Weather the Storm
Scotland is in my bones. My ancestors were Lowlanders, but there’s something about the Highlands that just calls. I’d never been above Ullapool on the mainland before last week, so I arrived in Assynt with fresh eyes. I love that. Just seeing somewhere for the first time, taking it all in, feeling small and lost. My brother and I took my Dad up to Skye back in 2015. It was our last real trip together and there were points when I could have murdered both of them (who cares who drunk who’s Brandy, just buy some more). My brother and Dad went for a drive the last day and saw two Golden Eagles. It made the trip for my Dad who had always wanted to see one in real life. As I drove towards Lochinver on Thursday morning, I saw one myself. Incredible creatures. A good omen. The weather closed in at my destination, the sound of the deer rut and the sting of hail against my back. Suilven, characterful and iconic, flanked by Canisp with a fresh cap of snow. The light creeping through enough to add some atmosphere. A lucky moment. Monday would have been Dad’s 73rd birthday. I don’t know what much of anything means, but I know Scotland is in my bones, and I’ll keep driving North until the silence takes me too. Happy birthday, Pops. This one’s for you.