A week off and the weather took a break from torrential rain, rushing through a day of warm sunshine before the next attempt by autumn to steal the show early. Already, at the end of June, the bracken is on the turn but on this quiet Tuesday morning as I drove up the road to Attadale, the Longitude in the back, the clouds were preparing to settle down in a calm blue sky and take a welcome rest from the endless storms that seem to be a feature of the weather now.

The long hot bake of May has been replaced by the dreichness of June. Heavy rain pounds the ground from a leaden sky and the hills are cloaked in grey and scoured by cold winds that only the other day dropped new snow on the early summer summits.

Six months ago, after visiting friends in Switzerland with my wife, pottering along the summits overlooking the Aletsch glacier and giving a happy wave to my old friend the Matterhorn, I decided to learn German.

Near the end of April I betook myself and my bike for an expedition along the Sandstone Way. Back to my cycle touring roots, to find it’s now called bikepacking. Unless you use panniers!

Where to begin? With the first step, as ever.

We all need anchors in life. Somewhere to retreat to, to look out on the world from our sanctuary. Something to hold us to an idea of who we are, or were, or should be. An idea that follows us through life and reminds us of a truth we need to believe, that shows us our roots in a changing world. In the way a cloud drifts aimlessly across the mountain landscape, looking down at its shadow slowly following, shapeshifting as it crosses glens, rivers, peaks, forests and seas. The shadow’s shape changes but its essence is to anchor the cloud, be its truth in its life that is always there in some shape, reminding it of its cloudness.

The world is green. You can see how green in the photo of my wee green tent beside the loch deep in the wilds of Affric, surrounded by very green mountains. Nature is green. Nature is wonderful. On a trip into her bower this summer solstice she gave me gifts I could never have imagined. The calm solitude of a midsummer night by the loch, watching a heron being mobbed by a fish. The sound of the splashing bringing the silence deeper into me. The sunset singing colourfully across the sky, burning red to gold to pink to grey as I stood on the shore for an hour and a half, barely moving an inch. Standing, watching and hearing the sun stir the silence with a thousand colours. Thinking on the troubles of our world I realised the destruction going on had stirred nature into action. Nature is fed up with humans. Nature wants her planet back. The thought made me wonder, how green am I?

In which direction will writing take me? Online or the written page.

With the wind swinging round to the north east and the freezing level dropping onto the highest tops, I thought it would be fun, amidst the mayhem, to recreate an old photograph I have from almost 40 years ago, of a stove purring on a summit, sending plumes of steam into the cool mountain air. I also thought it would be fun to touch the freezing level.

With Phase 1 of leaving lockdown announced yesterday, to start today and the guidance to stay near or within your local area, it was off to An Stac with Mrs. Stravaiger.