Journey's End: From Fell to Hill

For our penultimate night of the trip I'd booked a hotel in the market town of Kirkby Lonsdale which is located just south of the Lake District, on the border of Cumbria and Yorkshire. Because we didn't have too far to travel that day I suggested to Mrs B that we use the time to visit the Eastern part of the Lake District, and climb a Lakeland fell.

After breakfast at our hotel in Lockerbie we set off for the short drive, crossing the border and then exiting the motorway at Penrith. We headed towards Pooley Bridge and then onto a minor road that arrives at the small hamlet of Howtown. From here there was a easy walk up one of the Wainwright fells - Hallin Fell. A series of hairbin bends bring you to a small parking area opposite St Peters Church and from there its straight up the fell.

It doesn't take long before you get beautiful views of Martindale Common and after a few more meters of ascent the more distant fells, including Helvellyn come into view as does Ullswater.

Views of Beda Fell from the start of the climb up Hallin Fell

Ullswater with Helvellyn in the distance

Hallin Fell is only 388 meters so doesn't take much more than half an hour to climb. The summit soon came into view, topped by a large stone square cairn - somewhat out of proportion to the height of the fell. Although modest in height Hallin Fell has commanding views of Ullswater and the surrounding fells.

On Hallin Fell

We followed a route that circled around passing some smaller cairns before descending back to the car on grassy slopes. The whole walk hadn't taken much more than an hour so before too long we were driving back looking for somewhere to have a cup of tea. Pooley Bridge was quite busy and parking was very expensive so we carried on and I remembered that Dalemain House had a tea room. We headed there to see if it was open - which it was - and suprisingly was pretty quiet. 

We didn't do much at Dalemain other than have a cuppa and read about their marmalade festival. Aparently they host a world marmalade championship each year and their own marmalade is sold in Fortnum and Mason. We contented ourselves with some fruitcake (packed with fruit) and suitably refreshed carried on to our next destination Aira Falls. We have visited these falls before but not for some years, so it was nice to revisit and follow the walks that lead from the car park by Ullswater, up to the series of cascades and waterfalls, that tumble down Aira Beck before it enters Ullswater.

Views of Aira Falls

We climbed to the top of the falls. I'd have been keen to carry on up Gowbarrow Fell but knew Mrs B would have vetoed this idea, so we criss crossed from one side of the beck to the other until returning to the car. 

After an energetic morning we finally made our way to Kirkby Lonsdale and found our accomodation, a small boutique hotel and wine bar right in the centre of this old market town. We've been to Kirkby Lonsdale a couple of times before. Its a lovely compact old market town, with stone buildings. The River Lune runs through a valley on the eastern side of the town. After unloading the car again we went for a stroll around the town and, as it was a warm afternoon, popped into the local brewery for a pint. We walked to the 'Devils Bridge' and plenty of people were swimming or splashing around in the pools by the bridge. Following a path along the river brought us to the bottom of the Radical Steps - a flight of steep stone steps that climbs up to St Marys churchyard. The steps were built in 1820 for Dr Francis Pearson, who had a reputation as a political radical, to divert the existing public footpath that ran through his garden. 

The Devils Bridge, Kirkby Lonsdale

The River Lune

The Royal Hotel and Market Square

Our hotel only offered a limited menu for dinner - sharing boards of cold meats or cheeses - so we strolled to the Royal Hotel overlooking the market square and found they offered a reasonably priced menu of more conventional and substantial main courses. I had thought we'd wander around after eating but a sudden downpour put paid to that idea. We dashed back to the hotel in the rain and settled in for the evening.

After a very good cooked breakfast (for me) and pancakes for Mrs B we were on our way again for our final night away. I had booked a hotel in the Ribble Valley in Lancashire and managed to persuade Mrs B to climb Pendle Hill before we checked in. Although aware of Pendle Hill I'd never visited this area before so it was a good chance to discover something and somewhere new. Our starting point for the climb was the pretty little village of Barley. This is an interesting area but with a dark history. Events in this area led to the Pendle Witch Trials in 1612, which resulted in the public execution of 10 local women. It was a horrific period of English history in which religious paranoia, fear, superstition and mysogyny played a large part in the trial of eleven women, only one of whom was found not guilty. The other ten women were all found guilty and hanged for witchcraft. 

