The King over the Sea: Part 6

 St Kilda, miles from anywhere, abandoned in 1930 and now owned by the Scottish National Trust. 

The weather was perfect on Wednesday morning as we skipped across Village Bay to plant the Cross of St George and claim the island for England - well with SNP holed below the water line who’s going to stop us.

That was my musing as we landed. It’s strange place. The MOD occupy the island but apparently no one told them about any new development being in tune with its surroundings. In this case hundreds of pile of stones, derelict hovels and green fields full of sheep.

Most people headed for the old church, school and rows of abandoned homes. Some had signs outside indicating the last occupants, some had been reroofed, with one turned into a museum, full of photographs of life on St Kilda, along with artefacts used by the hardy and, I thought, handsome peoples.

Others set off on a 3 hr hike (graded severity 4). I saw a few walking along the paved road that went the  listening stations on the two peaks of the island. It was a lovely day and I couldn’t think of anything better to do than follow them.

Initially the climb was steady and I overhauled a couple in front of me, the climb got steeper as it zigzagged up the side of the hill. I then saw someone right at the top and thought if they can do it so can I.

Continuing I met a fellow traveler coming down the hill. I asked if it was a long way to the top. No he said. He lied! After an increasingly steep climb I came to a junction. In one direction, at a lower level, a  MOD installation, at a much higher elevation another spying contraption. I looked at the path on the left - quite docile and the path on right I didn’t know how far but  someone coming down that path. I thought “If they can do it so can I”.

I did but there were at least four occasions when I thought I’d turn back but I struggled on in the spirit of Buzz Lightyear and Tintin.

Photos of my ascension of St Kilda’s own “Hill Difficulty”. 

On the way down I came across the footprints in the tar. Neolithic or what? and after sunset we head for Stornoway