Skye Trail Day Zero – Home to Trotternish – 485 miles, 8 hours
It was absolutely tipping it down as we packed the car at Rogers house. I was as surprised as he was that we managed to get two fat lads, one fat dog and two weeks of gear into my little Golf, but we did and what’s more I could even see out of the back window.
The rain continued as we made our way up a very busy M6, to what was our first expected stop in Glasgow. we made a slight change in plan though as hunger took over and we pulled into Southwaite services to allow the dog to have a leak and for us to stock up on burgers from Burger King.
Unfortunately, after spending 15 minutes queuing, we were told that they’d run out! “you don’t know what I want yet” I said, “doesn’t matter” responded the pimply youth, “we’ve run out of everything, we’re closing, goodnight!” An oath sprang to mind, but I left it and we bought some sandwiches and crisps from the M&S across the bridge. At least it had stopped raining as we headed back north, next stop Glasgow.
We changed drivers at Hamilton services and as we drove through Glasgow the heavens opened and it rained like it can rain only in Scotland. The wipers were struggling to keep up and we had to slow to a crawl, despite the empty motorway. All I could think of was the levels of the bogs on Skye, steadily rising and filling up in preparation for my arrival. I slept fitfully as far as Glen Coe. I love driving through Glen Coe, it is a magnificent and wonderful place.
Glen Coe was exhilarating and spectacular, even in the dark. The dark brings out the deer, who graze on both sides of the road at will. If they’re feeling particularly brave they play chicken with fast moving Golfs whose occupants are gawping at the hills and not paying attention to the road. We missed it, but only just. It stayed stationary in the road as we threw out the anchor and grabbed the dashboard in terror. The ABS works on the Golf, I can attest to that and also when you brake really hard, the hazard lights come on 🙂
The deer was still standing there, as we shot off, probably laughing and about to collect his winnings from the other deer watching from the dark. After that Glen Coe took on a sinister dimension, home to potentially fatal warm blooded road blocks who have no care for speeding metal.
In what seemed like no time at all we arrived in Fort William, where we refilled the tank and forgot to buy a loaf for breakfast. Bugger. I blame the lapse on the garage attendant, he was playing some thrash metal music at full volume and didn’t turn it down even as I entered and paid him.
As we left Ft William we passed a snow plough – yes you read that right, a snow plough! It was gritting rather than ploughing, which we were grateful for, but still not a very promising sight. The temperature had plummeted to -1C and we were forced to slow again to avoid an early death.
I decided that I’d rather die unaware, so tried to sleep as Roger drove. We stopped at Broadford as we found a late night shop open, selling the smallest loaves I’ve ever seen. It was like a toy loaf, but it cost more than a really big one probably does at home.
At about 2am we arrived at the croft. It had taken up about 8 hours, which isn’t bad considering some of the weather we’d had during the journey. We unpacked the bare essentials only; sleeping stuff and a bottle of whisky! A couple of drams sent me right off and I was zedding long before 3am.