13 Nov 2014
After an easy day yesterday, we jumped in the car and took a drive around the Trotternish Peninsular of northern Skye, heading for Kilt Rocks.

According to the signage 60-55 Million years ago, massive volcanic activity occurred in this area forming the Isle of Skye and the Cuillins. Molten rock forced through Jurassic sandstone and cooled slowly forming into cliffs reminiscent of a Scottish kilt. Which is kind of handy seeing as Skye is in Scotland and all.

Watching me, as I leaned over the rail to see the sea crashing on the rocks 55m below, made David’s stomach lurch for a second. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a love of heights. It must be my Swiss blood. David soon acclimatised joining me at the rail in the wind and we listened to the musical notes resonating from the railings. 

Staffin beach lies a couple of miles north. We’d driven past, too tired to stop after our Quiraing hike a few days ago. We followed the rough track down to the beach and pulled into a parking space.

It was a short but wet and soggy walk down to stepping-stones sunk into the grass before reaching the beach. There was barely any wind here making for a calm sea. Our footprints were the only marks in the smooth black sand.

Looking out over the silvery blue sea and up at the dramatic sky, I stood for a moment and enjoyed being here. The sound of waves rhythmically sloshed ashore. In the distance a sea eagle circled on the wind.
“This is it. We’re really doing this.” Taking a moment to really appreciate the here and now, I smiled to myself. 

Finally I turned to find David on the grassy bank taking a picture of me. I like the scale of this photograph; a little me on the edge of the world. 

Staffin beach, Isle of Skye

A few days later, I found a lovely post, Here Be Dinosaurs, from ‘The New Girl’ about the huge dinosaur footprints that were discovered on this beach in the 80’s. If only we’d known to look for them at the time. Check out this post, I love the photos of her shiny green rubber boots for a sence of scale.

Back in our cosy apartment and the sound of storm force wind has stared to blow around us.  We’re alone in the guesthouse tonight, the owners have gone on a holiday and I suddenly feel a little isolated. There are a few cottages nearby however. 
“Imagine if we’d taken a remote cottage; I think I’d be scared tonight.” I confessed to David over a glass of wine.