The Pleasure of Wandering

I've been away for a few days to have a little break and a wander. I packed up my van with my little dog Liliy, every coffee gadget that I own (it's a lot - thanks James Hoffmann), a kettle, cups, woolly blankets, a pot of Wild Beauty Balm, an Isle Mist and set off. In what I don't think was a maudlin moment I took Kip's collar and hooked it over the mirror so it felt like he was with us on our adventure.

It's always interesting to wander without a fixed plan, save for a few important dates. It means that there is time to stop and notice all the small things that you miss when you're dashing from place to place. My van is slow so I avoided main roads opting instead for smaller B roads where I could gently trundle along, stopping for coffee whenever I felt like it. 

I needed new tyres and so stopped in Inverness for replacements and whilst I waited I went for a stroll through an industrial estate and found Daucus carota (wild Carrot) in profusion. It is such a beautiful plant in all its flowering stages and I could see all of them in that huge clump. 

We are so driven in our need to get from A to B as fast as possible that we miss the small, enchanting beauty of noticing, of taking the time to look and feel heartened by the way that nature pushes through and shapes our landscape whether it be in an industrial estate or out in the wilds of the Highlands. 

Nan Shepherd in The Living Mountain describes it beautifully “How can I number the worlds to which the eye gives me entry? - the world of light, of colour, of shape, of shadow: of mathematical precision in the snowflake, the ice formation, the quartz crystal, the patterns of stamen and petal: of rhythm in the fluid curve and plunging line of the mountain faces. Why some blocks of stone, hacked into violent and tortured shapes, should so profoundly tranquillise the mind I do not know."

She wrote about the Cairngorms and how, in walking the mountain, she felt as though she became part of it. It was not about reaching the summit, it was about moving around it, observing and knowing it, like visiting a friend. I really like that, I feel the same about the places I walk regularly, I know which flowers will bloom and when, so I go looking for them and am delighted to see them appear each year - some, like Euphrasia, feel strongest and most vital right next to the sea. Others like the Red Clover feel most potent from high on my croft. Every group of plants feels slightly different here, depending on where it grows, how exposed it is, how tough it needs to be. I choose them carefully for my therapeutic work.

I also have particular rocks that I sit on to drink my coffee, particular sea views that I spend hours enjoying. On a long walk they act as familiar resting spots to survey the land and seascape.

I camped in the van on the Black Isle which is stunning. Rosemarkie campsite is great with big pitches overlooking the beach. It's perfect if you have a dog with so much space and a huge beach to walk on bordered by Poppies and white Rosa rugosa. The rocks there are pink and so the beach has the most delightfully pinkish hue. As the sun sets it positively glows pink.

The farm fields nearby have a 10ft border full of wildflowers, meadow plants and the odd sunflower for good measure. It is such an excellent way of managing the land, creating corridors for wildlife and masses of forage for bees, insects and other pollinators. The whole area feels alive, with well managed permaculture informing local food production. 

I love Cromarty. I think if I didn't live in Harris I would live there or the East Neuk of Fife. Every time I visit Cromarty I go to Gallery48 it's a small but lovely gallery with a great selection of arts and crafts and next door is a pottery where I always find something to bring home. Then I go for coffee to the little coffee shop by the teeny ferry. I am fascinated by the oil rigs that are self propelled. There is something mesmerising about watching an oil rig sail (?) along a stretch of water. 

After a few days with my daughter and catching up with friends, I moved on to the East Neuk with my sister staying one night at Balbirnie House. After dinner we went out for a walk, it was late and just getting dark, we headed to the woods with the dog and we noticed that in the fading light there were streaks of white on the oldest Scots Pines. Closer examination revealed these to be huge long trails of resin. I had noticed the scent earlier in the day but hadn't seen it. It was only in the looming darkness that the white of the resin really glowed. We scratched a little off with my penknife (never without it!) moving from tree to tree so as not to damage or deplete any one tree. The resin was so sticky, my knife was covered in it and so were my hands. It was glorious like finding hidden treasure.

Then onto the Ship Inn in Elie - if you haven't visited this part of Fife, do go. It is wonderful. The houses are stone built beauties and it is lively without being overwhelming. We stayed at the Ship Inn and had a delicious dinner of 4 starters instead of a main and a pudding. Joy! Who knew that a chewy meringue stuffed with cranachan on a bed of sponge could exist and be so utterly delicious.

Then onto Pittenweem for the Art Festival - over 80 venues in one small but perfectly formed village. It was amazing, the quality of work was really good and I loved every minute. I'll definitely go back next year. 

And then a final trundle across country and up Skye stopping to pick some Rosebay Willowherb that was growing in huge drifts to make some Ivan's Tea and some Bog Myrtle to add to my next Isle Mist Distillation. 

I reflected that rest doesn't need big travel, it is about allowing yourself the time to slow right down, to deliberately not make grand plans and to be really present in the moment. I I caught the ferry home feeling so much more myself having just had a few days of seeing loved ones, wandering at will and switching into a different mode. It's good to be away but I'm glad to be home.