Tim's Tales: A magical experience at a cave on Skye

Even still, we initially missed it and had to double back. We had been on the point of giving up when finally, we found it: a legendary cave.

I was on the island of Skye with two friends, celebrating the 60th birthday of one of them. We were lucky, as an islander we knew had invited us to stay at her place. We had two nights and one full day on this magical, rugged and beautiful part of Scotland.

All three of us used to be driver tour guides and we were nervous about the changes which have taken place since the days we first toured round the island with small groups. Skye has become a mecca for tourists now and, in all honesty, the atmosphere and enjoyment of some places has been ruined by becoming mass tourist tick-box 'must-see' locations.

But Skye is a big island and there are secret places we wanted to experience which we knew were still largely undiscovered. I was asked not to publish the names of these places because at least one of them was a spiritual and sacred site that could easily be ruined by over-visiting.

I understood, although I felt a guilty paradox of being a visitor to these places myself while hoping that we wouldn’t meet any others. And, happily, we didn’t. All the 'off-the-beaten-track' places we visited, we had to ourselves.

The last one was a cave tucked away in a sea cliff. It’s often referred to as Skye’s answer to the Giant’s Causeway and indeed the volcanic columns and rock formations were of the same variety. There is even a legend of a monster who was said to have inhabited the cave and tales of a piper venturing into it, only to vanish with the sound of his pipes still eerily being heard. Such tales organically grow and there are different versions of them.

It is an awe-inspiring place and reminded me a little of Staffa, although the cave here was much more shallow. The sea has carved a narrow, gorge-like passageway through the volcanic rock to the base of the cliff. The crashing water over millennia has eroded the volcanic columns, collapsing them and creating the cave.

I sat on a volcanic column, watching as the water rushed into the cave, each crashing wave imperceptibly carving the rock.

I wish I could convey the sound. It was mesmerising, and I sat for I don’t know how long savouring it, as well as the smell and sight of this ancient place. I celebrated the fact I was there.

My knee was complaining bitterly about the climb down to the shore. I’m not yet very old, but my limbs remind me I’m no longer young and that each day of adventure is a gift. Being still able to walk and climb, and yes, be still alive when many old friends younger than me have sadly died, made me feel deeply appreciative of this moment of being in such a powerful, out-of-the-way place.

The ancient nature of the rocks put all my problems and worries in perspective. The rocks will be here many millennia after we have exited earth’s story. It was as if the sea was whispering to me: “I’ve seen it all, so don’t waste your short time on worry, live life to the full.”

“You coming, Tim?” my friend called out. I’d been sitting longer than I’d realised. I took one last glance, said my goodbyes and headed back up the steep path to the clifftop and the walk back to the car.

But I lagged behind my friends. Something had happened to me at that cave that made me feel so grateful. Maybe it was the ancientness of the place, maybe it was the unspoilt solitude of the location, its beauty and aura of magic, maybe it was the achievement of being able to reach it. Maybe it was some kind of Skye magic. Anyone who has been to the island and sat with it will know what magic I mean.

If you want to know the name of this cave and how to get there, or the other places we visited, email me.

But maybe you have a place nearer to home, in East Lothian, which has the same power. I know I do.

Share it with me and I’ll share mine with you.