Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low

Posted June 27, 2018

Let the wind blow high, let the wind blow low

I spent last week on the island of Skye. It was lovely, apart from the wind. Sorry, I mean breeze.


Skye is a glorious place to visit. The food is great, the people are friendly and the scenery is stunning. It’s also a wind-free zone, if the local weather report is to be believed.  I checked the forecast every morning. There was always a mention of a breeze - a light breeze, a breeze or a stiff breeze - but never a wind. Who are they trying to kid?

Here’s the reality. The light breeze they speak of left me with streaming eyes and blurred vision. A breeze was fierce enough to snatch the beanie hat from my head. And in a stiff breeze the trees and bushes thrashed and twisted before me, as if trying to separate themselves from the very earth they were rooted in. 


I visited the Quiraing, a beauty spot renowned for its magnificent vistas and towering cliffs, in one of Skye’s stiff breezes. It was raining too. All in all, not a great combination. But I’d made a special effort to get there. I felt I should at least take a glimpse of the place.  


Big mistake. The breeze was so stiff that it almost wrenched the door off the car. I still ventured out but only managed to walk across the first ridge before the fear kicked in. The force of the wind (yes, it was a WIND and gale force at that!) threatened to lift me clean off my feet. It would have been funny if I’d been anywhere else other than on a cliff top. I turned round to grab hold of my husband - my human anchor in a storm - but he was nowhere to be seen.


I caught the eye of a terrified American tourist, bent forward at a gravity-defying angle as she staggered towards me. 

“What ARE we doing here?” she said. 

At least that’s what her mouth appeared to be saying as the wind whipped her words away and flung them into the valley below. 


Good point, I thought.  I swiftly turned around, my hood filled with the wind and I had visions of being dragged to my doom by my own clothing! I wrestled my coat back under control and battled my way back to the car to find my ‘anchor’ doubled over with laughter at my antics. 

 


Image: alicemonares

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