Three Lessons I Learned on the Skye Trail

With the Old Man of Storr

 

I blame it all on Instagram. After I started solo hiking in my local mountains in 2020 and posting about my adventures, the algorithm picked up on my new hobby and my explore feed became filled with images of gorgeous destinations around the world that were begging to be hiked. One especially green looking location was located in Scotland and it was called the Isle of Skye. It looked like a magical place and so I added it to my wish list and saved my dollars.

Fast forward to 2024 and I now have hiking trips to Everest Base Camp and the Inca Trail under my belt. The Skye Trail, a rugged and unofficial route on the Isle of Skye, is next on my list. In accordance with my new tradition of going on a trek for each birthday, the Skye Trail is technically my celebration of turning 42. If being 42 is anything like the Skye Trail was, I know that I should expect the unexpected and keep my spirits up no matter what. I also learned to listen to my body. After 2 international hikes that were challenging but without any real snafus (blessedly), the Skye Trail was finally my time to experience a trek in less than ideal conditions. But lessons were learned.

Lesson One: No Matter How Expensive Your Gear Is, After A Certain Point, Nothing Is Waterproof

Closely related to this lesson is; if you're already soaked head to toe, you can't get any wetter so just relax. Water was coming at us from every side on the Skye Trail. Our guide, who has hiked Skye many times, kept commenting that he had never seen the trail so wet. Much of it was just plain flooded. A stone trail that has inches of flowing water on it is a stream and that's what we were walking in. There were riverbeds that our guide stated were always dry but this time they were not. This time, there were rivers to cross and streams to hop or wade through. Sometimes the water was up to my knees. I actually don't mind hiking in rain at all, but it was the flooding combined with the rain that felt like an assault and my love of hiking was challenged in those moments. I told myself to embrace the suck. I wanted nature and nature is what I got. Of the 7 days we hiked, it rained for 4 and a half. We got lucky that on the most difficult day, when we hiked for 14 miles and ascended 9 peaks in 9 hours on the Trotternish Ridge, the rain was mercifully absent. No one's feet were safe inside their waterproof boots or even with rain pants and gaiters. Water finds a way in. 

Evidently, this is a problem the Scots anticipate, as one of our lodgings had a "drying room." We could hang up our gear at the end of the day in a closet that was equipped with a dehumidifier to help our wet things recover as much as possible for the following day's trek. It worked pretty well. While the following inn we stayed at did not have a drying room, they did offer plenty of newspaper to stuff inside our boots to help them dry overnight. I would change the newspaper 3 to 5 times during the evening but it helped significantly.

The blister from hell covered with 2 bandages

 

Lesson Two: Your Footwear Can Make Or Break Your Hike

I do not like hiking boots. I disliked them so much that I never used them. I wore trail runners in the Himalayas, the Andes, the Rockies and at home in the Spring Mountains. Boots are heavy and I don't like the feeling of them around my ankle. But the tour service I booked Skye with told me that trail runners were probably not a good choice for "bog." There is plenty of bogland on the Isle of Skye and it is like mud's more powerful cousin. Sometimes, it disguises itself as grass but the truth is revealed the moment you squish into it, up to your ankle in water and mud.

I had never encountered bog before so I heeded the tour service's advice and bought myself Hoka hiking boots months before the trip. I wore them everywhere from running errands and on the stair machine to hiking Red Rock Canyon and even once in the Spring Mountains before my trip. They were comfortable and seemed to have worked out perfectly. I thought that I had changed my mind about hiking boots. I realize now that my opinion of boots has not changed and I should have probably stuck to my trail runners and invested in a good pair of gaiters to wear with them. But hindsight is 20/20.

After the first day on the flooded trail, I had a few small blisters. Even though I never get blisters while hiking, I had come equipped with many band-aids for just such an occasion. No problem. Except that the blister on the inside of my heel grew. Every day it got bigger and bigger, until it was the size of an egg. This angry looking blood blister was dark red and unlike any growth I had ever seen on mine or anyone else's foot. I got very lucky that a fellow hiker gave me "Compeeds," a bandage I had never seen in the US that magically cushioned the blister enough that I could still hike. I also got very lucky that one hiker in my group was a doctor who was prone to blisters and she examined mine for me when I was nervous about whether or not I should be hiking on this angry looking protrusion, even if I could manage to stuff it inside of my flooded boots. She reassured me that the blister was healing and remarked that I must have a high pain tolerance to be walking on it. I genuinely didn't feel pain until the last day of the hike. The blister had outgrown one Compeed bandage and I had to apply 2 next to each other to cover it. I was nervous it might pop on the trail when my boots were filled with water and I couldn't keep it clean so I risked infection. 

Miraculously, it did not open on the trail. But it did continue to grow until it could no longer fit into my boot or even my trail runner. Traveling back after the hike, first to Inverness from Skye and then in the airports at London and Los Angeles, I limped around in my trail runners, unable to put weight on my left heel. I hated those boots so much for doing that to my poor foot that I left them in Scotland. The owner of the last B&B I stayed at assured me she would take them to the charity shop down the road. I probably could have returned them to REI and gotten my money back for them but after what they did to my foot (which has since healed like a champ after all I put it through), I never wanted to see them again.

On the Trotternish Ridge

 

Lesson Three: Check Your Ego

And now I reveal a little secret that I planned to keep myself but why not just share it with strangers on the internet? The Skye Trail is approximately 80 miles and I technically hiked only 77 of them. When our group had just 3 miles left, my foot was done. I had the opportunity to drive and meet my group at the end of the trail in lieu of walking the final 3 miles of bog and coastline and I took the chance. I felt genuinely guilty for continuing to torture my poor foot which was patiently allowing me to assault it every day, stuffing it back into the ill fitting boot and putting it through hours of flooded trail and rough terrain. So, at 77 miles, I saw the opportunity to give it a small break and I took it. Even though, after the drive, I still had to walk a mile to meet my group at the end of the trail (so maybe I walked 78 miles), I made the right decision. My ego was angry with me because I didn't complete what I came to do. I had given up. What a loser. But it didn't take me long before I simply laughed at my ego for being so foolish. I hike because I love nature, not for bragging rights. I came to see the Skye Trail and to enjoy nature and to push myself and I did all that. Now was the time to show my foot some mercy and to transcend the ego. No regrets.

I compiled a short video of footage from the hike, which you can see here. Despite the difficulties, Scotland is beautiful and I'm so glad I got to experience it. I hope to return one day to see more of it. And I will absolutely be wearing my trail runners.