The Fairy Pools Of An t-Eilean Sgitheanach
At the heart of the Isle Of Skye is An Cuilthionn, or The Cuillin. A range of mountains that suddenly rise up from almost nothing to snow covered peaks. Beneath the feet of Sgurr An Fheadain, a mini mountain, within the Black Cuillin, are the 'Fairy Pools'.
Having read much about the pools, and seen images on the Internet of the blue waters, I wanted to see for myself if the colours were real. Or maybe the result of an over enthusiastic mouse in Photoshop.
Setting off from the road to Glen Brittle, and following the clear waters of River Brittle, I made my way along the well-worn path. Crossing little streams was straightforward (although a little slippery) as large boulders had been helpfully placed as stepping stones.
The weather during my visit was true to the islands real name An t-Eilean Sgitheanach (the Island Of Mists). Dampness hung in the air, shrouding me with a silky wet covering, as I made my way towards Sgurr An Fheadain. This mountain is easy to spot as it has a long gully from the top to the bottom. Getting closer to Sgurr An Fheadain the path rose above the Brittle. The river having carved beautiful pools in swirls and arches in the rock beneath.
The beautiful clear water was a deep blue/green. Just like the images I had seen. No wonder they are called the Fairy Pools!
Fairies play a large part in myth and legend on Skye. Castles, glens, flags and bridges are named and featured in magical stories of the clans of yesteryear. Strangely, there is no known legend to go with the fairy pools.
Finally, I arrived at a small rocky outcrop, with the Brittle spilling over into a shallow pool below. The ominous shadow of Sgurr an Fheadain rose up behind. This would be my memory of my visit.
Mist brings a certain quiet. As the mist rolled in even closer the mountains seemed to loom over me. Silent and threatening. Perhaps I was trespassing on their hidden treasure. The rose among thorns. The beautiful colours of the pool such a contrast to the greyness encircling me.
Cold. Wet. Stunned by the beauty of the scene. I took my photograph. I captured my memory of the Pool of the Fairies.
I took one last look at the other-worldly colours in the water, with perhaps the hope of seeing a fairy paddling in the cold waters of the Brittle.
No fairies today. So I made my way back to Patty and on to my next adventure on An t-Eilean Sgitheanach.