We parked in the village car park and put our boots on for the hike up Pendle Hill. There is a well marked path from the village that took us past a couple of sleeping pigs before reaching the start of the climb. 

The start of the walk to Pendle Hill - seen in the distance

Once at the bottom of the hill you are faced with a choice. There's a path that zig zags up to the top, or a more direct route, called the stair case, which is a little more steeper and described as challenging. I opted for the staircase and the ascent soon had our hearts beating a little faster as we paused for breathers. This said it took less than an hour to get to the top - at 513 meters with a trig point to mark the summit. The area surrounding you once at the top is a area of flat moorland without any significant features. Apparently on a clear day you can see for miles but on our day it was warm but hazy, so views were not extensive. George Fox climbed Pendle Hill in 1652 and had a vision that led him to form the Quaker movement. Mrs B was having a vision of a more earthly type - the cafe in the car park that we'd spotted on arrival. 

The Staircase route to Pendle Hill

I took a descent that went across the moorland descending gradually at first and then a bit more steeply until we reached the Ogden Resevoirs and a road that passed a old waterworks, now converted into smart residential accomodation, before we arrived back at the start after a 5 mile circuit. The cafe in the car park had a menu designed to cater for hungry walkers - Mrs B had a bacon roll and I had an enormous bowl of cauliflower cheese soup which was delicious, but very filling.

Former waterworks building - converted to housing

Ogden Reservoir

After this I wanted to walk a bit more - and in a woodland above Barley is the Pendle Sculture Park. It is about a mile out of the village and involves another climb passing another resevoir: Black Moss. The sculture park is in a conifer woodland and is a rather spooky place. Drawing inspiration from the legends and folk tales of Lancashire and the Pendle area, artists have created a set of scultpures of mythical beasts and strange apparitions. A trail leads you from one strange sculture to another, culminating in a poignant outrline of the Pendle witches. 

Stranger Things: Some of the sculptures at Pendle Sculpture Park

The Pendle Witches

After an energetic and interesting day we set off for the short drive to our last hotel of the trip. They were hosting a wedding but gave us a room in a quieter annex and after a good meal we crashed out, tired from our day of walking.

Before setting off on this long trip we'd made arrangements to meet our daughters in Manchester. So after breakfast we set off, calling in at a bakery called Longboi's near Fallowfield to collect a selection of buns and cakes. I was treated to a slightly belated Fathers Day lunch  - I had a delicious goat curry with plantain, rice and sweet potato. 

After this fleeting but lovely family catch up we made our way home reflecting on the wonderful experiences we'd had and more memories made. Over the course of a month we'd travelled about 2800 miles by road and walked about 300 miles. We'd had amazing wildlife encounters and walked in some spectacular places. The Outer Hebrides do feel different to the mainland. The constant winds mean in many places there's little tree cover and large areas are covered with peat bog. The weather and landscapes constantly remind you of how wild and untamed these places are - although modern communications make them connected to the world.  For many years the native language, Gaelic, was dying out but is now having a resurgence. All road signs are now primarily in Gaelic. We visited 15 islands, Bute, Mull, Iona, Staffa, North Uist, South Uist, Berneray, Eriskay, Flodaigh, Grimsay, Skye, Lewis, Great Bernera, Harris and Scalpay but there are many more that remain to be visited. I've a feeling we will be back!

  

Homeward Bound

I had planned a slow journey back home, stopping in the Highlands and Lowlands of Scotland and Northern England starting with a brief return to Skye. 

We arrived at our accomodation, late in the day, but with the sun still shining. Our cabin was in Luib a small village on the shore of Loch Ainort, with views of the Red Cuillins. It was right on the shore of the loch and once we'd unpacked our bags and settled in we sat and just watched the sun sink below the peaks of the Red Cuillins across the loch. 

Sunset over Loch Ainort

When unpacking I realised I'd left all our breakfast cereals at our last place which meant we needed to find somewhere open (and serving breakfast) the next morning before doing anything else!

Broadford was the closest option and fortunately a nice little place called Deli Gasta opened at 9.00 am. We were waiting at the doors when they opened and as it was such a lovely morning ordered a takeaway breakfast - in my case smoked salmon and scrambled egg.

