‘Click this link…’

I was browsing Facebook this evening and came across a link my friend posted called ’35 Reasons Why Scotland Should Be On Your Bucket List’

It’s this one:
http://www.architecturendesign.net/35-reasons-why-scotland-must-be-on-your-bucket-list/

Friends and family often send me similar Scotland-related ‘listicles’ and I enjoy reading them to see if I recognise anything.
(In fact, Mum sent me one this morning titled ‘100 Things Do Do In Scotland Before You Die’.
I scored a paltry 13 out of 100 but considering that some of the suggestions include drinking with the Proclaimers, seeing a mermaid or bagging all the munros …I think I’m doing okay so far!)

My first walk up the Quiraing (with the usual company)

My first walk up the Quiraing (with the usual company)

The list my friend shared made me smile though; It’s link image is of the Quiraing at the end of the Trotternish Ridge.
I can see the back of it from my bedroom window, all anvil-shaped and dramatic (especially with it’s winter sprinkling of snow).

When I clicked on the article I counted no fewer than 7 pictures of the Trotternish Peninsula, where I live, and there were 13-14 pictures of Skye & Lochalsh in general. Elgol, Eilean Donan Castle and the Fairy Pools were all there.

I wondered whether the author, the mysterious ‘MKK’, was biased to the local area… a neighbour perhaps or just an enthusiastic visitor?
But most of all I thought of how lucky I am to be living right in the middle of a place that is so lovely that other people classify it as somewhere to be put on a bucket list.  It’s something I’m thankful for about every time I look out of the window but it’s fun to read something like this which underlines it.

Exploring the Quiraing (with a good view of Staffin Island and the mainland beyond)

Exploring the Quiraing (with a good view of Staffin Island to the East and the mainland beyond)

Standing in the Quiraing, looking South down the Trotternish Ridge.

Standing in the Quiraing, looking South down the Trotternish Ridge. Not a bad view really…

‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars’

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Oscar seemed to like the stars a bit too…

Last night, as I turned the lights off and went to climb the stairs I stopped in the hallway, distracted by the pale grey light shining through the porch door window.
Opening the door I looked out at the bay lit in the monochrome of a full moon. It was so bright that it looked like early morning. Like a floodlight, I could see everything.
I shouldn’t go to bed, this was too beautiful to ignore.

It took a considerable amount of effort to resist pulling on my wellies for a walk down to the ocean shore. It may be a tranquil night but I’ve already heard plenty of stories about people getting themselves into trouble by trusting a false sense of security. Wandering alone near the cliffs at night is too risky, even when the night’s peace seems limitless.
Instead I pulled on my ski jacket and salopettes. I grabbed a hat, a glass of whisky, some gloves, a blanket and a sleeping bag. I ventured outside to lay on the grass between the house and the water. Tucking myself into a warm, blanketed cocoon I stared up.

The whole scene above me looked like a cliché, like a fantasy-artist interpretation of a night sky. Or maybe something a teenager might paint as they dream up improbable, romantic images of the universe.
The stars were vivid, extra bright, like cheap LEDs. The clouds sat in huge white fluffy layers underneath. Then came the dramatic sooty black of the rocks. Below that the constant, shimmering ripple of moonlit on the water. Apart from the odd red star there was no colour, just light and dark.
It might be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

I popped in my headphones, took a sip of whisky and let my head fall back onto the cushion. As I did a vivid streak of blue light crossed the sky in front of me. A shooting star. I laughed out loud, it was too bright, too obvious. It was like the heavens were showing off.
The wine and whisky must have washed over me, I felt elated. I’m glad there was no-one there to see me, I probably looked like a crazy person, grinning like a Cheshire cat and with eyes sparkling from joy.

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The music shuffled round to Wasting My Young Years by London Grammar, a song whose lyrics feel quite appropriate to me. My biggest phobia has always been getting older; a constant fear of passing into the next stage of life having missed experiences in the former. The awareness that life is brief and that there’s too much to fit in in such a short space of time. Frankly, it scares the bejeesus out of me.

As the song came on it reminded me of this. But as I lay there I felt nothing. No fear, no phobia. For the first time in my life I don’t feel like there are other experiences happening in the world that I might be missing out on. At this precise moment this is all I need. There’s nothing I could want more right now than to be on my back staring up at the stars.

It reminds me why I love this place. It’s strange to feel so attached to a geographical area but I feel that there’s something special here. I can’t work out what.
I might be alone tonight but I don’t feel lonely one bit. I notice shadows fly above me and move in the corner of my eye but I don’t feel fear.
(Actually, I haven’t ever felt scared here. Each night I hear doors blow open and closed downstairs or things move or wind rush down the chimneys. But I’m never scared)

I’m not sure what it is about this place, something just feels right. Looking up at the stars I feel at home.

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Difficult decisions in Duntulm (and an amazing little cafe)

A couple of minutes drive from the first house I viewed in Duntulm I stumbled upon an intriguing little cafe. Wood cladded and grass roofed, it was strikingly modern and it sat as a little baby building next to a larger one which appeared to be a private home.
I swung in for a cup of tea and to calm down after catching a glimpse of what may have been my new life (eek!)

