the parking lot to consider stopping there, the light was rather poor for photography so we decided to head off to camp. The next morning didn’t offer any better prospects, so instead of photographing a castle, we decided to head onto Skye.
We had three days on Skye and I had planned three different driving routes around the parts of the island to get a good feel for its offerings. We quickly headed inland to cross Skye, heading west towards Elgol. It wasn’t long before we made the first stop - as much to admire the landscape as to photograph it. We hadn’t stopped the previous day when presented with such conditions so we figured that it was time to stop and enjoy the scenery.
One thing I can say about Scotland, they are much better than England about having passing-pull-outs and just pull-outs to park and gawk at the landscape. The temperature had dropped quite a bit and the wind was kicking up, so Ann being the smart person she is, took advantage of her elevated position and photographed from the bimobil. Is that cheating?
A few miles down the road we approached one of the locations identified in our scouting book as a location for photographs. We pulled over and pulled the gear out and hiked along a loch that was full of nice grasses. After making a few landscape shots from the side of the roadway (wanting to get some elevation over the water) despite the overcast conditions, I walked down to the water’s edge to make some close-up images of weeds blowing in the wind (yes, the winds were steady with some extreme gusts).
Suddenly, the sun broke through the clouds and presented me with a vastly different landscape. I mentally changed gears and went into landscape mode from the position I was at, . . .
. . . and then ran back to my original photo location to re-photograph the image I’d previously made (under much poorer light conditions). Truth be told, Ann had found the ideal spot from the get-go and had been smart enough not to move from that hillock.
The sun didn’t last very long and, as you can tell from the clouds, the front blowing in was ominous. A few moments later, as we were walking back to the bimobil, the first drops started falling. We kept driving towards Elgol but things got bad quickly. The winds started howling and by the time we were driving along Loch Lapin, there were whitecaps everywhere and squalls were periodically blowing by. By the time we got to the top of the hill leading down to Elgol beach, the wind was steady and furious as was the rain. There was no way we were going out and down to a beach to photograph in those conditions near an angry ocean (I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid), so we turned around and headed back towards the campsite. Given it was still rather early (nearing noon) as we approached Broadford where our campground was located, we decided to find a nice place for lunch. And got drenched walking from the car park for RVs the one block to the restaurant. After lunch, the weather was no better, so we got drenched again. Although the rains eased up as darkness fell, the winds didn’t, so we were rocked to sleep that night by wind gusts.
We got up early the next morning hopeful. We couldn’t hear howling wind, though there was the periodic pitter patter of rain. As we ate breakfast, the rain stopped! So we headed out for the day to photograph on the second loop I’d planned. Our first stop wasn’t far down the road. As we pulled over to the side of the road we discussed whether we should go all-out with rain gear. We decided we should and suited up - it was a smart move on our part.
It was about a mile hike (fairly flat fortunately) to the waterfalls we were hoping to photograph and, while the wind had picked up a bit, it seemed like the clouds were breaking because we’d occasionally get shafts of light cutting across different parts of the landscape (Ann had better luck in pointing her camera in the right direction for those, which appeared and disappeared within seconds). Then a giant mist moved in, and then drizzle with bouts of rain. We made it to the waterfall location in the rain and set up our compositions, covered our cameras and waited. And waited. And waited. We waited for about an hour before the rains stopped, and then another 10 minutes or so for the sun to try and break through - doing no more than offering teasing glowing patches on the landscape, of which I tried to take full advantage.
I then moved over to another whitewater patch about a hundred yards upstream I’d scouted out while waiting for the rain to stop and waited there a bit as well. Nothing more than glowing landscape under thin, but not clear, skies.
Ann was ready to return by that point and, given that I couldn’t see any clear patches anywhere in the skies, I opted to do the same. By the time we got back to the bimobil, the rains had returned. We continued on our route for the day, heading over to some waterfalls not far from the Talisker Distillery. By the time we got there and drove up to the falls, it had rained profusely, the winds were howling at times and, at the elevated level of the falls, the area was socked in with clouds. When we approached the large parking area for the falls, it was packed, with folks heading out in the rain and fog and not much to be seen in the distance but a line of people hiking into grey. We opted out of doing an uphill hike in the rain (memories from the Yorkshire Dales still fresh in our minds) and decided to continue our big loop drive. There were plenty of images to be had. Or so we thought.
