Through the dark glen

A journey to the funeral of a friend could hardly have followed a more atmospheric road, taking us from the seaside of home through the brooding shadows of Glen Coe to Kinlochleven, hidden at the foot of its encircling mountains.

I have climbed these mountains on occasions which made me feel joyous, exhilarated, triumphant ... but today we drove swiftly, a journey that ended in a tiny packed church and the ambiguous sense of loss that is more draining than any climb.

Rest in peace, Geoff, and rise in glory.