Skye's the Limit

Leaving the shores of Loch Duich and the verdant moors of the Great Glen, we made our way to the largest of the inner Hebridean islands, Skye. We were greeted by the Red Cuillin shortly after crossing the bridge connecting Skye to the mainland.


Geographically, Skye is Scotland's Mini-Me. The same fault that bisects the mainland cuts through the hills of Skye, creating Lowland/Highland landscapes that are virtually identical to those on the mainland. We began our trip in the craggy shore of the Sligachan river, which is flanked by both the Red and Black Cuillin.


A look upstream a small burn (rivulet) that empties into the Sligachan. The fell in the background is one of the Red Cuillin. "Red Cuillin" is actually a misnomer; the true Cuillin are the Black Cuillin, the taller, more ancient mountains of igneous rock that loom over Glen Sligachan. The Red Hills--as the Red Cuillin are known on Skye--are far younger and composed mostly of granite, the source of their reddish hue.


One of the eleven Munros of the Black Cuillin, Sgurr nan Gillean, the "peak of young men", stands as sentinel over the Sligachan.

Skye is home to dozens of legends, most of which recount bloody clan battles, forbidden loves, and faerie kingdoms. You know, the biggies. During our tour of Skye, we were told of the sanctification of the Sligachan river by the faerie queen.

According to legend, two feuding clans on the Isle of Skye, the McLeods and the Mackenzies, hoped both to find peace and to unite their clans through a marriage of the chiefs’ children. On the evening before their wedding, the son of the McLeod chieftain—an accomplished soldier and quite the looker—and the daughter of the Mackenzie chieftain—a slamming hottie in her own right—were to meet at the Sligachan river. However, on the way to her destination, the Mackenzie maiden and her escorts were attacked by marauders. In the scuffle, the beautiful Mackenzie daughter was mutilated, her eye gouged out by an assailant’s knife.

When the maiden arrived at the banks of the Sligachan to meet her betrothed, he was horrified by her ghastly appearance, and turned back to tell his clan of the Mackenzies’ deception. The maiden, bemoaning both her disfigured countenance and the collapse of the McLeod-Mackenzie peace accord, sought help from the faeries, who, eager to end the bloodshed between the warring clans, placed a blessing on the waters of the Sligachan. The maiden was instructed to place her face in the river for seven seconds, after which her beauty would be restored. This being a legend, the spell worked, the McLeod son and the Mackenzie daughter were wed, and everyone on Skye—including the faeries—lived happily ever after. How quaint.

There is an addendum to this legend, however: The spell enacted on the river was originally intended to help only the Mackenzie maiden, but after the success of the spell, the faeries were so tickled that they plumb forgot to remove the spell from the river. To this day, visitors to the Sligachan who place their faces in its crisp, swift waters will be rewarded with eternal beauty.

Kim, myself, JaeHee, and Meredith after placing our faces in the Sligachan. The proof is in the pudding.

Driving into Portree, the island's capital, which has a stunning harbour. October is a wonderful month to visit Scotland. Not only are the summer crowds gone, but the autumn colors are jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

Fun story: While were in Portree, we saw Donnie Munro, the former lead singer of Runrig, the band whose awesomely bad video I featured in this entry. His hair looks exactly the same.


After stopping in Portree for a wee pit-stop and some tea, we made our way northward to Storr. Here, we hiked up a fell, through an old growth Scotch pine forest to get a view of both the Scottish mainland, which can be seen in the background of the picture above, and the Old Man of Storr, which is featured below.


Here, the Old Man of Storr sits atop a cliff. The pinnacle is a vestige of Scotland's volcanic past, but according to legend, the rock is the remains of an old man turned into stone by the faeries of Skye.


Here before you is Kilt Rock, a 200ft cliff whose stratified rock mimics the pleats of a kilt. This rock formation is the Scottish answer to Northern Ireland's Giant's Causeway.


The pebbly shore under Kilt Rock and its stunning waterfall.


This is, without a doubt, one of my favorite pictures from Scotland. Here we see the waterfall that flanks Kilt Rock, crashing to the beach below. The roar of the cascade is deafening, and the spray from the fall whips back up to the lookout on the strong coastal air currents that slam the shores of Skye. It was quite the humbling experience.


Finally, a shot of the sunset as we crossed over the Skye bridge back to the mainland.

Note: To those of you who check in with any regularity, I apologize for not keeping this blog updated as frequently as I should. I still have hundreds of pictures to share, and I’m fast approaching the one-year anniversary of my arrival in Scotland. Make sure to keep checking back in, as I promise to keep updating until I’ve exhausted every picture folder on my computer.

Also, a grand bit of good news: My sampling from Scotland proved so fruitful that I will likely be heading back to my beloved Alba for a month this coming May. I couldn’t be more ecstatic.