A Day of Rest and Reflection

I wake up early and extremely sad today, so I can only imagine how Taylor must feel. We both take our time getting up and about, and spend the morning just chilling in the living room. It's just as well. The only thing we had planned today was to go for a hike in The Quiraing, but the weather is windy and pouring rain and, having read warnings about the terrain there, I know it's for the best that we skip it. We have breakfast and surf the internet, then have lunch, and surf the internet some more. I know that Isle of Skye has a lot more to offer, but our trip has been so full and fun thus far and we've enjoyed more natural beauty than I ever imagined we'd see, so I honestly don't care if we don't do anything else but this for the next three days. We've had a great time and it's fair to take a day to rest our bodies and minds and reflect on the loss of Taylor's dog, Abby, the bestest bulldog in the world.

About midday I get a little restless and decide to go out for a walk in the area around our trailer. I've been so busy gawking at vast faraway landscapes that I've barely had any time to kneel down and closely examine all the new plant life I'm seeing. I don my rain gear and start by walking down to the lake shore. The tide is out and I'm able to walk over seaweed and large stones to the water's edge. Everywhere there are signs of carnivorous animals –mostly otters and birds– having enjoyed the fruits of Loch Portree. Broken mussel and clam shells litter the beach. I look west and hear a loud squawk as a grey heron takes wing and flies east. I follow it with my eyes and then decide to head that direction.

The terrain underfoot is sketchy. Large slippery rocks are partially covered in slimy seaweed and interspersed with dense, safe-looking patches of short grass. These swaths of grass, however, open up suddenly into water-filled potholes and care must be taken not to step into them. Elsewhere, long grasses blown flat by wind obscure both rocks and potholes, so every step must be tested to make sure what lies underneath will bear my weight. Hooded crows (Corvus cornix) enjoy a fish carcass, while an orange-beaked Eurasian oystercatcher (Haematopus ostralegus) perches on a rock looking out across the water. Seagulls fly overhead looking for scraps to eat.

The precarious situation on the ground

Hooded crows on the shore of Loch Portree

I decide to abandon the beach for surer footing and head out towards the main road. I turn a direction I've not been before and see a red deer bound out of some bushes and dash into a neighboring field. Along the side of the road I admire the leafy ferns and flowering plants. Normally I'm not bashful about handling unknown plants, which is, admittedly, pretty dumb. But after seeing a sign at Doune Castle about the dangers of giant hogweed (Heracleum mantegazzianum), which includes third-degree burns and blindness, I'm not fucking around. I actually spot some hogweed by its very carrot-like flowers and examine its foliage closely so that I can recognize it even if it's not actively flowering.

Overlooking Loch Portree

Giant hogweed: DO. NOT. TOUCH.

Further down the road, I see a chicken wearing some kind of cape, which I don't understand. Later I see sheep of every color combination, including one I wasn't expecting: black body with white face. It has been raining on and off my entire walk and I can barely see for the raindrops dotting my sunglasses. I'm pretty cold, so I turn around and head back to the trailer.

Sheep in a paddock

When I get back, Taylor has rallied a bit and decides he'd like to head into the village for "a beer or fifty". I drive us down and we listen and laugh along to the Book of Mormon soundtrack. We manage to park on a scenic cliff and then descend into the village, popping into shops here and there to scramble for a few more souvenirs. On the south side of town, we step into a pub and take a seat next to two French backpackers and their mountain of hiking gear. Taylor has a few beers and I nurse a Thatcher's Zero cider. We talk a lot, about everything, and Abby comes up frequently and fondly. We manage to kill a couple of hours here until our butts are sore from the hard wooden benches.

Portree Harbour 

Colorful buildings on the harbour

Thanks to some foresight the day before, we've actually managed to book a table at a restaurant this evening. It's a classy hotel restaurant with delicious, rich food and excellent service. We are both feeling a bit better now and stuff ourselves on three whole courses. After this we're back in the car and heading home, singing along to the Book of Mormon soundtrack again.