Barcaldine Forest Walk

Barcaldine forest was a working forest when I was a child, and our grandfather showed us the pathways, the roads, and the edible plants. Now the Bailey bridge is gone, and the village hall, and Jock Martin's deer-sawing shed, and the once-busy forestry roads are grassed over.

I suppose it is a leisure forest now. Whatever that is. There are walking trails marked, and the Caledonian way, which is a cycling track, along the flatter sections. And infill housing, too. near the main road. Where we once slept in caravans, one summer, when my grandmother's house was too full for our whole family, there is now a whole field of houses.

Kate, Jezzie and I walked Harris the dog along the old tracks. It was cool and green and good for my hangover. We met some people, possibly Polish, who asked us where the car park was. I felt very back-to-the-futurish as I asked them which car park? It turned out they had strayed from another part of the forest, a part which was redesigned for tourism a least twenty years ago. I hope we gave them the right directions.

The sun was finallly shining as we drove down the back road home. Kate made French onion soup because we had a surfeit of onions, and we polished it off, along with the Christmas cake I had made for CleanSteve's birthday. He chose to stay at home rather than traipse through the forest with us, but he does love to linger on the shores of Loch Etive, watching birds and fishermen going about their business.

PS I have now caught up on my blips for the past week.