Another late dash. It starts with spring over the wall and follows with as much of a sprint as my lungs will allow across the field to get to the trees and onto the giants staircase before the light fades.
This time, the lungs weren’t so wheezy, my stomach was on a slower spin cycle, is the post covid shite finally lessening it’s grip? Time will tell.
As beautiful as ever. The evening light brings this place alive and it’s a joy every single time. I was already feeling better than I’d expected and this despite having both boots and a rucksack that I’d just taken the labels off of.
My feet were wanting to go and I let them, I just them followed along. I like when someone else drives, I get to look at the view.
The brown scar of a recent rockfall stuck out quite obviously. The debris was no where near any of the paths, but it’s a worry. I’ve never seen one this big before.
The plateau is now almost devoid of trees as the 60 year old plantation has been made into flatpack furniture and LFT boxes, is more water now running faster to the edges of the plateau and increasing erosion where it’s not obvious? It’s a wee bit of a worry.
It’s stunning though, what a place to be, especially as dusk.
I had come prepared with flask and pieces. I descended into a wide rocky cleft just off the crags where i haven’t been in ages and jammed myself out of the wind with a down jacket and a grin to watch the dark take over.
Bliss, peace and contentment.
I pushed on until it was black around me, but not above. Stars blinked as half a moon shone optimistically but too weakly to light my way home, so I followed my own light back down to Overtoun.
The boots I hadn’t even thought about, that’s always a good sign, and the pack was forgotten about too it just “was”. I think gear has evolved a wee bit more than I’d expected in the past couple of years.
My increasing amounts of “out” time have increased the amount of outdoor washing constantly hanging drying. I think I’m going back to gaiters. Hmm…