Scotland 2022 - Part 7 - Beaten by an Old Man

After an absolutely bonkers day of scrambling in the Black Cuillins, you'd think a bit of relaxation would be in order.

Tank certainly hoped you'd be right, but Scotland doesn't truly show her beauty without putting in a bit of work

I actually awoke at 5:50am and couldn't get back to sleep, so I did some research and plotting for yet another adventure for us later in the week, but went back to sleep for a bit before waking Tank around 8am, asking him almost immediately if he was down for the additional fun I'd been found for us. He was, despite being very sore - he panicked a bit when he thought the pain he'd been having in his quads had migrated to his hip, until I reminded him he'd landed on his bum a couple of times coming down the scree in the corrie yesterday. He slathered on some Voltarol to try to get himself moving, and made coffee for us while I went over the plan for the day. It wasn't exactly restful. but I did draw a bit of a line in the sand: whatever I'd do today, I'd bloody well do in a dress.

Starting with a making us a good breakfast!

It was actually predicted to be a really beautiful day - sunny and quite hot by Scottish standards at 22c/72f - and the morning shone bright through the open campervan door as I cooked and we ate.

I honestly loved having the little kitchen in the van so we could just stock up on groceries and make our own meals!

With our bellies full and a couple of cups of coffee in us, we stowed everything away and said goodbye to Sligachan Campsite - where we'd spent the last two nights - around 10:45am, heading up through Portree and onto Trotternish, the most northerly of Skye's peninsulae. Heading through town after departing from the A87 got a bit dicey: the narrow roads, coupled with some lorries parked on the side of them making deliveries (as this was Monday after all), led to a motorhome coming the other way scraping past one of our wing mirrors! Fortunately it folded up with no harm done, and the other driver (to their credit) did stop to make sure all was ok before carrying on, but it was a bit stressful! The singletrack with passing places of the A855 that led us up the east side of the peninsula actually felt wide open by comparison, with very little traffic either in front or behind us.

What it did have, though, was an amazing view of our destination.

Skirting 'round Loch Fada

Now here's the thing: we were still miles off from the Old Man of Storr, but could already see it quite clearly. I was beginning to grasp that it might be - like every other thing in Scotland - a wee bit bigger than expected. We pulled into the car park overlooking the Sound of Raasay, eventually found a spot for Mindy in the throngs of vehicles, and hopped out to get ready.

We noticed a lot of people sporting full-on hiking boots, daypacks, and trekking poles.
I opted for my trailrunners and sticking an extra bottle of water plus a wind jackets for each of us in my tote bag

There's a proper bathroom at the base, so we hit that first before heading toward the path, stopping to read an informational plaque placed by the Druim nan Linntean - the Skye Eco Museum - before commencing our hike.

"The Old Man of Storr, or Bodach an Stoir, was once part of the Trotternish Ridge, a 9-mile inland cliff created about 11,500 years ago which stretches north of here. The ridge is made from layers of rock - harder volcanic basalt on top and softer sandstone below. The hard rock presses down on the soft rock, making it collapse and move. Thousands of years ago a major part of the Ridge detached from the cliff and is moving a few millimetres a year towards the sea. The Old Man of Storr is hard basalt rock which was once part of the cliff. This is the most dramatic and active landslip in Britain. Further north, near the Quiraing, the moving land is damaging the road. We expect the landscape will look very different in 5,000 years."

So, we began to climb up the dirt path, passing through the gate (to keep the sheep where they ought to be) and gaining a lot of elevation in a hurry.

Looking back toward Portree over Loch Leathan - note the specks of people on the path at the lower left corner

The path was well maintained dirt and gravel, but also steep and loose. 

I mean, not Coire a Bhasteir loose, but still a bit gravelly and washed out in places

There were a number of switchbacks, but the climbing was still very challenging for our weary legs.

It had only been 6 days since we'd climbed Ben Nevis, and less than 24hrs since Am Basteir!

Tank was less than enthusiastic about all the up, especially as the day began to heat up significantly. The wind was incredible, whipping 'round us, but the combination of the air temperature and the exertion was making him unpleasantly warm.

He'd had to ditch his sunglasses as they kept fogging up on him

We didn't even have a real view of the Old Man or Needle Rock yet!
(The white things past the dude in jeans are the weathered stumps of a pine forest that was logged off)

The switchbacks gave an incredible view of our dramatic surroundings, though.

