Kyleakin

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Horseback Riding Near Portree and Dunvegan Castle

12:59 pm

Today is expensive! First, a bus ride to Portree (£3…return), then a bus to Dunvegan castle (£5+£4.50 entry fee), then horseback riding (!) (£10). My rides to Portree and Dunvegan have allowed me to see a fair part of the bonnie Isle of Skye. Dunvegan is bonnie, also, but dry.

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I saw snails in their shells! I picked one up. Hate to say it, but they’re gross, worse than slugs, I think !

5:20 pm

What a terrific afternoon!!! It’s about 3 miles to the Portree stables from the town centre. About ½ mile on my way, a lady offered me a lift—she was the owner of the stable! On the way back, I’d walked about ¼ mile when two little old ladies and a not so little old man offered me a lift to the outskirts of town. Instead of walking 6 miles, I only walked about one!

Well… I didn’t get my canter through the moors. Instead, I got something more unexpected, more frightening, and more exhilarating than I could ever have imagined: my first real jump. The horse (a headstrong but manageable purebred silvery, Highland garron male named Toby) was supposed to pick his way across the stream. However, the horse in front decided to jump (luckily, the rider was very experienced) and mine followed suit before I could stop him. Obviously, I wasn’t prepared for the jump, so I was none too graceful but the experienced riders said I handled Toby very well. During the jump I didn’t have time to be frightened. The landing was something else! I did manage a fast trot through a heather moor.

So, another crazy dream almost realised. If I’ve any cash left in two weekends, I’ll go out again. Amazing how your legs stiffen up after only an hour of riding, it’s very much like getting off a boat after a day at sea, your legs get very wobbly! Considering that I’m ‘trained’ in Western saddle riding, I think I adapted rather well to English. That, combined with a year (at least!) out of the saddle, meant I wasn’t totally up to par, but once I got an understanding with Toby about who was boss everything was more or less okay.

I’m not too proud of my dismount, though! I got a foot caught in a stirrup, so I basically slid/tumbled off. But, I didn’t fall flat on my back or tookus, but rather on my own two feet, so I guess I still have some dignity left ! After, I gave Toby a bruised apple I’ve been lugging since Inverness. He was thrilled. So thrilled, in fact, he slobbered all over me and tried to get inside my pocket himself!

But, it was wonderful, riding through a heather moor perched on the back of a surefooted hill garron. There were so many sheep and rabbits, too. Road apples aren’t the only droppings to worry about in these parts!

The most bizarre thing was the weather. This morning, it was freezing and raining. It had been going on like this for hours when I stepped out of Dunvegan castle. I stepped into the loo (The Scots unabashedly use ‘toilet’. Don’t bother asking for the ‘restroom’ or ‘bathroom’. They’ll say the ‘toilet is right over there’!) for two whole minutes, came out, and the sun was shining!!!

So, I had incredible weather for my trail ride despite unimaginable windspeeds ! It was perfect: rolling moors, the occasional hill to climb, a few streams—and greenness, as far as the eye can see, an emerald greenness dotted by the woody-brown greenness of the heather held together by a cyan sky streaked with pure white cotton candy clouds. Heaven? No, Scotland. The land I dreamt about exists. I won’t go so far as to claim that I am ‘home’, but I could live here, and be happy. I have rarely seen a land as beautiful as Skye, a country as diverse in its landscapes as Scotland, and a dream in my waking state. For I have dreamed of this land, never imagining that something so near to perfection could actually exist.

Neither photographs nor words are sufficient in explaining how I feel about this land. Neither do justice to Alba. Two weeks from today, already, my trip will be over. For once, I am not bitterly disappointed about leaving. Why? 1) I’ll be back soon enough; 2) Scotland is coming home with me, in my heart and in my head. I’ll feel loneliness as I watch her lush greenness disappear from under me as I head west across the wide and mighty Atlantic. But, I won’t be leaving a part of me behind as I have in other places. You see, a part of me has always been here, though I never knew it. I’ve found it, am all the richer for it, and will leave it behind when I leave. I won’t be losing a part of who I was, rather a part of who I could be.

I’ll have so many stories to tell as I arrive in Montreal, but also so many secrets to keep. Scotia has made it clear that I must keep a part of her hidden in my heart. So, I’ll return with a knowing smile, a lighter heart, say ‘It was wonderful’ or ‘C’était merveilleux’ and leave it at that. There are a chosen few who will get to hear details and perhaps two who will get to read most of this journal. But I’ll be the only one to know what really happened here in Scotland.

6:40 pm.

I don’t care what anyone says: a man in a kilt is a man in a skirt!

 

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Hiking Around Kyleakin

 

I’m literally out in the middle of nowhere!!! My only guide back to ‘civilization’ through this boggy heather moor is a meandering burn. I could keep going for ever, but there were no maps available and I don’t want to get too lost ! I guess that if I continue to follow the burn I’ll be fine, though. It took me a full two hours to get here. Luckily, home (not so creepy after all, amazing what a ½ pint of Guiness can do!) is downhill all the way!

I saw two deer running through the glen!!!

