There’s something wrong with the Isle of Skye. I’ve been here a number of times before so I know it well enough, but this morning when I pull back the curtains it doesn’t look like the Skye I recognise from previous visits.
For starters, I can see the sky. It’s a strange blue colour, and there’s a fiery orange ball emitting a warmth unfamiliar in this part of the Highlands. When I leave the hotel, the first thing I have to do is strip off my rain jacket and armwarmers – the usual minimum for a summer ride in the Western Isles – and return to my room to leave them behind. I won’t be needing them because today I have been gifted that most rare and precious of gems: a perfect day for a ride in Scotland.
To my mind, there is no more beautiful place in the world than the Highlands of Scotland when the sun shines, and the fact that it happens so infrequently only serves to make it more special when the situation arises. Before I’ve even turned a pedal, I know today is going to be
