Path to Glencoe.



Hot wind from Africa swaws and skimmers over the moor. Indigo mountains smudge the horizon.

Frogs, caterpillars the size of a finger, orchids, dragonflies striped and blue. Through the trees, the air cooler, darker, wetter. Walk and walk. Small blue butterflies and amythest toadstools. Water sparkles down the hillside the colour of burnt sugar. Crossing a burn getting feet wet. Walking until the last line of trees and up over a rise, there, a view so wide, so lonely, magnificent, stretching from Schiehallion to Glencoe. Small wooded islands in the loch, the water ribbons away to the south. And the wall of mountains that contain this moor watch on, guarding against escape.

A quick drawing, the clegs find me out and the long return walk.  On the drive back this landscape of  moor and mountains drifts in and out, making its own memory in my head and I feel a sense of loss that seeing a landscape brings when trying to bring it back. Yet this place has always been here, or as long as people have and it’s that connection through the centuries that binds us to the land and makes us not forget.

4 Replies to “Path to Glencoe.”

  1. A true Highland lass at heart just watch out for those mystical standing stones and dinnae walk through them 😁

    That is a lovely place and even greater when you can have the peace and the quiet it can be a private paradise.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You articulate those feelings of loss after being amongst the hills so well. And capture it in your images too. Nostalgia isn’t quite the right word – it’s both melancholy and yet contented too.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hi Lizzi, thank you so much for your comment on the piece about Rannoch, it was lovely of you to take the time . And yes you’re right – melancholy, nostalgia but also this sense of being extraordinarily alive . It fizzles ! 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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