Running the storm

Unplanned events are often the best.

An impromptu offer of a trip on a friends boat came by text the other evening, and as the weather looked fair and we don’t get a chance to get out onto the water often, we jumped at the opportunity.

Incredible light

We drove down to Heaste, a village some miles away, where the boat was moored at the local pontoon. Heaste sits at the head of Loch Eishort, a long narrow sea loch that opens up into the sea, and that’s fringed on one side by the jagged silhouette of the Cuillin mountains in the distance.

Our friends, mussel farmers, steered the boat into the mouth of the loch where the waters mingled with those of Loch Slapin and the open sea, killed the engine and let her drift slowly in on the tide.

Husband gutting fish over the side of the boat

It was a fabulous evening. The mackerel were biting and we landed half a dozen or so in the first few minutes of fishing, clearly having hit a shoal. Beautiful fish, dazzling with iridescent turquoise markings and firm flesh.

Storm clouds gathering

As the sun dipped into the west, black clouds started to gather ominously and the first spots of rain fell. We decided that we’d pack up and motor back in, and it proved to be not a moment too soon as the wind picked up and drove the first spots of rain upon us.

Double rainbow over the hills

The skies were a remarkable colour. Dark clouds infused with the golden light of the low sun, and a double rainbow glowing across the hillsides. It was a constantly changing tableau of light as the minutes passed and we motored back, running just ahead of the storm into safe harbour.

A magical evening, not least because of the weather. Good company, the joy of being out at sea, and the chance to experience Skye’s changing light and weather from a unique perspective.

Running the storm by @judithbrown

Summer days and endless light

Sometimes the Scottish Highlands simply take your breath away.

Blue skies and an old hawthorn tree

After months of cold and rain, all of a sudden summer is here. Warm days, blue skies and intense sunsets. Memories of cold, wet winter days dissolve in the brilliant light.

We are only three weeks away from the midsummer solstice, and the light is incredible. It doesn’t really get dark at all. Sunset is around 10.30pm but the skies retain a half light until the dawn breaks again at about 4.30am with the return of pink skies.

The sunset just starting

The sunsets have been spectacular over the last few nights.

Sun dipping behind the back of the croft

These dry days also mean that daily life is easier. Drying clothes on racks in the house is difficult at the moment as there is plaster and building dust everywhere. The caravan often resembles a Chinese laundry.

But we’ve been able to line dry our clothes again now that the air temperatures are sitting at a very nice 18-22C. There’s something nostalgic for me about pegging out washing, and the scent of clean, wind-dried clothes is one that takes me right back to my childhood, and is a smell that I love.

Drying washing on the croft

We sat over lunch today out on the croft, listening to the birds squabbling in the hedgerows and watching the swallows swoop over the roof of the house, and laughed with the pleasure of it all.

View over Knoydart from the front of the house

We feel very lucky to be here.

As the sun set

As dusk approached we packed up the last roll of insulating foil and I turned to take a photo of the last shreds of the sunset.

No filters or alterations.

I don’t think that we will ever get bored of looking out of these windows..

Winter Skies

As we pass the winter solstice and the shortest day, it seems appropriate to talk about the quality of the light here on the island.

We may only have about six hours of daylight a day at this time of the year, but it’s intense. There seems to be an incredible clarity to the light, and the dusk skies are just spectacular.

The croft faces SSE, and so morning sunrises are really it’s thing. The sun sets behind the hills to the west of us, and we only see the residual glow of a sunset rather than the sun itself dipping behind the horizon.

However, even that is beautiful, making the land and skies glow with a final blast of warm light before the night encroaches. Which it does very quickly. It will be completely dark with stars visible within the hour.

I can hear the burn tumbling through the birch grove and the call of the raven as it settles down for the night in the old Scots pine to the west of the house. Apart from that, all is silent as the light fades.

Tonight will be a frosty one. There is already a smattering of snow on the hilltops and with a clear night sky it will be especially cold.

Stay safe and cosy, wherever you are.

Evening light

The sun sets early on the croft at this time of the year. 1545 yesterday, to be precise. We’re approaching the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year.

Almost as if to make up for the long hours of darkness that are about to come, nature puts on a dazzling show of light before it dies.

The skies become suffused with a golden light and all the colours of the hedgerow glow with an incredible intensity.

That’s every evening, even on days without a remarkable sunset.

Facing SSE, we get more sunrises than sunsets on this part of the island. The sun dips behind the mountains behind us and we often just see the residual rosy glow in the sky, whereas those on the west coast enjoy its full splendour.

Still, it’s beautiful. A camera never seems to do it justice.