As we left Kinlochleven (Kat and Maike to head back down to Glasgow, I to points further north and west and insular), it was the first time we actually saw what the place looked like, as days of ceaseless, pounding rain finally gave way to sunshine.
I still had some sunlight in Fort William, but by the time my train headed out toward the coast, it was pouring down so hard, I just barely got a glimpse of the Glenfinnan Viaduct as we went over it. I packed away my sunglasses - only to step out in Mallaig, on the coast, to blinding sunlight. Dig the sunglasses back out again...
Storm clouds were rolling in, though, and the first fat drops of rain started falling as we boarded the ferry to the Isle of Skye.
(Clouds over the ferry terminal)On Skye, as I hung around on a pebbly little beach waiting for the next bus, I kid you not, one half of the sky was a stormy gray and the other half was blue with puffy clouds. There was also a rainbow. But of course.
I think I've seen more rainbows in a couple weeks in Scotland than I usually see in a year, because it's so often rainy AND sunny simultaneously.
(Stunning full-arc double rainbow, seen later on in my trip)On Skye, I did what I apparently do best: travel alone but not alone, because I can't seem to help but make new travel buddies everywhere. In this case it was Jenny and Kristine, two outgoing and funny Californians in my hostel dorm.
It's strange how sometimes encountering other Americans while traveling makes me want to run screaming (especially if they're the obnoxiously loud sort), but sometimes there's this undeniable immediate connection, even despite myself. I suppose there are some things about sharing a common culture from birth that just can't be substituted. Also, I miss the American sense of silliness. But that's a thought for some other post.
Jenny and Kristine had a rental car, while I had done more reading up about where to go, so we combined forces and spent the day exploring the north of the island, climbing up to the rocky pinnacle known as the Old Man of Storr, tracking down the basalt columns that are sort of a counterpart to the Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland, laughing ourselves silly over some supposedly prehistoric "standing stones" that turned out to be a couple of rocks by the side of the road, and just generally enjoying the wild, wonderful coastline of Skye.
(Intrepid Americans in front of Kilt Rock, some of the basalt columns)There's more to say about Skye, as well as the next islands I visited (even further out west! even more isolated-ly island-y! even more people speak Gaelic!) but right now I've got to run. Stay tuned for part II...
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