There’s no finer place for finding your own personal Zen than on the Luing Ridges on a fine November day.I doubt if they have changed much in a thousand years – or – even two thousand years and more — forever even.
H wanted a closer look at an old bothy she had spotted from our vantage point on the old ruins of a hillfort we visited the previous day – yes she can’t help herself – she can imagine every disused old barn in the country after she has converted it into a fine home.
It turned out to be a beautiful old building – incongruous with it’s new roof and arrow slits for windows built on a site of previous habitation in a sheltered valley. It stands on it’s own with views across Cuan Sound and to Mull and beyond. Views go on forever in this part of the world – only life itself has an alloted span. But – with the best will in the world I don’t think I have time left to build a home for her out of that old pile of stones that she’s counting up there. The old bothy sheltering in the valley below looks closer to being habitable.
I’m taken with the view across Cuan Sound and with broch’s on my mind I imagine that the circular stonework partially under the bothy to be the remains of one. In my dreams maybe – no doubt it would turn out to be a simple enclosure for the household’s sheep and cattle.
The ‘bothy’ is interesting and one could imagine living in that beautiful spot – but – more interesting still were the old ruins. The one under the self-seeded trees had obviously been a conventional shape – four low square walls – most built with no sign of mortar and would have had a low roof commensurate with the time and place.
The second – with possibly even older walls – circular in shape – was the one that gripped my broch fevered mind. But – for once – Helen had her eye turned in the opposite direction —
To the Luing Ridges —
They are wonderful places —
unchanging – on them it’s possible to imagine yourself at any time in history —
For one it might be looking out for Viking Longboats approaching from afar —
and for another it might be collecting various mosses – and sticking ’em in a jar —
If you are a mossochist 🙂