Independent overland travel through Africa in a Unimog called Moglet

And suddenly we were on the Isle of Skye! Lonely Planet says its the third most visited place in Scotland by us tourists, and I can't help but wonder whether lots of them are as disappointed by it as I was in those first few hours. Maybe we'd been spoilt by snow capped peaks in the rugged northern Highlands on the way here, but I don't think that was it. As Jason said, it kind of reminded him of other countries he's visited in that it's a relatively isolated community, one which produces just as much rubbish as the rest of us, but there's not such a good infrastructure in place for getting rid of 'stuff' once it doesnt work anymore. This leads to piles and piles of tat all over the places, from half rotten old fence posts and rusting wires, to car tyres and bashed up bits of corrugated and knackered old pushbikes. Combine that with the continual drizzle and the seeming preference for dog poo to be exhibited as some kind of artistic display on many, many paths, and you kind of catch my drift. After the pristine desolation of the far north, this was a bit of a come down.

We did our usual trick and turned off the main road as soon as possible, ultimately ending up in a little village called Tarskavaig. We drove down a little track towards the bay, Jason and I almost simultaneously spotting something in the water that looked more interesting than a rock - seals! Naturally we were parked up and walked down onto the beach immediately if not sooner, camera firmly in hand. I have a lot less patience than Jason, it has to be said, and within ten minutes or so I was getting cold so headed back into Moglet. He meanwhile had scrambled over the seaweed and barnacles to perch himself as close to the seals as possible, who also appeared to be just as curious about him as he was keen to photograph them. Eventually though the mutual appreciation was disturbed by a couple of kayaks who then piqued the seals interest even more, and they were off.

We headed on along the skinny little twisty road, occasionally getting glimpses of just how fantastic the views might be, if only you could see them, and eventually popped back out onto the main road. Still not seeing anything of interest, we headed off down the next little spur off to the right, towards a village called Elgol. The light was fading by the this point, so we started the daily hunt for somewhere to park up, eventually finding a deserted car park on the northern shores of Loch Slapin (good name!).