Sun, Sea & Skye - Part One

 

I'd booked a few extra days off work around the already extended bank holiday weekend at the beginning of June for Queen Elizabeth II's Platinum Jubilee.

I had planned one of the biggest road trips I had ever done, driving the furthest west & furthest north I had ever been in the United Kingdom. Up through the Scottish Highlands to the Isle Of Skye

The Journey North

It was a 400 mile journey from home to Skye, but I had planned a number of stops along the way to break up the drive & visit some sights that have been on my 'bucket list' for a while.

Driving north on the M6, my beloved Lake District came & went, and I was soon passing the Saltaire on the side of the motorway signalling I was back in Scotland. After a couple of hours of driving I stopped to take a rest stop at the Cairn Lodge services - which is owned by the same company that runs Tebay services. A quick pit stop to pick up some (admittedly Scottish) snacks, and I was on my way once again.

When In Scotland...

Continuing along the A74(M) as it wound its way through the hills of the Southern Uplands, it wasn't long before I started to come back into civilisation as I approached the city of Glasgow. Following signs for the A82, I crossed the Erskine Bridge over the River Clyde, and followed the road alongside Loch Lomond. What starts as a long, flat & wide road, as it heads further north, narrows, twists and turns as it follows below crags lining the shoreline of the loch. Leaving Loch Lomond behind, the road straightens again as it heads through the Trossachs. The road continues through the picturesque villages of Crianlarich, Tyndrum, and Bridge of Orchy, which were all a hive of activity as visitors stopped to stock up ready for the long bank holiday weekend.

Just north of Bridge of Orchy, theres a sign on the side of the road indicating you have now entered the Scottish Highlands. The road climbs up out of the glen, past Loch Tulla, before climbing again, and topping out onto the vast expanse of Rannoch Moor. The road turns west, and right in front of you, appears the iconic pyramid shape of Buachaille Etive Mor, jutting out of the flat moorland at the head of Glencoe. Time for another pit-stop.

Looking across to Buachaille Etive Mor from Kingshouse Hotel car park

I pulled into Kingshouse Hotel and nipped into the walkers bar for some lunch. A simple homemade pie, and can of coke was all I needed, and I sat on one of the picnic tables outside, enjoying the view. Just as I finished my pie, I began to spit with rain, so that was my signal to jump back in the car to continue on.

The clouds darkened & rain began to fall as I stayed on the A82 heading west, the main road winding its way through the jaw-dropping valley of Glencoe.

As the road began to drop down through the valley, the rain stopped as the road turned north-west, dropping back down to sea level as it passes through the small towns of Glencoe and Ballachulish. An hour or so later, after following the loch-side main road I reached Fort William. I found a supermarket there where I could get some supplies for my time on Skye, and also, crucially, a petrol station.

Leaving Fort William & the shadow of Ben Nevis behind, I continued along the A82 as far as Invergarry, where I took the A87 west through the impressive Glen Sheil, past lochs, and through the narrow glen, once the site of a vicious battle. Leaving Glen Sheil the road ran round the edge of Locu Duich, and the salty sea air filled the car. Just a few miles along the loch lies the small village of Dornie, but more excitingly is Eilean Donan Castle. Probably one of the most recognisable & photographed castles in Scotland. (And which has also featured in a number of films, including Highlander, James Bond: The World Is Not Enough).

Eilean Donan Castle, Dornie

After spending some time at the castle, I set off again to my next stop - just a few more miles to the town of Kyle of Lochalsh. Turning off and following a small road upto a viewpoint looking across the water to Skye.

The bridge 'O'er the sea to Skye'

Returning back to the main road, I left behind the mainland, as I drove over the bridge onto the Isle of Skye.

Camasunary Bay

I parked up beside a couple of other cars in the small lay-by opposite the start of the footpath. Changed into my walking boots, hauled on the rucksack, and set off for my first wild-camp on Skye. The path way a straight-forward one (which I was thankful for after driving all day), following an old track known as the Am Mam Pass. After a mile or so walking on the hillside, th ground in front begins to drop, to reveal the first view over the bay - the glistening blue waters & golden sandy beach were in contrast to the dark, jagged peaks of the Black Cullen mountains.

The rocky track weaved its way steeply down the hillside. At the far end of the beach, I could see the bothy - a small mountain hut - and a couple of tents were already pitched around the bay.

But my first camp on Skye wasn't going to be a low-level camp. I wanted to gain some height before I pitched. The moderate peak of Sgurr Na Stri seemed simple, but with sunset only a couple of hours a way, it would be to much for tonight. So, I decided to head onto its 'shoulder' - the flat prominence in the centre of the photograph above.

I enjoyed the leisurely beach-side walk to end bothy, where a path turned right, following a wide but shallow river. I spotted a spot to cross, and, using a hiking pole for balance, slowly made my way across the river. Making it to the other side with dry feet, a headed back along the riverside to where it met the sea, and began my climb onto the shoulder. It was a steep path-less route, but heading up diagonally it was simple enough to get to the top. I found a flat spot to pitch my tent, with some absolutely stunning views over Camasunary Bay, looking across to the Black Cullen Mountains, and also to the islands dotted out to sea.

What a view!

I fired up my stove and cooked up a bacon & cheese beef burger for dinner, washed down with a beer from Glen Affric brewery. I then sat back as a stunning sunset developed, and made it look as though the mountain was an erupting volcano!

After the sun had set, it was time for a well deserved rest. But I did have a touch of excitement for what I could expect from tomorrow...

