Tuesday 23rd May 2017

If all went to plan, we would spend the day on a guided wildlife tour of the island, with lunch thrown in. But, things did not go to plan and we did not get to see wildlife.

I was worried that we would oversleep as we had a 40 mile drive to Portree to meet the tour guide, so left the cottage after breakfast at eight. Breakfast was fried square sausage, grilled bacon and fried slices. All very unhealthy, but tasty. And set us up for the day.

And then we load the car, set sail for Broadford then onto Portree on the long and twisting road. We set off in plenty of time, in case be stuck behind a bus or truck, arriving in Portree at nine fifteen, with half an hour to spare,

So at nine forty we walk up the the minibus, introduce ourselves, and at that point we were told that we should have been there yesterday. Yes, somehow I got the date and day of the week mixed up, did not check, so that was £160 down the chute.

Only, we were told to come back in the morning, and they would let us on that tour! Amazing, no fuss, no arguments. All my fault too.

Anyway, the upshot is we have a free day, and so the plans for tomorrow are brought forward 24 hours, so we can set course for the mainland, and a mountain pass with my name on it.

We pick up a French hitch-hiker on the outskirts of Portree, and so practice our CSE French on his with our knowledge of colours and the such. He smiles and I’m sure wanted the 50 mile trip to pass as quickly as possible Anyway, he smiles at our attempts to make him smile, so we did right, right?

We drop him off just before the Skye Bridge, and we go over to Kyle of Lochalsh, then take the main road along the sound t where we turn inland.

It was a long and winding road, with many passing places (unusual for an A road) and climbed and swooped in dramatic fashion. At times I could do 60 mph, taking corners at a worrying pace, and at other times creep along at 20 so traffic coming in the other direction could get by.

We go along the main road beside the line to Kyle of Lochalsh, although see no trains on the quiet West Highland line, but trains do run every few hours.

And on the way we could go to Plockton. Tony's Grandmother visited Skye and the Highlands in the mid-60s, and left behind a photographic record, and over the past few years Tony has been identifying them and where possible visit them on his trip. First up was Plockton, a village I had not heard of, but was just off the main road, and seemed to be picturesque. We take the narrow road over the hills and down again, running beside the railway, it was a stunningly beautiful drive, of which I have no photographic record, as I was driving. So you will have to take my word for it.

We drive down the narrow High Street and find a parking place beside the harbour, which was free. And before us, now empty of water as it was low tide, was the harbour with a few beached boats, an island and for about 400 yards on the left, the village streted out along the harbour wall, lined with stone cottages, a pub and a hotel all facing the sea and mountain backdrop.

It was rather beautiful, Tony strode off the take shots, and Jools and I wandered around in the warm sunshine, just taking in the peace and quiet.

If anything, the drive out of the village due east was even better, and the road dipped and rose with the contours of the land, through fir forests and 1th century castles. Again, I have no photos of this drive, nor the views as they opened out through a clearing in the woods, you'll just have to go yourself.

We drive along side a lock, and at the far end cross a bridge over the river that fed it, and runs along the northern shore, through a village strung out along the main road until we came to the junction with Bealach na Bà.

Bealach na Bà is the name for the road to Applecross, a small village on the shores of a sea loch, but you get to it rather than the long way round at sea level, over the mountain pass, the only such one in Britain, rising from sea level to 2053 feet, is single track and has hairpins bends, vertigo-inducing drops, and in general a blast to dive.

As long as other people are sensible too.

There are stern warnings on signs at the start of the road, before it begins to climb. A mile in it really begins to get steep. About the third of the way up, we go round a shoulder and see high above us the road keep going, criss-crossing the steep slope, and catching the first sight of a hair pin bend.

We meet little traffic on the way up, I am driving so am in raptures at the steepness and tightness of the bends At the top, there is a small parking place, so we can pull over to look down at the twisting road, dropping two thousand feet out of sight far below.

The other side down to Applecross is less dramatic, but we meet more traffic, but we let each other through, and even from 1500 feet, we can see the loch far below.

At the bottom we cross a cattle grid, the round another hairpin bend and are down at sea level, we take the right turning to a country house with a ramshackle walled garden; they are doing it up, but also do food, of which we had been told great things.

It is nearly empty, but the menu looks good, so I order smoked haddock something, it came in a creamy sauce topped with breadcrumbs. It was lush, along with fresh new potatoes which went perfect with the smoked fish and cream.

Tony goes on another Strava walk, and Jools and I drive to the village and go for a walk ourselves, just along the waterfront, past the pub and houses and into the next village along. And then back again.

Jols is to drive back, so we go to the bottom of the pass, then up, up we go. Jools is unlucky that the road is bueier, and some people don’t want to stop, one van driver trying to force her off the road, but she did well, and soon we were at the top, shrouded in mist and drizzle falling.

The descent was dramatic, but the top half in fog, so we did not see the steep drops, but they were still there.

It was good to get to the bottom, and at the junction was a cafe, so we went in for a coffee and slices of spicy orange cake, which was yummy.

And then the last hour was the drive home, back to Kyle, over the bridge onto Skye, then down the main road to the ferry terminal to book our travel for Thursday when we head to the mainland to ride a train. More of that later.

We get back to the cottage at seven, and i get down to cooking chorizo hash, as even if I am quick it won’t be ready until eight, and we have to be up with the larks to make sure we get to the wildlife tour.

Again