Thursday, December 28, 2017

Second winter

Three years ago I came to Loch Loch in the winter. It was cold, windy, and, in the few moments when one was able to contemplate the surroundings, stunningly beautiful. This time it was even colder, even windier, and no less beautiful. Beinn a'Ghlo, snow and cloud covered cones, a white crown far above the landscape. Brown, rough, ripped slopes when I arrive on Tuesday, gently dusted by snow flurries by the time I leave on Thursday. Every year, more double-track paths lead up the hills, made by the landrovers from the hunting lodge. The loch with black water and white foamcrests, close to freezing, only kept liquid by the feral winds. The sun grazing the horizon for a few hours, producing long shadows and crepuscular lights. There is nothing left from the lovely summer habitat, everybody is in survival mode. Ravens follow me for the entirety of the two days. Skulls of deer along the way. Judged by their tracks, little furry animals are hectic and in a bad mood. I build a nest for myself and settle in for two long nights.


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