Sgurr Na Stri

I awoke to a stunning morning. Clear blue skies & bright sunshine. Not exactly your usual Scottish weather! After breakfast, I packed up as today I was looking to head to the top of Sgurr Na Stri, the hill I had spent the night on. I could see the top from my camp, but that was a few hundred feet up a cliff. It would take a good few hours, and a much longer in-direct route to get there.

Back-tracking down the shoulder of the hill, I spotted what I thought was the start of a path, and my left leg ended up thigh deep pool of water hidden underneath some vegetation. A great start to the day - one soggy leg! Thankfully, by the time I had returned to the river crossing, the bright sunshine had dried out my leg. I didn't have to cross the river again just yet, but followed the river bank further into the glen. After a short distance, I picked up a path which began to climb the slopes of the valley, ultimately heading to a depression on the skyline.

I could hear a Cuckoo from somewhere in the crags above me - its call echoing off the rock - making this quite a magical place. The path climbed, and eventually seemed to disappear as the ground got steeper - but the low point of the hill I was aiming for was getting closer, so onwards I went.

I finally got to the depression in the hill, and looked along the ridge to the summit of Sgurr Na Stri, which was just over half a mile away. Picking up the path which from Sligachan make things a whole lot easier as I crossed the rocky terrain and took the final steps to reach the top. The views were even more spectacular than I had expected - looking down to Loch Coruisk, backed once again by the Black Cullen skyline.

Fun Fact: From the top, I could also see Britain's shortest river - the Scavaig River - which is just 400 meters long.

I headed back along the ridge, and found an easier path back down the hill back to the river. As it was such a warm day, I decided to cross the river bare-foot and found a spot in the river with an island in the middle so I could tackle it in two steps. Again using a hiking pole for balance, I took it slowly as my toes slipped inbetween the small pebbles on the river bed. But finally on the other side I dried my feet, but my socks & boots back on, and folowed the path back to Camasunary Bay.

The last section, hiking back up the steep & rocky track of the Am Mam Pass was quite a slog it the early afternoon heat. But, after taking quite a few stops to take a sip of water & catch my breath, I eventually made it back to the car.

Into The Island

Car windows were down as I drove around the head of Loch Slapin, which was dotted with quite a few campervans, with people sat outside enjoying the glorious early summer weather. I rejoined the A87 at Broadford, and turned left, taking me deeper into the island. My next location to visit was at one of the major cross roads on the island, and also a popular starting point for many walks. Luckily there wasn't much walking involved this time, as there was a car park right next to what I wanted to photograph: Sligachan Bridge.

There are actually two bridges as Sligachan - the newer bridge carrying the A87, and the old pack horse bridge (above) right next to it. Backed by the Cullen mountains, just past the bridge, the river tumbles over some picturesque cascades.

Taking the left road out of Sligachan, it would be an hours drive north west towards my next camp spot. From climbing up into the hills, to hugging the coastline, the road passed through a few small fishing villages, overs moors and through woodland. It was a pretty decent tarmacked road, up until Dunvegan Castle. Outside the castle was a large car park holding a number of cars and coaches. But as soon as the road went passed the car park and into some woodland, it narrowed to a single track. It was a fun little road to drive along, and there were plenty of passing places to give way to the odd car coming the opposite way. I passed a few camper vans that had parked up at the side of the road, looking across Loch Dunvegan to the hills of Ben Ettow. Eventually, the road straightened & flattened make its way inbetween farmers fields, and it eventually ended at a unpaved car park - which was packed!

Luckily as it was late afternoon, most people were returning to the car park to make their way home, so I managed to get in a space just after someone had left. There were still a couple of people arriving though. I re-stocked my camping rucksack, and headed out of the car park. Following the path above Loch Dunvegan, the smell of the sea air in my nostrils, I strolled along the gentle path as it rose over a small hill, then from the other side, my destination was revealed: Coral Beach.

Being used to solo camping, high up in the hills & far away from anyone, I was slightly anxious about camping so low down, and with people still lingering, so I had a little explore to find a more secluded spot. A brisk wind was blowing in from the north east, so a sheltered spot was also on the cards. I found a pitch at the far end of the beach, and not many people seemed to venture this far down, but just in case I decided I would leave it as close to sunset as possible before pitching my tent. In the meantime, I would fire up the stove and cook my dinner. Tonight's treat would be steak, asparagus & mash, with a peppercorn sauce.

Golden hour had begun to set in as I finished my dinner, so I cleaned & packed away my cooking gear, and pottered up the small hill behind me which looked over the beach. I spotted a few other people had now pitched tents on the grassy promenade by the shoreline, so decided it was time to set up for the night.

It was only a small pitch I was on, but I managed to squeeze the Hilleberg Soulo in there without any problem. I even had a small bunch of 'Sea Pinks' just outside my porch, and there were lttle clusters of these flowers growing all around. The golden hour light, with the green grass, pink flowers, grey rocks, the blue sea, and the stunning sky made it quite a colourful evening. A soft orange band from the sun lingered on the horizon long into the evening, and I turned into my tent for the night.

I gently woke the next morning to the sounds of the waves lapping the coastline, and the gulls calling overhead. I packed away my gear, and relocated to the spot where I had cooked my steak the night before, this time to cook breakfast. A simple sausage and bacon sandwich, but it filled a gap.

I strolled back along the beach - stopping to take photographs of the pristine white sands* and tropical blue waters. A few of the other campers were still in there tents, but a few swimmers were turning up to take a dip in the sea.

*The beach isn't actually made of sand, but instead millions of sea shells that have been crushed into tiny grains, ground against the rocks by the motion of the waves .

A short while later I arrived back at my car. The car park was quite empty this morning, but cars were starting to turn up just as I was heading out to my next adventure...