Blue Sky

I woke determined to get in the water today. The waves were the lowest we had seen and sun cast deep browns and reds and greens on the hills. I decided to kit out in neoprene from head to foot. So off to find an entry spot. Easily done, and even better the stone landing strip had somewhere to perch my mismatched crocs and specs. Everything felt ok under the neoprene, but as always, I forget the pain when uncovered hands enter the water. Breaststroke on for a few metres keeping my head clear of the waves. The pain was all I could think about. That and why I had left my gloves on the bed. Will I never learn? 5 months from my last serious swim, 4 months from my last dip and my body has forgotten. I turned round after about 25m and swam back, disgusted with myself and almost ready to get out. But back at the rocks my hands weren't just as sore, although scarlet and slightly swollen, feeling tight when I clenched my fists. So I turned round and struck back out going further this time to the sticks past the house. And back, then turn round and do it all again. By that time my breathing was still higher than it should be and I still wasn't feeling like putting my face into the water, so I retreated for the shore.

After I got out the wetsuit and back in to the house, I realised that although my hands were aching as the blood returned, the rest of me was still a decent temperature. I was kicking myself for my naivety and already planning the next attempt. I'm never going to be a great swimmer, or even a better than average swimmer, but it does teach me resilience. It makes me want to be better, to be tougher, to be more able to endure time and distance and temperature.

It's a great start to the day and the forecast is, again, worse than the reality. So off to kenmore for a walk on Drummond hill. 12km with almost 500m of climbing through forestry track and road. Both of us planning how it would go on the soon to be bought mountain bikes. Then off to Killin and lunch at the Falls of Dochart inn where JT scoffed a whale and I downed a pint of Schiehallion with my pulled pork sandwich.

Back in the apartment we watch waterfowl do battle with the westerly wind. A skein of geese take off from the opposite shore and are held motionless, framed by the branches of a tree. Then they turn into the wind and, dropping to just above wave height, skim the surface as they continue their flight. The red squirrel on the feeder clings upside down to the tree which shelters him from the worst of the gusts, but still his fur stands on end as he eats.