I drove to Dunvegan with a vague intention to reach the western coast. Despite a stormy night the sky was clear, cold blue brushed with strokes of white. I parked in Duvegan car park looking out over the bay where the tide was drawing back to reveal layers of vivid seaweed which I was remembering are typical of the sea lochs here. I fortified myself with a cheese roll at the oldest bakery on Skye and filled the car with petrol before I set off again.

I was soon distracted by a sign to a textile gallery so I diverted off the narrow man road onto a track that tested the shock absorbers of the hire car. The friendly owner chatted to me while I tried to find something I could buy. I had come so far out of my way and the artist was so pleasant that I felt obliged to make a purchase. I also regard it as part of my duty to support local artists. The goods were so varied; sewing, felt, knitting, paintings, cards, jewellery, that I was sure they couldn’t all be made by one person. “I’ve got the whole family involved” she said “ Keeps us busy through the winter.” I was feeling a bit desperate when I spotted a flowery teddy bear with pink roses and blue felt eyes. I grabbed him, made sure the eyes were secure enough for an eight month old and we digressed into talking about grandchildren.

Once he was sitting securely in a paper bag, on the front seat, I set off back along the bumpy track. Turning onto the single track main road I noticed that the tide was going out and there were patches of rock and seaweed emerging. I found a gateway to stop and started to watch activity on the water. There wasn’t much but there were some small dark heads which appeared from time to time. I began to hope that they might be sea otters. A grey heron swooped down to land on a patch of rock, beak pointing downwards, ready to fish for dinner. The ubiquitous hooded crows danced around and a small group of herring gulls stood looking around. Three oyster catchers sat stolid, statuesque. The bobbing heads did not give away their identity so easily so I moved on.

After a few miles I noticed two buzzards hovering overhead. They floated on the wind. They were only a few metres apart and spent some time with wing feathers fluttering but not catching anything. I watched them until they flew away over the hill. I followed a sign to The Red Roof Café. I was beginning to lose hope as I followed the winding road around more corners than I expected when the small whitewashed cottage with a bright red roof appeared. It was a small combined café and art gallery boasting bright oil paintings and wholesome organic food. A group of Americans had managed to find their way there. I settled for Earl Grey tea with rose petals and blue flowers and a piece of lime and coconut cake.

By the time I had found my way back to the man road I had lost the will to carry on to the coast so I turned back towards the loch. It started to rain hard. Steel grey clouds hung over the hills contrasting with the sun behind me. The resulting rainbow was so vivid I stopped to take a photo but cameras can rarely do justice to such sights. I pulled into the space where I had watched the loch creatures before. I soon realised I was watching young seals playing. They rolled and dived, bobbing their heads through the pewter sea. The oyster catchers did not seem to have moved and the heron was still poking about in its ungainly way amongst the weed and rocks. Black and sleek the young seals wove their way through the water waving their flippers as they played. There must have been half a dozen although it is difficult to count when they dive down and only reappear some time later somewhere quite different.

There is a colony of grey seals further along the loch nearer the sea. These seemed to be a group of juveniles.

I had to leave them eventually to enjoy a drive back alongside the peat bogs admiring the lovely colours of the Skye landscape.