Those of you who know my lean, taut musculature will be shocked to hear that the underlying chassis is starting to show signs of age with various bits clamouring for attention. My left knee is the failure-of-the-month. So I’ve now reached that point in my life where I’ve got a walking pole after spending decades ridiculing others who use them. Today we headed off to the southern end of Loch Doon for a bit of pole dancing to show my knee who is in charge.
It was a few hours’ walk following the forestry tracks beside the various rivers in the valley between the Rhinns of Kells and the Dungeon Hills. We’ve done all this before, and on better days, so we won’t bore you with the geography. There was even a very squelchy rough patch that had my knees doing an attractive highland jig around the pole. All very encouraging for postponing the decline into terminal decrepitude. I want to make very clear however we are talking about a single walking pole: clearly people with multiple poles, and especially if involved in the Nordic walking fashion, are still subject to the standard ridicule 1.
We’d parked where the Whitespout Lane flows into Loch Doon as an attractive cascade. Unfortunately it has attracted lots of rough campers and the place has the remains of campfires and litter everywhere. Ugly; and I just don’t understand why people go to an attractive area only to spoil it. However, if you keep looking instead at the lovely autumn colours in the grass and bracken then that lifts the spirits a bit.
- Until I need two, obviously! ↩
|Do It Again:|