My brother and I have not been up many mountains in the past couple of years, so it feels like a good time to take stock of this aspect of my life, and who knows, it might help me make an effort to get things going again.
When I was a pale skinny ghost of a youth, still aimlessly haunting my hometown of Largs in Ayrshire, an Australian appeared amongst our group of friends for a short time. The town was a stop-off in his travelling, and I have forgotten his name, but something he said has stayed with me ever since. He was talking to me about all the places in Scotland he had been to, and asking me about all the places he still wanted to go to. I hadn’t heard of half of them, and the other half were names that meant little to me. I had certainly not actually been to more than one or two of them. I felt ashamed as he responded to my confessions of ignorance with awkward and polite disbelief.
But I didn’t do anything about it for a long time and went off to England to begin a career. Then, after moving to Edinburgh I began to get excited about the Scottish landscape, and during a long weekend in the west highlands I saw Glencoe for the first time. I got out of the car and ran down into the glen towards the river Coe, and then looked behind me. It was a slightly unsettled day, overcast, with fingers of cloud stroking the high peaks, obscuring the tops themselves. It had been raining heavily, and white cascades of water fell from out of the mysterious heights over ledges and parapets of black rock. I now know that this was the great Aonach Eagach ridge. I turned to look up at the other side of the glen and stumbled with dizziness, so overwhelming was the topography. Here were the Three Sisters, which I now know are but the limbs of the huge mountain called Bidean Nam Bian.
A while later I conveyed my awe on discovering this place to a friend, who casually said that he’d been at the top of one of those mountains just a few weeks before. This comment, and the memory of my shaming by the Australian, became two ingredients in a mental mixture that finally cohered into the idea: why don’t we, my brother and I, start hillwalking in the highlands?
More to follow.
I remember that day very well, you were like a puppy dog let off it’s leash. When are you going exploring again? I miss your verbal ramblings and photo’s.
Yes it was on the way back from Kinlochleven wasn’t it? Oh boy, time…
I’m dying to write up another walk, but I haven’t been on many lately, nor have I taken any photos. Exclusive obsessions and all that – not to mention trying to make some dough. I should find balance. But I’ve been saying that for years.
Oh jeez, this post is from over a YEAR AGO!