THE BLACK CULLIN RISING STRAIGHT UP FROM LOCH SCAVAIG

This week I would like to take you along on a fabulous day Fran and I spent in one of the Southernmost areas of the Isle of Skye. We traveled for about forty-five minutes across the island through the Cullin Mountain range, ending up on a single track road to the very remote village of  Elgol on the shores of Loch Scavaig. We were far enough from our home base that we traveled far beyond the detailed Ordinance Survey maps that we relied upon for most of our travels on Skye. The only saving grace was that there was clearly only one road most of the way, with turn-offs so obscure that you were clearly lost if you followed them - which is not to say that your intrepid navigator did manage to get lost. Fortunately the road ended and we were forced to turn back to the point where I had made my mistake.

                WE GOT UP EARLIER THAN USUAL FOR OUR JOURNEY ACROSS THE ISLE. BUT THE SHEEP WERE BACK!

This convoluted route to Elgol was one of the most daunting roads we traveled on the Isle of Skye and probably accounts for the reason that a lot of visitors never travel to Elgol. The route takes you past the Red Cullin mountain range, which we were already familiar with because there are only a few roads on the whole Isle of Skye. After passing through Broadford, one of the larger villages on the island, we took off on the 14-mile single-rack road to Elgol, which took most of another forty-five minutes. The descent to the coast at Elgol  is hairy enough, but it doesn’t prepare you for the realization that the village is even more isolated than you thought. Elgol has about 150 souls, a town hall, a school, a few food trucks, and a pier with two friendly competitive boat trip companies. The couple of dozen houses are piled up on the hill you just drove down. That is it.

                THE RED CULLIN RANGE ON THE WAY DOWN TO THE SOUTHERN TIP OF SKYE

The attraction of the village is the incredible views across the loch to the base of the other part of the Cullin mountain range, the forbidding Black Cullin. These mountains rise up straight from the loch, and while you could walk eight or so miles to get there, the far easier way is to take the boat ride across Loch Scavaig. A word here on the Scottish naming conventions for bodies of water. There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason on why some body of water is a loch, or a bay, or just not named at all, even though a Loch is supposedly an arm of the sea around the Isle of Skye. Loch Scavaig seemed like an arbitrary designation of the open sea around Elgol.

                A PICTURESQUE ROCK CLIFF ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS

As we waited on the pier for our sailing, Fran rolled her eyes a little more violently than usual as I started laughing hysterically as I looked across the village. One of the reasons that I had wanted to come to Elgol in the first place was a You Tube video on the place by one of the photographers that I follow, Andy Gibbs. Mr. Gibbs is a fantastic photographer, but I suddenly realized that as a storyteller he was not above a little exaggeration. I spied across the way a very familiar picturesque two-story stone outcropping that was featured in his video. Now albeit he there on a much more stormy day then our few minutes in Elgol, but the video, like my first image of this isolated spot on the forbidding Scottish coast, failed to mention the cottage less than twenty feet to the right of the rock. I now realized that Mr. Gibbs could have stopped for a cuppa a minute after his journey to the wilderness.

                WHO KNEW THERE WAS A CUP OF TEA WAITING JUST A SHORT WALK AWAY?

                A WILDERNESS PANORAMA FROM THE BOAT

Which does not mitigate the fact that once we set off on our half-hour boat ride, we were actually going to the wilderness of the Black Cullin. We set off with the captain and only one other passenger, a young mountain climber that immediately brought out the grandfather in me. While we were off for a few hours and possibly a few mile walk before the boat returned, she was going to hike alone for a few days before taking the boat back. All I could think of saying to her was to ask that she took care on her adventure.

                A CLOSER VIEW OF THE BLACK CULLIN

It only got worse when the captain ventured close to shore so that she could scope out her projected route up the mountain that rose straight out of the water. The “Impossible Step” involved a rock climb across a granite outcropping at the beginning of her projected route. The only saving grace was that if you fell off you would not get hurt because you would fall twenty feet into the water so you could try again. I felt very old.

                THE CLOSER YOU GET, THE MORE FORBIDDING THE LANDSCAPE APPEARS

The boat docked at a pier that was very rudimentary at best. I would have not reached land without the help of the captain. Fran and I then set off for our projected short hike to the smaller fresh-water Loch Coruisk which was supposedly very close by and fed into the open water across a hop, skip and a jump of a stream up ahead. While Fran was game, it soon became very clear that I was not up for the short hike. The way ahead seemed another variation on the Scottish pile of rocks, and my poles helped but not enough. When we spied what we thought was the small stream that we would have to cross, I promptly found a convenient boulder to perch on and declared that these people were out of there minds. The stream only lacked jumping salmon and Grizzly bears to star in an Alaskan video. While I kind of new that there had to be a safer route just out of sight, I had had enough. We spent the next hour or so perched on the rock until we gingerly made our way back to the dock.

                MY ROCKY PERCH  A FEW MINUTES ASHORE

                A CLOSER VIEW OF WHAT WE THOUGHT WAS THE SMALL STREAM WE THOUGHT WE HAD TO CROSS TO GET TO LOCH CORUISK. WE WERE WRONG, BUT HERE IS WHERE WE CALLED IT QUITS.

Which is not to say that the surroundings were not incredibly beautiful. We could look in almost any direction right smack into the middle of a range of mountains that rose straight out of the water. The only sign of mankind, much less civilization, was the dock and the small hut that mountain climbers could start their treks into the surrounding mountains. Most of these images from my boulder and from the boat across the loch required stitching multiple shots to begin to capture the breadth of the incredible views.

                THE DOCK IS JUST OVER THAT SMALL HILL. THE MOUNTAINS EXTEND FOR MANY MILES INTO THE DISTANCE.

Our captain once again proved indispensable in getting me back on the boat. Fran and I were now the only passengers, and we had a delightful time as the captain played us tea and shortbread while made our way back to Elgol. The conversation soon turned to the political problems that our two communities, 6000 miles and worlds apart, seemed to share in common. Fran was besides herself to be hearing about the lack of affordable housing and gentrification of Elgol, and we seemed right back in Portland. Except for the return trip up the lonely roads back to our cottage on the other side of the Isle of Skye.

                JUST A PORTION OF THE BLACK CULLIN - A STITCHED PANORAMA FROM MY BOULDER.