One look out of the window yesterday morning was enough to convince me that Plan A was a no-go. Time for Plan B; The Lomonds aka The Paps of Fife. Two wee hills that I can see from here and where I hadn't set foot for over a year. And so, after the usual faffing about, I set off for the Craigmead car park. In short, Dear Reader, I had a great time. Once I'd become used to walking into the teeth of the wind, it all became easy. I settled into my stride and my mind settled into its' usual musings.
It's territory that I'm familiar with; I've been over that ground more times than I can count but it was still a joy. The sun even put in an appearance as I sat in the shelter of a drystane dyke and looked out over deepest, darkest Fife, drank in the views and listened to the larks* high above, sharing the airspace with a couple of gliders from nearby Scotlandwell.
OK, so it wouldn't impress a bagger but sometimes it's nice just to get out and enjoy the landscape and appreciate what's around you. Wonderful stuff.
* At least I think that's what they were. I'll dig out Hostile Habitats and check.
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