I'd suggested to Mrs B that we might climb something in Skye and identified a possible route up a hill overlooking Portree. I knew that a visit to the Cuillins would be vetoed but assured Mrs B that Ben Tianvaig at 413 meters wouldn't be too demanding. We made our way to the lovely little bay at Camastianavaig in an area of Skye called The Braes. It was very quiet, just a couple of other cars and a couple walking on the rocky shoreline and about half a dozen sheep escaping along the road until a sheepdog appeared to round them up and return them to the field from which they'd just escaped. 

The bay at Camastianavaig

Once we had parked up and put our boots on, we started the climb. The path hugged the cliff edge, initially climbing through bracken before giving way to moorland and rock and heading inland slightly. As we gained height and paused for breath views opened up behind us of the Cuiilins and of some little pinnacles of rock on the cliff edge.

What Ben Tianavaig lacks in altitude it more than makes up for in views. The top is marked by a circular trig point and from here there are 360 degree views. To the south the Cuillins, to the east the isle of Raasay and to the north Portree and Trotterish. 

Views to the north

Ben Tianavaig summit

It was quite breezy so we found a sheltered spot just below the summit and refuelled with handfuls of nuts and raisins to keep us going until we made it to Portree. I'd promised Mrs B tea and cake.

We made a speedy descent and found a cafe we'd visited during our last trip to Skye called Relish that we remembered as being good for food. They were only doing take out because of staff shortages, so we opted for some very generous portions of cake and a takeaway cuppa and sat eating and drinking in the small square at the centre of Portree. After shopping for some food we returned to our cabin to soak up the views. The cloud had come down obscuring the mountain tops but it was dry and there was just enough of a breeze to keep the draded midges at bay. 

Clouds rolling in over the Red Cuillins

Our time on the islands had sadly come to an end and the next morning we packed up once more and I set off to drive towards Kyleakin and then over the Skye bridge back onto mainland Scotland. Our destination for the night was a lodge in Tyndrum, but with no particular need to rush I immediately detoured for a walk around Plockton.

This village always features in guide books and calendars of Scotland as one of the 'picture postcard' places in the Scottish Highlands and it is a very pretty harbour village. We briefly visited a few years ago - on a Saturday - to find the road closed, a street party in full flow, with scottish dancing and plenty of alcohol being consumed. This time, early in the morning in the middle of the week, Plockton was more sedate. A few villagers were around popping to the local stores but it had a sleepy atmosphere a complete contrast to our previous visit. We walked along the main street with views over the water to Dunlarig Castle, got as far as the harbour before returning after a stretch of the legs.

Plockton

By lunchtime we'd reached Fort William. Early morning cloud had broken up meaning it was sunny and ideal weather for a picnic. Mrs B had prepared some rolls before we'd set of so we sat in a little green eating these before walking down the main street in search of tea and cake. A bakery called Rain supplied these - and we sat just outside in Cameron Square until the very same bagpiper who had been giving it full throttle on our drive up reappeared and performed an 'encore'. This drove me from my seat. Its not that I dislike pipe music - but this particular piper seemed to prioritise volume over anything else.

The road out of Fort William follows the shores of Loch Leven until reaching the road junction that takes you through Glencoe. This was the very first place I visited in Scotland and I have vivid memories of climbing the peaks that tower over the glen when younger - including one foolhardy walk up the side of the Clachaig Gully from the door of the Clachaig Inn, all the way to the start/end of the Aonach Eagach Ridge. 

I suggested to Mrs B we do something a little less risky and take a walk around Glencoe Lochan Trail - a very pretty spot just outside Glencoe village. It wasn't a very long walk, but with the sun on the water and a few ducks in the reeds it made for an idyllic few moments.

Views of Glencoe Lochan

By late afternoon we'd arrived in Tyndrum. Dining options are a little limited but by far the best choice for travellers is the Real Food Cafe. This roadside cafe sells first class fish and chips with home made mushy peas to either eat in or take away. Its serves ethically and sustainably sourced food and is a living wage employer. We both had the fish supper and if you pass this way be aware: the portions are generous.

Tyndrum is a stopping point on the West Highland Way, a 96 mile path that runs from just outside Glasgow to Fort William. After the meal I suggested to Mrs B that we walk a little section of it to work off some of the calories we'd just consumed. The route going north climbs very gently out of Tyndrum and skirts the lower slopes of Beinn Odhar. This is a far gentler landscape than further north, with grass and trees and a gentle stream offering visual distraction from the stony track.

A superfluous notice....

