The Journey North. Day 20.  Friday 11th May 2018

From: Skye-Sligachan       To:   Skye-Sligachan         GR: NG405381     Mileage: 0000

The night had been pretty horrific. We were woken on several occasions with the van rocking and the wind howling down the pass. What to do today. We had thought about moving North on the island but reasoned that if it was windy here in the centre of the islands with the mountains perhaps affording some protection, what would it be like on the exposed North coast? If in doubt…brew up.

The weather was no better, the wind still blew strong but at least it was dry. We decided to stay ‘low level’ today.

The campsite early morning.

 

We're headed off up there somewhere.

 

 

Lunch stop down out of the wind.

 

 

Back just before the rain storm.

 


The old Slignachan bridge.

 
We marked out a route from the campsite at Slignachan NG 405381 away up the Glen following the river after the same name. Mike brewed up a flask and made a couple of butties.

Before long we were off. It was very windy with strong gusts. Sometimes two paces forward and one back, or sideways! We had decided that it was too easy to abandon the days exercise and so agreed we would walk out for two hours, find somewhere to hunker down for our sarnies and then head back.

There were a few people on the track we were following but soon as we moved further and further away from the road we saw less and less people. Indeed there were very few sheep about either. The rain held off but the winds never abated, almost blowing mike off some rocks as he was crossing a river.

We came upon a lake at about the two hour mark and then decided to find cover from the wind for lunch. Easier said than done. We ducked down behind some hummocks and a heather bank on the edge of a small beck. Once stretched out we had cover. Indeed it was quite cosy. After a fashion.

As I sat there munching on my sarnie I had the fright of my life. Suddenly a brown spaniel appeared through the gorse and launched himself at my sarnie. Cute little fellow full of life. I told its owner who shortly followed into view that I thought at first it was a marauding Scottish Haggis.

Lunch over we started the return journey. The wind was at our backs and within an hour and a half we were back at the Sligachan Hotel. Approx eight miles covered. The hotel sits at the junction of the A87 and the A863. Very popular with climbers and through coach trippers. This is a huge bar, modern wooden structure. It’s most redeeming features are the 400+ whiskeys it has on sale. “How many?” “Four hundred but we’re a bit low this now, normally we have about four hundred and thirty.” We had been beaten to the bar by a coach load of Americans and they were ordering ‘Hot Toddys’. Well you know how long these things take to make. Eventually I was served. I bought Jackie one of the local gins and I had a pint of Blackface ale brewed in the local brewery next door. It was very drinkable.

Spotting some rather delicious cakes under a glass dome on the bar I thought I would buy something for Jackie as a surprise. I said “I’ll have a millionaire’s shortbread.” As the barman lifted the glass dome lid he said “It’s no a millionaire’s, it’s more a kinda Mars bar cake.” “Och, forget it” I said “Mary doll wouldn’t want that.” “Well it’s a kinda Millionaire’s shortbread “ he said. “To be sure, you have a way with words about you young Liam.” I smiled at him. “How did you know I was Irish?” he asked “To be sure, you have the lilt of a fellow countryman.” I said in my best Northern Irish accent. “That’s strange” he said, “because they call me Irish.“  I bought a second pint. Well, I wasna driving. By the time we had finished the rain had started but at least we had beaten it off the hill. It was only five hundred meters to the wagon.



Strewth I look rough in this photo.

Jackie decided she would take advantage of the washing machines on site and took over a load. I put the kettle on and on her return we sat and watched as several couples fought the winds in an attempt to erect two man tents. One guy gave up, throwing his tent back into the boo of his car and driving off. To where? Who knows. Certainly if he thought he might get a bed in the local hotel he was much mistaken. I happen to know for a fact they were full.

The rain didn’t cease and after a couple of hours water started to drip heavily in through the handle/opening mechanism in the roof surround. Towels, a bowl, some masking tape and string and for a while we sat there counting the drips. Every now and then one or the other of us would say “I think it’s slowing. Do you think it’s slowing?” The Met forecast it would stop at 2100hrs and it did.

We thought it prudent not to sleep on the double bed tonight but use the singles. Needless to say we kept the bowl and towels in place. Just in case.