And so we finish the last day of our Isle of Skye adventure on the Sleat Peninsula. Sleat is well regarded as “the garden of Skye,” a badge they wear with pride. To this visitor, it was just as beautiful as the rest of the island. Just with more trees. I approve.
Shortly after arriving at our bed and breakfast, the host told us of a hike down to a secret cove where we might spot some otters. Otters, you say? I cannot say no to cute wildlife sightings. So off we went.
We were told to take a short stroll up the single track road, past farms and other vestiges of rural island life.
Then at a little sort of bridge, instead of crossing it, take the path just before it on the left.
It didn’t look like much at the start being heavily overgrown, however we followed it down and found the path into the leafy canyon below.
It was then we heard a waterfall, so I kept my eye out for the little otters that were known to frequent the stream.
The otters were behaving elusively, if one could behave as such, so we continued down the narrow path toward the secret cove.
A brief aside whilst we are walking down this Sleat garden path to the shores below. Upon arrival at our B&B we were quite excited. At this point in 2013, Homeleigh B&B was a small bungalow with two bed and breakfast rooms, and it turned out to our good fortune that the double bedded room was available. At the time of our visit, the proprietors were a lovely couple who were about to sell on. We didn’t think too much of it at the time as our heads were filled with notions of secret hikes to secret rocky beaches and secret otter sightings.
I bet they told that to all the guests.
Anyway, the path continued along the brooke and broke through the canopy to give us a sneak peek of our destination, complete with a view to the landscape across the loch.
And more path…
… revealed better views.
And as we peeked into the cascading waters, we thought we heard something. An exploring otter, perhaps?
Alas, scuppered again. One last look up over the ferns to the stream brought nothing but otter disappointment. (Get it? Go on, read those last two words again.)
Reaching the rocky beach was a treat. And really, that’s the best descriptor for it. It wasn’t a huge challenge considering the hike was all downhill (not looking forward to going back up) and very short. It wasn’t the most beautiful of evenings, the sky being lightly overcast which gave my photos an interesting glow around the rocks. But it couldn’t match the dramatic blue skies over Ullinish.
Yes, the beach was a treat. And it definitely looked like it was a popular hang out for the area youth.
In the town I grew up in we had a pond. And that pond had access roads we’d walk along, creating our own paths to the pond’s edge until we found the best place for our debaucherous pastimes of sitting by a bonfire drinking cheap beer and skipping stones. One summer we put up a rope swing, and henceforth that’s what the little campsite became known as: The Rope Swing.
It felt like we had a place of our own that no one knew about. Of course everybody knew about it, and on occasion the police would come to break up our revelry. As you do.
But that summer we felt invincible, as the kids who hang out on the secret cove of Ardvasar probably felt as they skipped stones and drank cheap beer amongst the rocky shore.
My partner scoped the beach for some excellent skipping stones whilst I scoped for ideal desktop background images.
And how excited was I to stumble upon proof of our otter friends.
Speaking of, the evening was getting on and we spied a pub on our way in. Time to wrap up our nostalgic secret hike with the real reason why we are here:
Time to skip some stones!
Six! Well done. Off to the pub.
The Ardvasar Hotel is the only game in town. It’s the closest hotel to the ferry, about 15 minutes walk, easy for those who are not laden with hire car like we are. Part of me wishes I’d booked this little inn, seeing as we were having dinner and drinks there, it would have been ideal to just wander up to our room and say goodnight.
But instead we just took in the view, dining al fresco watching the skies clear to blue and the tide go out.
And of course, a little bit of Instagramming.
The cows came out at low tide, dining on some pretty tasty grasses as we dined on sausage and mash.
And finally! Some wildlife. The fierce pub cat we shall call Stan.
Saying goodnight to Stan, we walked back up the short hill to our bed and breakfast. I’d like to say that it was a relaxing evening in our comfortable en suite room, however, upon returning to the Homeleigh, our hosts informed us that we were not allowed to use the ceiling fan, nor the pedestal fan. You see, her sick mother (bless) was in the room below and she couldn’t sleep through the noise of the fans.
Now I can’t sleep without the noise of fans, and it was hot as balls (excuse my French) so we were at a moral standoff. The customer, they once said, is always right. So if we just put the fan on, would anyone really be the wiser? But we couldn’t be those people. You know, those people who can’t follow the rules. So wanting to be respectful for the ill mother in the room below us we did as asked.
We even tried to get some respite from heat by opening the window. Alas, it was broken and could not open! The cold showers helped, though.
Not to malign a small business, but it was miserable, and turned out to be the last time I stayed in a B&B. The experience was so terrible that I’m not really over it almost three years later.
At least I was still awake at the wee hours to take this photo out the broken window of the sun trying to set, the moon keeping me company in the illusion of night blue sky. Glass half full.
In the spirit of friendship, I have good news. The Homeleigh was indeed sold and has been taken over by another lovely couple. Recent tripadvisor research shows that the new owners are far more accomodating and have three rooms to let. No mothers to be seen. I would even consider staying again as long as I’m able to use one of the fans.
Now, who wants to take a ride on a ferry boat??