All holidays
are whole small lives
lived somewhere else...
- Liz Lochhead
Saturday afternoon in Edinburgh in the middle of June. Looking out of the window from our living room, all I can see is a pale grey sky that can't be arsed and the old stained stones, gutters and chimneys of New Town buildings. Further away, behind a haze of drizzle, there's an even greyer modern building of metal and glass visible over the rooftops. There's not a hint of nature in sight (unless you count the rain spattering the windows), with grass, flowers and trees eschewed for concrete, slate and brick. No better time, then, to sit back and start reliving our holiday to Skye that was only a week ago but already feels more like a dream - the tedium and dreary annoyances of everyday life reasserted themselves so quickly on our return, as though to blot out all the fresh memories of light, peace and all-round happiness. Nuts to that! This, and the following posts, are my little way of keeping those memories fresh, and hopefully convince one or two of youse to make your own brief escape to that misty isle.
Tuesday: Woke up, all excited - first day of holiday! - and opened the bedroom shutters to see the sunny weather promised the night before, only to be confronted by multitudes of grey. Tsk! Nonetheless, we scampered our merry way over to Haymarket station, trying to avoid the commuting hordes pouring out of it. Settled down on the train, devouring a bacon roll and the Herald, I got my new sketchbook and the usual watercolour pencils out, ready to start sketching the passing countryside as soon as the sun comes out and gives the landscape some real colour again. Hours later, I'm still waiting - the cloud only breaks in the last half hour of the journey from Inverness to Kyle of Lochalsh, during which it practically vanished. By the time we reached the end of the line, the sky was blue with just a few streaks of cloud and sunshine was beaming down, sparkling off the sea and lighting the landscape up. The greens, blues, purples, ochres - compared to the overcast greys of Edinburgh that morning, it was almost like arriving in Technicolored Oz.
Following a bus journey over the bridge and up to Broadford, driven by a terrifically cheerful chap who made sure all the tourists on board got off at the right stops, there we were, standing in front of the B&B we'd gazed at last year with longing - Tigh an Dochais (House of Hope in Gaelic). Architecturally it's a stunner, designed by Dualchas Building Design (whose Hebridean Contemporary Homes kit-houses are just what we want for our own new-build when we move to Skye in the nearish future) - you can read about the design here. From the outside it manages to be eye-catching without being garish, settling nicely into the landscape of Broadford bay, while the interiors... oh my. The guest lounge, with a huge floor-to-ceiling window looking out over the bay, is a wonderful, wonderful room, awash with natural light. The view is breathtaking, soothing, almost hypnotic - goodness knows how much time I spent just gazing out - and so completely different to what we've been used to (hence the opening wail about greyness). We knew it was going to be brilliant, thanks to reviews from Stu, Andrea and Homes & Interiors Scotland Magazine, but even so... damn.
Our bedroom was equally stunning, again using a large floor-to-ceiling sliding glass door to great effect (you can see some of it here), leading out onto a nice terrace where you can sit, watch and listen to the sea - and with a breeze coming off the water, the midges aren't the bother they'd usually be. The terrace is shared with the other two guest rooms and Jess, the friendly and downright dippy B&B dog who, we were warned, would scamper into our room and run off with a shoe for chuckles given the chance. She was a great bundle of fun who quickly sussed me as a willing playchum and by the end of our stay would sit outside, waiting for me to come out and play 'fetch-and-then-pretend-to-give-the-toy-back-but-then-scamper-back-with-a-har-har-fooled-you-look' The nice big king-size bed has left our double at home feeling notably wee, while the en-suite bathroom was equally generous in size and features, with a good strength shower and nice deep bath - how perfectly sweet to have some complimentary lavender bubble bath from Highland Soaps!
With such a building (not to mention the superb customer service and ludicrously good breakfasts) you could be forgiven for expecting the nightly rates to be out-of-sight - after all, when the Burd first read about it in H&IS she assumed it would be prohibitively pricey for the likes of us. Nope! Instead, for a couple staying for four nights (like ourselves) it's just £30 each a night which, for the quality of service and accommodation you're getting, is a superb deal. It's clearly paying off, with the rooms booked up months in advance (so book early!) and return business guaranteed from the many satisfied customers as the visitors book attests - I know Stu & Andrea are heading back there this year, and the Lass & I wouldn't think of going anywhere else when summer 2008 rolls around.
Anyways, having settled down and spent ages gawping at the view, we had a lovely walk along the bay in the sunshine before dinner at Beinn na Caillaich cafe, named after the great peak that looms over Broadford. After that, back to Tigh an Dochais to admire the view as the sky slowly shifted colour - during which I did a bit of sketching - and listened to the very music that we've been playing over the last year while dreaming wistfully of the day we'd be back on Skye. While the sky stayed bright, the most recent Boards of Canada album, The Campfire Headphase, worked perfectly, particularly Satellite Anthem Icarus with it's gently rushing waves, and Peacock Tail which to my ears is the perfect sonic snapshot of Broadford, the echoed guitar like a lone bird flying across the bay. As the outdoors gradually darkened - slowly, it only really got dark around midnight - Bonnie Prince Billy's The Letting Go went on, a suitably hushed and sparse collection of music, especially the beautiful (and, again, echoing) Strange Form Of Life. Both sights and sounds were gentle, relaxing, soothing - for the first night of a holiday, I couldn't hope for more.
Tomorrow - Wednesday!