Chapter Four
Amelia
The next morning, after a forty-minute ride from Portree, our group gathered in a car park on the north end of Skye. Our guides were in cargo shorts and lightweight fleeces, while the rest of us were in long pants and heavier jackets against the chilly morning. Was it a macho thing, or were they really not cold?
“Welcome to the beginning of the Skye Trail,” said Scarlet. “Tommy, you want to start the briefing?”
“Rory and I will alternate who leads and who brings up the rear. The Skye Trail isn’t easy. Sometimes we’ll be walking along the edge of a cliff, or out on an exposed ridge in the wind. There are sections where there’s no trail at all, and sections where we’ll be crossing a bog or a burn—that’s a small river for the Yanks who don’t know the lingo. And the weather is often unpredictable. If either of us gives you an order, we expect it to be followed, as it’s for your safety and that of the group. There won’t be any facilities along the way—pretty much ever—but feel free to duck off the trail when you need to.
“As you’ll see this week, the trail does occasionally run close to a town or village, but sometimes it doesn’t, which is why some nights we’ll be in a B&B or hostel, and other nights we’ll be camping.”
Right. While most people our age chose to vacation near a beach, or perhaps someplace where you could do a hike in the afternoon, Carrie had chosen to walk across half the Isle of Skye. Not because that was the only way to get around—the map had clearly shown that there was at least one perimeter road that would get us almost to the same places—but because she wanted the challenge. And so I would do it. Because she couldn’t.
Rory spoke up. “Today’s walk will probably take about six hours, but remember, it’s not a race. We are a group, and we will do this trek as a group. If you wander off ahead, you are no longer our problem, as we won’t be leaving the others behind to go look for you.”
I thought about that jagged, imposing mountain range that had been silhouetted against the sky, and a shiver ran through me. I pictured myself wandering around looking for the trail. Alone. Terrified. Hours passing, watching the sun beginning to set, knowing it would soon be dark and a wrong step could mean injury or death. I closed my eyes. I can’t do this. I’m so sorry, Carrie, but I can’t.
A hand came down on my shoulder. “We won’t leave you behind, Amelia.”
I opened my eyes to see Rory in front of me. His sunglasses were pushed to the top of his head, and his eyes were steady as he looked into mine. I hadn’t noticed their lovely gray-green color the night before.
“Wh-what?”
“It’s Tommy’s and my job to make sure the group stays together. We’re not going to leave anyone behind, I promise. It’s bad for business,” he added with a slight quirk of his lips.
His attempt at levity worked, and I could feel myself calming down. “Good to know.”
“It’s why Scarlet keeps the groups small,” quipped Tommy. “So the guides don’t have to worry about counting too high.”
“Yeah, once you guys run out of fingers, it gets dicey,” she said.
Everyone laughed at that. I managed a small chuckle. “Okay?” murmured Rory.
“Yeah, sorry. I just had a moment. Thanks.”
He nodded and returned to his pack, leaving me both surprised and relieved by his unexpected kindness after last night’s jerkage. He squatted down, his cargo shorts riding up to reveal his muscled thighs—not that I noticed—and opened his backpack. “My first aid kit is at the top of my pack. Tommy’s is in the same place. It’s extremely unlikely that either or both of us will become incapacitated, but just in case.”
Just in case?
“We both carry emergency blankets, extra torches—flashlights to you Yanks—and extra food and water,” Rory continued. “You’ll find that most mobile phones don’t get consistent service out here, but we’re both wearing transponders on our packs, which Scarlet will monitor. In the event of an emergency, we can activate an additional signal that she’ll see. There is also a volunteer Mountain Rescue group, which you can reach by dialing the police first. But it could take them a while to get out here.”
He said it so calmly, but my stomach was roiling again.
Calm down. These guys are professionals. They’ve done this many times before, and they know what they’re doing. It’s just a safety announcement, like the ones they do on airplanes.
I knew that. But still.
He zipped up his pack and slung it onto his back. It looked a lot heavier than mine, though he didn’t seem bothered by it.
“Okay, guys,” said Scarlet, “Tommy and Rory will update you on the terrain and conditions as you go, as well as tell you about the sights you’ll see. Don’t hesitate to ask them questions—challenge them a little,” she added with a grin. “And if you have any issues, please let them know so they can help.”
