Isle of Skye - Day 8
It was still grey and drizzly when we got up, so after polishing off a mountain of scrambled egg, bacon, and fried toast (like fried bread but less greasy), we set off for a walk around the Glen Brittle forest. Which is the same forest we'd been in overnight. The walk was about 10 miles along forest tracks with a bit of uphill and downhill but nothing major. According to the guidebook, there were lots of picnic tables around the route, the first of which took an awful long time coming, so much so that we were starting to think that maybe the picnic tables had been removed.
We had lunch at the long awaited table in the drizzle, and a cup of tea made with antichrist water, and continued on our way. By the time we'd done about 3/4 of the walk, the rain had stopped, and the clouds were starting to lift. We could see that there were big mountains emerging from where the clouds had been. We had another break, watching the clouds roll back and reveal the mountains that, unbeknownst to us, had been towering over us as we slept last night.
On our way back to George, we were treated to the sight of a pair of Golden Eagles soaring around us, probably hoping we'd startle a rabbit for them to eat.
The infamous Hi-Tec boots performed well, in fact, they seem to be surprising comfortable. No blisters or leaks (although they didn't really get a good leak test today), so it's all systems go for going up a mountain in them now.
When we arrived back at George, we went straight back to Glen Brittle campsite and purchased another loaf of bread, as lunchtime and breakfast supplies were getting dangerously low. Then we returned to the car park we'd left George in all day, and made ourselves comfortable, with the intention of resting our legs, admiring the stunning view, and maybe spending a bit more quality time with the latest Jo Nesbo thriller. Or so I thought. Claire was gazing out of the window at the mountains and said "I'm tempted to go up there now". I nearly fell off my seat, thinking that 4.45pm is a bit late in the day to start a mountain excursion. But then she said "no, not the mountain, The Fairy Pools!".
The Fairy Pools are some pools in the river that flows down from the mountains that I thought she was gazing at. They are a popular wild swimming spot, and apparently are on Claire's Bucket List.
Now, to be honest with you, I didn't really fancy going to the Fairy Pools at that moment in time. I was looking forward to an hour's laziness and then dinner. We'd been planning to go tomorrow. But after thinking about it for a minute, I realised that if we went today, then we would have a whole extra day in which to do other stuff, and when you've only got 4 days of holiday left, that's quite significant.
So we set off at a gallop (well, a brisk walk at least), with my rucksack stuffed with towels, and Claire clutching a big blue Ikea bag full of wetsuits.
The pools were about a mile and a half away across the moors, but there was a good path. I hadn't been sure about whether I'd be going in them or not, but after my first glimpse, I knew I'd have to. They are series of deep pools in a river with perfectly clear water, linked by small waterfalls.
The water looks a very inviting light blue colour, almost like a swimming pool. There was a bit of an awkward climb down to them, but we were soon dressed in wetsuits and ready to take the plunge.
Claire sort of fell in, screamed, and then jumped straight back out after a matter of seconds. I gathered it was cold in there. She got back in again though, and told me that I'd soon get used to it. After a few minutes of dithering on a rock, and several false starts, I eventually jumped straight in, partly to get away from the midges that were beginning to gather.
It was breathtakingly cold, and I got out straight away too. But I managed to get back in and splash round for a bit. There is an underwater arch you can swim through that links two of the pools, but it was so cold that it made us feel dizzy if we put our heads under the water for more than a second, so we didn't try it.
A few people spotted us swimming and took photos from above, and I hope that at least one of them has a photo of me in their holiday snaps standing besides a waterfall looking like Lara Croft, as we have only got photos of me looking cold.
When I got out, I was engulfed by midges within seconds of undoing my wetsuit zip. We've hardly seen any midges this trip, and they were obviously making up for it today. We got semi-dried, and dressed as quickly as we could, and then scampered up the awkward climb as if it wasn't there. We weren't even slowed down by the man who may or may not have been taking photos of us getting changed, we were so preoccupied with the midges.
A short while later and we were back in George, our wetsuits hanging on his bike rack/airer, and our venison cooking on the stove. Claire's been unable to wipe the smile off her face all evening.
We're staying in the same spot as last night, as now we've had a swim, we don't need to go to the campsite for a shower! I am not sure what we are going to do tomorrow now. Maybe a Mountain. I am going to spend half an hour planning before I get back to Jo Nesbo.
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Location:Isle of Skye
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