Keep your eyes on the Skye

Holy cats, this trip has flown! Only a day left here in Barcelona, which has rapidly lodged itself as a Most Beloved City in my heart, and as I start to pack and prep for my return to stateside routines, I wanted to catch up on what now feels like it happened eons ago, but in fact was... just last week, basically: SKYE. Video, photos, rambling after the jump!

Skye is one of those places that basically turns everybody into an amazing photographer just by virtue of being gorgeous to photograph. I can't get over what it felt like to be in the middle of this magic.

Well, this place was gorgeous. The name (from the ancient Norse for "Island of mists") gives a good sense of the place: misty, drizzly, lush, craggy - the varied terrain and perpetually changing weather reminds me of Shakespeare's line in which John of Gaunt calls England "this little world" (though surely neither man knew Skye, which is properly speaking in Scotland and etc. etc. etc.).  It's a dense, lovely place, and even (especially?) going off-season, has a lot to offer.

Portree, my home for the week. Pretty little fishing village, clearly now mainly a tourist hub. Still, if you're there in January you're likely to find yourself among a tight-knit group of locals, which is: neat!

My time on Skye was pretty simple: the sun came up around 9 AM and went down around 3 PM, so I'd scoot out in the morning to explore a bit, come home by lunch, and write until dinner. Not a ton of time, but enough to get a few hikes in and to meet a few local folk, all of whom were delightful (more on strangers-on-the-road in a future post).

Hiiiiiking means you just come across dumb puddles with reflections of big dirt lumps in 'em. What a pain! We could have been playing video games instead!

After Skye, I drove down to Glasgow (by now totally comfortable with The Great Silver Monster, thankfully) and met my friend Sarah for a few days of relaxation and meandering, always delighted to hang with her and her boyfriend Mark. No major new discoveries beyond the fact that I'm a fan of Scotland, and I can spend basically the rest of my life exploring her charity shops, as they are glorious.

(Not Glasgow, of which I didn't really take new pictures. DON'T GET CONFUSED AND EXPECT THIS IN GLASGOW, TECHNICALLY IT IS A SIX HOUR DRIVE AWAY)

A quick hop through Bristol and I forged my way southward, fleeing the suddenly-horrible weather (I'd been lucky for over a week straight in terms of UK weather, so no complaining!) for the balmy, perfect climes of Barcelona. And oh my good golly did my heart ever swell up with love for this place. More on that... soon??

The same hike as the aforepictured pool shot. Scotland is DUMB.

Meep moop gleep gloop sun and crags and the ocean blah di blooooo

Did I go on a distillery tour? YOU'RE EXACTLY RIGHT I DID. Was it grIT WAS GREAT THANKS FOR ASKING. Definitely wander up the road to The Oyster Shed for a stupid-cheap lunch after your tasting. Yummo, as Robert Burns was wont to say.

The once-per-Scotland quota of selfies! This is shortly before turning back on a longer intended hike because a mudslide had left a terrifyingly cliff-sprawling ravine impassable, and this blog is nothing if not a paean to moderate cowardice in all things! But on the plus side, not falling to my death in a mudslide meant I got to check out Gaudi's work in Barcelona so ALL IS FORGIVEN.