by R. D Rhodes
I took out my bottle of water. Harry was kicking his legs out from the rock he sat on, his eyes roaming from left to right.
There was a high-pitched screech from behind us, and a bird shot over our heads and glided across the loch. I watched its tiny figure get smaller until it disappeared into the opposite mountains, and when I looked away, I noticed down below- grey rocks piled up in intricate patterns, poking up out from the snow. I knew what they were. Walls of houses.
Everything was here, I thought. This is all we had. We lived off the land, changed with the seasons. Are we any happier now than we were then?
But I didn’t know anything. For all I knew that old stone cottage could have been burned down during the clearances, the tenants forced to move to the towns for jobs, or to starve where they were while the landowners stood over their bodies.
Maybe that was the reason, they were forced to move. Otherwise I couldn’t fathom why anyone would rather live in a town or a city, and be watched over and ruled while living in a box, when they could be out here? I didn’t know. All I knew is that this was beautiful.
I finished my sandwich and walked down into the open walls, onto the flat, soft surface inside. What did they do? What did they think about? I wondered. I pictured a straw and feather bed, and a peat fire with a black kettle hanging over it. I ran my fingers up and down the tightly packed stones. They actually made these homes themselves. They were actually independent. And now we had gone so far the other way.
Harry came down, then we made our way back to the track and kept on along the loch under the sprawling trees, the slope of the hills to our right. We soon came to a stream, and had to take off our socks and shoes and wade through, then the glen became thinner, the mountains curved in, and the path led us around the top of the loch. We followed it round the other side of the water, then a hundred yards along, until we decided to turn off into the woods.
The silent birches and oaks were thick about us. The ground climbed up, away from the road, and we crunched on up the hill. Some golden leaves clung onto the trees, some fallen ones peppered the snow. We carried on up. Suddenly, a little wind got in, and the birches began to hush and sway back and forth. A strange feeling came over me. There was a palpable change in atmosphere. I sensed some sort of strange presence. The trees sounded like they were whispering to each other.
I looked at Harry, stunned. “Can you feel that?” I asked quietly.
His open mouth and eyes confirmed that he did.
A shiver ran up my spine.
“It’s like, we’ve gone through a portal.” He said.
We stood still. The trees swept with greater thrust and their whispering got louder.
Harry moved on first. We dug our feet up the slope. I heard the sound of running water. The slope steepened, then a number of sprawling branches blocked us off. We clambered through, and soon the hill flattened out in a little groove.
I surveyed the ground and the area around us. “This looks good.” I said.
Chapter 43
W e dropped the bags and checked the location. It seemed ideal. There was a slight slope for runoff rain, the stream nearby looked pure and clean, and we were hidden well away from the road. From five yards down, through a break in the trees, we could even see right across the loch to the western mountains.
“What a view, eh?” I said.
Harry stood at my side, a few inches lower, “Yeah. How much would you have to pay to get a house with a view like this!”
“Thirty years busting your ass. And we’ve got it for free. Get the stove out, I’m starving.”
“Will we get the tent set up first?”
We pitched it up. Harry laid out our things inside while I tied the guy ropes around a couple of nearby trees. I stood back. The side canvas was taught and rigid. The roof firm, the rain would bounce right off it. I looped the last pegs through and pushed them down under my foot. I gazed around at the miles of forest- the tent’s dark green didn’t look at all out of place.
I zipped open the door. Harry was sitting up heating a pot of water on the stove. The sleeping bags were set out just as before- the good, four-season ones on top of the cheaper ones that were acting as a carpet. Jumpers were folded for pillows, and the rucksacks lay evenly down the sides. It was cosy. I sat down next to him.
The water started to boil and he threw a couple of teabags in. “What was that all about, eh? That atmosphere?”
“I know,” I said. “There’s a definite energy here.” I took the cup he offered. “Do you think this is maybe a former druid sight?”
“I dunno. Could be. Would they have gone halfway up a big hill like this?”
“Well, they carried boulders all the way from Wales to Stonehenge, so who knows.”
I sipped the green tea while he poured his own. “Ah, a nice hot drink. You can’t beat it after a walk like that.”
Harry lifted his own cup and took a sip. He closed his eyes contentedly, and a gentle smiled played on the corners of his lips. “Do you think we’ll be happy here?” he said.
“I’m already happy.” I said.
“Haha. Good!”
“What do you want to do after this?”
“Hmm, just chill out. Maybe go for a wander later on?”
“Cool.”
“Ahh, that’s so good.” he put his cup down and let his body recline, resting his head on the jumper pillow.
I lay back on my own, and relaxed. We stared up through the dome in the peaceful quiet. The breeze gently rustled the leaves. The stream gurgled away harmoniously. It was like an orchestra performing just for us.
“Oh, this is so good,” Harry almost whispered. “I’d rather be here than be anywhere else in the world.”
After our break we descended the hill, reaching the road about a quarter-mile up from where we’d left it. I pointed to an old pine tree that was bent over like an old man. “Remember that tree.” I said. “We won’t get lost.”
“Good idea.” Harry replied.
