The road to Inverness

Moyle castle

Here's some good travel advice: when there's a lot of tourist advice going around a certain location regarding things like tides, swampy ground, dangerous animals, meteor showers and troupes of mimes, pay close attention as it may impact you. I discovered this this morning when I decided to go for a walk to the nearby ruined Moyle castle. I vaguely remember hearing some advice regarding a walk to some castle that said not to go during high tide as you could get stuck or encounter very swampy ground, but as the castle was within sight of where I was I decided that it can't be that castle.

So I headed off down the toad which led me to... well to call it a goat track would be an insult to goat tracks. It was really just a thin strip where it seemed as if by pure chance the foliage happened to line up in such a way that it allowed for rudimentary passage, if you didn't mind pushing through a jungle's worth of leaves. But it was dry and it led in the right direction, so I followed it. Until I came to the swampy ground. The foliage had now given way to grass and low scrub which led away to the right around a low rise to then presumably come round to the tower from behind, and to the left it led down to a rocky beach and a boathouse. The military tactician in me decided to use the cover of the high ground and outflank my enemy, hopefully taking the walls by elemnent of surprise and avoiding a siege. I took one step up the wet grass and my foot sunk into water. It was a trap! I decided to reconnoitre, and after some deliberation I decided my best tactic left was to attack by sea. I headed down to the rocky beach, hoping I could find some passage along the shore.

The route I took by sea

 But, as luck would have it, the tide was about halfway in, and what would have been a pleasant stroll on some loose gravel turned into a wade around some steep rocks. Well, I hadn't marched all the way from Kyleakin to give up when victory was in sight just because of a little water! I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my trousers and waded in. The water of course was freezing, and once I nearly slipped on a rock to land arse first in the water, though luckily my cat-like reflexes saved me from my watery fate. I also had to climb over and slide down a steep rock jutting into the little cove. But finally I arrived ashore and, putting my shoes and socks back on my freezing feet, I vowed to take the land-route on the way back - perhaps there was some dry path I had missed.

Upon reaching the castle I realized my planned conquest was a few hundred years too late - the castle was in ruins. There was an information board, presumably explaining how, fearing the wrath of my invasion, all the inhabitants fled hundreds of years ago, but the sign had weathered beyond legibility.



Moyle castle up close



After clambering around the ruins for a little while I headed back, trying to find a decent path. This, I found, was completely in vain. It was simply unbroken grass and scrub as far as the eye could see. And, as I soon found out, incredibly swampy. By the time I returned to my car my socks and shoes were soaked through. I would have been better going back the way I came.



On the way to my next stop, Inverness, I stopped by another distillery - the Singleton distillery in Muir of Ord. This one was probably the best tour I've done, and the premesis were probably the nicest too. Shame the whisky they make isn't right down my alley, but you can't have everything. Still, I got another stamp in my little book of 13 "classic malt" whisky distilleries, and because I have that little book the tour was free, so I can't complain. The tour was held up somewhat as well so the group was given an extra big glass of whisky at the end (that's still quite small mind you). All in all I think going a little bit out of my way for it was well worth the effort.

Then when I got into Inverness this afternoon (Inverness is a terrible city to drive in, by the way. Another traveller's tip. Free of charge) I checked into my hostel and decided I needed to do a load of washing. I changed my trousers and to my horror discovered the arse was filthy from sliding down muddy rocks and sitting on dirty ground, taking off and putting on shoes and socks. And now think: I always like to be at the front of a tour group, so everyone was able to see my filthy backside in the distillery.
Oh well.