The Isle of Skye, Scotland

From Inverness, we took the back roads through the western side of the Highlands and then all the way up the Isle of Skye to Dunvegan Castle and the port town of Uig. Long day, but worth it to see beauty every mile of the way.

The weather wasn’t really on our side, with damp air and – on Skye itself – fog so low we couldn’t see the mountaintops. But still we persevered, down single-track roads, up and down winding turns, and waiting out construction delays and heavy traffic (there are a LOT of tour buses on Skye).

Dunvegan Castle is literally at the end of the road, but thankfully, with a huge parking lot. After hours in the car, it was great to get out and walk around, both the castle and the gardens. Most people would show you a photo of the castle, but it was hard to get a good angle on it, so here’s a photo of the view from the castle instead.

The gardens were a delight, even though we were early for most of the blooms. The waterfalls, though, were rocking. (For the iPhone photographers in the audience, I used Live to take the shot and then set the photo after shooting to Long Exposure. Thanks to my friend, Michael, for that tip.)

The rhododendrons, those early bloomers, were showing off their colors, and there were at least a half-dozen different species on display, not just the purple ones that line hills along the Blue Ridge back home.

Our last drive was a wee bit of distance to Uig, where we had two hotel rooms waiting for us, along with in-house dinner (no driving to a restaurant, yay!). We had water view rooms and I have to say, they were very nice views!

And this was the view from the car park in front of the hotel:

The next morning, the sun was out, promising a better day for photography, which I appreciated. Before we left, I did sit on this bench, admiring the view and the bluebells, which were all over Scotland at this point. Never having seen a bluebell, I was now quite enamored of them.

Here’s the map for this section of the tour:

The world is full of magical things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.

W. B. Yeats