Manna
None of us were expecting to find one of Beanie's snacks growing on
the slopes of Ben Lawers. You can miss a lot, not knowing where
to look. We discovered that when we spent this weekend in Perthshire, (staying at the wonderful Kiltyrie Farmhouse), and tackled one of Scotland's highest mountains.
Fourteen shimmering miles of loch lay far below us in the valley.
The sun had broken through low cloud cover, rain was holding off and we could hear rushing water in the brook
that gave Ben Lawers its name; (in Gaelic, Beinn
Labhair means Hill of the Loud Stream). We loaded Button (aged one)
into a carrier on her father's back, strapped on our walking boots and set
off up the path towards the summit of the 1,200-metre massif.
Only a mile into the walk I could feel my pelvis begin to ache. Struggling for breath, I stopped walking, sat
down with a thud on the path verge, pulled out my water bottle and began to gulp at it.
"Do you know what these are?" said my husband, pointing to a shrub by the path. The
shrub in question had small, boat-shaped leaves, and a speckled look.
It was growing so close to the ground, it was almost indistinguishable
from the heather, saxifrage, and other plants growing nearby. In many years of hillwalking, I'd never even noticed this plant before. Had we stopped further up the mountain, we would have missed it altogether.
I think I would climb a mountain any day, dodgy pelvis or not, for the pleasure of watching
Beanie's joy at picking fruit on a hillside, seeing blueberry juice
stain her face purple, knowing she will understand that good things do
not always come pre-packaged from supermarkets. Sometimes, in fact, they're right there next to us,
waiting for us to notice them, even if we need someone else to point them out.
Posted
16 September 2009 19:46