The evening is late (probably about 9:30), but I am ready to experience Skye.

Instead of explaining a lot (I can do that on tomorrow night’s walk), I’m suggesting you imagine yourself walking down the street of Kyleakin. On one side is the water and the Skye Bridge and at the end of the walk is a pier and even more water.  The evening is chilly and cold and one by one, you lose your walking companions, but G from Boston has her camera and is willing to come with you (even though she’s wearing  flip flops). The air is between misty and rainy and the only sounds are from the sea gulls dive bombing for fish in the water.

The breeze gains strength and whips your hair in your face.

As the sun is setting, it appears and disappears in the clouds and streetlights blink on. As you near the harbor, you hear the mournful, but oddly symphonic sound of the wind playing the masts of the docked boats like so many out-of-tune violins.  You stand at the end of the dock and stare out over the water, at the distant hills and the castle on a cliff overlooking the town.

You are far away from the cares of the world. You want to remember the sounds, the sights and the mist on your face.

You wander past the otter statue and then back to warmth of the hotel. In the parlor, people are drinking tea and listening to Alex McPhee. (That has a nice rhythm to it – drink tea and listen to Alex McPhee.)

So imagine and enjoy …

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