West Highland Way views outside Tyndrum

We walked about a mile and a half taking in the views and passing a completely superfluous sign on an old metal gate, before heading back to our accommodation and a comfy bed in a very spacious room.

After a good night's sleep and before our first drive of the day, we had a short walk along the southern section of the West Highland Way - walking about a mile through a community woodland, passing an old lead smelting site, until we reached a little lochan, 'The Lochan of the Lost Sword'. According to legend Robert the Bruce cast his sword into this small lochan after losing a battle. Needless to say this is an unlikely - given metal detectors have found no trace of anything in the loch, but it makes for a good tale.

The Lochan of the Lost Sword

We started to drive south, leaving the Highlands in the rear view mirror. I stopped part way along Loch Lomond at Firkin Point - a picnic area and rest stop on the A82. We walked along the old road that's now a footpath and cycle track, stopping to take a few photos and at one point distracted by a Common Sandpiper that appeared on the path and then flew away before returning.

The Firkin view of Loch Lomond

As we reached the southern end of Loch Lomond we made a planned detour to Helensburgh, a well, to do coastal town on the banks of the Firth of Clyde. Our desination was The Hill House, widely considered to be the domestic masterpiece of architectural design by Charles Rennie Mackintosh.

We were fortunate to see Mackintosh's other great building, the Glasgow School of Art, ten years ago not long before it was devastated by a fire. The Hill House is now in the care of the National Trust for Scotland who have tackled the conservation challenge of preserving an important building in a unique and interesting way.

The Hill House was built between 1902-1904. It was the home of a wealthy publisher, Walter Blackie  who commisioned Charles Rennie Mackintosh to design a new family home. What we see today is a product of Rennie's Mackintosh's architectural style and his wife, Margaret Macdonald's artistic designs for the interior.

The Hill House as it looked in the 1920's

The house was clad in a concrete render. Sadly time has not been kind to the building and damp has penetrated as the concrete render has cracked. The National Trust for Scotland have had to envelope the building in a 'box'. Its an ingenious metal structure with a roof and a mesh on each side to allow air to flow but keep rain out. The aim is to prevent any further deterioration in the building and allow it to dry out whilst a more permanent solution is found.

The Hill House under wraps.

Visitors now get the chance see the interior of the house, but to also walk on external walkways up to and above roof level to get a birds eye view of the building. Inside is a lovely set of rooms with contrasting design. Some are dark with wood panelling, whilst others are light and airy but the whole feels very harmonious. Throughout the familiar motifs of Rennie Mackintosh are visible. 

Inside The Hill House

Outside the walkways take you around the outside of the house and climb to above roof height, giving visitors a chance to see the design of the building from multiple heights and elevations. 

A birds eye view

It was fascinating to be able to see so much of the building and a very enjoyable visit. We grabbed a quick bite from the on site cafe, built within the 'cage', sitting outside on a little terrace. It was a bit breezy and we were the only people brave or foolhardy to eat outdoors, even though the sun was shining.

Our destination for the end of the day was a hotel just outside Lockerbie - chosen for convenience rather anything else. Before driving there I detoured to another National Trust for Scotland site just a short distance from Helensburgh, and pretty much on route; Geilston Garden. These 200 year old gardens are close to the banks of the Clyde between Helensburgh and Dumbarton and whilst they are not spectacular it made for a pleasant diversion. One of the advantages of being National Trust members is reciprocal arrangements give free entry to Scottish National Trust properties - so it had been a cheap day!

Geilston Garden

By late afternoon we had arrived at our hotel on the outskirts of Lockerbie. I wasn't intending to explore any more places that day, but as we turned into the road leading to our hotel a brown sign caught my eye: 'Ukrainian POW Chapel'. This intrigued me - so once we'd checked in and unpacked I pulled up an OS map on my phone and found where I thought it was located. It looked to be about a mile away so I set off on foot to try and find it. I walked along a country lane, then a bridle path and then another lane until I spotted it tucked away on a derelict piece of land behind a bus depot. In 1941, Italian prisoners of war were transported from Italy to Glasgow and then housed in a POW camp just outside Lockerbie and put to work on the land. They asked the landowner for permission to use one of the corrugated iron huts for religious services and created their own chapel. Later in the war Ukrainian internees were housed there and took over the chapel. When the war ended most stayed in Scotland. Being returned to the Soviet Union would most likely have resulted in their execution as traitors. The chapel was used up until the present day and most recently acted as a donation point for food and clothing for Ukraine following the Russian invasion.

