Glen Rosa

We’re actually living in an old cottage in Glen Rosa, so strictly speaking every post this week comes from this best-known of all “my” places on Arran. But this afternoon, under a pale grey sky that only began to show bits of blue as we were nearing our house, we walked up the Glen past the bridge over the Garbh Allt to where two of my crazy pals swam on a hike I missed because I caught Whooping Cough …

The pictures in the collage should give some sense of our hike. The heather is all purple, and I felt I was walking continually through the scent of honey. The tops around us were gradually revealed, and any wind died away. We were in the part of the Glen ravaged by wildfires in the Spring and I can say here that there is no sign of blackening or destruction - it’s all greened over again. The burn is endless in it beauty - amazing and very characteristic brown/black markings on rocks worn by millennia… they’re so much part of my memories…

We walked about 3.50 miles over rough ground and I know I could’ve gone on. I was happy to prove to myself that on rough terrain I feel much less tired - road walking is so tough on joints! We met two young women who talked about how their university education would lead them back home in Trump’s America, and wondered at how fees compared and worked out in practice. They thought that they might well have been the pair who passed and looked in at us as we sat in the cottage kitchen drinking coffee this morning…

Ah. The morning. Briefly, for I’m trying to ignore it… I got a cancellation with an agreeable optometrist in Brodick, for though my actual eye seems ok, I have a pea-sized lump on the side of my nose. It’s worse, and I don’t quite know how it’s going to be resolved. Ah well…