I can’t really tell you what I was expecting from the Storr because I have never taken part in such an event. Such events don’t happen very often.
I also can’t show you what it was like because no photo taken in the pitch black on a mountain with only a full moon, relfectors guiding a path and hundreds of head torches can possibly do it justice.
I can’t do justice to the sounds of walking through a forest with music bouncing of rock, the poetry of Sorley Maclean and the silence of 35 people walking along taking it all in.
It felt like I was just going to ride a roller coaster, but a grown up roller coaster. I knew it was going to be a little bit scary but I knew it was going to be controlled. We were going to an art event but we had to work for it and wear proper walking boots and five layers and gloves and a hat.
The Isle of Skye was at its best when we emerged from the forest and looked behind us to see the full moon reflecting on the water and islands and mountains in the distance. Following the lights and the sounds up we stopped on a narrow path to take it in and only then you realise when you shine your torch down that there is a seemingly endless drop and the wind is getting stronger and any stronger you might fall off. Then at the top when you reach the lit Old man of Storr you sit in a natural ampitheatre and watch the rocks light up and a male dancer making shadows in this vast area and you wonder how you could be so cold in August and you wonder what the dancer is wearing that allows him to dance for an hour on a mountain on the Isle of Skye everynight for 6 weeks at 1am.
On the way down you hear the voice of a solo singer singing gaelic tunes and then you see her on a solo hill, the only thing lit for miles, apart from the man made star constellations on the islands opposite.
I can’t explain what it felt like because I have never experienced anything like it.
The Storr in the day