Near the end of April I betook myself and my bike for an expedition along the Sandstone Way. Back to my cycle touring roots, to find it’s now called bikepacking. Unless you use panniers!

Where to begin? With the first step, as ever.

We all need anchors in life. Somewhere to retreat to, to look out on the world from our sanctuary. Something to hold us to an idea of who we are, or were, or should be. An idea that follows us through life and reminds us of a truth we need to believe, that shows us our roots in a changing world. In the way a cloud drifts aimlessly across the mountain landscape, looking down at its shadow slowly following, shapeshifting as it crosses glens, rivers, peaks, forests and seas. The shadow’s shape changes but its essence is to anchor the cloud, be its truth in its life that is always there in some shape, reminding it of its cloudness.

The world is green. You can see how green in the photo of my wee green tent beside the loch deep in the wilds of Affric, surrounded by very green mountains. Nature is green. Nature is wonderful. On a trip into her bower this summer solstice she gave me gifts I could never have imagined. The calm solitude of a midsummer night by the loch, watching a heron being mobbed by a fish. The sound of the splashing bringing the silence deeper into me. The sunset singing colourfully across the sky, burning red to gold to pink to grey as I stood on the shore for an hour and a half, barely moving an inch. Standing, watching and hearing the sun stir the silence with a thousand colours. Thinking on the troubles of our world I realised the destruction going on had stirred nature into action. Nature is fed up with humans. Nature wants her planet back. The thought made me wonder, how green am I?

In which direction will writing take me? Online or the written page.

With the wind swinging round to the north east and the freezing level dropping onto the highest tops, I thought it would be fun, amidst the mayhem, to recreate an old photograph I have from almost 40 years ago, of a stove purring on a summit, sending plumes of steam into the cool mountain air. I also thought it would be fun to touch the freezing level.

With Phase 1 of leaving lockdown announced yesterday, to start today and the guidance to stay near or within your local area, it was off to An Stac with Mrs. Stravaiger.

The land is so dry it’s a relief to see grey curtains of rain wrapping the hills. Like chain mail hanging from a giant war horse jumping the Clach Glas ridge and trailing the over the Red Hills.

Another day of lockdown. Another day of traffic free roads, blazing sunshine and birdsong echoing in the trees. The allotted time spent on the bike, spinning on the quiet roads, looking longingly at the familiar mountains but loving every mile of the ride.

Another day, another lockdown. Sunny and windy with a brewing gale from the north, it was a good time for a spin on the bike. Just before Broadford it was a bit of a shock to see a snake of brightly coloured people crammed onto the quad bike track to the loch. It was the greatest concentration of humanity I’d seen in, let me see now, three weeks! Quite a shock indeed.