Today, I tried to walk up the (very) steep path to see the Old Man of Storr rock, which was scaled by a man named Don Whillans, an Englishman, in 1955 for the first time. The climb was steep and I only made it halfway before a German couple came down and met me on the path.
I asked them if the clouds were covering the rock that day, making the Old Man invisible. They said yes and that we shouldn't try today. Wasn't worth the climb, so I went back down. It really tuckered me out, but we will try again tomorrow when we pass by on the road.
The next day: We saw this rocky tower from a distance as we drove along. The day before it had been covered in clouds and was totally invisible.
The golden eagle, the national bird of Scotland, used to perch high on the Old Man's head. It is 160 feet high and stands dark and foreboding against the pink and golden light of evening. I am so glad I got to see it.
I was afraid I had come all this way only to be disappointed by a cloud.
We passed through Flodigarry on our way home, back down the coastline. Although we did not stop anywhere, Flodigarry is known for its rich soil. Maybe that is why those who live there believe that fairy music could be heard long ago, coming from a heap of stones in the village.
What a queer and wonderful thing to believe.