There are wonders of the world hidden across the Highlands and Islands, writes Iain Maciver – but there’s also an awful lot of driving to do before you can see them.
After a few days in Fort William, I made my way north.
Having a stop-off in Portree – where I was again able to savour the yummy macaroni in the Isles Inn and the yummier drams in the West Highland Bar – I found myself in the north of Skye, with plenty of time to spare before the next ferry to Tarbert – via Lochmaddy.
Lochmaddy? Oh, heck. I’d forgotten about the triangular route. Two hours to North Uist, and another two to get to civilisation on Harris. Sorry, Uibhisteachs, I was tired and grumpy.
I love that road north; that incredible sense of homecoming. The van just drove itself. That was when I was having a cuppa near Dunvegan, and I hadn’t pulled the handbrake up properly. Oops.
What on earth can you do in that tiny but occasionally busy wee port called Uig on a Sunday? There is the Bakur Bar on the pier, but, if I meet owner Stevie McKibbin, I may not get away to catch the ferry. I haven’t seen him for years, so we’d have a lot to catch up on. Maybe next time, Stevie.
Getting to the bottom of Hungladder
You know that steep road that goes up that endless mountain with the promise beyond of wonderful views across the Minch to the mystical Hebrides? Sadly, the day wasn’t clear when I got up there, but I kept driving. On through places with wonderful, romantic Sgitheanach names like Linicro, Kilvaxter and, er, Hungladder. It’s probably derived from an ancient Gaelic word, but I can’t think which one.
Wait. I am looking it up. Hunn or Hung was a Norse prince. I doubt if it’s that. There were no Rangers supporters back then.
Oh, there is some further discussion in this old etymological volume which has been put online. Ah, there was a Pictish king called Hungus, who later appears to have become Angus, roaming in these parts from AD 731 to 761. The writer suggests a Norse measure of land was a “lader”, and suggests that is the puzzle complete. Dinnae think so, mate.
Your ancient book doesn’t mention the Gaelic word for strong is “laidir”. Laidir (pronounced laa-dirr) and ladder? Get it? They’re easily mixed up, and words were always adapted by unthinking Sassennachs.
Nerds around the world know all about the tiny village of Hungladder. Bizarrely, it features in an online game called Assassin’s Creed Valhalla
Methinks Hungladder is just Strong Angus. Oor Angus probably had a wee holiday cottage there to relax, when he wasn’t slaughtering invading Vikings and enjoying other Pictish pastimes. Nice. Just saying.
And I am also saying that nerds around the world know all about the tiny village of Hungladder. Bizarrely, it features in an online game called Assassin’s Creed Valhalla, which is based on a digital version of Skye, where the aim is to capture the coveted Hungladder shard. Well, I never. And I don’t think I ever will bother either.
A secret wonder of the world
I did bother, though, to continue round the north coast and, although I’d been there as a wee kid, I’d forgotten how dramatic that coast is before Duntulm. Huge, sheer, vertical cliffs that look like a cluster of stalagmites reaching into the sky. It’s like the island of Staffa, but not so neat, not so inaccessible, and with more rubble.
When you drive down the mountain into the glen, it looks as if the Martians have attacked; part of the mountain has collapsed down to the sea under the sheer force of the bombardment, and someone has put a dinky wee road right through the resulting carnage.
How did they build a road through these immovable boulders? It must rank as another wonder of the world. An earthquake brought down the Colossus of Rhodes, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon may be somewhere else, but the Rolling Rocks of Duntulm are still there for all to see. Come ye and marvel.
Self-driving cars would make the trip even better
Onwards, past moody mountains at Flodigarry, and on to Staffin. More dramatic, chiselled cliffs. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but I kept seeing outlines of faces everywhere – like Mount Rushmore, but I saw no dead presidents.
Who knows? In a few years, we may be able to afford the new self-driving cars
Near Staffin, I saw the buzz cut as sported decades ago by chisel-jawed Arnold Schwarzenegger. Hey, is that outline the stacked hairdo of Marge Simpson?
Naw, that’s the Old Man of Storr. I’m imagining things now. Time to head back for the ferry MV Hebrides, all the way round the north of Skye. Again.
It was quite a drive back to Uig to catch the ferry. It would have been better to sit back and be able to properly enjoy that dramatic scenery.
Who knows? In a few years, we may be able to afford the new self-driving cars, like the Tesla, that are coming out now.
Oh, wait, they drive themselves? Better not miss three consecutive payments on them. Those cars would just direct themselves back to the garage.
Iain Maciver is a former broadcaster and news reporter from the Outer Hebrides
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