Isle of Skye
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Isle of Skye

In the northwest of Scotland, there is an island called Isle of Skye


Isle is the Scottish name for the island, with Viking blood (Scotland was occupied by Vikings in the early days), and Skye means "Misty island". According to the usual translation, we should call it "Skye Island", but many people are willing to call it "Sky Island" by similar pronunciation.

It is the northernmost island in the Inner Hebrides. From the map, it is only a stone's throw away from the British mainland, and its relationship with the sky is undoubtedly as equal as the rest of the island country. Just because of this ethereal name, it has not yet reached the boundless imagination that has given it, flying into the magical and wonderful upper air, passing the line of sight over the rugged and incredible rocks, the nameless valleys full of heather flowers, the waterfalls that cannot be approached... Arriving... a piece of inclusiveness cloud of island

This time I drove north along the West Highland Line (the world-class train landscape line) for the autumn highland scenery along the way. However, at the end of the WHL, Fort William, and then the road to Mallaig changed its name, called Road to the Isles - the road to the islands. I think the name is very romantic: a road that leads to the island - for a moment it seems that the perspective is already overlooking, and the car with the power of Moses, arrogantly cuts the sea-filled plane along a man-made structure.


I came by ferry from Mallaig.

At this point, the moisture can't wait to cross the last line of defense in the Outer Hebrides, sending the vastness of the Atlantic into the air. Even though the weather has been dry and good these days, from the ferry, the two small islands of Rum and Eigg in the outer sea are still covered by clouds and mountains. A sunset, in the natural soft focus of the air.


But there is a way to Sky Island. Because Skye is so popular, people from the small town of Kyle of Lochalsh built a bridge, as if afraid of losing the island, and tied it to the mainland. So Sky Island can be counted as a part of the British Isle for the time being: when the residents here shop online, the postage is only counted to the UK mainland. But when the weather turns cold, too windy, snows, or icy roads, the bridge closes, and traffic from the outside world returns to the original ferries, or, for that matter, isolated island properties.

The nature of the uncertain nature and the weather here. With the character of the highland, the weather of Sky Island has never been a noun, but a tense: the sun and the rain go hand in hand, the wind and the clouds go together, and in the next second, there will be an unpredictable future. Everything is infinitive. Whether it's an island or not depends on the timing of your encounter with Skye. When recalled, Skye will be an effervescent tablet, dissolving all the elements in the rain of memory, temperature, moisture, wind, and the color of the sky...

During the journey in the highlands, I often felt like a magician, and the moment I opened the curtains in the morning was like magic possessed: when I woke up in Clan Laridge, I saw the morning mist floating on the lake; The first peak in the UK is rendered in the morning glow of gold powder; the stars are still hanging in the dark blue night sky, and the horizon line has been dipped in pink and purple after the outline of the mountains across the strait. Every glance is an urging.


The route is just down the only road on the east side of the island, after a bend that goes deep inland along the sea loch, I have to stop, because the color of the sky is out of common sense, and it penetrates like a demon When I reached the lake, the golden sun of the sun was like a sword waiting to pierce the clouds and rushed in front of me... People say, Seize the moment, every morning when I am afraid that the sky will light up too soon, I humbly look into the distance and press the shutter. If there can only be one purple sunrise in life, I'm glad I got it.


Turning on the A855 from Portree, the centre of the island, you will soon see the Old Man's Rock, a huge forward sloping sharp rock whose outline can be seen for a few kilometres. How it maintains its leaning angle has long been a mystery. I caught the moment it shook off the clouds and continued north. Along the coast, photograph the lake falling into the cliffs. Further north, it was time to turn inland, for it was before a landscape that could not be denied. Quiraing’s name is unfamiliar, and its shape is even more puzzling: the hillside suddenly falls to sea level, even if it is still visible distance from the sea; the smooth lines from the mountain to the sea seem to be the one-off of a huge excavator Work. This is the largest landslide in the world. The water that the heather cannot hold forms a river, and together with the footprints of the sheep, a "mysterious garden" is drawn on the ground.


The magic moment is when the car climbs to the top, watching the lake at the foot of the mountain glisten, but not knowing how to get close - surrounded by vegetation, it is an unobstructed view of loneliness. Stepping on, there are countless hidden traps. The swamp has already cultivated to a state of no-self with the skills of soft and strong, let you struggle and ignore it.