The chapel is still standing but by the look of things now undergoing major repairs. I found a picture of what it looked like on the internet and it reminded me of a similar chapel created by Italian POWs that I saw in the Orkney Islands a few years ago. 

How the chapel used to look inside

When I peered through the windows I couldn't see much. The walls had been stripped and wires were hanging loose. A large pile of plasterboard was stacked in the centre of the room. Beyond I could just see some faded wallpaper - just a hint at how colourful it once looked.

There was nothing by way of signage to indicate it was undergoing refurbishment, but I assume that's what's happening. Its now a listed building. 

Hallmuir Ukrainian Chapel

I left reflecting on how our perspectives change over time. In 1941 the Ukranian soldiers interned in this place were considered our enemies - some had belonged to the Waffen SS. 

Now we are supporting Ukraine and its people in their struggle against invasion, and Ukranians are considered our friends and allies. Those we welcome to the UK are refugees in need of our compassion and help. This unexpected 'find' in the middle of the countryside outside a small Scottish border town acted as a reminder of how the passage of time can change our views of the world and why, therefore, it is always important to see beyond nationality and focus on the human being. 

Our time in Scotland - after almost a month of travelling - was drawing to a end. We had our final meal in Scotland in the hotel and prepared for the final stage of our journey. The next day we'd be crossing the border back into England but taking time to visit some parts of Cumbria and Lancashire before we finally returned home.

Harris Without The Tweed

 If you look at a 2D map of Harris and Lewis it's hard to see why they are considered separate islands. Look at things in 3D and you see the very different character of each island. Lewis has vast tracts of featureless peat bog.  Harris has mountains. And beaches. One features on postcards and magazine articles on a regular basis: Luskentyre. It is often rated as one of the top ten beaches in the world.

On a breezy and overcast morning we set off to see whether the hype lived up to reality.

The drive through Harris revealed a completely different landscape. Mountains shrouded in cloud rose up around us. The road climbed over a mountain pass, amongst boulder strewn slopes and first on one side and then the other sea lochs. In the cloud the landscape looked quite brooding and inhospitable. We eventually reach the turning for Luskentyre and followed a single track road for three miles until reaching a small car park with just a handful of other cars and camper vans. For a world class beach Luskentyre certainly wasn't attracting crowds. We walked through the dunes and onto an expansive beach. Despite the cloud and stiff breeze it still looked beautiful. The sea had a turquoise tint and the sand stretched on and on. We walked into the wind and soon had the entirety of Luskentyre to ourselves. It didn't look like the Instagram photos, much wilder with waves crashing in from the Atlantic but still magnificent. After walking about three quarters of a mile the cloud turned to drizzle and we turned back with the wind behind our backs making walking much easier. It's hard to overstate how significant the wind is in the Outer Hebrides and how much effort is needed to walk when it's blowing hard.

Luskentyre beach on a murky and very breezy day

After this 'workout' we drove further south and detoured to 'Croft 36'. I had read about this place. Its a food stall by the side of a minor road in South Harris. Each day the owner puts freshly cooked and baked goodies in it for sale. It operates entirely on an honesty box basis. We dropped by to see what was available. Everything looked tasty and we purchased a loaf of still warm bread, some butteries, (a type of butter bun), and some frangipan. 

Croft 36

Contining on we reached Leverburgh, and then headed east on a minor road towards a village called Rodel. We had started to think about lunch, when we stumbled across another food stall by the side of a croft. This one was called Katies Kitchen and sold hot soup, hot drinks, hot Stornoway black pudding sausage rolls and various cakes including some tempting fruit cake. Again all operated on an honesty box basis. 

We couldn't resist and sat in the car eating delicious sausage rolls, followed by the frangipans from Croft 36 and hot chocolate, but with some fruit cake for later.

Mrs B's favourite!

From Rodel we worked our way along the east coast road, all single track, often very misty with boulders strewn across the bleak moorland. It looked other worldly. It has been nicknamed the Golden Road apparently a local councillor was complaining about how much money it cost to construct it. It  Eventually after passing through small fishing communities and driving at no more than 20mph due to the bends, blind summits and sheep in the road we arrived in Tarbert.

