Strange Meeting
It seemed that out of battle I escaped.
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which Titanic wars had groined.
Mood music entirely different from Knoydart journey as I crash around the house throwing things into a bag and drive at speed to Stirling station. Forgotten - blast, blast - head torch, waterproof shoes, hip flask (secret treasure of illicit still from last visit in week of de-toxing). Stirling grey, station almost shut, same bus grey this time not silver in the sun. Windows steamed, countryside flat and dull. I wonder if I’ll recognise this road I haven’t travelled for 30 years. I don’t…..until we get through Kirrie up to Dykehead. The Jubilee Arms looks as if it has not changed a jot since 1960.
Up and onwards taking the left fork to our Glen and suddenly we see the hills and the river running through it. It’s a bit like what’s 2-dimensional suddenly adds another dimension which instantly reminds me why we are here…better already.
The Sign and the Village Hall
Others are here, kitchen full of beans and vegetables, tipi /tepee waiting for us across a bridge down by the river – a river running by it, a river running through it. I remember my father going fishing in the mornings from the cottage we rented from the sheep farmers in Glen Clova - the next Glen only a couple of miles away.
I grudge the fact that the journey here was not more pleasant. I am guilty that I have not done my urban solo homework and have not made the time to do justice to the little bit of research I needed to do. I think about the fact that despite best intentions and some time outdoors in the first week in January I am depriving myself and those I love of time and space.
So first day in the tipi/tepee is about the urban solo – many of us found it hard or impossible to do – what does that tell me, apart from easing my guilt. Almost everyone found it a negative experience but one tells a saddening and inspiring story about the humanity he saw which was full of hope…in a consumer palace I pass through so often without stopping. Telling my short story about not doing it, and listening to what my friends have heard me tell, again gives me powerful insights from the group.