The Sound of Raasay shining like chrome in the distance at left, with Loch Leathan and Loch Fada visible past the foreground grassy bits

The path flattened out at a windswept plateau just at the point that the Old Man and Needle Rock began to distinguish themselves from the ridge behind.

I can spot them - can you?

This was where Tank decided he'd had enough, and I couldn't blame him. I did, however, want to press on to get a better look, so he took his wind jacket and water bottle from my bag, and said he'd hang out and admire the view from there until I was done. I gave him a smooch, then off I went.

As the path turned upward once more

I was finally starting to see the giant basalt column clearly

It's still deceptively far off...and up.

At this point the path turns into the same rock steps we'd seen on the Ben Nevis mountain track, which meant it was probably a really good thing Tank had declined to continue.

He hadn't much enjoyed them.
Neither had I - on the way back down - so I knew I was probably going to regret trekking onward

Still, the pull of the Old Man - rumoured to be the thumb of a giant buried there still sticking out of the ground - was strong enough that I continued.

There was another path - pictured here - but I figured I'd take my chances with the steps rather than that jumble of broken rock!

I reached a split in the path at the top of the steps as Needle Rock rose before me.

It's the big pointy flake-like rock structure dead centre - still a few hundred metres away

Looking back, I couldn't see Tank on the plateau anymore, but I had an amazing view over the Sound.

With the isles of Rona and Raasay in the distance

Turning back to the task at hand, I continued to climb, until I ran out of anything that could properly be considered a path

I could have crawled up it, but I didn't want to have to butt slide back down in my dress

I'd already climbed 275m/902ft according to my watch, in about 2km/1.25mi. I decided that was enough - there were few people I saw who ventured further, and I was tired and had nothing to prove to anyone.

A kind hiker offered to take a photo for me, which I gladly accepted

So, then it was a matter of getting myself back down again...preferably safely.

Just as the sun started to break through the overcast!

I made my way carefully down to the steps again, then began the process of descending them with complaining legs and a steady stream of foot traffic in the other direction.

I'd also occasionally look back at the rocky grandeur above me

These photos really convey nothing of the sheer scale of these enormous features

As I passed below it with an unobstructed view, I took one last shot of the Old Man himself before descending past the point I'd be able to see him.

Maybe someday I'll come back and introduce myself properly

I wasn't much quicker on the way down than the way up, and I was now sweating freely in the hot sun.

It was proper summer weather, which we hadn't expected at all!
(The average July temperature is 16c/61f)

I eventually made it down to the windy plateau where Tank awaited, and we each had a snack and some water before continuing down together.

 

The Old Man already blending back in to the Trotternish Ridge

The loose washed-out sections of path felt very sketchy under my fatigued legs, and I was grateful when we made it back down to the car park safely. Total distance for me was less than 4km/2.5mi.

The whole round trip took me an hour and a half

One more stop at the excellent washrooms, then it was back in the van with her nose pointed south. We stopped in Portree to visit an excellent outfitter named Inside Out where we were able to pick up a couple of souvenirs of Skye (a tubular gaiter, a postcard of the Cuillin Ridge, and a pin with the Skye Mountain Rescue logo - the proceeds from the pin support the magnificent volunteer efforts of this truly incredible team!), and pick up a few grocery items from the Co-op and a lovely little shop amusingly named Jacksons Wholefoods. We also hit up Isle of Skye Soap Company, and I'm not sure I've ever been in a better smelling place! We bought a bar of their myrtle & heather soap for my mum, then wandered back to the van. It was kind of hilarious: it had reached 24c with blazing sun, and the locals had no idea how to proceed - everyone we saw looked ready to melt into a puddle, and there wasn't an air conditioned building to be found! 

I'm actually quite ashamed that I took no photos in Portree, as it's a beautiful town with some lovely classic architecture to it. I guess it means I'll just have to go back! Speaking of which, we were now retracing our steps down the A87 toward Sligachan, with the imposing Cuillin Ridge rising before us.

It was impossible for us to fathom that we'd been up on the ridge the day before.
It just didn't make any sense no matter which way we turned the thought 'round to try to make it fit in our brains.

Pressing onward, we passed Sligachan Campsite under the enormous mound of Glamaig of the Red Cuillins.

