If Day Two was about "The Drift," Day Three was the "Grand Side-Track."
I woke up at the Clachaig Inn after another night of deep, mountain-air-fuelled sleep. One final, hearty Full Scottish breakfast later (the fuel tank was full, even if the wallet was about to take a hit), I pointed Dezzy Bee East. I was supposed to be heading home to Galston, but Glencoe wasn't quite finished with me yet.
If you're a regular reader, you'll know that I've been on a bit of a journey lately. A "creative pivot," if you like. I've been deeply immersed in the world of photography for years, focusing on capturing the still, silent beauty of places like the Southern Lowlands and the Ayrshire coast. But recently, a niggling thought became a roaring idea: I want to capture the movement. I want to capture the wind in the heather, the flow of the Allt na Reidh, and the feeling of that 7 am drive into the Mennock Pass.
It’s been a little while.
The day job has been positively buzzing and so busy, and frankly, my mind has been a bit consumed with all it entails being a professional embalmer. But something rather exciting landed on my doorstep recently, something that’s pulled my gaze away from the virtual modular rack and firmly towards the skies (and the bogs, it seems!!!).
Well, it finally happened. The postie arrived with a package that felt a bit more substantial than the usual Amazon fluff. Inside, wrapped i...