What I hadn’t expected to find was a warm little cafe with a hissing coffee machine, shelves stacked with artists materials and a counter piled high with baked goodies. Two smiling ladies stood behind the plates of cakes and as I sat down we got chatting.
One of the ladies, Indi, built the structures with her partner Bec, who wasn’t there but whose art hung on the walls (beautiful blue, misty, abstract paintings, I had to remind myself that I couldn’t afford any now but I made a mental shopping list for later). I later learned from another customer that this was a Grand Designs build. Not surprising when you see how stylish and sensitively done the buildings are.

The view over An Aird and Kilmaluag Bay from the Single Track cafe. Indi and Bec's Grand Designs house is the building to the left and the top white speck next to it in the distance is Aird House.

The view over Kilmaluag Bay from inside the Single Track cafe.

Here I experienced a little example of how much of a small world Skye can be…

There were a handful of customers that came into this tiny little cafe whilst I was there (note that this is in the remote North of the island, not busy Portree town). The first two were a couple who I’d sat next to the previous evening at the Edinbane Inn, about 45 mins Southwest. They joined in the chat and told us about their home-laid duck eggs. Then came a chap called Matt, I recognised him as one of the St Kilda to Skye rowers whose charity ball I was going to the next night. He also happened to be the co-founder of Skye Adventure, a fellow Surfers Against Sewage supporter who I’d been emailing for weeks about a beach clean but whom I’d not met yet. Lastly, as I asked Indi about her partner’s artwork I found that Bec had painted with my talented Skyeworks colleague, Marion.

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Inside the Single Track cafe with tea by Eteaket, Moleskine stationary and artworks by co-owner, Rebecca Waterstone

Everyone here seems to know everyone else. I was chatting to Liza, my boss at the gallery about it and she told me a story about her mother who is relatively new to the island. She said that her mother used to find it frustrating that she couldn’t pop to the shops without spending half an hour in conversation but she then came to realise that, unlike in other places, here you are somebody to people and not just another person on the street. It really resonated with me and I think that might be part of what makes this a special place to live. Of course there are people who keep themselves to themselves but the people who I have met so far are overwhelmingly friendly.

Another exceptionally warm and kind person is Lorraine, the other lady working at the Single Track cafe yesterday. Not only does she make the most delicious brownies (delivered by bus!) but she also happened to have a house available to rent in the area and it was so close that she could point it out through the cafe window.
Lorraine kindly lent me the keys and I pootled off to have a look at her property, the charmingly-named Willie Macleods house. It’s a nicely-sized crofters cottage and the first thing that hit me was the colour, that same Farrow & Ball green that most of our village doors seem to be painted in in Chiddingfold -I felt quite at home! The house was as lovely as it’s owner with nice decor and everything I might need.

I returned the keys to the cafe and left with my mind in a muddle. Not even a muddle, a big buzzy scribble. How on earth do I choose between the two completely different North End cottages? Lorraine and Indi had certainly sold the location to me, through their friendliness as much as their explanations of what the area has to offer. I had another viewing to do the next day. Hopefully this one will make up my mind but it’s going to have a hard job catching my heart as strongly as this place.

Duntulm Castle, Northern Skye by Heike Hameister

Duntulm Castle, Northern Skye by Heike Hameister

The Hunt for a Home…

Settled in a lovely B&B (thanks to Nat & Emma) it’s now time to start looking for a more permanent place to stay. With peace, quiet and proper wifi I can take my time and look for somewhere really special. I’ll be working from home for most of the week so it’s important to me to find somewhere just right, however long it takes.

I have three requirements for my new home:
1. It must have a real fire (for those long winter nights).
2. It must be relatively secluded.
3. It must have a view over water.

Okay, the third one might seem pretty hopeful but on Skye a view over the sea or a loch is the norm, not an expensive luxury.

I had a bundle of offers to work through after putting an ad out in the West Highland Free Press. One that stuck out most was one offered by a lady called Patsy who was so friendly on the phone that I wanted to live in her house just to have her as my neighbour!
Her house in the remote North End area house ticked all my boxes so today I agreed to drive over for a viewing.

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The drive into Duntulm, the Northernmost point on Skye

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Coming into Duntulm

The drive up the left hand side of Skye along the Trotternish Peninsula was spectacular. It’s the kind of scenery that you couldn’t even imagine exists in the UK. With landslipped cliffs on one side and a vast expanse of ocean on the other it was almost impossible to keep my eyes on the wiggly, winding tarmac.

As I neared the far North the coastal side of the landscape flattened and the trees started to peter out (an indicator of very high winds!) Next came the inevitable sheep, dotted on precipitous rock faces, sitting hidden in bushes and trotting down the middle of the road. Very Skye.

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An Aird/Duntulm

Patsy met me at the house and she was even more lovely in person than I’d imagined (she even put out a tea set for me to have a cuppa whilst I looked around!).
The house was old fashioned but had lots of little rooms where I could close the doors and get cosy. There’s no phone or internet. The carpets were thick and fuzzy, the main one being a dark brown shaggy number. But, you know what, that didn’t matter. There was something about this place, a charm.
I have no doubt that a lot of that charm was to do with the view from almost every window. It may often be grey and drizzly on Skye but when the sun comes out can you imagine waking up to this every day….

