I’d been meaning to do this for a while, so as the sun was coming out and the working day was nearly done, I chucked it early, grabbed my pack and headed up the Kilpatricks to go and look for a rock.
The road to Overtoun was a river, fast running and several inches deep. The pot holes were completely hidden, and even at the speed I was moving, very sudden feeling on the suspension. But, the trail was dry and the sun was warm.
There was a few showers floating around, I could see them once I gained height, and I did get caught on the fringes a couple of times over the next few hours, but it was light and cool, it felt like a summer shower. Winter is dead.
I hope the little tadpoles have come through unscathed, I’ll be watching their progress.
I wound my way through the crags, found a neat little scramble up onto the terrace and contoured to the top and then to the side of the reservoir. I circled the edge and followed a wall up to a familiar viewpoint. Ben Lomond is thin on top, the comb-over of snow is failing to disguise the passage of time, but Loaigh and the Crianlarich twins are doing better, still good unbroken white on the upper slopes.
The colours are changing though, the grass looks like it’s needing a visit to the salon to gets it’s roots done. Green is spreading upwards into the pale yellow as new growth forces its way through.
I took a forest trail, well it’s trackless, but there’s no trees there if you know what I mean. Instead there’s a hallway of thick moss which is a spongey joy to wander down.
The sunlight sparkled through a few gaps in the branches, dappling my hall carpet, as a light mist rose from the ground through the beams of light. The hills were waking up. Birdsong was all around, and as I sat quietly with my flask, the calls crept closer. I wish I knew who all the different voices belonged to.
I meandered for ages, crossing my own track at one point too. It was glorious, and it was thoughts of dinner that had me descending into soft light as the sun rolled towards the Cowal skyline.
The stone? It was close to where I thought it was, and I sat beside it for a while taking photies and having a cuppa and a snack.
It’s a Neolithic cup-marked stone, the cups or indentations, ground-out five thousand or more years ago by who ever lived here in a land still coming back to life after the desolation of an ice age.
I touched the stone, I don’t know if I was expecting something or not, but it was just a stone, warmed a little from the sun and rough to the touch.
Moss is growing in two of the cups, it looks like nature its claiming the stone back.
I wonder if there’s a message for us as a species in that.