The Skye Trail

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There are a few good lines that trails can take through a landscape, the Cape Wrath Trail has a number of variations but on an island there is less possibility to take alternatives so on Skye I used the established Skye Trail. Broadford was a useful place to restock but a more direct route could be taken across rough ground from Kinloch to Boreraig via Heaste and restock at Portree. There are a couple of Cafes at Torrin, when I was there they were shut, and a shop at Sligachan campsite where food can be bought. So stretching out to Portree could be possible. I chose to go to Broadford partly because there was an old road which is now a pedestrian path running from Kinloch till a kilometer from Broadford, but mostly because Broadford is the first large shops after Tobermory on Mull and I wanted a wee break. On reflection I would probably go to Fort William to stock up from Glenfinnan then cut across the coast at Kinloch to camp at Boreraig and enjoy more coastal walking. I found Broadford a nice place to hang out and the campsite friendly. I liked Portree less as it was very busy and felt less easy for a backpacker to stay in. 

Today is 20km of flattish walking along some beautiful Coastal path, then too much road walking.

A visit to the post office then the shop for last minute treats and fresh produce and it’s time to get lost in Broadford. Damn, how did that happen, it has only one road? Well in my defence I was expecting a sign, saying Skye trail starts here but there is no signage anywhere on the route. 

I find the start and a wee road walk before heading off across shallow hills to Boreraig an abandoned village, where there are beautiful places to camp. Another fantastic coastal path for about 8 km then a bit of a disappointing section, doubling back on roads and more road walking. 

I pass Torrin in the rain and a closed Cafe (insert naughty Skye expletives here) and after one more kilometre I am done. It is a miserable day, high wind and driving rain. 

There looks to be plenty of places around the bay where camping would be possible. I look for and take the first spot that looks OK. Not to near the shore. behind a bluff to protect from prevailing winds and not too far from a stream for water. The tent is up and I am comfy but it is amazing how loud the sound of the rain is on the tent. I open the tent flap and watch the clouds rushing across the hillside like the films been speeded up on some giant projector. Pitching a tent can be a very subtle art, and my tent was designed by camping geniuses to be supper efficient.

I had pegged it out a bit at the bottom hoping to prevent exactly what eventually happened. By increasing the gap between the outer and the inner I allowed the water draining off the fly to be blown onto the inner by the strong wind. First water ingress of the trip. Needs sorting right away. I adjusted the outer then used my spares to make some adjustments to the tent geometry by attaching small plastic clips to elastic and so attach the inner to the outer pegs and keep the damp walls away form my sleeping equipment. The clips work rather well. 

 But the rain continued and I don’t think I have ever been in a tent in a rain storm that heavy. No more water coming in the tent but four hours later I could see a pool of water one meter from the tent pitch. It had not been there earlier. Perhaps the tide was in and the water was not draining fast enough and if this continued I would have to move the tent, but not now, in the middle of a storm. I marked the waters edge with a stone and went to sleep. But it is the sort of thing that disrupts sleep, the rain crackling on the tent, the whole structure vibrating in the wind and visions of finding myself floating amongst the remnants of my camping equipment. I checked again and the pool of water was not passed the stone marker. Time for a bit more sleep and a calming of the weather brought me peaceful sleep until morning. 

I did not calculate the length nor the ascent of this section before I started. But it passed in a joyful haze, the value of 17 days of walking is my legs were now really good.It does not mean I don’t sweat or stop for breath but I have tractor legs and they keep going up and down the hills all day. I was up early-ish and reached the Old Man of Storr with the first hundred or so of tourists. These strange rock formations are worth a visit. Being on my own with no one to express my wonder, I kind of passed them by and continued on around the corner on a good path then made the mistake of trusting that the path was going where I was. It was not so I ended up having to double back to reach Bealach a Chuirn. 