“Especially blisters,” said Tommy. “Those will be your worst enemy on the trail, but if you start to feel one forming, we can hopefully prevent it from getting worse.”
“Today should be sunny and mild, though as we’ve said, Skye is known for its unexpected weather changes. Make sure you use sun cream so you don’t burn. Okay, have a great walk, and I’ll see you later!”
I took a few quick shots of the group as we fell in line behind Tommy.
And we were off.
The path was easy enough to start with, and before long, we caught a glimpse of a ruin on a cliff that jutted into the sea.
“That’s Duntulm Castle,” said Rory. “It was once a MacDonald stronghold—though not Tommy’s branch of the clan—and is, of course, rumored to be haunted.”
It looked like a strong wind would send the rest of it tumbling off the edge. What kind of people had lived in this forbidding place, subject to the whims of the wind and the sea?
A short while later, we reached a fence with a gate. Tommy approached it first.
“This is called a kissing gate,” he said. “You’ll see why in a moment.” He slipped off his backpack and unlatched the gate, pushing it open as far as it would go, which was just wide enough for him to step in and sidle around it. He would have to face us and push the gate closed in order to continue. “It’s sometimes considered tradition for the person going through the gate to kiss the next person in line as they face each other when passing through. Who’s next?” he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“That’ll be me,” said Gordon, sauntering up as everyone laughed. Tommy planted a loud kiss on Gordon’s cheek. “Sorry, Lucy,” he said with a wink.
“Oh, that’s okay. You can have him,” she said, but happily accepted a real kiss from her husband as she passed through after him. Everyone seemed to be up for the “tradition,” kissing cheeks or lips as they passed through the gate.
Mike from Maine gave me a friendly peck on the cheek as he passed through. But when I turned around, it was just Rory behind me. We stared at each other for an awkward moment, and then he suddenly knelt to re-tie his boot.
Whatever. I let the gate slam into place and joined the rest of the group.
“Well, that was a cop-out,” said Megan.
I laughed at the disappointment on her face. “It’s okay. He’s not my type, anyway.”
“Girl, that lad is everybody’s type,” said Molly.
“Ohhh, aye,” said Pat, and we all laughed—even harder when Rory looked at us questioningly as he passed.
Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I’d anticipated. The group seemed nice, and the walk was easy so far. I was starting to sweat under my layers, so clearly Rory and Tommy knew what they were doing with their lightweight clothes. We went up a hill and veered off onto a small path that continued to a summit. The wind was stronger there, and it felt good against my hot skin.
Rory slung his pack to the ground. “I’m sure some of you are overheated, so let’s take five minutes to de-layer. While the mornings might be chilly, once you start moving, you’ll warm up fast.”
With that, he stripped off his fleece, the bottom of the shirt beneath riding up to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his taut abs. I looked up just as his head emerged from his fleece, the sun catching the tousled waves and turning them burnished copper.
Okay, fine. He was my type.
My fingers itched to touch that gorgeous hair. Down, girl. It’s only a matter of time before he opens his mouth and ruins the moment, anyway. He ran his own hands through his hair, then tied some kind of bandanna/headband thing around it to keep it out of his face in the increasing wind.
I dragged my eyes away, focusing on my own de-layering. I peeled off my fleece and shoved it into my pack. That done, I looked around. There was a small hut a few yards away.
Tommy led us to it. “This is a bothy,” he said. “It used to be a coast guard lookout, but is now primarily used by walkers as a shelter. And like other bothies you’ll find scattered around the Highlands and islands, anyone is welcome to use it.”
The bothy had a long, low shelf to place a sleeping bag, as well as some chairs. Windows provided an incredible view out over the water. It would be amazing to spend the night there (even though there was no toilet or electricity). I took a bunch of pictures for Carrie.
“Amelia!”
At Rory’s shout, I turned to see the rest of the group already descending the cliff path on the other side. Shit. The last thing I needed was for him to snipe at me again. I stuffed my phone into my pocket and hurried to catch up.