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A sea view

When I left I was buzzing, literally shaking. At some point during the viewing it had hit me. I’ve left everything at home and come up to a wild, remote place that’s completely new. But it wasn’t, isn’t scary. It’s adrenaline and excitement and… adventure.
With being busy with accommodation and gallery work in Portree I hadn’t had a chance to feel the enormity of my move. So it arrived, and it’s still kind of here this evening. I’m just so EXCITED!

This wasn’t the end of my house viewings today but this’ll do for now. Just down the road from Patsy’s house I stumbled upon the Single Track cafe and gallery and a couple of wonderful women, Lorraine and Indi. But that’s a story for tomorrow….

Skyeworks Gallery and a little bit of fate…

The decision to move to Skye happened pretty quickly. The idea to move to The Islands had been building up for some time but all of a sudden I experienced a real ‘flight’ feeling. At the same time a few little things fell together that may or may not have been fate.

A vacancy with a marine conservation organisation on Mull first put the spark amongst the tinder (a dream job for a whale lover!). It wasn’t really suitable and the timing wasn’t right but it started a tiny ember (an ember that was fanned by a few friends, that includes you, Ian Rowlands, if you’re reading this!)
I didn’t need a job to bring me up here, I could survive on my wages from painting, but a little part-time position would help me integrate into the community and meet people. It would be pocket money and a way to make friends.

I spent my evenings thinking of all the stunning islands I’d visited on my travels. I called up property agents on Orkney, I dreamt of white beaches on Harris and purple hills on Skye. One night I was wasting time on the internet and I looked down at one of the rings on my right hand. Beside my grandmother’s sparkly ring I wear a little silver band cast from a Scottish heather stem by jeweller Nick Shone. I bought it at the Skyeworks Gallery in Portree and I’ve never taken it off; I’ve worn it to remind me to return to Scotland one day.

Remembering how much I liked the bright little gallery (above an absolutely incredible bakery, The Skye Baking Co) I looked them up online. The first thing that appeared on my screen was an ad asking for help in the gallery. I could do that, it’s something I’m good at.
My ember turned into a flame and that was that, I’d go to Skye.

Liza and Barry, owners of the Skye Baking Co and Skyeworks Gallery

Liza and Barry, owners of the Skyeworks Gallery and The Skye Baking Co.

I remembered the owners of the gallery and bakery from my previous visit. Liza and Barry were incredibly kind when I told them I was interested in food and food writing and had shown me all around their lovely converted woollen mill premises.

Liza was understandably hesitant when I emailed to say I wanted to join them; many people arrive on Skye with unrealistic expectations and dreams of easy living. I imagine a lot of them go straight back when they realise that work and property aren’t as easy to come by here as it is at home.
Somehow I managed to allay her worries and I started on the 1st, the day after I arrived in Portree.

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The Skyeworks natural light gallery

It was quite strange being the New Girl again on my first day, you get quite used to being your own boss when you work from home, but I really enjoyed helping out and learning.
It’s a very different gallery to some of the ones I’ve worked at or managed in the past, the ones with just four £12,000 paintings that never sell. No pretentiousness or snobbery, just lovely stuff made by interesting, local people. I shadowed a lovely lady called Nat (also an artist) and enjoyed spending time with Marion, the gallery’s best selling artist who was holding a painting workshop at the back of the space.
Lunch was provided by the bakery downstairs and I was introduced to a genius invention known as a lunchbread, a bread roll with a filling baked inside. It sounds simple but there must be some kind of magic involved to make them as delicious at they are. Bread sorcery!

By the end of the day I’d met a whole host of new people, gained a ticket to a charity ball, made a shopping list of things I wanted to buy in the gallery and, amazingly, found my next place to live. Not bad for day one.

Let’s have adventures!

A couple of days ago I left my family, friends and friendly village to travel North and try a simpler life on the Isle of Skye.
I don’t know how long I’ll be here, it may be for days or it may be for years, but I don’t want my loved ones to feel too far away which is why I’ve decided to record my journey.

Skye is full of dreamers from all over the world who have settled here for a better life. Still, everyone I meet has asked why I decided to come to this particular place.
I could give a hundred answers, starting with my first visit to Skye last September, the beauty of the landscape, the wildness of the weather, the clarity of the air, etc etc.

But if I were to put it in one simple sentence it would be this: life is too short to live somewhere that doesn’t make your heart beat a little faster. I know that sounds saccharine but it’s true; we’re not here for long and we need to try to experience beautiful things at every chance we can.

I’m very lucky to have a job where I work from home, I’m not tied to a property and I’m not in a serious relationship. This affords me the freedom have an adventure and the opportunity to follow a (maybe) crazy idea wherever it takes me. In this case it took me back to Skye…

Skye Fairy Pools at sunset (no colour editing!)

The Skye Fairy Pools at sunset, September 2013 (taken on my phone with no colour editing!)