It is rumoured that vast graves were once found in the island’s north end, filled with the bones of giants. Perhaps some of them are merely sleeping? Stirring slowly among the hidden valleys, crags, and lofty prisons.

There are many stories of how the Old Man of Storr came to be. The thumb of a slain giant, a brownie’s monument to an old friend, a colossus turned to rock by a powerful demon, or in this case, a tired wanderer surrendering to time itself.

During the festival of Samhain, the portals of the otherworld open, permitting the dead and faeries to roam the night free. At this time, to appease the darkness and ensure the survival of the community and its livestock through the harsh winter months, great fires were lit and the spirits fed with offerings of food and drink. In keeping with this ancient tradition, an assembly of Guisers feed the night and its unseen mouths by the fire’s embers.