We were up by 5:30 and on the road by 7:00. The skies were clear and cold as we drove along the north-western bank of Loch Ness. We pulled over and took a few pictures of the lake. No sight of Nessie. The 120-mile drive took us 3 ½ hours along very narrow roads that s-curved almost the entire distance. I have a lot of respect for Scottish drivers since they zip along these roads over the 60-mph speed limit. I was glad to have had a few days of practice before attempting the roads to the north. We passed by several castles along the way, barely having time to stop for a look at Eilean Donan, one of the most photographed and famous (partly due to The Highlander, mostly because of its surroundings). In one town we spied an entertaining sign that said simply “slow children”.
Sunrise over Loch Ness, me and our rental Vauxhall Corsa
Eilean Donan Castle
The landscape was awesome to say the least, especially in the slow morning light. We drove through the pretty village of Kyle of Lockalsh and crossed the great bridge to Skye. About an hour later we arrived to our destination: The Old Man of Storr. The Old Man is a pinnacle of rock formed by glacial erosion and wind. It leans precariously in the shadow of The Storr, a 712-meter mountain that rises up from the land like a great wave of rocky cliffs. There were clouds and mist quickly passing over the back of the mountain. We hoped for better conditions by the time we were up there. I had printed a guide for the 5-mile loop trail that ascends towards the Old Man, circles the top of the cliffs to the summit, and continues back down on the other side. It was gusty when we got out of the car, but it was nothing unmanageable. The tree line ended fairly quickly and the views were immediately grand. One could see across the bay to the narrow Isle of Raasay and further up the northern peninsula of the mainland. We climbed to base of the pinnacles and followed the guide north along the bottom of the cliffs, ignoring the signs that said “you are advised not to go beyond this point”.
The Old Man is the tallest pinnacle
(click for high resolution version for download)
There was a barbed-wire fence marking the border of sheep grazing fields, which was awkwardly climbed using boulders stacked up by previous hikers. After this barrier the trail slowly skirted up the cliffs and switched back to the summit ridge. It was here where we were less sheltered and began to glean how severe the weather was. When we reached the top of the ridge to push toward the summit, we faced an onslaught of constant 40-50 mph winds that robbed you of your breath and blew the snot out of your face. It was no joke. With our nylon rain gear the wind puffed us up like Michelin Men and I feared my hood would be ripped open as it vibrated violently in my ear. Of course the wind was pushing us toward the edge of the cliffs, but a note to our mums: we were well away from the edge at all times! As we reached the top I finally became tired enough that the wind knocked me down, so I ended up crawling a short distance until I was able to stand up and latch onto the summit marker and yell with triumph into the gale.
Our heads were almost scraping the clouds that were passing over us and we had just enough time to take in the view before darker and thicker mists surrounded us. Hans wandered around the take pictures while I took a break. After I ate a couple of celery stalks we checked the guide that described our descent on the other side as “steep but not difficult”. Neither of us liked the sound of that in sustained violent wind. Since we were only a little more than half-way around the loop we decided to descend the mountain back the way we came up. We were glad of our decision as the mists grew thicker and we began to be pelted with cold bullets of rain. We found our way down easily enough but during the last bit of trail both of us began to experience cramps in our knees.
Trying to survive the summit
Coming back down
Thankfully, we got back into the car and out of the wind and ate the sandwiches we’d brought along. It was already 2 O’clock so we went back to the pretty town of Portree a few miles away and walked around for a few hours. Along the way we saw some fuzzy highland cows and pulled over to take a few pictures. The fishing town had brightly painted houses along the harbor and there as a park overlooking the sea with a lookout tower. The rain began to pour and we were soaked fairly quickly, but despite having just finished a 4-hour hike I had a lot of energy and we walked through the park up the hill. We were accosted by an excited tan-colored lab mix (named Cocoa) and she eagerly tried to lick my face. We ascended the tower and took a few photos before returning to the streets where we found one of the few shops that were open (it was Sunday, after all). We purchased a couple of reasonably-priced watercolor prints by local artists, one of the Storr and the other of the harbor. Our art collection is steadily growing.
A highland cow
The harbor in Portree
The drive back to Inverness took thirty minutes less than it did this morning and we were glad that we had stopped so many times in the morning because the entire drive was through rain and wind. After freshening up at the hostel we walked to a place for dinner where I had an ale that was...passable but disappointing. As soon as we returned to the room I was exhausted and Hans downloaded the pictures from today onto the computer before going to bed himself.
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