Low visibility

I trekked the Skye Trail this summer, 80 miles of hiking, mostly camping, from south to north. Even in August, you can't predict perfection with the weather. For the most part, though, the weather had been okay, as we hiked up from the south towards Portree. The wind was behind us, even if our 15 kilo packs and the midges were definitely very with us. After three days, we were rewarded with a campsite and shower and then set off to for the most northern point of the island. We waited out a rain shower and hiked slowly through Storr up onto the most amazing ridge. We had a golden sunset and refuge from the midges. We could see the nine ridges ahead of us, our hardest day yet to come, but with views like this, who would notice?

Then the weather moved in after nightfall and the rain and wind pummelled on and off until daybreak. We woke up rather sleep deprived and wet (think puddles in tents). And then we set off on our climb, dragging our sorry sodden selves slowly upwards to the highest point of the day. We got there to be rewarded with absolutely nothing. We couldn't see a thing.

I'm not going to lie, I crashed out. This was not what I signed up for. I knew, of course, that this was in fact EXACTLY what I signed up for. But we live in hope that we will have a smooth journey, with hard work rewarded with beautiful views. But, well, neither Skye or life is like that. We aren't always guaranteed a reward.

But the views were there. I just couldn't see them. I had to keep going and have patience. And to be fair, being shrouded in cloud for half the morning meant I really appreciated the views that did emerge.