Scotland - Day 7: Part 2
The drive down the western coast of Trotternish takes you through farm country and a few small hamlets, eventually depositing you in Uig, the largest town on the peninsula. Our last stop of the day was a site south of Uig, named Hughes Castle, thought to be the last true medieval castle built on Skye.
We had three tourist maps, but only one, a local map, had Hughes Castle denoted with a landmark icon. Problem was it didn't look like any roads actually went near the castle's location. We decided to take the road that looked most promising and turned down a very narrow, very beat-up, one lane path to a town named Cuidrach. A couple miles later, the valley opened up and drained into the sea. Loch Snizort Beag was the back yard of three farm houses at the end of the road. Cuidrach wasn't so much a town, as it was a postal designation. I stopped the car just short of a cattle guard, high stone wall to my right, and a deep ditch with a stream to my left. I decided to back up around the bend to the fork in the road I had just passed. Tracey suggested I drive down to the house and turn around, but being a man I reversed the car.
A few moments later Tracey and I were walking down to the farmhouse with five cars parked in the driveway in the hope of finding someone home who could help us lift our car out of the ditch. As we approached the house, two border collies came out to greet us and I saw a shape inside reaching for the front door. The door opened and a tall, thin older man poked his head out. I said in a commanding voice appropriate for a jackass tourist who just backed his car into a ditch on another man's property, "Hello, we are looking for a pair of strong hands!" The man replied with a wry retort accompanied by a beaming smile, "rather weak at the moment" and immediately invited us in to his home. We we ushered into the living room where two other men, an older man in overalls, named Ian, and a younger man in jeans, named Stan, were sitting under a cloud of cigarette smoke sipping scotch and drinking beer. We were offered beer, scotch, tea, or coffee and please please sit down on the couch. Stan brought us a plate of cookies to have with our drinks, a beer and coffee, respectively. I apologized for interrupting and they laughed while explaining they did this every Sunday, "we worship the lord in our own way."
Of course, they asked how we came to be stuck in their ditch. After we explained our attempt to reach Hughes castle they all seemed more impressed. Almost shocked we had even found Hughes Castle on a map at all. The younger man, Stan, proceeded to tell us of the history of the castle and the legend surrounding Hughe. The man who failed to complete construction of his fortress because he was imprisoned and died in the dungeon of Duntulm Castle - his rival had invited him over for a 'feast' and 'peacemaking'. "It isn't much more than four walls about fourteen foot high, but if you want to walk there, it's about a mile down, following the shoreline."
It was an odd thing to be welcomed into a strangers home in a foreign country and be treated like old friends. We really weren't in Kansas any longer - Hell, in Kansas we likely would have been greeted with shotguns and a bible. We may have been the most exciting thing to happen in quite some time, but I was amazed at how friendly they were in a genuinely kind and inquisitive not-close-to-chainsaw-massacre way. They simply said that people end up in their ditch all the time and proceeded to engage us in easy conversation. What impressed me the most, however, was how informed they all were about American politics after the topic turned to George Bush. We had a lively discussion after I put them all at ease by stating rather forcefully, "George Bush is an asshole". I think they assumed I would support our commander-in-thief. Not so. Common ground can be found in the most unlikely of places, even in the remotest glen on a remote island in a remote country.
Anyway, we talked for about 30 minutes when William, the owner of the house, suggested we all walk up the road and lift the car out of the ditch. William and Ian were walking ahead of me and Tracey and Stan were bringing up the rear. Suddenly, I heard Stan blurt out, "BRILLIANT" and rush up to shake my hand and pat me on the back, "CONGRATULATIONS!". Tracey had mentioned we were only recently married in Scotland. Stan informed William, who yelled, "BRILLIANT" and shook my hand. Ian grunted a winning smile and offered his approval.
At the car, William jumps in the stream in the ditch and starts heaving the car out before I am even in the drivers seat. Stan tries to appeal to him to devise a plan, but is stopped cold, "just get in and lift boy!". All three men were lifting, pushing, and pulling while I worked the clutch. We made several unsuccessful attempts when William raps on the window. I rolled it down. "Take the parking break off lad!". The car popped out of the ditch. William then offered to let us park in his drive way and gave us directions across his land to Hughes Castle.
The castle was located on the coast a mile down from William's home through a notch in an old stone wall on the horizon. We stumbled over large rocks on the shoreline for a hundred yards before scaling the bluff to hike across a pasture toward the break in the stone wall. Three very large Scottish cows eyed us with extreme suspicion as we topped the bluff. A light mist was falling and ominous clouds were rolling in with a steady breeze. We tromped across a very spongy very wet very muddy field to the stone wall. The break in the wall opened up into another walled pasture through which dozens of cows had created a mud bog. I tip-toed skipped across the bog attempting to stay on the tops of the few remaining grassy bunches. I made it over to the edge of the pasture where I figured the ground would be more firm. I looked back to see Tracey up to her knees in muck.
