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The hunt for our hero begins...
... at the end of the world. It's a long and lonely road towards Elgol. Shortly after leaving Broadford, there stands the ruins of Kilchriosd Church, with crumbling stones telling the stories of those who lie beneath the ground. The church is picturesque, covered in ivy and cotoneasters. Not far beyond stands a small stone circle, certainly not of Stonehenge drama, but one with memories and strong spirits none the less. St. Columba, who brought Christianity to Skye, was not one for destroying the sacred pagan places, and in fact, "adopted" them, blessed them, and often gave them a Christian symbolism. So it appears here, as the graveyard holds Christians and pagans alike. 
After passing the ruins, there's 10 miles of empty road, and you're more likely to cross the occassional hielan coo or shaggy sheep than another traveler. There are many tales of history and legend along the roadside if you know where to look, such as An t-Sithean, a faery hill. On clear moonlit nights, if you can sneak up the hill quietly enough and not be observed, you may hear the faery music coming from the ground and see them dancing on the circle of grass that surrounds the standing stone. 
No faeries for us today though, we must be on our way. We continue the drive past the formidable Black Cuillin, Blaaven, known as the "killer" mountain. It's magentic force is so strong, it sends compasses a-spinning. The Cuillin are not an easy place to explore and require the expertise of guides if you don't want to get lost! But this is not a concern for us now. We pass over the Dunach Burn (Burn of Misfortune), and eventually reach the town of Elgol. As the scenery opens up before us, the late afternoon sun reflects brightly off the water revealing a town that makes its living off the sea and tourists. But we don't have time to reflect long on its quaintness, we must catch the next ferry. The Bella Jane will be our transport today.While we cross Loch Scavaig, the sky becomes overcast. The waves become a bit choppy, and it's difficult to tell if the drops  on our faces are from the spray of the boat bouncing through the water, or the mist falling from the sky. As we peer through the mist, we can just make out the faint outline of the island of Rum, the curtain of rain obscures Eigg, Muck and Canna from our view. Despite the drizzle, the seals are still out in force. The seal colony is one of the tourist favorites here.We've arrived at last, not a little green around the edges from the sea's choppiness. Our hosts invite us to remain on the boat; the weather turned more quickly than they expected and they are hesitant to allow us off to explore. Many return to shelter in Elgol, but we must continue forward in search of our friend Hamish. 
We climb the short ridge and are taken aback by the sight before us. The deep loch is dark and mysterious, the mountains appearing to shoot straight up from its edges. Lightning crackles through the sky, tearing open the invisible curtain holding back the rain. We turn back briefly but the Bella Jane has already left, so we search for shelter under the clefts of the hills. The storm rages, and our imagination does too. What can that unearthly crying be? Could it be the ghost sheep who is forever being branded by the ghost shepherd? Or perhaps it is the uraisg, the monster who lives here. No one who sees him (or perhaps it's better stated, no one whom he sees) lives to tell of it. He's of "a fearful shape, half human, half goat, with long hair, long teeth, and long curving claws." I'm sure he could make such sounds as those we're hearing through the storm.To calm us, our guide tells us the story of how Skye got its name. There once was a great warrior who lived in the Cuillin mountains. No one knows if she was goddess or mortal, but a great warrior none would deny. Challenged repeatedly, but never defeated. She started a school in the mountains for heroes, and had many come to her to learn the art of war. To reach her school, warriors had to pass through many trials such as the plain of devouring wild beasts, and the bridge of the cliff which would tilt upwards whenever anyone tread on it, throwing them down to their death. Anyone who arrived at her school was deemed worthy enough to be taught for surviving such perils. Her name was Skiach, and truth be told, no one knows for certain if she took her name from the Gaelic name for Skye Eilean Sgiathanach (Winged Isle), or if Skye took her name from the warrior. By the time he finishes the tale, the storm has calmed and the sun tries to break through the clouds above us. Our nerves are still jittery, and as we gaze upon the loch below us we were half expecting to see a great sea horse rise out of the water at any moment. Still, there must be magic here, because the loch calls us down to it to explore it. Despite its savage beauty, our minds circle around our hero: Where is Hamish?
Come back next week when we explore more of Skye in search of our elusive hero. |
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