He was waiting for me, his sunglasses hiding the impatient look I was certain was there. “Sorry,” I mumbled. He just gestured for me to precede him down the path.
We climbed over a few stiles—sections of fence where a short, ladder-like setup enabled us to swing our legs over—and then skirted around a huge boulder sitting terrifyingly close to the cliff edge.
From there, the path dropped down at an impossible angle. I froze, clutching my poles against a sudden wave of vertigo.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” said Tommy, forging ahead without even pausing. I could hear Carrie’s voice in my head. Come on, Amelia. You can’t quit two minutes into the first day.
No, I couldn’t. I cautiously started down the rocky steps, using my poles for balance. But Tommy was right, it wasn’t quite as bad as it had appeared to be, and it wasn’t too long before we scooted down over some tricky parts and emerged onto a grassy path at the bottom. Breathing a sigh of relief to have made it down in one piece, I turned to look at where we’d come from—and gasped.
The cliffs towered over us. We’d hiked all the way down that?
I turned back as Tommy spread his arms wide, encompassing the view of the sea behind him. “Welcome to Rubha Hunish, the most northerly point on Skye. We’ll explore the headland for a few minutes; then it’s back up the cliffs and south along the coast.”
Wait, what? We’d come all that way down to poke around for a few minutes and then go back up? What the hell was the point? I looked at my fellow trekkers for commiseration, but they all seemed to take it in stride, eagerly—if carefully—following the path along the cliff.
Okay, it was a pretty awesome place; gulls cried out as they circled overhead, and larger white birds with black-tipped wings dove dramatically into the sea beyond.
“The big, white birds are gannets,” said Rory. “You can sometimes see puffins here as well, but it’s too early in the season for them. And if you look closely at the sea stacks,” he continued, pointing at the tall columns of rock that jutted up from the foaming water, “you can see ropes hanging, left by climbers.”
“People climb those?” said Linda. “Are they crazy?”
“It’s like any other extreme sport,” said Rory. “More challenging means more exciting.”
We reached the end of the headland, where the sea churned menacingly. Farther out, it almost looked like— “Did I just see a blow out there?”
“You might have,” said Tommy. “We get minke whales here in the summer, but sometimes they’re here earlier in the season, too. Show me where.”
I pointed slightly to the right of the headland. After a moment, I saw another, followed by a brief glimpse of a dark back as a whale broke the surface. From the excited murmur of the group, everyone else saw it, too. I tried to take a photo, but it was just too far away.
Megan was also trying to get a photo, but she had a proper camera, not just her phone. “Can you get it?” I asked.
She snapped a few shots, then lowered the camera. “Maybe? I zoomed it in as far as I could, but I think it will probably just end up being a splotch on the water. I’ll have to check when I can see it on my computer.”
“That’s what happened to me the first time or two I went whale watching,” I said. “I could never time it right, and all I got were photos of splashes.”
She looked at me with interest in her eyes. “You’ve seen whales before, then?”
“Yeah, off Massachusetts. My best friend and I go every summer.”
“That sounds brilliant!” she exclaimed. “Will you go this summer as well?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “We’re starting new jobs out of town, and I don’t think we’ll have the—” I broke off suddenly. What the hell was I doing, rambling about the new jobs Carrie and I were supposed to start later in the summer, as if everything was normal? How could I have forgotten, even for a second, that things were anything but normal?
“Is everything okay, Amelia?”
I managed to smile. “I’m fine. Sorry. I, uh, hope your photos come out.”
I turned away from the edge and started following the trail back around the headland, cursing myself.
The path back up the cliff was even steeper than I expected. I had to stop every few steps to rest my aching legs and catch my breath. I’d thought I was in pretty decent shape, but this climb was kicking my ass.
Everyone else passed me, which was a relief. Bad enough to be struggling, worse to hold up everyone who wasn’t.
Two minutes later, I stumbled, catching myself on my pole. God, it wasn’t even two hours into the first day. I had seven days of this—of ascents and descents and uneven ground and trying to keep up with a group of people whose hiking experience was clearly more extensive than walking all over New York City and one awful hike five years ago.