A gin palace...

Its where the ferry arrives from Skye and is the commercial and social hub of Harris. It has a ssecondary school, a couple of hotels and a smattering of shops and tourist attractions including a Harris tweed outlet and a gin distillery. It didn't take very long to take in all that Tarbert had to offer, so on a whim I took us over to the neighbouring small island of Scalpay. This turned out to be an inspired choice. 

Scalpay only used to be connected to Harris by ferry. Its a small island but has a thriving fishing industry. In 1997 a simple but elegant road bridge was built to connect Scalpay to Harris. It was officially opened by Tony Blair, who was apparently plagued by midges during his visit. 

Scalpay Bridge

Once on Scalpay we read an information board spotted by Mrs B, that suggested walks on the island, including one to Eilean Glas lighhouse. This intrigued us and patches of blue sky had appeared with the sun had starting to shine through, so we parked and set off on a well marked track. The stiff breeze still made walking a harder proposition that might be expected on fairly level ground, but we soon got views of the red and white striped lighthouse on the cliff edge. 

Eilean Glas lighthouse appears on the skyline.

The lighthouse tower you can see today dates back to 1824, but nearby is a smaller stumpy tower that is one of the earliest to be built in Scotland, in 1789. 

Eilean Glas lighthouse

The first lighthouse

After reaching the lighthouse which is now cared for by a trust, we found a makeshift cafe operated by a volunteer who has to walk a mile each way to offer this service. We had a hot drink, partly to support the trust, and had a chat with another couple who were visiting like us. Both were retired members of the European Space Agency and like us had travelled a lot. We swapped a few travellers tales before making the return journey and then the long drive home to our base.

After a week of cloudy and occasionally rainy weather, things improved for the last days of our stay in the Outer Hebrides. We had one full day and we agreed, because it was sunny, to return to Uig beach and then to revisit Clibh bay, because they are such special places on Lewis. First we drove down to Uig. Whilst the sun was shining brightly the wind hadn't abated in fact it had got stronger. We went through the dunes and found ourselves walking into a 40mph wind, blowing sand at high speed across the beach. We gritted our teeth, both metaphorically and physically and walked across the bay. It was tough but much easier returning -with the wind at our backs. 

Our final views of Uig

Once out of the wind it felt as though our faces had been exfoliated.

We drove back through Glen Valtos, back to Clibh. Mrs B paid a final visit to her late fathers gravestone and we walked along the beach. The waves rolling in from the Atlantic were impressive - we could only imagine how wild this place would be in a winter storm. 

Clibh Beach 

In the afternoon I explored a little more of Great Bernera on foot. The sun was shining, the wind was still blowing hard and I ended up at the end of the road, in Kirkibost after walking four or fives miles. 

The road to Kirkibost

Kirkibost view across to Lewis

It was now time to pack up and start a long, some might say leisurely, return journey. So the next day we tidied up, packed our bags (or more accurately rucksacks) and plotted a route to the ferry port of Tarbert for the first leg of our return journey, back to Skye. Because our ferry didn't leave until late afternoon, we thought it would be nice to see a bit more of the Golden Road on Harris and, if we had time, try and see Luskentyre beach in sunshine. It was a revelation driving through Harris in good weather. We could see the tops of mountains and views - before everything had been hidden by dense cloud and mist. 

We bypassed Tarbert and started off on the Golden Road. Being a Sunday it was very, very quiet. We passed tiny settlements with red phone boxes, numerous little lochs and, at Finbay, stopped to take photos of seals. Most resting on the rocks, some swimming and one leaping out of the water. 

The 'Golden Road', Harris

Golden Road views

Finally we worked our way around to Luskentyre and saw it as it is pictured in the guidebooks - with a backdrop of mountains, soft golden white sand that goes on and  on.It was a marvellous way to spend our final few hours. On arrival we found that It was busier than when we first visited, but parking wasn't a problem and in no time at all we left people behind and were walking once again across the sands,with a turquoise sea and white capped waves breaking against the shore. It was pretty much perfect. There was even a breeze to keep any midges at bay.

Spot Mrs B!

Luskentyre

Our ferry departed a little late but by late afternoon we were sailing away from Lewis and Harris a little sad at leaving a place that is both special and magical. I'd planned to spend a couple of nights on Skye before we returned to mainland Scotland and we started to check the weather forecast and make plans.