I stepped out of the car fully armed and vowed to walk to find a different angle and paint a different portrait of the long-awaited name. Unrecognizable hikes and unimpeded winds make the climb to the top even more difficult. After two hours I was defeated.


As you can imagine, this island facing the Atlantic Ocean is not haven. The Atlantic storm that guards the skye comes when there is a disagreement, and sometimes the west (south) wind is westerly. Warm currents take care of the west coasts of England and Norway, allowing them to enjoy a non-freezing winter, but being harassed by strong winds and beaten by rain for months is not a pleasure. The British love to chat, and when the islanders meet, they can talk in depth and specific about westerly mischief, such as shaking the house all night, like the three little pigs' thatched hut meets a wolf with plenty of lung capacity.


Now Skye, like Cornwall once, has become a holiday or escape option for Britons. Many people living in England put their second houses here, which can be rented out to tourists in addition to taking vacations in their spare time. Some people even quit their jobs in big cities like London and Manchester to come here to concentrate on building a home. From brick to brick to gardens and fences, it's all do-it-yourself.

The people who live here are still islanders by nature, pure and undisciplined. For example, the plumber who drives past your door every three or five months, still forgot to come and pick up the check after two months. For example, if you want the freshest eggs, you go to the Dutch woman who has a few chickens to get two boxes at the door and put the money in her letterbox. For example, although the neighbor who moved from Derbyshire was friendly, he foolishly brought a few hedgehogs to catch mice, and he had to help him throw these little guys who did not belong to Sky Island back to the mainland


For others, this might be heaven. I met Sara in Portree's cafe, a woman in her 70s who was well maintained. Although she has silver hair and a cheerful smile, if she didn't reveal her age, I would probably guess she was about 60 years old. As a yoga teacher, she has lived on the island for 20 years, driving to Portree every week for a swim.

When asked why she moved here from the south, her husband Peter, who had been in the navy all his life, bought a boat after retiring and they found a house here with a view, except in winter, the boat can park at the door in the bay. She liked that every week the fish man would drive and deliver some fresh fish; the postman would always tell her some gossip; the girl from the Royal Bank of Scotland would kindly help her fill out all the forms. When Peter was doing well, they sailed the Scottish coastline and spent a month driving from Skye to Cornwall to visit their friends along the west coast of the British Isle. In the wind and waves, Peter calmly used his experience as a naval captain. When he was tired, he stopped at the pier along the way, met seals, met fishermen, met the starry sky and the silent sea. Tenderness and romance flowed in her eyes like starlight.


One night, the long-awaited aurora finally broke out, and purple and green came out from the thick clouds. I stayed by the lake and didn't want to leave. The lake was so quiet that he fell asleep, and there was no movement or sound at all. The eyes gradually accepted the changing light, and for a while, I lost the ability to think and wanted to go into the water and swim with those colors. I guarded the camera for a long exposure, except for the noise that the shutter could not hide, and occasionally heard the sound of the huge weight of the "goo-dong" rubbing against the water.

It is very lucky to meet the continuous sunny days, but I always feel that the Sky Island should be hidden between strong winds and heavy rains. Although there is another version of a sunny day that leaves me speechless: as soon as the curtains are lifted, the golden sunlight refracted in the mist seems to fill the gaps in the sky, the breathing becomes thick, and maybe your cells will melt when you walk into the mist .


However, the mood of the fog should be very good that day. They will become thicker and thicker with the intensity of the sun, and more and more golden colors will melt into the air. The morning jogging girl with her dog came from an invisible distance, and the opportunity given to me was just a silhouette. Continuing to stay by the lake, the various birds that finally woke up also began to discuss today's weather. Every kind of bird language moved back and forth on the lake, like a huge message board, and the conversation kept jumping out. A pair of birds that suddenly appeared and broke into my shot is definitely the best embellishment of this picture.


There are so many wonderful moments that people experience that state of relaxation when one's attention is completely taken away by events in nature when no one is disturbed. Even though the locals keep telling me that the weather is going to be so depressing that one day you'll have to spend your weeks and weeks by the fire. But every day at Isle of Skye, I feel a blissful vertigo in all the hospitality.

We are always more honest with ourselves on our journeys. I must admit that there is no other place where I enjoy the freedom to stretch out and immerse myself in nature more than this island. The intuitive response is probably the answer that was already written when the DNA was sequenced, and you already know where you belong.


In the northwest of Scotland, there is an island called the Isle of Sky.



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