I hated hiking. I’d sworn I’d never do it again, no matter how many times Carrie had coaxed, cajoled, and begged me to go with her. And while it hadn’t been bad when it was easy, now I remembered why I hated it—that feeling of being at the back of the group, with everyone always impatiently waiting, watching others making it look so easy.
I took a few quick photos of the intimidating cliffs above, hoping everyone would assume that was why I’d stopped.
“Amelia,” Rory began, but when I glared at him, he paused. “Are you all right?” he asked, coming down to me.
“It’s a bit steep,” I muttered.
“It is steep, the first real steep section of the trail.” And not the last, was what he didn’t say. “Take your time, and don’t look up. Just focus on what’s right in front of your feet.”
I fixed my gaze on the path and started forward. The damn pole came down on a rock and I stumbled. Again. “Dammit!”
Rory steadied me. “Give me your poles. It will be easier if you use your hands for balance on this section.”
He didn’t look like he was messing with me, so I reluctantly complied. He tucked them under his arm and bounded up the path, as nimble as a mountain goat, the showoff. He reached a point a few yards up and turned. “Come on, Amelia. You can do it.”
Cursing him under my breath, I slowly made my way up the rocky steps, using my hands on the steepest sections. Without the poles getting in the way, it was easier—which only made me curse him more—and it wasn’t long before I was edging around that boulder at the top of the path and making my way back to the bothy.
The others were sprawled out on the ground. I took off my pack and collapsed beside Linda, shivering as the breeze hit the sweaty patch on the back of my shirt.
Rory handed me back my poles. “These can be really helpful out here, but you don’t want to become so dependent that you can’t walk without them. Sometimes they aren’t useful, and you need to be able to keep going anyway.”
He went to sit by Tommy, leaving me feeling like I’d just been schooled. Again.
After five minutes, we were on our feet once more. I was still exhausted from the steep climb and found myself at the back of the group with Tommy. He smiled encouragingly. “We’re crossing a small headland now. When we reach the end of this section, there’ll be a good spot to have lunch.”
Knowing that we would be stopping soon kept me going, and it wasn’t too long before we slipped through a gap in an old stone wall and followed a soft, grassy track to a ruin.
“Lunchtime,” announced Tommy. “It’s about half twelve now, and we’re past the midway point for today.” My groupmates made an assortment of relieved sounds, clearly as eager for a real break as I was.
I flopped down in the grass and just sat there for a moment, taking in the scene around me. In contrast to the raucous cries of the seabirds and the crash of the waves out at Rubha Hunish, this was a peaceful spot, and my fellow hikers were quiet as they scarfed down their lunch.
As I ate my sandwich—slowly, as the sudden inactivity left me feeling a little nauseated—I gazed at the mountains in the distance. It was beautiful here, about as different from the suburban sprawl back home as I could get. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh air, grateful for the soft grass that cushioned my aching body. When was the last time I’d sat in the grass? Years and years ago. Back home, the thought would never even cross my mind—there were ants and other biting insects. My pants would get stained or wet. But here, it just felt right.
Past the halfway point meant we’d done over four miles so far. ‘And miles to go before I sleep,’ I thought, recalling the line from Robert Frost.
I packed away my trash and eased my left leg in front of me, bending the knee so I could reach the boot laces. I’d felt a spot beginning to rub on the bottom of my foot as we’d descended to Rubha Hunish, and recalled what Tommy had said about blisters when we’d started out.
A shadow fell over me. Rory.
“You shouldn’t take off your boots when we stop for a break. Your feet might swell, which will be really uncomfortable for the rest of the day.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes. “I think I may have the start of a blister, though, so I should take a look at that, right?”
“In that case, let’s take a look.” He squatted down beside me.
Feeling rushed under the weight of his gaze, I unlaced my boot and tugged it off, scrunching my toes in relief. I started to yank off my sock.
“Go slowly with the sock, in case it sticks to the blister.”
Okay, so he wasn’t rushing me. I carefully peeled off the sock, foolishly glad that I’d had a pedicure before I left New York (“Skye Blue,” according to the label on the bottle).
I crossed my foot over my knee so that I could look. Sure enough, there was a blister forming right where the second toe met the ball of my foot. “Shit.”
