Perhaps it was time for a more mellow day that Sunday, or maybe not. One thing we all wanted to do was to go see Neist Point, thinking that a) it would be beautiful and scenic, and b) that it would be less crowded, being way West. Unfortunately, we found it was one of the most popular hikes on Skye, but we were also right about it being beautiful and scenic. Though the day was mostly overcast and hazy with a threat of rain, and the hike was exhausting, this was one of our favorite places.
Skye roughly can be divided into a North bit and a South bit. The South bit has the bigger mountains and Sleat Peninsula, which we’ll have to visit next time. The North bit is one central hub, with three peninsulas sticking out to the West and North, the Duirinish, Waternish (with Dunvegan), and Trotternish Peninsulas. Most of the tourist sites are concentrated in Trotternish, anchored by the “big” city of Portree. Today we’d be heading directly away from that, thank Dog.
After breakfast we made our sandwiches, loaded our packs, and hit the road. On a whim, I threw my gloves and winter hat into my pack, and I needed them, though a flannel shirt and my anorak were plenty warm enough for my torso.
We started South through the small town of Dunvegan again, but then turned right onto tiny Mill Road, along the base of Loch Dunvegan (where they presumably used to have a mill), and then right again, Northwest on the B884. This was another up and down, mostly one lane road, and luckily there were only a few other cars on it. We skirted up the West side of Loch Dunvegan, past scattered farms and holiday cottages, and around the beautiful hunks of the Macleod Tables.
The road kept getting rougher and twistier and the small towns along the route got smaller and smaller. As usual in Skye, we were surrounded by steep hillsides with happy sheep all over them, the sheep meadows interspersed with clumps of gorse and sudden bits of lochs. We passed the breathtaking Loch Mor, a tiny encapsulation of all the beauty around there. And at last we climbed up and up one more steep headland, and we were finally at the car park for Neist Point, which was packed!!?!
Where had all these cars come from? We sure didn’t see them on the road leading out there. Many were camper vans and apparently had been there for a while. I could see that, it was a beautiful spot. But jeez, we were suddenly back in a mess of people again. Oh well.
We grabbed the first spot we saw, put on our coats, etc. and started up the last bit of the road to the concessions (shut) and the start of the paved trail out to the Point. There was a strong Southwest wind again, and several people besides me had their hats and/or gloves on. To our left was dramatic Moonen Bay, with cliffs in the near-ground on Waterstein Head and sheep impossibly clinging to its slopes, then more and more cliffs beyond that, until the coast of Skye disappeared around a distant cape. We could see waterfall after waterfall on the cliffs in the distance, some plunging dramatically, directly into the bay.
A long cable rose up to the trailhead from a low point further down the trail, that presumably promised some access to a beach, though almost everything there was cliffs. We inspected the rusty old mechanism and then started down the trail, trying to avoid the sheep shit all over it. The concrete path wound down the center of the Point, with steps down the first steep hill, then sharply up the next hill. We stopped there and walked out onto the plateau to the right of the trail, looking down all the time to try to step around the huge piles of sheep shit and the occasional cow pie, but really wanting to look up and out to sea. From there we got great views of the next headland out the trail, and the large Neist Point Lighthouse complex out at the tip.
Got back to the trail and continued up it. A shepherd was lying down with a sheep near the cove to our left, and after some puzzling SarahE figured out what he was doing. The sheep wasn’t wounded, it was giving birth, and the shepherd was trying to coax it into the best position, sometimes using his crook to assist. The trail went steeply down again, and then we were at the shuttered lighthouse complex, with lots of outbuildings and cliffs beyond it. We kind of split up and wandered around the tip of the Point, gawking at the forest of cairns that people had made there and at the fractured basalt rocks past that. The tide seemed to be out, and the cliffs were exposed, with tidal pools and explosions of wildflowers rewarding the small number of people clambering over them. We’d left the bulk of the crowd behind us at the lighthouse, and we had a lovely hour or so, exploring the cliffs and the boggy moorland in between.
We ended up at the jetty in the best shelter that Moonen Bay could give. This held the remains of a small concrete mole with precarious steps leading down to it, and the ruins of equipment that had been used to unload boats and run the goods up to the lighthouse complex with a cable system. The lighthouse itself has been vacant since 1990 and is currently operated remotely, though it must have been busy and isolated at one point.
We found a little shelter at the jetty and ate our sandwiches. The sun had started to poke through from time to time, and the day had warmed up. Ok, we were rested but knew it would be a strenuous hike back up to the trailhead, and it sure was. We took several breaks on the way, and the changing sky and the breathtaking sea and cliff views helped us to not concentrate on the fatigue. The sheep giving birth was gone, and a possibly new-born was spied through binoculars. There was also a white-tailed eagle sighting.
Finally made it back up to the trailhead and the packed car park. BUT … the guidebooks told us that now we had to climb even further up the clifftop, over sudden bogs (wetter the higher you go in Scotland), past some more piles of sheep and cow shit, until we got the iconic view of the Point and the lighthouse. We got there and it was as spectacular as advertised, but we didn’t stay long. We were ready to get back in the car.
Loaded up, turned around and didn’t drive off the cliff, though it was close. And though the road had been seemingly deserted in the morning, by this time the single track was crawling with other cars and caravans. We and they mostly did the right thing of pulling over and/or backing up to a wide spot to cooperate in two-way travel. But some of the people clearly were reaching the end of their patience and were on a fucking holiday (or going to work), so needed these others to get out of their fucking way.
Wow, that was a strenuous day in several ways, and we finally made it back to Mill Road, into quaint Dunvegan, and back to our deserted Farmhouse. But it was still mid-afternoon, and the day had become borderline nice, though more weather might be coming. We had to get outside again, so after a cup of tea we got together and walked up the long path from the Farmhouse past the barn and up into the hills.
Ooops, that was thunder! We turned around and slowly headed back. The thunder got closer and the sky to the South looked black, but we made it back to the house, and then the skies opened and we had a half an hour of hard rain. Then the storm was gone, and the light on the moors, the forest, the Loch, and the Tables across it were beautiful again.
We’d made reservations at another place in town, the Atholl House, for that evening. This is an inn with a small dining room, and we had quite a nice meal. I had an absolutely scrumptious mackerel pâté and a chicken and mushroom pie. Then back to cards, TV, and bed.
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