'My Journey Through Scotland' - Part Six: Climbing the Dùn Caan MacLeod
It baffles me how challenging a 444-meter-above-sea-level hill could be, especially after the adventures I’ve embarked on in the last couple of years. I must have lost my mojo somewhere along the way, because this goddamn old volcano sucked all my energy out quickly. The old hill named Dùn Caan is the highest point on the Isle of Raasay, a small island located between the Isle of Skye and the Scottish mainland. The peak stands at 444 meters (1,457 feet) above sea level. It’s a flat-topped, extinct volcano with a distinctive profile that dominates the island's landscape, making it visible from miles around. The climb to Dùn Caan is relatively short, but the terrain can be boggy, especially after rain, which adds to the difficulty. The summit offers breathtaking panoramic views, including the Cuillin mountains on Skye, the Applecross Peninsula, and even the Torridon hills on a clear day.
The hike to Dùn Caan (video here) typically takes around 4-5 hours round trip, depending on the weather conditions and the chosen route. The trail is known for its scenic beauty, passing through peat moorlands, freshwater lochs, and rolling hills. Despite its modest height, Dùn Caan’s summit provides a sense of isolation and accomplishment, making it a popular destination for walkers and adventurers seeking to experience the rugged beauty of Raasay. We decided to conquer it because it was there, everywhere we looked. We saw it from the windows of our cottage, from the small hills overlooking Plockton, when we traveled to the Storr or the store. The highest point of Raasay wasn’t that high, but because the land was soaked with water, it took some time to go up and then down.
On the ferry to Raasay Island
After dealing with the bankruptcy that erupted in Inga's shop, where we paid voluntarily for her next cruise, we toyed with the idea of visiting somewhere more chill and not as expensive. We took the familiar bus that brought us to the Fairy Pools and then to Portree, but this time we caught the ferry from CalMac Ferries in Sconser, the bus stop right before Sligachan. There, we were able to observe not only the hot sailors but also the beautiful nature of Skye behind us and Raasay Island in front of us.
We started our climb under some pressure due to time. Because of some road work on the way to Sconser, we arrived five minutes after the ferry had left. It runs every 40 minutes or so, but those 40 minutes were crucial if you were trying to catch the last ferry at 7, in order to take the last bus to Kyleakin. Everything in Scotland looked beautiful to me, and even if we missed the last ferry, we would’ve just spent the night on Raasay Island and caught another ferry in the morning. The cost to stay a night was between 120 and 200 euros, and after paying for Inga's dream vacation, that seemed like the final nail in the coffin.
We saw many different views along the way. Some tourist caught me singing "Country Roads," inspired by a movie partially shot where we were yesterday at the Storr—Prometheus by Ridley Scott. I love that song, and it just made sense to sing, filled with happiness, doing what I love most—taking on adventures for which I’m completely unprepared, something that challenges me and provides breathtaking views and vibes. Ever since I saw the movie, I’ve been in love with it, until this year, when I finally understood why so many people say it’s poorly made. I mean, love is blind, and I simply overlooked the amateurism of the crew involved in the movie for a long time. Now, I can’t unsee the mistakes Ridley Scott made just to move the story along. Nevertheless, I never imagined I would see this place (the Storr), nor the Canary Islands, nor other places I’ve been lucky enough to travel to in recent years. Lately, I’ve been feeling blessed for the opportunities.
Damn, this goddamn volcano was hard to climb. The amount of water in my shoes made me twice as heavy, and the terrain was super slow-going and off-road, which, in all my experience, seemed like a horrible idea. Many times we spotted holes or potential free falls from nature’s balconies that shook me. From our experience, if you can stay on the main road, do it. To climb Dùn Caan, there are two routes. We took the one our host, Eli, suggested for a quicker climb and better views. She was right. It was harder but quicker, wetter but, yeah, wetter.
It took a long time before we saw the peak, but it was worth it. We got up there, to the place we had been watching for days like a big sign saying, "Hi, I’m here," and we did it. I felt like I did after finishing the half-marathon a year ago. Of course, we were far from done for the day, but we took our prize. We absorbed every view—there were a couple of rainbows below us, some lakes above the sea, and rain pouring in every direction. The wind blew like it was the last time, keeping us grounded, holding onto rocks just in case. Soon, the weather calmed down, but our anxiety to catch the last ferry grew, and we ran to claim our second prize. The second route down from Dùn Caan was easier but longer. Soon we stepped onto an asphalt road that seemed endless until I saw a car. I did what I’ve done many times before—hitchhiked—and the gentleman stopped. The postman let us into the back of his truck, closed the doors like Leatherface does in every Texas Chainsaw Massacre film, and delivered us almost to the harbor. Not taking the chance to hitchhike would have meant missing the last ferry. Now, we had time to try the local beer, and we did. The trip back was beautiful, and we felt relieved that we accomplished what we came to do and still managed to return intact.
Trying to catch the bus is our specialty, but even with all the skills I used to get us there on time, the bus never came. A car crash in our direction slowed the road down for hours, and we had to wait for our friend to come and save us from freezing. So much for our independence. We asked the police if we could walk along the road and wait on the other side for our friend Eli, and she came like an angel in disguise to grab us from this horrible turn of events. We went home and talked about how beautiful the adventure was, how much fun we had, and how the obstacles now seemed not that bad.
Iliya Badev
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