The best laid plans

Ever since I can remember, I have loved maps. I have poured over maps for countless hours and endless days; beside winter fires, in frozen tents, beneath blue skies on white sands and under sodden tarps streaming with summer rains. I have studied and scrutinised; in anticipation, anxiety, frustration and quiet deliberation. They have much to answer for, those maps that fill the shelves and spill across floors, waiting, their promise of wild corries, deserted beaches and lonely summits whispered from the torn corners and creased lines of long days well spent.
In the last few days, a familiar set of maps have once again been spread across the floor: distances measured, crossings plotted and camps planned. It seems an unlikely dream as the winter snows persist but perhaps once again, the weather will be kind. Perhaps not. The best laid plans, as they say...
But still, the whisper grows, forcing action, insistent and demanding: the journey is begun.


Taran Tyla said…
Isle of Lewis, yeah, I'm scrutinising that one too. The Butt of Lewis looks entertaining ;)