from Mallaig to the Isle of Skye

Isle Of Skye Travel Blog

 › entry 47 of 68 › view all entries

Arriving at Mallaig railway station, I purchased my ticket to the Isle of Skye.  From the ferry while still docked in the harbor, I spotted a seal come up for air and two different species of jellyfish drift by.  The upper deck of the ferry made a perfect vantage point for watching Skye draw closer as the mainland pulled away.


Off the boat in Armadale, I found a bus into Portree, on which I spoke with an English traveler and the bus driver who pointed out the red and black moors and The Old Man of Storr, a 49m (160ft) rock stabbing the sky from atop a moorland.  As we passed some of the furry indigenous cows with horns and blond toupees grazing in the lush, green fields, I asked the driver where I might sample their beef.  He suggested I try Bosville to look for highland cattle on the menu.


At the Bayfield Backpackers Hostel, I met two nice Asian girls with whom I chatted while waiting for service.  When the attendant to returned, he informed me that all beds were full, so he called the Independent to confirm they had vacancy and explained how to get there.  I followed his directions and checked in before going in search of a highland cattle steak.


Unfortunately, no restaurant of which I scanned a menu serve the bovine for which I was hungering nor did the restaurant at Bosville, but it was getting late, so I decided to stay to eat something else.  With the aid of input from my waiter, I opted for my first taste of stewed venison.  Although I singed my tongue on a tiny potato, dinner was fabulous!  I even splurged and treated myself to lemon cheesecake with mango coulee for desert.


The few pubs I passed did not look too happening and none had Scottish music, so I decided I would turn in early and get a predawn (maybe 4:00am) start hiking up one of the surrounding mountains.  The receptionist, from whom I needed to collect linens, was not in however.  Awaiting her return, I met three new guests who had been waiting as well to book in and we started talking.  They were from southern Spain, and then another Spanish brother and sister joined us, and finally one more Spaniard, Eduardo, who later turned out to be my roommate, appeared.  Together, we brought our banter to the Isles Inn pub in time for last call.  It was fun to once again recall and practice my Spanish with more native speakers.  Around midnight, we concluded the evening and all went to sleep.
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Isle Of Skye
photo by: Jollyjetsetter