Returning to Skye

[Kyle]After the late night, we had yet another first light start. This was both because we had another long day planned and because we would be dealing with light headwinds the whole way.

We left Loch Gairloch, turned close to the wind and started tacking down the Inner Sound, bouncing between the mainland on the east side and Rona and then Raasay Islands on the west. Both islands have several navigation beacons each and Raasay even sports a house. Other than that, there are no signs that humans have ever inhabited these places. Both islands are severe outcrops of steep rock and cliffs that seem too steep to build anything or even graze sheep. Then there’s the hassle and expense of importing absolutely everything. This has left them apparently unmolested by humans. We sailed along, our mouths agape, marveling at how there are still places in the world that are wild and remote and untouched. There are whole mountains up here that have not one human structure upon them.

Apart from a couple of commercial fishermen, we had the whole sound to ourselves as we zigzagged from one side to another. The wind died and died until eventually, we were hovering at around 1 knot. I had been looking at the distance to go and the time until sunset all day long and trying to stretch as far as I could before resorting to using the engine. Even though we had a couple of hours to go by then, there seemed little point in spending them going crazy by watching the sails slat back and forth so we pulled everything down and started motoring. To be honest, I was relieved, and if we had to motor, these were ideal conditions for it; flat seas and calm wind.

At the southern end of the sound, we passed under the Skye Bridge. I had been looking forward to that for some time. The Skye Bridge – It sounds so dreamy. I expected it to be a cross between the Golden Gate Bridge and the Brooklyn Bridge – a marvel of engineering that was only just completed recently. It had been a big deal when it opened. No longer would Skye be cut off from the rest of the world. Planned tolls, cheaper than the ferry, were vehemently opposed by the residents of Skye. Eventually, protests eventually caused the planned tolls to be scrapped.


Skye Bridge
What a disappointment it turned out to be. The Skye Bridge looks like a bridge. It doesn’t even look like a bridge that goes over a big piece of water. It looks like an overpass – a completely uncomely, unimaginative slab of gray concrete slapped down over the gap. Now, I’m sure the engineers would balk at this. It was probably designed specifically not to detract from the landscape. It’s probably an impressive span for an unsupported concrete structure. Whatever. I’m sorry, but this situation calls specifically for a big suspension bridge, lit up and painted some nice color, like blue.

Disregarding the great bridge, Kyle of Lochalsh, Loch Alsh and Kyle Rhea are all gorgeous. The waterways cut through deep, glacial valleys. Every couple of miles, we had long views of a deep side loch, disappearing into the haze. I have noticed that, in the last couple of days, it looks like autumn is already on its way here. The hills which used to be covered with green heather and ferns are turning brown and orange. Some of the trees are already starting to turn. The short Summer is ending and a long, cold, dark Winter is on the way.


Maryanne wraps up warmly for the Scottish summer chill


More stunning Scottish Scenery
We entered our anchorage between the little Isle of Ornsay and Skye. We managed to use our shallow draft to our advantage and anchored right up in the shallows near the little village. Then, for the first time in a long time, we saw the sunset – not the all-the-colors-of-gray Scottish kind, but a real one with pinks and oranges and deep reds, all reflecting off the flat water.


Sunset in Skye

[Maryanne]Amazing, another day without rain, and with blue sky. We are LOVING the change in the weather and hope it lasts for a while.

Kyle was a little upset this evening when another boat arrived after us, and motored passed us, and much further up into the harbor. It must have been a bilge keeled boat as it practically run itself aground - the guy could have donned his wellies and walked to the pub. After Kyle was so proud that we were closer than the other boats, he found himself pacing up and down making excuses as to why we weren't closer - men are a special breed aren't they?