The Thin Veil to Primal

10-11-23  Dornie, Scotland

It is raining.  It's dark morning but I can hear it pounding the roof and the deep soft rumbling of thunder in the hills around.  It rained hard on us yesterday, but we stayed the course and were rewarded with stunning beauty.  We rode the coastline of the Isle of Skye, along a thin line of road skirting the edge, pulling up long draws and ever where the vast of bare land rose and fell away.  It is intimidating in a way, such vastness of wilds, few signs of mankind, and the rain and fog can seem foreboding because the elements are really up against you personally, no one to go your bail here.  But it also brings out the primal knowledge of you, you as a human being, a member of God’s great race, humans, who have done it. Have come up against it and moved on, passed through, made a way.  Your people didn’t stay put.  My family, 10 generations ago, moved from here to America.  They had to take a sailing ship and they found another wilderness greater than they left, greater than any known before.  And here I am listening to the rain in the same country that bore them—bore me and mine.  I often feel we are just one generation removed, one thin thread, one bare veil away from primal.  If called for, I think we would do it, just go forth. 

    

How we looked after the hike above.