Day 10: Portree
The morning kicked off with my first full Scottish breakfast of the trip, basically all the good stuff: black pudding, bacon, potato bread, flat sausage, beans, egg, mushrooms, half a tomato, and toast. Happily, no white pudding to be seen, it’s been a while since I last tried this, but having had it several times, the best I could describe it is “meh”. P has been poking me to have some, so I’ve said I will if he does (he’s a vegetarian). Anyway, the breakfast was good, even if the cafe had a weird Spanish name and hints of Spanish food on the menu (we’re quite a way away from Spain).
After breakfast I wandered around the main part of Portree, in order to get some pressies for the folks back home. It’s not a large town, with the bulk of the shopping taking place over a couple of streets really, and a few extras that have some dining options (more on that later). Nonetheless I did find a few interesting things to plug some gift gaps. I also took a quick stroll along the waterfront area, a small row of brightly coloured houses, the sort of scene that a good photographer could turn into a jigsaw-worthy snap.
Shopping done, it was time to hit the road with the gang. I’d expressed an interest in hitting the Talisker visitor centre for a quick shopping stop if we had time, so that was first up. It’s one of the larger distillery visitor centres we’ve encountered so far, but that’s to be expected when it’s Diageo-owned. There are many wonderful souvenirs to be had, including the opportunity to fill your own bottle straight from the cask (the current casks were red wine finished, and for my tastes wine finishes are generally among my least favourite (down with port finishes). Settles for a dram of the distillery exclusive bottling that was on offer, a very decent 11 year old bourbon cask number. Lots of solid Talisker flavours, a hint but not too much pepper, and lovely maritime spices, with a little water out came some wonderful iodine-medicinal notes. A decent amount of depth with a solid finish, but I’m saving my whisky buying for Feis Ile. Also of note in the visitor centre is a Talisker cocktail muddling stick that looks more like a sex toy. No judgement, but a second opinion yielded the same conclusion.
The Talisker visit took a little longer than expected, so we decided to grab lunch at the nearby The Old Inn, which bills itself as “Probably the best pub in Carbost” (from what we’ve seen, it’s the only pub in Carbost). I went for the black pudding and scallops: two well cooked scallops with roe on a nice slice of Stornaway black pudding, plus some greens, capers, and cherry tomatoes. Very tasty, a good combination of flavours.
Then we headed to the very north of Skye, to the Kilmuir cemetery, final resting place of Alexander McQueen, and memorial to Flora McDonald. The roads there were mostly single lane with passing places and sheep and arseholes and potholes. There’s a bit of a knack to using passing places, but it basically boils down to don’t be a dick. If you see a car coming and you’re closer to the passing place, then pull over, don’t speed up. If the car in front of you does this, and there are cars coming the other way, don’t overtake and speed up. We had a couple of uncomfortable moments because there are a lot of drivers who are just that arsehole.
Kilmuir cemetery is small and in a wonderful location overlooking the outer Hebridean islands of Lewis and Harris. McQueen’s stone is impressive, being roughly shaped, and is very touching. Flora McDonald, who assisted the escape of our old pal BPC, is memorialised with a large grave (though, apparently, she may well have been buried in several places, not necessarily on Skye.
From here it was continuing around the island to the Old Man of Storr, the famous stone monolith that is on all the postcards of Skye that don’t involve sheep or cows. There are a decent amount of sheep on Skye, most probably more than humans, and they generally are better at following the road rules. There were several occasions where we had to stop for sheep on the road, including a microflock of 6 or 7, merrily wandering across the road for greener pastures.
The Old Man of Storr: being generous, this is really only 7 out of 10 when it comes to Scottish attractions: to be honest, from the very shape of the pillar through to attraction itself, it’s all just a bit phallic: it’s a two-plus hour hike for the full circle, quite taxing as there’s a lot of up and down steps and gradients, with occasional level parts for folk such as me to catch their breath.
I’ll admit that I’m a ripe old age, carrying about 10kg more than I should, have knees that that never been the best (though having carried 20-30kg more than recommended for a couple of decades, while acting as if I wasn’t, hasn’t helped). Add to that my base level of activity is about 3,000 steps/day, so more about maintenance than any specific goal or level of fitness, my knees and ankles will probably get MRIs when I get home, and my lung capacity is down a little thanks to a lingering cough from a cold a few weeks ago, I’m hardly a young picture of fitness.
I’ve been doing 12,000 steps/day on this trip with little challenge, my feet have borne the brunt of it mostly, but I’ve generally not done a lot of uneven stepwork up hills, which is what TOMOS is. So in my mind it’s a bit of a testosterone brag thing: oh yeah I did the full thing, a full lap of the large stone phallus; rather than a specific hike for a special view of Skye. You don’t get the postcard views on the hike, and while you do get some wonderful views of the ocean and other islands, there must be at least a dozen more easily accessible places on Skye for views as, if not more, spectacular. So file TOMAS under long hike surrounded by arseholes and idiots that folks do because they like walking. There were indeed a number of arseholes and idiots: it appears that for every Greta Thunberg or similar teenager seeking to save the planet, there are half a dozen teenagers (boys generally) who would rather stomp through areas undergoing rehabilitation than follow a simple path. All with parents just as stupid, allowing and encouraging this.
Ah, travel, the endless possibilities encountering arseholes in the rest of the world. There are nice people too, but today at least the ones who don’t do the right thing were prominent. I think part of it is just the nature of Skye, it’s small enough yet popular enough that so many people come here who really struggle to have a clue about people around them. And Skye itself seems to be struggling to cope with the number of people here: a significant number of restaurants/hotels just don’t serve dinner, or are currently closed. From what I’ve seen, every open business is making money this weekend, people are queuing for an hour for a seat at a restaurant. Maybe it’s just a slow recovery post-Covid, or Brexit affecting workers, I don’t know, but right now I’m not sure Skye could comfortably handle more visitors.
Dinner was at an Indian restaurant: I’d intended to wander around and see what was open, which wasn’t a huge amount. The oldest fish and chip shop in Portree only takes cash; the other fish and chip shop doesn’t actually seem to want customers, as I stood for 5 minutes while no one took my order; tried a couple of hotel bars whose exterior signage indicated they served food, but neither did, another couple of restaurants had queues; so it was either takeaway Chinese or take a punt on the curry. Went with the curry, actually managed to get a seat, and the food was good, a decent level of spice, lots of flavour, well worth it.
The locals in Skye all seem to be a very helpful and friendly bunch, got some wonderful information and guidance from the tourist information centre, shop keepers have been wonderfully friendly, we’ve had decent service in cafes, restaurant and bars, the staff at Talisker were great. I don’t know what is the proper term for people from Skye, so I’ll make one up: Skyefae seem to be a bunch of wonderful folks.
Tomorrow is an early start, as we’ve the other Skye distillery to visit, then Armadale castle, before catching the ferry to Mallaig and driving to Oban. A fun-filled day awaits.