The Table

The object of staying in Staffin was to allow a walk in the Quirang, that we last visited in the summer of 1976, shortly before Miss Flum was born.
We set off more in hope than expectation as, although the rain had abated, the clouds still hung over the tops. A wrong turn led us to amend the route by taking a steep climb which before the rain might have been a path but was now a bed of loose stones and mud, the while buffeted by a sidewind of gale force. To say I was not happy would have been an understatement - I was scared stiff.
Thus we reached the series of pinnacles, of which the Needle is the most photographed, and on to the Table, a curiously flat area amid jagged pinnacles and cliffs.
I think this view of Mr Flum sums up the mix of emotion and etherial light.