Near northerly view of Coigach Mountains, Scoraig Peninsula, Achiltibuie and the Summer Isles from Gruinard Bay, Wester Ross, Scotland.

Poem.

 

Is it the three billion-year-old, rounded hills of Lewisian Gneiss?

Is it the successive coves of pink sand?

Is it the wild combination of tumbling rivers and rocky ravines?

Is it the alternating groves of ancient dwarf oak and coniferous forest?

Could it be the alluring appeal of azure waters blending to turquoise as they reveal the sandy sea-bed of a shallow bay?

What about the beckoning heights of Beinn Ghobhlach, Sàil Mhòr and An Teallach forming such an intricate mountain backcloth?

Is it the acute arrows of intervening headlands?

Consider the distant panorama of the endearing Summer Isles!

Or is it the sheltering sand dunes fringed by the winding and scenic coastal road?

Yes, it all of these.

But this coastline has a majesty, a beauty, an aura beyond my words.

Does that matter?

No.

See it.

Feel it.

Hear it.

You will understand without words.

For like me, words will fail to express how magical a place this is.

But magical it most certainly is!

 

 

Done