“Let me see.” Rory took my foot in his hand, lightly tracing his finger over the blister. I couldn’t help the shudder that ran through me at his touch. Ticklish feet. Right.
“Sorry,” I muttered, but he didn’t seem to notice.
He went to his backpack, returning with the first aid kit. Kneeling beside me once more, he applied a blister bandage, placing the wrapper in the pocket of his shorts. “It’s a tricky spot for a blister because it’s hard to keep a plaster in place,” he said, wrapping first aid tape around the width of my foot, careful not to press too hard on the blister. His gentleness was surprising, given his earlier impatience with me and his overall gruffness. He smoothed the edge of the tape to seal it and sat back. “Hopefully that’ll do the trick. Does it feel okay?”
His silvery-green eyes met mine, and for a moment, I couldn’t form words.
“Amelia?”
“Um, yeah, it feels okay. Thanks.”
“You should probably open it tonight.”
“I thought you’re not supposed to open a blister.”
“Generally that’s true, but tomorrow is going to be a difficult day, and having a blister won’t do you any favors.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I pulled on my sock and reached for the boot.
“Show me how you lace it up,” he said.
Was this some kind of test? I laced up the boot and tied the bow.
He untied it again, then unwound the laces from the hooks. “A blister on the bottom of your foot means that it’s sliding around too much. If you lace them like this, it will hold your foot in place better.”
Starting from where the laces were going to go up the ankle, he crisscrossed them and brought the end through again as if he was about to tie a knot, then looped them around the hooks. He did that the whole way up, and then tied the bow. “How does that feel?”
I wiggled my foot. “A lot tighter, but in a good way. I didn’t know to do that.”
“When you buy boots, you should always go to a shop where the salespeople know what they’re doing. They can make sure they fit properly and advise you on how best to tie them.” He stood and picked up his pack. “Re-tie the other one, too. That should hopefully prevent more blisters.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” I tied my other boot the way he showed me.
He nodded once and then walked to the center of the group. “Anyone else think they have blisters? Now would be a good time to tend to them before we hit the trail again.”
Rory was full of really great advice. I just wished he was less of an ass when he dispensed it.
Twenty minutes later, our lunch break was over. Backpacks were repacked; trash was stowed away. And thankfully, I wasn’t the only one groaning as we got to our feet.
It was fairly easy going for a while until we once again climbed to the cliff tops.
“Guys, hold up here for a second,” said Rory. While everyone gathered around, I took a few photos of the view out to sea and down the coastline. “The next bit—almost until we get to Flodigarry and our stopping point for today—is tricky. We’ll be along the cliffs, where there is often no path. And though we haven’t had much rain here lately, the ground may still be wet underfoot. Take your time, and pay attention,” he said, looking at me.
I didn’t roll my eyes. Much.
As promised, the next hour or so, as we picked our way along the edge of the cliffs, was harrowing. And it wasn’t really wet at all, which made me wonder how much worse it would have been.
Coming from Long Island, where aside from some bluffs on the north shore and a few scattered hills, everything was dead flat, this scenery was just breathtaking. I’d been on the Pacific Coast Highway once, driving from San Francisco south to Los Angeles, and this reminded me of that. Only there were no guardrails here.
There were more of those weird, twisted sea stacks, like the ones we’d seen at Rubha Hunish. I stopped to look at them.
“Have you ever seen anything like that before?”
Molly stood beside me, her bouncy blonde ponytail so like Carrie’s it hurt to look at her. I quickly turned back to the sea stacks. “No, we definitely don’t have anything like that in New York. They seem—lonely somehow, like they’re almost in reach of the shore they used to be part of, but will never again be able to touch it, the seabirds their only company until the sea reclaims them.” The words tumbled out of me, and I cringed. “Sorry, that was really corny, wasn’t it?”
“No, actually. I thought it was lovely. And quite sad, as well.”
I was startled to see her wiping her eyes. She smiled and shook her head. “Oh, don’t mind me. I cry at everything. Megan always teases me for it.”
“I do, too,” I replied. “And my best friend always teases me for it.” Carrie, I think you’d really like Molly and Megan. They’re so much like you and me.