We skirted the road through the woods and then fifty yards along stepped into the unbroken snow. We lunged across into the trees beyond, carefully going down the uneven ground. Lichen hung like Christmas tinsel from the many branches.
“Pretty cool, eh?” Harry said from behind me.
“Yeah. It means the air is clean.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s definitely cleaner here than London. Living in London is like smoking five a week.”
We scrambled down past the last tree onto the loch’s stony shore. The glass-like water reflected the blue sky and its passing clouds. It was so beautiful it didn’t even look real. On the other side, below the shrouded mountains, I saw the route we had come.
We had the whole glen to ourselves.
The water was so still I couldn’t resist, I launched out a stone and watched it splash into the blue. Ripples circled out. Harry skimmed another one along the surface and it bounced once, twice, five times, before sinking.
“I used to love doing this.” he said. “When I was a kid.”
“Me too.”
I bent down to get another, but caught my reflection in the water. I looked away, at Harry. “What’s your record?”
“About eight, I think.” He sailed another out. “The trick is to find the right one. Smooth, like this, and not throw it too ha-”
I thrust my arm back and kneeled low, letting the momentum carry into my swing, it flew out and bounced, seven times.
“Wow! Haha, you’re a natural.” he cheered delightedly.
We skimmed stones for a while, just having fun, like we were kids again. Then Harry’s eyes flashed. He unzipped his jacket with a cheeky grin on his face.
I laughed. “It’s about minus five in there!”
“Och, it’s fine! C’mon, race you in!” Without a second’s hesitation, he was stripped to his boxers and his bony body raced in, “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! It’s fuckin freezing!”
“Of course it is!” I laughed loudly. He was ecstatic, bouncing
up and down in the chest-high water like a child who’d just graduated from armbands. He dived under, “Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ!” he cried as he breaststroked away.
His joy was infectious. I got down to my shirt and pants and waded in. The water was painful, so cold it burned, but it felt good, and refreshing, like all the shit was being washed from my system. I stepped slowly, going further in as Harry came racing back out. I watched in hysterics as he ran barefoot through the woods, then I turned and kept going till it was up to my neck. I tried to control my breath, then dunked my head, counted to thirty, and sprang back up and went for a quick swim. It burned with pleasure. This is what baptizing is all about, I thought, and I imagined why people liked getting tattoos done. I got out, shivering, my skin purple-red. The cold shock gripped me to the core and I felt full of energy. I gave into it and started skipping through the trees. It was like the holy spirit was in me. I felt like I was seven again.
Harry was running under the pines ahead, laughing like a maniac. I felt it too- an intense delight spiraling out from my insides. I let the happiness take me over, I could imagine if people saw me now, but I didn’t care.
I stopped skipping then started running, then I dropped to the snow and did some press-ups. I imagined all the old skin cells and tired blood vessels being broken down and replaced by newer, fresher ones as I was renewed. I ran back to the shore and put my clothes on again over my skin turned white as the snow, and I heard a squeak behind me and turned to see two radiant-blue, exotic-looking birds flying just above the water.
Harry came dancing back, smiling so wide I thought his face might crack. While he was putting his shirt back on, I sneaked away, and thumped him with a snowball.
“Hey! You little bastard!” he laughed. “You just wait!”
I hid behind a tree, but then he was hopping on one knee, trying to pull his trousers up, and I couldn’t resist. The force of the throw knocked him off his feet. His hands went out, but he still landed with his face in the snow, his white hamstrings camouflaged.
The fun and the sight of him was too much- a childish joy cried out from me. I couldn’t remember laughing like that for a long time.
His shoulders were jerking with his own laughter as he got back up. “That’s it!” he threatened. He got on his trousers and shoes and came after me as I sprinted through the woods. The fight went on for ages. I hit him more than he hit me, and nailed him in the head with a beauty.
“Quits!” “Quits!” he shouted.
After that we made a snowman, joining huge rolled snowballs together and building it up. We gave him some antlers we found for ears, rosehip eyes, and a dead leaves wig. Harry gave him some branch arms, and a long thin branch for a cock.
“Pretty good.” He laughed joyously.
“It’s not bad.” I agreed.
“Want to knock it over?”
Harry went first, walking up the slope behind then throwing himself feet-first into its head. It didn’t budge.
He was impressed. “We’ve made it sturdy.”
“Not that sturdy.” I stepped up the slope and took a longer run, kicking my legs out. I booted the head clean off.
“Nice shot!”
We picked up some sticks and smashed the snowman to bits and rolled what was left of it down the hill. Then we went exploring- through the tall red granny pines that looked about four hundred years old, and the gigantic ancient oaks with their dinosaur skin. It all just felt so wild. So beautiful. Imagination and wonder could thrive. The world is glorious, I thought.
We crossed back over the road and headed up the hill through the forest. Patches of green heather and orange bracken showed through under the shelter of some thick boughs, but other than that the ground was ankle-deep white. We climbed over a fallen oak and went through a maze of silver birch trees, reaching a clearing, which unveiled the Amazonian-like canopy below. But the sun was setting on the western hills. As we made our way back orange light pierced through and brightened the pines’ red bark. We reached the road and sided it back to the old man tree, then followed our footsteps back up to the tent.
