Back to the old place

Loch Muick did its usual trickery on us. Lured us back like a sulky siren, after years away. It laid on the best day for us though. Sunshine, cooling breeze, a herd of huge antlered stags on the hillside, waterfalls and beasties, wild and rare flowers, all on the way to the head of the loch. Weary, sunburnt and windswept, it was time to plunge achy feet into the water. Freezing but good for the soles. And chocolate. Sweet but good for the souls. Throwing stones the furthest, skimming stones the most. Beasties and bugs. Something for everyone.

Then on to the north side to walk. And then you know Loch Muick has tricked you. You start to get suspicious when you see four old biddies in sandals, slacks, twin sets and wedge shoes walk past you. "Loch Muick?" You think "In Blimmin' wedge shoes?" And as you reach Queen Vic's hunting lodge you realise the biddies have driven up the North side land rover path in their wee "ladies in waiting" type car. Cheats! Blaggards! . So you stride on, the sun blazing down.....and you start to think the blaggard biddies may have a point, and with that they drive past as you jump out of the way (actually that's a lie, they were going at -1 miles per hour, we instead slow motioned to the side to let them pass). Poor Sam had aching feet, till we told him to dip his toes in a burn. 8 and a half miles is a long way for a whippersnapper. The water swirled about his toes and the magic started working again, even outdoing the midge clouds. And so eventually we reach the loch end and we are reminded again (as if you ever can forget) how beautiful Loch Muick is; the magic fools you all over again. We will be back. But we will also be very, very sore tomorrow.

My uncle once got a thanks and a whiskey bottle from Prince Charles as a personal thanks for using his sonar equipment to help find a helicopter that had sadly crashed into the loch. It always looks so very deep, and dark, goodness knows what other secrets lie there.