The north shores

I use the few hours of daylight to walk to the far end of the loch. A crude stone shelter on the south side of the peninsula, probably new, but definitely convenient on a day with north wind. The valve still holds ankle-deep water. I've never seen it much deeper in six visits since 2013. The loch is stable, until further notice. The outflow deeper than I remember it, and impossible to ford without wading over icy rocks. This is not completely unexpected, after two days of rain earlier in the week. On the other side, a herd of moving dots on the slopes, female deer, about fifty of them. They have noticed me, move a little, but are not too bothered. Let him ford the river first, they say.

I continue north, until I reach the confluence of my stream with another one, hopping down from the slopes to my right, also unpassable. Those two combined make a formidable river. They will continue north, until they hit the River Tilt, who will take them around a corner and back south on the other side of the big mountain, to the Garry, the Tummel, the Tay, and the North Sea.


For me, the natural deadend means that the decision to turn around is made by nature, how convenient. Following this second stream, I find a series of nameless waterfalls, carved deep into the rocks, and vow to return when it's swimming pool season. Exciting.