‘Damn, that’s freezing!’ Rocco exclaimed, wading in up to his ankles.
‘Changed your mind?’
‘Nope. It’s slippery though, so be careful. Give me your hand.’
Giselle placed her hand in his, and as he tightened his grip, she felt a tingle go right through her. But all too soon, they reached the opposite bank, and he let go of her to put his socks and shoes back on.
There was no path on this side, and Giselle guessed fewer people braved the icy crossing. Stumbling over tussocks of coarse grass, she followed Rocco as he ploughed resolutely towards the buildings.
One was still in use, as it had a rickety tin roof and contained a pile of lobster pots, but the other had been abandoned decades ago. The half-standing ruined walls showed where windows and doors had been, but Giselle was fascinated to discover an old hearth with a stone chimney. It was nowhere near as large as the one they’d just explored, but it was more atmospheric.
‘Can I take a photo of you?’ Rocco asked.
She’d noticed him taking a couple of snaps, but she’d been careful to keep out of shot, not sure whether he’d want her photobombing his Skye memories.
‘If you want, but only if I can take one ofyou.’
Rocco laughed. ‘You drive a hard bargain.’
Several photos later, his attention was captured by the rusting remains of various bits of machinery left lying around in the grass: a pulley, lengths of metal cabling, some kind of gear contraption… Every so often he would mutter, ‘Fascinating,’ and she smiled indulgently – he was surrounded by all this fabulous scenery and he was enthralled by bits of rusted metal?
‘Ready to see the falls?’ she asked, when she deemed that they’d poked around for long enough.
‘I thought we’d seen them.’
‘I’ve saved the best bit till last,’ she told him, and she laughed aloud when his eyes lit up.
She was having more fun than she thought possible, showing him around her homeland and seeing the delight on his face.
It took considerable effort to convince herself that was the reason she was having fun, and not because she was enjoying being with him.
A second teeth-chattering, toe-numbing, hand-holding river crossing later (she enjoyed the hand-holding – the rest, not so much) found them on the right side of the river again, and Giselle set off along a narrow track. Then, after rounding the side of the hill, the base of the waterfall came into sight.
‘Would you look at that?’ Rocco breathed.
The water fell in a continuous white torrent into a large pool. At the edge, the pool was shallow enough to see the rocky bottom, but the deeper water was dark and mysterious.
They lingered for a while, taking photos, but finally they had to face the trek to the top.
Neither said a word on the way up because they didn’t have the breath, but when the incline levelled off, Rocco panted, ‘That was awesome.’
Giselle had to agree. She hadn’t visited the falls for many years and had forgotten how magnificent they were.
‘Before we go any further,’ she said, ‘how about we have some lunch?’ She hadn’t planned on being here this long and was starting to get hungry.
‘Good idea. I’ve brought a picnic for us to share.’
‘So have I.’
The wind was quite gusty at the top, blowing in from the sea and rising sharply to whip around them, taking their breath, but instead of retreating to the car, they found a sheltered spot and sat amongst the clumps of pink and purple heather to eat their lunch.
‘What have you got in mind for the rest of the day?’ Rocco asked, biting into a chicken wrap.
‘Haven’t you had enough of the great outdoors yet?’
‘Definitely not.’
‘How about the Quiraing? You can’t visit Skye and not walk up it.’
