I’ve been off the beaten track again. You say: “Will you never learn, Rab? Stick to the narrow path, son, and a cropper you will not come.”
Well, just because you nearly rhymed doesn’t make you wise. But thanks for the advice anyway.
Most days, I heed it. Rather like driving, you kind of get on auto-pilot and, where you set off for the library, you end up at the Co-op again.
An elf, a bear, or worse…
Also, in the forest, if you come off the beaten track, you have to factor in that you might meet a bear or an elf or a dog-walker with halitosis of the personality.
However, one day recently, I decided to do it again, this time with a twist. It started off rather similarly to last time.
I leapt lithely (afraid there were no witnesses to confirm this) across the stream that runs to the right of my usual walk up the little hill.
But, instead of following the beaten track that runs (and soon runs out) through the forest there, I wanted to come off and to stravaig – or, rather, scramble through mud and slithery leaves – further down the banks of the burn, essentially doubling back on myself.
So it was a bit muddy
The scenario there can be seen from my usual path, and I’ve often found it intriguing, but thought there was no easy way down to it. True,
it was quite a tricky descent to the burn, though that’s not a pudding into which I should bung too many eggs. It was just a bid muddy is all.
I worried that walkers on the main path might look over and think me peculiar, as I blundered forth out my comfort zone.
But, most days outwith summer, I never see anyone else, and folk who know me might just think: ‘There goes yon big-nosed fellow yonder. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.’
I know what I like, and that includes moss-covered trunks and branches deep in the forest. But there are so many fallen trees, particularly after recent storms.
The remainder, still the vast majority thankfully, stand among their own dead, as if on a battlefield.
I’d hoped to see an otter
It’s impossible to get right down to the burn, but I make it to within a couple of feet.
The water’s course is precipitous, so it burbles doon at a fair rate of knots, before heading through the bridge under the road and into the sea.
I’d hoped to see an otter here. It looked like otter territory, though I’ve never grasped the difference between sea otters and freshwater otters. I’ve seen them come in from the sea and into the freshwater brook.
A few months ago, I saw a large one in the wood near here and, more recently, a couple of young ones traversing the stacked rocks holding up the road, presumably on their way to join the burn under the bridge.
But, no, it’s just me here. Not even a heron for company. I liked the experience, though. Enjoyed the tinkling and splashing sound of the burn.
I thought great thoughts, mostly about what to have for my tea.
In short, I did not regret coming off the beaten track. I may even try it again in six months’ time or so.