Chapter 44
T he blue gas burned in the evening's half-light. The wind died away to leave only the stream making a noise. There was no rush, and it was peaceful just sitting by the stove, cooking the food that would sustain us, like it had sustained the ancestors.
But it got dark very quickly and it made me little uneasy. I switched on the lantern and I could imagine how much the tent must have stood out- glowing an only glow in the middle of the dark forest.
“What’s the time?” I asked.
Harry glanced from his book to his watch. “Six-thirty.”
As the blackness deepened, I thought I could sense something outside. I knew it was probably just me not being used to sleeping out, but knowing it didn’t relax me any.
When the food was ready, I handed Harry a plate of rice, and we mixed in some bananas.
“Do we have any water left?” I asked.
Harry nodded appraisingly and wagged his spoon. “Compliments to the chef. Oh. No, I don’t think we do. I’ll go.”
“No, it’s alright. I need to pee anyway.” I took the bottle and unzipped the door.
“Do you want a headtorch?”
“No, it’s arite, I can see.”
I stood up. I couldn’t actually. Even though the snow brightened things, I could barely make out the blurry trees or the silhouetted clouds that blotted the moon. The stream got louder. I kept looking into the shadows that filled every corner. What am I so worried about? I thought. Animals? Ghosts? I didn’t know. I reached the burn just as the moon broke free to glisten on the water. I dipped the bottle in and carried it back towards the luminous glow of the tent, but stopped, about thirty yards away. I glared around, eying the trunks of the many black trees, and I said quietly, “Thank you for your accommodation. We really appreciate it. We will leave everything as we found it, and respect your home. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
The world remained silent and still. What I had said was what I felt- we were in someone else’s home, some other realm. And I didn’t know if we had any right to be there.
We finished our food and boiled up some tea. It was nice and warm inside. I reflected on the day’s trek- and now here we were. We’d gone from the south of England to the north of Scotland, moving pretty much non-stop for the last five days. Always with a goal in mind and a destination to get to. And now we had reached it. We’d made it. We’d arrived. We were still, and amongst stillness. And it hit me, “What the hell are you going to do now?” “What the fuck are you doing out here?”
We’ve had fun today, I thought. Throwing snowballs. Skimming stones. Going walking. But what will we do tomorrow? And the day after that, and after that? How long will it be until we’re bored stiff? I realised then, that for the first time in my life, I had no routine to lose myself in, and that my time had always been planned for me, from since I was born. I remembered what that woman said on the bus leaving Glasgow,
“I wouldn’t know what to do without my work. I’d be bored.”
I hope that doesn’t happen to me, I thought. I would have to make sure I didn’t let it.
Harry looked up from his book, Moonwalking with Einstein. “You feelin’ okay?”
“Yeah.” I said. “You?”
“Uh-huh. You’re nervous, though? I can feel it.”
“I’m fine. Really.” I lied.
He looked back at his book, and flicked a page. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”
“I was just thinkin’ that. I dunno, maybe explore the area a bit more. Climb some of those big mountains?”
“Yeah, it’s maybe a bit too icy for me, but maybe. See what the weather's like.”
He went on with his book. Then he lay down and spread the pages above him. I was grateful he was out there with me, someone to turn my mind to. Something else to focus on in that lonely, remote place. I was so grateful for that light above our heads too.
Good company, shelter, food, water, and a warm bed; sitting there surrounded by the dark world outside made me appreciate it all so much.
A long period of quiet passed. I yawned.
“Ye tired?”
“Not really. I wish I was.” I said.
He put his book down. “Yeah. It’s gonna be a long night. It’s a pity we came now and not in summer. But that’s the way things worked out, I suppose.”
“It’s fine. Just the darkness. We’re only gonna get about eight hours light a day. That’s a lot of time sitting inside a tent! But, it’ll be fine. Just have to keep ourselves busy.”
Harry took a noisy sip of his tea. It wasn’t really that noisy, but it was the only sound I could hear and I couldn’t help focusing on it.
“So, how many school trips did you go on here, when you were younger?” I asked.
“Just one actually. We went to the dog falls, remember-”
“Yeah. The falls we passed, about an hour after our last camp?”
“Yeah. I was young though. About seven or eight.” A wistful nostalgia came over his face. “Had a really good teacher then, Mr Young. He used to say this was the most beautiful glen in Scotland. Gave me a packet of dairylee dunkers once and a cup of tea, because I didn’t have any lunch with me.”
I smiled at the thought of the teacher’s kindness. “And you still lived in Inverness then? Did your parents never give you anything?”
“Yeah, I lived there till I was ten. Well, no, they didn’t give a shit to be honest. That’s why the social took me away, eventually….That was a good day though." He stared pensively at the wall on my side, “I think you’re right. What you said at the hospital, childhood really is precious. I was wrong to tell those kids what I did.”
“I’m sure you haven’t damaged them that much.” I reassured. “And everyone makes mistakes. Don’t let it eat you.”