Towering basalt cliffs, striated and turfed, punished by the wroth sea and roaring hysterics of the wind, stand in monolithic acceptance of the rain pounding from the anvil sky. Beneath the glacial waters of the Little Minch and through the Sea of the Hebrides, the causeway of the giants extends southwest to County Antrim. Birds have given up hopes of flight here at Neist Point, the Isle of Skye’s most westerly landfall. The air is a wall of banshees; each step toward the cliff’s edge a flailing advance. Wings of iron, salt, and dirt slam into my nostrils. Basalt golems trudge down the coast as far as eyes can see, the cloudy cyan sea frothing at their feet like rabid selkies.
The turf beneath my feet is spongy and riddled with rabbit warrens, could give itself to the starved sea at any moment. These basalt warriors will fall beneath the waves, in time. Not even they can withstand that encroaching iron-bar horizon. Time, erosion, the disappearance of things. If I could time-lapse this spot for centuries, the people here would be little more than a flicker, a question in the brow, a wonder. I’ve lost myself in a trance instigated by the deafening sea and sky. My red, burned cheeks run with windy tears. And there was some knowledge here.
holy wow, keith. that’s all. just wow.
I like how you framed your shot. The lighting pulls you in too.
Thanks Lori!
Powerful! The image gives me butterflies in my stomach, as if I were there seeing, feeling, hearing. We who live in cities need this sort of experience. It reconnects us to what is real and enduring.
This reminds me of a quote I just read in a history of Door County: “There is a sixth sense, dormant in many people, which is beatific. This is the appreciation of beauty.”
What an intense and beautiful shot! I am so jealous, the Isle of Skye is one of my top places that I want to visit next.
Be forewarned, the weather is VERY fickle there, and that’s saying something for Scotland.
+1 for using “selkies”.
Looks like that’s a similar vibe to Westray’s Noup Head, ie. ‘this is where the land ends, and in that direction there is nothing but fickle sea and sky and the worry that the weather will turn on a dime and a whim, plunging you into Hell’. I’ll admit, I found this feeling rather thrilling. As you say, humans are a fleeting afterthought in such landscapes. It’s important to experience existential irrelevance occasionally, I reckon – a good check for the ego…
Did you lay on your front and nervously crane your head over the edge?
I would have, but my more nervous half does her best to prevent me from moving within 10 yards of any cliff’s edge. While on my own in Shetland I remember bounding over the hillsides and staring over innumerable precipices. 🙂
See also my comment to Ken above.
amazing – the writing! oh yes, the photo, too! 🙂 +1 for using banshees and golems…
made me wish i was there, for sure. we were right near skye and were so tired we didn’t head out there. UGH. next time!
As above. If the weather is terrible all you can see is gray sky. Ironic, isn’t it?
Dude, as I saw the picture I went… wow. Then I read the words below… brilliant mate, just brilliant.
Cheers Brendan, many thanks!
Personally, I like the colors and contrasts most. They add a nice sense nostalgia and romantics to the whole picture.
The green of Scotland is the greenest green I’ve ever seen.
Great photo Keith! This looks like one of those cliffs you would see in something like shutter island or some other horror/suspense thriller.
I can see the similarity. The experience was anything but horrifying, though. It was just another transcendent moment.
The place seems to be too lovely! Superb photograph and loved the information shared.
What a fantastic write-up! We were mesmerized when we went here. My only regret is the battery in my camera died before I was able to get many pictures. This was definitely one of favorite stops on our trip though!
Yes, well worth the drive. The wind alone was hard to fathom.