That's her on the right - there's actually a foot race up it!

A mirthful moment just outside Sliga - a flock of sheep had wandered into the road, rather blocking our way. I rolled down my window and gave a great BAAAAAAAA at them, imitating the sheep that were a constant soundtrack to our days in Glen Nevis. To both our surprise, they immediately turned and ran off the road!

Apparently I learned to speak sheep, though I suspect my accent is atrocious

We made good time down the A87, with no stops along the way this time.

I just managed to snap a shot of Eas a' Bhradain (Blackhills Waterfall) as we rolled past

Soon we were crossing the great bridge to Kyle of Lochalsh, leaving Skye behind us.

Not without some heartache - it had been so spectacular!

By 4pm we were hankering for some lunch, and decided to have it with a bit of class...so we stopped by to visit a friend.

The dedicated car park off A87 is a paid lot, but certainly gives a lovely view of stunning Eilean Donan Castle!

We actually tried going for the tour of the castle which had been our overnight companion a few days earlier, but they wanted £10 per person on top of the parking fee, plus another £5 for me to check my bag. NOPE. We ate sandwiches in the car park, then continued east, diverting from the A87 to the A887 toward Inverness.

Still loving the road signs in both English and Gaelic

If you can believe it, when I was booking everything for this trip I had actually completely forgotten about Loch Ness! However, we wouldn't miss out on this iconic lake as our route - after winding through beautiful forests on the - led us back to the A82 at Invermoriston, which runs along the eastern shore of this beautiful body of water for most of its impressive length.

Upon seeing it, it's not difficult to believe that a giant creature could hide for millenia in its vast waters!

It's seriously 36km/22.5mi long, and 226m/740ft deep

As we rolled along we saw some signage for Urquhart Castle, so we decided to stop and have a look. After trekking down to the actual entrance (which is a ticket booth with a staircase to a tunnel out to the castle itself), we discovered that a) they were closed, with last entry at 5:15pm, and b) they wanted even more for entry than Eilean Donan Castle did!

Which made no sense to us, particularly since at least half of it seemed to be missing.
Heck castles!

We continued east, now just trying to find ourselves a place to stop for the night. We wanted to be close to Inverness for some exciting plans we had for the following day, and I'd found something that looked promising on google maps: Lochend Beach, at the north end of mighty Loch Ness.

Whose waters seemed very inviting at the end of a long, hot day

After a bit of a mix up - you mean THAT is a road, and not someone's tiny, ill-kempt driveway? - we found the way down to the beautiful beach. 

Unfortunately, there were some issues.

If there's one thing worse to a North American driver's mind in Scotland than the roads, it's the parking - there isn't any. One would think such an expansive beach would have a car park, but instead we found only the end of a gated-off laneway with space for maybe 4 small cars, and 5 cars already crammed in! 

There was also the matter of the midgies. I had hopped out of the van to scout and see if there was any other way we might be able to park up for the night, and was immediately swarmed by the tiny biting hordes. With no obvious solution but to press onward, I scurried back to the van and after a multiple-point turn to get us out of there, we headed east once more.

A real pity as it was such a beautiful spot, but note the dark smudge of a photobombing midgie at top left of the above!

I looked through our options: there was a caravan park on the west end of Inverness, but I read some less than stellar reviews, and we had really wanted to do some more wild camping. In the end, we decided to choose utility and frugality over scenery (and possibly driving around for ages with a big day planned for Tuesday), and spent a whopping £4 to park up in the car park beside the Torvean Roundabout.

We were far from the only campervan to choose this option!

While it wasn't exactly Glen Coe, we were directly across from pretty Torvean Park

It was a nice place to go for a bit of a walk after dinner

If our surroundings were a bit dull compared with the views we'd enjoyed so far on our holiday, that was accompanied by a much deeper feeling of loss at having left the Western Highlands behind us. Our whole trip so far - after departing Stirling and Robert the Bruce proudly astride his steed - had taken us through mind-bogglingly huge vistas of giant mountains all around us. While Inverness is known as the Capital of the Highlands, the muted, rolling hills that surround the city and that seemed very typical of the Central Highlands utterly failed to capture our hearts after the rugged majesty of the Great Glen and Skye. 

We'd just have to hope the next day's adventure would make up for the sorrow we felt at leaving what we thought of as the true Highlands..

..which would definitely take something special!