‘Onward’ the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that’s born to be King
Over the sea to Skye.
Unlike Bonnie Prince Charlie who came over the sea to Skye in a rowboat, it was a Caledonian MacBrayne ocean ferry that brought us over the sea to Skye on Monday. We made an early start from Fort William for the hour’s drive to Mallaig on the coast where we set sail for the famed Isle – a wonderfully scenic, quaint place with winding, single-lane roads punctuated every 100 metres or so with passing turnouts, its hills dotted with attractive bright white Scottish cottages. And sheep. Many sheep. Sheep with white faces and sheep with black faces.
Leaving the ferry terminal at Armadale in south Skye, we were soon greeted by the imposing skyline of the Cuillin Mountains. And with the weather unusually excellent with bright sunshine bathing the blue sky, there would be no better time for walking. So we parked the Vauxhall and set out towards the black peaks in the distance.
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