I had filled all my water bottles having learnt from the day before, and I would recommend anyone doing this ridge to do the same. I found one place where you can get water, and very few places to camp, though I was not looking for that specifically. This is the same landscape as yesterday except higher and further from the coast. It is hugely impressive without being overwhelming, the ascents are all 200-400 meters and the path is there for the most part. In poor visibility it has to be understood you are walking close to some very large cliffs for a lot of the route, but even in mist an experienced walker should probably manage without undue risk. Beginners, not so much. 

I think a stream crosses the path between Bac Ruadh and Creag a’ Lain, about a third of the way along the ridge from The Storr. It is about a half a meter wide and the same down and would be easy to miss. I met plenty of walkers heading south, some very knowledgable, but a few with enormous packs who looked like each step was an effort. Phew, I worried about their knees but they were young and looked so happy to be out on such a beautiful day. 

The learning curve is quite steep at the beginning and I think many people who might otherwise enjoy camping are put off by having the wrong information about equipment and caring too much for comforting accoutrements. When you are in wild places you need very little in the way of anything. That is mostly the point of going to places where there is not much. Then the physical effort is not meant to be crippling. Movement should be fluid, steady and certain. The first stop on most peoples journey is the local outdoor suppliers who are in the business of selling equipment. Even the respected ones are working to a script that is at least ten years out of date. I went through the process slowly learning that the heavy cheap tent I bought was also not very weather proof and prone to condensation. The next one I bought was a lightweight cheap tent for about the same money and it works very well. Knowledge is all, I thank all the trekking experts who through youtube have enriched my knowledge. They have all generously given advice that have made my camping so comfortable and plenty light enough to fulfil my dreams of walking far and wide.

It is late afternoon as I reach more tourists at the Quiraing carpark. Just past here the tourist path crosses several streams. Stock up on water here.  I hurry through past the Prison, the Needle and the Table, marvelling (quickly) at the rocks. Now theres a funny bit of trail, you can either head North, to save time but miss some of the best cliff top walking in the country, or turn east downhill. The land about here is weird, and the path suddenly is almost vertical, eroded earth and big stones, just for 20 meters or so, nothing impassable but kind of surprising. 

The first loch you meet has no camping potential I can see but the second which is quite near the road has. Just before this loch is another stream for water. I am enjoying my peaceful camp when four cyclists turn up and pitch their tents. I am not used to company, but it is fine, People in tents all share the same level, ground level, so there is a sort of equality that comes from this. Lovely Skye Trail, thank you for this fair day. The couple of boring road tramps have been made up for by this section. Tomorrow I’ll finish the Skye trail and head over to join the Outer Hebrides Trail. 

The second fine day and a down hill start. A little confusion at Dun Flodigarry Hostel as to where the path went. You have to go right round the hostel and through its garden then straight down a grassy field to catch the coastal path heading north.A kilometre on and the path meets the sea cliffs. Ahead and below is a spectacular cove with dashing waves, to your left steep cliffs and just where the two meet a notch in the cliff running up right where the path climbs easily to go over the shoulder of the headland. There is a small amount of exposure to it but minimal danger. Onward along the tops of the cliffs past a few impressive bays, coves and stacks. 

The path shadows the edge at times but it is not necessary to walk close to any edge if you do not want to. It is an impressive path, all the way to Balmaqueen. The path continues to be easy to follow to the Meall Tuath Bothy and the end of the Island, the end (or beginning) of the Skye Trail. The wee bothy there is something special. A short walk back to the road and only three hours before the ferry from Uig is due to leave. 

It is once a day so I would prefer to get it. If walk/jogged I might make it, but I’ve walked enough of Skye’s roads, they are often busy with holiday traffic. So I smarten myself up make my pack look small and write a wee sign, ‘UIG’ to maximise my chances of a lift.In Scotland the further north you go the easier it is to get a lift. The first vehicle which passed me stops. A  young couple who are vlogging there travels and living full time in their van. Lovely people and we get to the ferry terminal with enough time for a coffee and a restock at a local shop. I have lunch in the restaurant on the ferry. They do a very nice fish chips and peas along with other staples.