There wasn’t much chatting as we walked along the cliffs, with everyone intently focused on their feet. That, too, was a refreshing change of pace from the people back home who walked through the city glued to their phones, stepping off the curb into traffic without looking up. Even I had been guilty of that once or twice, but after watching a texting mom with a stroller nearly get creamed by a taxi, I never did it again.
We descended a steep, grassy section, also precariously close to the edge of the cliff, then finally reached the lower level. There was a collective sigh of relief.
“It’s pretty easy from here,” said Rory. “We just follow the coast until we reach the path that will lead us into Flodigarry. No more hills to speak of. You guys have done brilliantly today.”
It was an easy walk around the coast. The sea was a glorious deep blue, which contrasted sharply with the green of the grass.
And then we reached the path that Rory had mentioned, which climbed up. “No more hills, eh, Rory?” said Gordon, voicing what I was sure we were all thinking.
“Aw, come on, Gordon, that’s barely a wee bump.”
“We have to work on the language gap,” Gordon mumbled. “When you say ‘no more hills,’ we assume the rest of the way is flat.”
“This is Skye. Nothing here is flat. Come on, now, you can practically smell your afternoon tea. Just over the wee bump and we’re there. Almost.”
Almost, but not quite. I sang some of my favorite songs in my head to distract myself as we ascended.
A little while later, we trudged into a tiny village. “Welcome to Flodigarry,” said Tommy. “The hostel is just up this way.”
We followed him up (!) another path to the hostel, where Scarlet greeted us with a wide smile. “Well done, guys—you got through your first day of the Skye Trail! Eight miles down.”
It didn’t sound like a lot. I’d walked more than that in less time on more than one occasion. But that had been on flat pavement, and this had been along the edge of cliffs and up and down steep paths. I hurt everywhere, but I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face. Carrie would be so proud.
“You made really good time today,” she continued. “How do you feel?”
The response was a combination of enthusiastic chattering and pained groans. She laughed. “That’s the same response I get from everyone at the end of the first day. No one can really sum up the energy for actual words.”
She glanced at her watch. “It’s just after four now, and I’ve booked you a table in the restaurant at the hotel next door at six, so you have some time to relax and put up your feet before dinner. Anything to add, lads?”
Rory stepped forward. “Great job today. Tomorrow will be challenging. It’s over seventeen miles, with difficult, exposed terrain, and you’ll be camping tomorrow night, so enjoy the bunks, showers, and bar food tonight. Tommy and I will meet you out front at nine a.m. Have a good night.”
“You’re not joining us for dinner?” asked Mike.
“Not tonight. Tommy, Scarlet, and I have some things to go over, so we’ll have our dinner early. We may see you in the bar later. Speaking of which, even though you’ve earned yourself a beer or two, trust me when I say you don’t want to walk tomorrow with a hangover, so take it easy.”
It would be a relief to eat our dinner without the guides there. I was tired and aching and didn’t want to feel obligated to pretend otherwise, especially in front of Rory.
The room I was sharing with the other ladies had several sets of bunk beds. I chose a lower bunk by the window and sat down, grateful to be off my feet. I switched my phone off “airplane mode,” which I’d turned on so it wouldn’t drain the battery while I was out in the middle of nowhere.
No messages from home. I tossed the phone to the bed.
“Well, we survived the first day, ladies,” said Pat.
“Barely,” I said. “I had to keep stopping when we went up the cliff. My only excuse is that I have no hills anywhere near me with which to train.”
“You said you’re from New York?” asked Linda. “The city?”
“Long Island, not too far from the city. It’s very flat,” I added, and we all laughed. I rummaged in my pack for my shower stuff and a change of clothes, eager to stand under the hot water.
“What made you come do this trek by yourself? That’s so brave of you.”
I froze. Brave? If they only knew. “I… My friend was supposed to do it, actually,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “But she…got hurt…and couldn’t do it. So here I am.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But now I understand why you were taking so many pictures,” said Pat.
I felt my cheeks get hot. “You noticed?”
“How could we not?” asked Molly. “Every time we stopped, there you were, snapping away. At one point, I thought Rory was going to have to drag you down the path.”
“Personally, I wouldn’t have minded that,” said Linda.
Everyone laughed but me.