From our kitchen window, we look back across the expanse of peat-bog and heather to the sea-facing (west) side of a low hill in the distance. This time of year, it is a deep russet in colour, varying as the sun moves across its contours during the day.
Beyond it, lies a world which seems almost primeval. It is rugged – consists of nothing much but rocky outcrops of the ancient Lewisian gneiss, small lochans and this rough carpet of heather and peat-bog, before rising to the imposing, brooding slopes of Baosbheinn, Beinn Eighe and then the Torridon range.
Yesterday, a friend and I walked up to the small lochan at the top, where we had a 36o degree view of sea, islands, lochs and mountains. From north to the scattered community of Gairloch, west to Lewis and Harris in the Outer Hebrides, across the Minch, then to Skye and south to the hills of Torridon. It always takes my breath away – and I don’t mean the climb!