I popped out of the car, racing the clouds to the base of A' Chuith-Raing, a windswept meeting place of faeries and dragons of old. The sun warmed my back, as I raised my head to look at the grey tendrils of mist circuitously enveloping The Prison, a rocky pyramid separated from jagged pinnacles by a swath of green tumbling toward the sea. On the wind, the fresh, heady smell of rain: petrichor. Derived from the Greek word petra, meaning stone, and ichor, meaning the fluid coursing through the veins of Olympian Gods, the word petrichor captures the atmosphere of The Quiraing perfectly. This remote corner of Skye is otherworldy. Supernatural. It breathes wonder and amazement, myth and legend.
It is not to be missed and worth so much more than a pit stop off in the car park. But it was raining, and the mist, almost alive, took on an ominous quality. Moving across the landscape like rags blown too long in the wind, it caught at the spires and pinnacles, strangling, diffuse, and colorless. I was disappointed, as the storm hung above The Quiraing, unmoving and stubborn, clouding my views of the islands of Raasay and Rona, Loch Torrison and Gairloch, and the Scottish mainland beyond.
I was ready to wallow in my annoyance, cursing the cold rain and the heavy clouds. I had brought rain gear, of course, because this was the Highlands in summer, but, in an instant, had seen my perfect weather and perfect memory vanish. As I pulled my hat down over my head, wiping the rain off my glasses, I looked up again and saw movement on the ridge. I watched as a line of people turned on their heels and returned to their cars. Those cars slowly descended the switchback road, seeking the sun and warmth of Staffin and leaving The Quiraing to me.
It wasn't what I had anticipated, but I'm glad for it. I'm a planner, you see, and I like my ducks in a row. I like when my expectations are met. I like when I am in control. Skye, and this moment in particular, taught me that perhaps my expectations should NOT be met more often. There is excitement when you give over to the whims of the weather and allow yourself to experience something different than what you were expecting. For me, the rain became softer; the wind became kinder; and The Quiraing became my own. The mist, shimmering and ephemeral, threw the colors and textures of the landscape into sharp relief, more intense in their tones and more magical in feeling. I must have spent 30 minutes in the rain, which came and went depending upon where on the ridge I stood, watching how the light moved across The Quiraing and the valley below. Each time I raised my camera, the scene changed, showing me something new and awe-inspiring.
I had learned to love the rain. Or, perhaps more accurately, I had learned to love the experience, however I managed to have it.
Travel Tips:
1) Save time for a hike, at least 2 hours. Depending upon the size, age, and fitness of your party, that amount of time can get you past The Prison or through the entire loop (about 4.5 miles). If you hike The Needle, you'll need to scramble a bit to reach the top.
2) Do not fear the rain! The Quiraing is popular, as well it should be, but it empties out a bit when the clouds roll in. On Skye, the weather can change in five minutes, so you might start to wander in the rain and end in the sun!
3) Consider hiring a guide so that he/she can park and leave you to your own devices. Parking can be a beast, as can sharing the road up to The Quiraing. The road is narrow and switchback as it moves up in elevation, and there are certain sections where two cars cannot pass. There are pull-offs, but (often) travelers park in the pull-off thinking it is a parking space, and not a necessary feature of the roadway.
4) Prepare ahead, should hiking be on your agenda. Certain portions of the trail are not well-marked (you are on a landslip, after all). Bring a trail map or download one onto your phone. Heavy fog could lead to a less than pleasant tumble!