Ghost Dog

Down the curvy, single track road to Tanera Mor and The Summer Isles again. But this time just in our sights, not under our feet, as we stood looking out from the mainland from Achiltibuie. This beautiful dog appeared from nowhere, it was huge with lovely colouring, eyes and character, and it craved stones to fetch, but it never would come close in for a cuddle. I could see me having lifetime adventures with that dog, but we knew it must be very well loved already so we headed onwards, leaving it to its stone patrol.

The rest of them spotted a place to gorge on seafood, then we bagged another Peninsula. And finally, we found a brand new wide expanse of a bay at Achnahaird Beach where we got lost in time for hours damming rivers, making sandcastle towns, harbours and lochs, before watching the walls breach and the river take back its rightful path all the way down to the sea again. I forgot how you can lose hours reengineering the world in water and sand, forgetting all other thoughts, no matter how old your bones, no matter who you are or who you think you are. I saw the look in several bypassers eyes, travellers from all parts of the world, they were dying to join us.