Schlink Attack: Isle of Skye

Monday, July 17, 2017

Isle of Skye

The Edinburgh Airport car rental place is a hilarious thing. Even with use of those luggage carts that steer all weird, it's easy enough to walk from the terminal and directly to your chosen rental company. However, if you are coming from the city via taxi, it's another story. No taxis are allowed into the lot, which meant that the kids, grandma, and I got to sit by the side of the road with ten thousand pieces of luggage strewn about while the dudes dealt with the paperwork. No worries, it gave our carsick boy plenty of time to barf in the grass and take a nap, and Margo to practice her jumping jacks and harassing custard faced brother. From here, we would drive to the vastness of the Isle of Skye: a legendary archipelago stuffed with peninsulas, lochs, and towering mountains. Plus a bunch of green stuff like grass and moss.

Scottish roads are delightful, as are the adorable towns along the way. We drove north and enjoyed watching the flats turn into rolling hills and into mountains. Thick forests surrounded both sides of the winding road, sheltering village off shoots from highway noise. We made a pitstop in Dunkeld, once a choice getaway location for Beatrix Potter back in the day. She enjoyed this place for good reason: with everything in Scotland, if it's not beautiful, it's cute and historic with well made stone bridges that cross over its seemingly endless supply of rivers and lochs. Plus it was Dunkeld where tales of Peter Rabbit took form. It's a cute story: Potter, a frequent letter writer to sick children, ran out of things to say to a particular boy and segued into a tale involving four rabbits.

Eventually we drove into Inverness and craned our necks searching for the Lochness Monster before stopping by Black Isle Brewery for thirst management. After two other stops that involved mediocre cafeteria food, and a flat tire repair, we arrived to Dornie, population 360: the most adorable town in existence. It contained the following: two bars, one grocery store, one cafe, and one 13th century castle. Mark had rented a three bedroom cottage that was filled to the brim with floral design. Carpets, walls, curtains, beds, and pillows were adorned with varying flower prints. Our AirBnB host was a sprightly woman dressed in a bright blue raincoat, sensible trousers, and thick wool stockings (please no shoes inside, mind you!) who showed me how to turn on the television, washing machine, and thermostat. All of it was so endearing and cozy I never wanted to leave.

From here, our ventures commenced with days filled with hiking, boating, driiiiiiiving, and drinking beer. I tried a mess of whisky and faked my way through it. I can appreciate the thought, effort, and history behind it, but man... while I loved having a warm belly, I did not love the raging heartburn.

We gawked at cyclists, campers, and backpackers slowly making their way in the sodden rain (one had to assume it would and could rain at any moment- and it did). As it was high-season, there were many travelers in the area. Some literally camping on the side of the road and we watched more than one tent bail out pooling water, which I imagine circulated right into the ground and back side their tents.

Among other things we spotted many waterfalls that changed in size on a regular basis from the rain. Trickles transformed into giant cascades in a matter of moments, rushing down hill with impressive force. We visited fairy pools on a rare dry moment, which are a magical series of trailing waterfalls that eddy off into crystal clear pools. Mark and I drove by historic castles, shuddering at the thought of life 500 years ago. We passed by 1000's merino sheep, some of which are actually feral, according to the hungover zodiak boat guide, and peered at the sea lions blubbed out on rocky beaches. But the big excitement for me was seeing the famously hairy Highland cows. So exciting apparently, that I forgot to take a picture of one.