View from the Top

Photos just really can't do justice to the dizzying heights of the brae edge. This first view is from the outcrop where the alleged remnants of Lamabourg castle are. Between foreground and midground of this photo is a canyon --maybe 300 feet to the sea below. I did not care to get close enough for an accurate measure.
The sea birds are beginning to snuggle down to making eggs though some are still looking for sites or partners, so the air was full of their swooping and diving and calling.

We had to abandon the car some ways back along a bedraggled farm-field road. We walked along with the companionship of some youngish cattle with kindly faces, including a couple young calves, a sure and certain sign of the beginning of the benign season.

The sun was wonderfully warm and the breeze was calm enough that Morris and I could walk nearer to the edge than one would on a blowy day, but having been raised on the prairies, I remain much more committed to terra firma even on a calm day.

A Change of Air

Nearly a week constrained by a virus left us both ready for a breath of fresh air. An afternoon's drive to Gills Bay gave us fresher air and a new perspective.

The afternoon light made the blue of the water really pop in contrast with the rich ambers of the surrounding fields. It was rare treat to sit in the little cafe and watch the tide rising along the side of the breakwater opposite.

After eating a toastie and a glass of orange juice--which may not have been Cordon Bleu cuisine but tasted like heaven after a convalescent diet, I took my camera outside for a wee walk.

I'll write more as my strength comes back, but here's a little window's eye view til then.

Solo Walking: Crosskirk, St Mary's Chapel, Snuff mill

I am behind time with walks and blog posts and email and such, so as always, I'll start with a photo. As I walked along I thought that this is representative of the landscape hereabouts. Although there is lots of variety, if you had to pick just one shot, this would do pretty well.

I was walking seaward with sheep and winds and periodic mizzle for company on a greyish, blowy mid morning. Just off the main road and within easy walk we have remnants of civilization for more than 8 centuries --not counting the time the rocks spent tumbling and retumbling along the shore or the iron age broch that was excavated to destruction because the sea is encroaching. This first photo shows a current residence on the right, the remains of a snuff mill presumably converted to a house at some time, and vaguely discernible on the far left, St. Mary's chapel, the remains of a church built in the 1100s.

In the midst of such big sweeps of time and the relentless sea below, I often find myself drawn to the little stories like the civil war among the elements on a tread on the footbridge over the walkway--the play of colours in the small drama are as compelling as the larger scene in their own quiet way.