1:42 pm

I’m back at creepy city. It’s raining and rain is becoming a natural (and daily) part of life. All morning, it was pitter-pattering, so I just wore my funky blue hat. At one point, I went to put it on and realised I’d dropped it somewhere out on the moor ! Luckily, I was able to sort of retrace my steps and find it. I must admit that this area isn’t too bonnie.

Tomorrow, most things should be open, so I’d like to take a bus into the more remote parts of the island. The oddest thing is we’re right on the shore of the Atlantic, real sea, but we can’t smell it. In a way, I guess that’s a good thing. The wonderful aroma of dried seaweed, dead and living fish, and salt water makes me nostalgic and restless.

There are inexpensive cruises advertised. That might be fun. It’s unbelievable that a little place like this, at the edge of the world (or so it seems) has the most expensive toll bridge in the world. We’re talking £5.60 for a car, £40 for a bus, and a whole range of other ridiculous tolls for every type of motor vehicle imaginable! Let’s just say that peeved the locals off just a little; they didn’t get any concessions until only a little while back. When the ferry ran, the locals could cross free. Now, they have to pay a toll—both ways. Blech. I can just imagine them loading themselves into cars, really cramming themselves in, in order to go grocery shopping, splitting the toll amongst each other!

Looks like the weather’s clearing up a tad. I think I’ll read a chapter and go back out for a stroll. Not that there’s much strolling to do here! I must admit it’s a quaint little town, if a smidge dead. I guess that it’s because the fishermen have to be up at 5… A.M. Yuck!

7:15 pm.

What a stroll! I meant to go back up to the castle but I got slightly, um, distracted. I decided to climb a peak. I got to the summit, saw another one and kept going up! I ended up with a fantastic view of water and sailboats and eventually I ended up finding what I imagine used to be old crofts. There was only a pile of bricks and stone left, sometimes a perimeter into which encroaches heather and grass. Coming back down (eventually) I got what I deserved. I slipped. I didn’t so much as bruise myself, but one pant leg got soaked through. I had to do laundry when I came back ! I might be going back to the pub tonight. One of the women who was there last night said she would be going and that she’d save me a seat. Why not? I’ll have to wash my tee-shirt anyway!

(I ended up going with two Canadian roomies. I had more fun than the night before!)

 

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In Which I Discover Pubs — Inverness to Kyleakin (Isle of Skye)

10:16 AM

From where I’m sitting, Inverness is rather bonnie! Actually, I’m on a bench on the bank of the river Ness, in a green, ‘parked’ area. ‘Downtown’ is only a few minutes away, but you’d never guess it. I can’t believe how clean the river seems. Parents allow their children to play in the water, so it can’t be that dirty. To get here, I had to cross the suspension bridge again. They’re fun!

I can’t believe the number of Australians and New-= Zealanders I’ve met! I usually have at least one in my room. Last night, we were two in the room, and she was Australian. Haven’t met many Canadians since Glasgow and Edinburgh ; there was an Albertan in Aviemore.

I can’t get over how young the Scots marry and start their families! I’ve seen couples barely out of their teens with wedding bands and the stroller. Since there are many such couples, I assume it’s the norm. Personally, I’d rather live first!

I’m going to keep exploring until about a quarter of 2. Haggis should be picking me up at 2:30. It looks like a long bus ride to Skye (arrival time estimated at 6 o’clock). No worse than yesterday, I guess!

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8:46 p.m.

On the way to Kyleakin, we made an hour long stop at Eilean Donan castle! It’s very beautiful. Unfortunately, the guides are cold and unfriendly. They lack the passion required by the job. There was a cool ‘recreated’ kitchen complete with mannequins. It was creepy but well done!

Speaking of creepy, this youth hostel is almost terrifying! I’m just getting this bad vibe about this place. At first, I thought I might just be homesick and lonely, but I met up with some very nice people and the feeling didn’t go away. I’ll spend a night here and if I still feel weird in the morning I might ask for a refund and go elsewhere. There are lots of cheap places around here. What I hate is not being able to pinpoint the origin of my ‘bad feeling’. I can’t tell if it’s about things coming or things that have already happened. Anyhoo, I feel creepy.

I hiked up to the ruins of an old (13th century, destroyed late Middle Ages) Scandinavian fortress. The hike up is unbelievable, there’s no real path. You really have to play ‘mountain goat’ to get up and down. (This was when I discovered that I am essentially immune to the greatest deterrent to Scottish tourism: the midge. I’m told I could market my blood and make an easy fortune! Those bugs are worse than mosquitoes, which love my blood. I’ll never know why the midges left me alone, but bit the people with me to pieces, but I’m glad!)

I don’t know what I’m doing tomorrow. I don’t think there’s a tourist information centre here. I would like to go on a trail ride; I’ve seen several advertised, only they’re further ‘inland’, I think. I’ll see how complicated and expensive it is to get out there for day trip.

10:46

I’ve just spent the last hour at a pub with a Swedish girl I met and about 7 strangers! This was the first time I’ve been to a pub. It helps that I can actually drink now, not just a few sips but a whole beer and actually enjoy it (I had a Guinness. Boy is it good !). The only thing is I’ll stink of cigarettes tomorrow. The music was a little loud, but nothing like school dances. Considering the wallflower I am, I rather had a good time. I guess the beer helped! Now, I know what a pub’s like. Imagine going back to North America and telling everyone I never even set foot in one!?