Restless River Walking

The joy of my Yorkshire adventure was cut short by the shock news of the loss of a friend.  I have spent two days not venturing outside depite uncommonly good Caithness weather.  I cleaned the kitchen and baked and listened to a book on my Kindle as if all that activity might banish the unease, but by late afternoon I was still unsettled.

I accepted a ride into town for a walk along the river in Thurso.  This was one of my first walks because it was circular so I could not get lost and had welcoming trees all around--trees being a relatively scarce commodity here in the far north.

Because it is an easy walk and familiar, I had hoped to walk it mindlessly and drift myself back into a less jangled rhythm.  Both the river and I however were struggling to find the comfort of the familiar.  The river was too full--sodden banks, swollen waters complaining as they hurried on to somewhere else, and two places on the far side of the river where the high waters of last week had nibbled at the path. Only one duck paddled toward the island where all the others had already tucked up for the night.  The river walk served more to exacerbate the disconnectedness than to ease it.