The Machair of Toe Head and Ceapabhal Hill

My husband says my posts are negative and depressing. Criminy! I hope not. The last thing I want to do is discourage anyone from visiting Scotland. I love Scotland and the Scottish people with a grand passion. This wilderness hiking portion of our trip, while quite challenging both physically and emotionally, had its own weird charm and so many fun moments. The beauty and isolation of the Outer Hebrides must be seen and experienced firsthand to be believed. All I’m doing is telling a story…

Here’s a great website explaining the Machair of Toe Head and Ceapabhal Hill. This hiker visited the chapel ruins, the broch, the ancient settlement, and the beach I so wanted to see. But instead we climbed.

Graham drove to a pull out and parked. He said, “This road leads to the ruins of an ancient church, a bronze age broch and the oldest settlement in all of Scotland.”

My hand shot up. “Ooh, me! Me! I want to see that!”

Bad Graham face. “We’re going to climb Toe Head.” He meant Ceapabhal Hill. “If you want to go that way, you’re on your own.”

“Well, how ’bout I hike to the ruins and then I hike up the hill? Looks like there’s a path leading to both.”

“No!” Stupid American! “There is no path up the hill. We go straight up. This is Scotland. We walk through the Machair.” Which I learned later we really shouldn’t have done since this is a rare bird nesting site.

“C’mon, honey,” said my husband. “Stay with the group.” In other words, can’t you just make nice for once in your life…

Me, fuming. “Fine.”

We set out on the road, but soon cut through the Machair and then right into a pasture of Highland cattle. They are really cute, but remember, never get between a mother and her calf, which was of course the first thing my husband did on the way back. On the way up, I kept Graham between myself and the cows at all times. Those are some sharp horns. My husband wasn’t with us in the beginning of the hike because once again, he stayed in the rear to help Mrs. MacKenzie.

It’s like this, my husband has led numerous backpacking trips throughout the Rocky Mountains and he believes two things - everyone in the group must remain within sight of everyone else and the leader can only go as fast as the slowest member. The slowest member is the leader’s responsibility. Since Graham was off ahead, making like a mountain goat, my husband took it upon himself to help Mrs. MacKenzie.

We climbed the hill, which is actually a short mountain, in a particular order - the geologist first, off on his own, working his way up the extremely steep hill, utterly engrossed in his climb. Graham showing off by free climbing over rocky escarpments… Of course nobody could see him but me because I was the next up the hill. Then came the English physician following my path. Somewhere behind him were the two sisters and far behind everyone and out of sight were the MacKenzies and my husband.

This climb was so steep that once we left the cow pasture it was hand over hand climbing. Literally. For the most part, we were on all fours, using the heather to pull ourselves up the hill. And god forbid you should grab a handful of gorrrrrrse! It’s worse than nettles.

Sheep scattered as I climbed and I finally realized what I needed to do was make like a sheep and traverse the hill. Picking my way through the heather, while a pretty sight, was seriously exhausting. I can’t tell you how many times I stepped right into an invisible hole, sinking up to my knee or my thigh. Unless you happened to be climbing over rocks, you could not see the ground at all, just heather.

The English physician passed me, cursing beneath his breath. We didn’t say a word to each other, just nodded. Eventually as I climbed over a pile of boulders, I ran into Graham.

“Graham,” I called out, “Hold up. I don’t think the rest of the group can see you.”

He shrugged and hopped a little farther away.

“Graham, wait. Can you wait a while for the people behind to catch up? Maybe they need some help.”

He said the following before vanishing, “If they can’t get up this hill, they shouldn’t be here.” You don’t want to know what I was thinking at that moment.

Up I went, pitting myself against the hill, when a faint call for help reached my ears. I slid back down the hillside until I found the sisters. They thought they’d gotten lost and were ready to give up. I showed them the sheep trail I’d been following and the three of us resumed our climb. You have to admire the English, they sound so polite when they call someone a bloody fucking asshole.

I heard someone climbing behind us and I turned to find my husband.

“Where are the MacKenzies?”

“They decided to go back down to the van. There’s no way Mrs. MacKenzie can handle this climb.”

I nodded. We let the sisters go on ahead and my husband and I climbed the rest of the way together. We reached a false summit, and low and behold, there lay a path to the summit, a path snaking up from the exact spot where I told Graham there would be a path.

My husband and I exchanged glances. “Damn him,” my husband said. We followed the path to the summit, discussing how upset the MacKenzies must be feeling. After all, they’d paid for Graham’s services as a guide just like the rest of us. And Mrs. MacKenzie could have made it up a trail.

When we reached the summit, we discovered a geological station and a couple other groups of hikers. It was obvious people hiked to the top of the hill all the time via the trail. They didn’t haul themselves up, hand over hand, through the heather.

So down we went. Despite Graham’s opposition, the rest of us agreed we wanted to hike to the beach we’d seen from the top. Beaches held no interest for him, but we just had to dig our toes in this lovely, tempting sand. God, what a heavenly beach! Now wouldn’t you build a temple nearby too?

We rode back in silence. The MacKenzies had moved beyond embarrassment and humiliation. They were furious. The general feeling of animosity toward Graham was so thick you could cut it with a knife. He appeared not to notice. That evening at Mrs. Harris’ farmhouse, the English joined us on the veranda. They brought a bottle of wine as a peace offering. We decided we’d split up for meals, an American couple and an English couple, as a show of solidarity. They wanted to make certain we weren’t stuck with Graham on our own. Gone was our feeling of helplessness.

Tomorrow: Back where I began, Sron Uladon and on to Skye.

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