Funny how given a gap, not even the biggest of gaps, that almost anything can feel new again.
Be it Galaxy Counters, Black Sabbath’s Sabotage album, that thing we did last week or walking in the Cairngorms.
My heart swelled at the beauty of the trail through the trees, and it soared skywards as my destination came into view. The distance passed quickly as I swam in the new colours and moods rolling from the hillsides, the Cairngorms are unfamiliar, and all the more wonderful for it. I walked through four seasons, I camped at what I could have sworn was an abandoned south Atlantic whaling station (had I had more time I would have searched for the hidden submarine pen with the lost nazi gold on board) and then walked through snowy sunshine to stand in the UK’s second highest point.
It was like I’d been dropped onto another planet. A planet where a pair of ptarmigan (now in summer coat, d’you think they changed just a little too soon?) come up and cluck at your feet a little bit, rather than B Movie infantry shooting at your flying saucer and then getting their asses kicked by Gort. Jeez, no way I’m getting him in one of my tents. I wonder if he’d rust if he got left outside?
Wouldn’t the Wizard of Oz have been much better if the Tin Man hadn’t been that camp Vaudeville affair and had been a badass space robot instead? The Wicked Witch’s flying monkeys would have gotten shot out of the sky and hit the deck in flames before they even got near the happy band of campers.
I’ll be back sooner I should think. The Cairngorms I mean, not the fantasy land (which is not unlike South Park’s Imagination Land) that I also occupy much of the time.