While we were driving, the winds kicked up again and, for the most part, so had the rain. When the rain stopped, I’d occasionally stop and take a quick picture of the surrounding landscape, but there’s only so much bracken fern landscape one wants to photograph.
The winds on the west side of the island definitely increased in intensity and I eventually decided that driving the narrow roads in the buffeting wind was tiring and it was time to divert from the big loop and turn it into a shorter loop. I guess standing in the wind, drizzle and rain at our first stop that morning had taken its toll. At the workshop we spoke with one of our colleagues who asked us if we went out to Neist Point Lighthouse (our destination for the day and another 2 hours driving) and when I told him no and why, he said, “Smart move. It’s beautiful but it’s windy under normal conditions - when the wind picks up, it’s impossible to photograph there.”
As we reached the eastern part of the island, we found it socked in. We stopped at one of the pull-outs to make some quick images, which turned out to be a scouting trip for the next day.
The 10-day forecast had consistently said the next day was supposed to have partly cloudy skies, which is why I saved the best locations for last. Ah, the best-laid plans of mice and men.
The next morning gave us fog. Not the nice, misty fog that can make photographs appealing. No, it was the dense fog that obscured everything in the distance, particularly at higher elevations. Sure, it made for some interesting photographs as we drove up north towards the Old Man of Storr.
But, again, there really is only so much you can do with fog and clouds obscuring mountain tops.
So we kept heading north, stopping to take quick photos on the way in the hopes that the skies would break as expected. At times, the sky hinted it would
It wasn’t to be. As we approached Bride’s Veil Falls and the Old Man of Storr, the fog intensified (or is it the clouds got lower and lower?) so that by the time we drove by Storr, we saw the loads of cars parked there, and folks heading up into the clouds, but no Old Man. I assumed it was still there, but I cannot confirm it had’t simply disappeared. And then our vehicle GPS told us that we couldn’t drive too much farther because there was a 7.0 t weight limit on a bridge up ahead. We’re well under that (with a good 800 kg to spare), but I wasn’t going to take a chance. We would have to go to the Quiraing by looping the other way around the peninsula. Hopefully, that would give the clouds some time to break up.
It took about an hour, but as we headed up the west side of the peninsula, the clouds started to break. And as we approached Uig, the light became magical as I mentioned in the Photographs post. There really are no words to describe the view that morning, the light and the colors were lovely and ever changing.
Regardless of which direction you were looking, it was beautiful. We had hopes that the views from the Quiraing and the hikes I had planned on that plateau would be just as stunning.
Those hopes were shattered as we climbed in elevation. Once there it didn’t matter whether you looked south . . .
. . . or north, there was nothing to be seen. We hung around there for a bit to see if there were any indications that the clouds and fog would break. There were none, so we headed back the way we came, frustrated yet again by Skye’s weather.
As we approached Portree, we looked north and saw that fog still blanketed the mountainside, so getting even a glimpse of the Old Man of Storr was out of the question. We kept heading south towards our campsite. As we drove farther south, the fog dissipated, but the higher-elevation clouds didn’t. Which was fine, because it offered us a much clearer view of the mountain we’d photographed on the way back to camp on the previous day. This time I pulled out the big guns to see what I could make of it.
All I can say is that the Skye landscape, at least what portions of it I could see during the trip, was stunning. Too bad the weather didn’t want me to see, or photograph, much of the mountain tops.
We had an excellent dinner that final night in Skye and headed out the next morning. It was heavily overcast and foggy, again, so we weren’t tempted to try any photo excursions. It was also overcast when we drove by Eilean Donan Castle, so it still looked blah.
But as we were driving our way out of Loch Duich, the skies started breaking just a bit, so we pulled over to take a few photographs.
That seemed to be the theme of the Skye portion of the trip - take advantage of the opportunities as they arise, particularly while driving along the road.
We even got a few minutes of sun breaking through across the loch.
A few miles later, as we were climbing up into the highlands, I made another quick pull-over photograph to take advantage of one final break in the clouds
Only a few minutes later the clouds socked us in again. Then a while later we started hearing funny noises from the vehicle, and eventually some disturbing vibrations. We made it to Glencoe and, as you should know from the gripe post, I spent some quality time with Iveco on the phone to get a repair person to check things out. The next morning a repair man showed up and fixed our problem. We were ready for part 3 of our adventure!