Monday May 19th
Blue sky at 0645
Light on the castle. Light on the island.
Skye revealed!
To walk. To see his special lane and take some of his places.
A gentle incline up the lane towards the viewpoint at Carr Brae.
Ten birds added in ten minutes
Cuckoos everywhere.
25 Willow Warbler territories within 2km.
Revelation of the week – they’re everywhere!
Views west and Bla Bheinn (Blaven) the closest Munro.
Will we get up there?
Hernonry, in the trees. They look like plastic bags.
A shambles, tattered on the branches.
A spinning coin?
A Wood Warbler. How bloody marvellous.
There it goes again. Pipits and Redpolls.
Where to look.
He points out the langoustine pots in the bay
Where today’s Clachan special will be caught
Primroses. Primroses.
Spring is late and beautiful.
It is yellow today, with all this gorse.
Look at the funny house!
It’s hog roast man!! My God, he’s weird.
And what a place to live.
Among the flags.
Breakfast back at base at nine (I cooked) and off to Skye.
To Kylerhea in the south.
A Wildlife Watching Hide.
Sea Eagles. Otters. Cretaceans.
Or perhaps nothing at all… 😦
Unless you count the fifty seals that don’t move and look like rocks.
There’s never anything to see from
Purpose build public hides.
The windows open outwards? WTF??
A stunning walk though, overlooking the Sound Of Sleat
Where the tide races, faster than a man can run.
9 knots at times. Neil knows.
The Man Who Sailed The World
I love ferries me. And this one has stayed well, despite that bridge.
It works because it offers us a circuit home
With a ROTATING deck. Yes really. It’s actually a thing! How very cool.
A circle, from Kylerhea to Glenelg. Magical. Ten minutes on the boat, accompanied by one of the seals. Bobbing. Smiling.
Gannets too, diving in the Sound.
And there are sheep.
Really, sheep?
But sheep grazing on the beach and eating seaweed.
Caravans and a campsite.
On the fekking beach.
Wait. What’s that. Over there, high and some way off??
An eagle?
An RAF Tornado. Hmmf. Impressive though
The road is long
With many a winding turn.
Up round, down. In, out.
Isolated communities, the endless track that leads only into Arnisdale and takes the traveller to nowhere but Carron.
He told us we could get some tea.
And smiled to see
It was still thus after three years.
Sheena’s Wee Tea Hut is SO bizarre.
So her. Again.
My dear, you’d LOVE it here
Look at the GARDEN
The chairs. SO many chairs
All of a pickle…
He rang a bell and she appeared.
Sheena’s daughter. Lives in the house next to the wee shed.
Only took over from my mother five weeks ago. She ran this place for 20 years.
I’ll have a scone. A pound you say? A POUND?
Imagine that.
And tea. 50p.
Jam is free.
Swallows are a problem in my barn. I put the curtain up to keep them out.
Look, she’s here again…
I put this moment – here.
And I put this moment – over here…
Come on, let’s walk. Past the big white house along the river.
Childhood home of Ian Fleming.
Ahhh, so that’s why Skyfall is set up here.
It’s so clear when you know.
Deer in a field. Deer in the river. Dead. Odd.
Perfect condition. Dead. Granite grey stone eyes. Shudder.
Deer on the hills in the distance.
Farmland, paddocks. Love this Right to Roam.
Wheatears, Common Sandpipers and…
What’s that whizzing round?
They’re Sand Martins.
Colony here on this bank.
Look at them in and out of their nest holes!
Did you know the same bird will use three holes that connect inside the sandbank, so any predators get confused.
  Spring is late up here. Ash and birch still in bud.
18:50 Time to move from Arnisdale back to Glenelg. Back past the beach.
Mist on tops. Light and water.
Remore derelict crofts
Buzzards hovvering at Ben Sgritheall.
I think, I think
Damn you, woman…
Beinn Alchurrn bears snow, lit in the evening sunlight.
Thick green the Movan woods
And ahead of us, across Loch Duish, sheets of falling rain.
The sun falls on curtains of mist
Gently swaying, swirling.
Car park to view.
My camera has died.
The nasal call of Twite.
It’s hail? It’s bloody hail! Wow and double wow.
We stand in sun, and miles below we seen the grass turn white
At the end of the loch at Spiel Bridge.
Driving slowly down. The bikers have stopped. Halted by insane conditions.
The car skids. Losing grip a moment.
If you don’t like the weather here – come back in an hour!
Just minutes later it is over
And dinner’s on the stove.
They’re in the pub
And I am in the kitchen
9.15 Its cold. The cottage, not the food.
The pasta bake is steaming and the whisky and the cheese are ready.
(Yes, we stopped on purpose.)

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