Halfway down this second pasture we finally saw the unassuming walls of Hughes Castle. Four Walls standing on the top of a cliff overlooking the expanse of Loch Snizort Beag.
It took us about 40 minutes of clambering over rocks, slogging through muddy pastures, tall grass, and a stream strewn hillside grassland to reach the walls of Hughes Castle. The rectangular structure stood approximately 14 feet high and the long side facing us measured maybe 20 feet in width with a depth of 12 feet. It was a small small castle. Most interestingly, the only entrance to the interior of the castle was a narrow slit in the long wall resting four feet off the ground. It was so narrow, Tracey would have had to turn sideways to get pushed through the 6 ft thick fissure. No other windows or doors could be found on the three accessible walls. The fourth wall was built on the very edge of the 40 ft cliff face. We determined, Hughes was either an idiot or a very very small man with a gigantic ego. We didn't try to climb in, but could see the interior overgrown with high brush and weeds.
The mist turned into a light rain on our sponge walk back to William's farm house. This is our favorite castle because the effort it took to get there was far more interesting and fun than any other we had seen or would see in the days ahead.
Back at the farm house, we stopped to say goodbye and thank the men one last time for helping us get our car back on the road. William asked us to come in and offered each of us a "Wee Dram" before we left. We both noticed the original full bottle of whiskey that had been sitting on the table had been replaced with a new bottle. William was a happy drunk. He began telling us stories and jokes in a brogue so thick his friends had to stop and ask him to repeat what he had just said. William would laugh and giggle at his own joke, stop, realize no one understood him, then retell the joke more slowly, and giggle hysterically a second time. Then, he would make a wisecrack at my expense. Something about parking brakes and ditches and mud flying all over their pants and did I have a habit of doing this at home. Then he would give a huge smile and giggle hysterically.
We learned he was one of three brothers, all around his age, all of whom had never married, whose mother had died the previous year. William asked if we knew any women we could introduce him to. Then asked if I would consider leaving Tracey behind... and started giggling hysterically. We finished our drams and made a motion to leave when we were asked if we wanted to stay for dinner and I suspect, if we hadn't had a place to stay, we would have been offered a room for the night as well. We declined only because I had already made dinner arrangements for that evening and we had to haul ass back to the hotel to get ready if we had a chance of getting to the restaurant on time.
We bid William, Ian, and Stan farewell and left with big smiles, a respectable buzz, and an irreplaceable memory. Driving into a ditch isn't always a bad circumstance. Although, I would highly suggest driving into a ditch in a friendly foreign country.
Despite a long day of touring and an unplanned detour, we made it to the restaurant with time to spare just after night had fallen into complete blackness. Night time brings a whole new meaning in a place where there is little development to pollute the night sky.
The Three Chimneys restaurant is located near Dunvegan in the one-building town of Colbost out in the middle of nowhere on a sheep-strewn one-lane road. I had made reservations months in advance. Why? This restaurant is ranked 28th among the top 50 restaurants in the entire world and is the only Scottish restaurant included on the list.
Due to the horrible exchange rate, this meal ranks as the most expensive I have ever eaten, but for locals the prices are quite reasonable. Nonetheless, it was absolutely magnificent. Worth every delicious penny. There are only nine tables in the restaurant and all of them are booked year-round. Make your arrangements well in advance, months. This charming little restaurant is every bit as popular as The Olive Garden, only a billion times more worthy of your gastric juices. And, if you are willing to splurge and plan far enough ahead of time, you can rent one of the six luxury rooms they have for overnight stays and combine spectacular views with dinner and breakfast in the restaurant.
We were offered drinks and given menus from which to choose our courses prior to being seated. No sooner was our table was ready, than our first course was being forked. I had an unusual appetizer. Pigeon. Which was a surprisingly flavorful red meat. Tracey had a blue cheese cheese cake confection that was to die for. My main course was a big succulent lobster. I was in heaven. Tracey ordered a mouthwatering filet of beef which she devoured like a rabid chipmunk. And for dessert, a chocolate something or other that could have converted an atheist to christianity... well, perhaps a weaker one. It was damned good. All in all, probably the single best meal I have ever eaten.
One of the best aspects of dining in Scotland, especially in establishments where great care is taken to prepare meals, you will find a disclaimer on the menu stating that "All of our ingrediants are proudly acquired from local producers". This means you will be eating some of the freshest, hormone and preservative free, food imaginable. And, trust me when I tell you, you can taste the quality in every bite.
We left The Three Chimneys full, satisfied, and very happy.
I noted on the slow drive back along the narrow one-lane road toward Dunvegan that sheep asses emerge out of pitch blackness rather quickly.
Sleep came easily, but not before the ghost of black pudding past paid one last ghastly aromatic visit.
