19/10/2020 0 Comments Peace, All-Consuming
I'd not get used to this feeling. It always seemed incredible that our steady footsteps took us so far. And more so than maps, seeing the glens laid out behind us brought admiration. What, to look up upon, had been fearsome, now was gone and past. Heading up still, we passed the bealach into Glen Elchaig, and stopped at the top for some lunch. The vista spread out in front of us. Towering mountains in the distance looked threatening, but our way seemed impossibly far down. We sat, and ate our usual lunch, although the accompanying cheese was particularly good this time, and four rocks abandoned by a long gone glacier sat nearby - sentinels watching the world go by. The way down was steep and slippery. Muddy paths disappeared underfoot as my feet went from underneath me for the third, fourth, fifth time. Getting frustrated with falling I slowed, but still we made that steady progress down into the glen. We could see people now, walking and cycling along the path that was on the opposite side of the glen. We could see the wide, meandering River Elchaig and the alders that lined the banks. It looked like another world, softer and more pastoral than that which we'd just passed through, but the river was calling keenly.
Setting off again, we pass beneath Creag na h-iolaire, the crag of eagles, but see none. We pass a corrie, and come to a collection of buildings, where there's a bridge. Sneaking through the steading as well as can be sneaked when the dogs take umbrage and start barking, we cross the beautiful river and join the north side's road. For it's tarmacked, and this makes for quick walking, even if it is tiring and hard on the feet. Just before doing this walk, I changed to 'barefoot' walking boots, and I really notice the thin sole. I feel every lump and bump, my foot stretches over rocks and feels the hardness underfoot. But we have a distance to go before making camp and as always, these last kilometres are the hardest. But other than the feet I'm feeling fine; we both are. Strong and fit and we sing and talk as we walk: these days are good for the soul.
A grey wagtail danced at the waters edge and the promise and lushness of the place encouraged slow thoughts and careful movements. I walked properly barefoot through the wood, mosses caressing my tired feet, dampness cooling and relaxing me. Midgies found us, but the peace could not be destroyed, and dusk came upon us slowly and with a delicacy.
The camp felt utterly alive. Teeming with life. Spiders climbed all over the tent within minutes of it being erected. The grey wagtail continued to chirrup from the riverbank, and a wren - unseen - clicked from the undergrowth. And as darkness fell, bats flew overhead, and the tawny owl called. What else was happening outwith us seeing? Did the otter rouse? Did the deer sidestep around the tent, badger snuffling along on his familiar paths through the woodland. We slept, strangers, but utterly at home.
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