Staffin Beach

So far, so good this morning. Although it rained in the night blue skies parted the pale clouds as we ate breakfast. Please let today be fine.

Next to Marge was a van from Cornwall. As the woman swept, yes swept it out, we could see the interior had been panelled out to look like the exterior of a beach hut. Quirky, hey Marge? 

We left at nine thirty, the weather was an improving picture. As we drove, we could clearly see the red Cuillin mountains. The traffic heading towards us was heavy with many vans and caravans.

After Portree we caught sight of the Old man of Storr with a blue sky above. Result. Arriving at the car park, it seemed lots of people had had the same idea as us. Get there early before the weather changes. 

All kitted out, we set off up the path, our legs complaining. But soon we loosened up, and got into our stride. This was our third time of doing this climb in a year. Up at the top near the viewpoint Angela thought she might abstain from climbing the last few steps because she might feel vertiginous looking down. John reassured her she'd be fine. Onwards and upwards. The view from the top was spectacular. Below us stood the old man, and in front we could clearly see the island of Rathsay.

 Vertigo, what vertigo, just don't look down. Then from nowhere a curtain of rain blew across. Quick waterproof trousers on, easy said than done on top of a mountain in the wind. We'd come prepared. Oh, you wore micro shorts, did you? Shame about the mud on your new sketcher's trainers. Last year when we walked here some people were wearing flip flops! For goodness' sake, we're climbing a mountain not walking to the beach.  Climbing down as we were just below the old man, we decided to walk around the back of it. A sign said, Do Not Go Beyond This Point. Why? Because of rock falls. More like bloody fools thought Marge.

We met a couple coming towards us, and they reassured us we could easily walk around, so we did, and it was. Then a slow descent, we didn't want any broken ankles, although in the unlikely event we could always ride down in the tracked wheelbarrow kept on the mountain to move rocks for the pathway. 

Over two and a half hours later we were back at Marge. You didn't break your necks then. No Marge, we missed you too. Having achieved our objective, we rewarded ourselves with a bowl of lentil soup whilst our jacket and trousers dried in the returning sunshine.

Lunch eaten, next stop Kilt Falls, but not before using the new service point for vans by the new toilets. Toilet emptying, fresh water and grey water disposal (by bucket or container only). Fill you boots Marge, or rather empty your loo.

Kilt Rock was busy, lots of tourists arriving in mini buses. We visited here last year, but as we were driving this way, we thought we should stop. Then on to Staffin Beach, where there are dinosaur footprints on the beach which we saw last year.

 We will stay here tonight down by the fisherman's lock ups near to the slipway. The basalt cliffs tower above us. Across to the mainland the blue grey mountains are tinged with pink from a setting sun. It's a popular spot, there are lots of other vans here. The road down was tight, with very few passing places and heavily pot holed, so another challenging exit for Marge tomorrow.   

Bacon, egg and beans tonight. There's something about the smell of bacon cooking. Some men from the other vans are circling Marge. Sorry Marge we don't think you're attracting them this time. 

Some of the huge blocks of Basalt which had crashed down from the cliffs onto the beach.