Far from the Madding Crowd

Holidays are always an excellent time to reflect on how we live. When else do we have the time to muse on such matters? Every time I get away, even for a short visit, I try to think of how the new location can give me inspiration on how to live my life when I return. My recent trip to the Highlands is no exception. It has highlighted how important it is to step out of the manmade into the natural world; how a cheery greeting can raise our spirits; that we are only a tiny part of the great and ancient world we inhabit and how the magical surrounds us.

Strangers welcome

The Highlands are unusual in this populated isle in that they offer one of the few truly wild landscapes. Moorland and mountains stretch as far as the eye can see and often, a tumbled-down croft is the sole indication that people once resided here. Yet it is simultaneously a sociable and welcoming place. Weave along the excellent roads for a while and you will arrive in a pretty little village where folks are exceptionally sociable. Here, you can expect a friendly wave and greeting; in cities, you can barely expect eye contact. Perhaps the reason for this is that in such a harsh environment, you have to depend on, and be nice to your neighbours. Or perhaps the lack of people makes company a welcome thing. Or perhaps the Highland Scots, bathed in daily beauty, are an unusually friendly bunch.

A natural retreat

Few things soothe the body and mind better than time spent outside. Despite the rather chilly temperatures, we spent as much time outdoors as possible. The result? An excellent night’s sleep and a mind filled with nothing but fresh air. For me, woodland is my happy place. I suspect that all the months my mum parked my pram under a tree in the garden while she got on with the housework started this. And a fractious baby is unlikely to stay that way long with the scent of leaves, the soothing effect of green and the pleasing symmetry of the fractals of leaves. As for adults, the positive health benefits of forest bathing have been well documented. In the forest, our inner child becomes ascendant.

Eye spy

Of course, part of the delight of exploring the natural world is in discovering its denizens. On the walk above, I spotted an osprey resting high above in the limbs of a dead tree. Later I discovered clumps of giant snowdrops and daffodils still encased in spears of green. A little frog was making its way across a tiny bridge and the forest floor was littered with every type of pine cone and the trees festooned with gorgeous, cobwebby Scottish beard moss.

Seeking the sublime

Like the Romantic poets, I’m drawn to what they would consider sublime: landscapes containing a certain frisson of danger, of majesty, of vastness twinned with heart-stopping beauty. The Highlands are replete with such landscapes. So what is the purpose of the sublime? Surely it is to create a heightened sense of emotion; to jolt us out of the everyday and mundane and if we are so inclined, to push us towards creativity. Unfortunately, my days were too filled with adventures to find any time for the art I’d planned, but now that I am home, I have plenty of images to draw upon.

Know your place

Such landscapes, naturally, have the effect of making our own lives seem somewhat insignificant. The mountain cares not if you make it home; the loch is indifferent to whether you return ashore. Live or die: it matters not to them. And sometimes such brutal disdain is good for us. Our egos tend to exaggerate our sense of self and our importance. A gentle correction from nature does us no harm.

Similarly, witnessing the many ruins of castles and crafts scattered across the landscape reminds us of how even the most sturdy of constructions will ultimately collapse under the weight of time. Like Ozymandias, those edifices we build to show our power will one day be the ruin that catches a traveller’s eye.

Magical sites

A similar effect is achieved at the very ancient sites that abound in this region. Staring at a 4,000 year old cairn is likely to make our own life-span seem rather puny. However, that said, the cairns/standing stones also have a telescopic effect. As I ran my hand across the brilliantly built walls, I thought of my ancestors and how harsh life would have been. But I also thought of how I am alive today because of their fortitude. I wanted to reach back to tell them that we made it. That where they trudged the landscape on foot, we had metal steeds to carry us. Where they had to forage, we simply had to shop. The biological imperative to create new generations had been fulfilled over that great bridge of millennia.

Though unlike the ruins, these sites have a spiritual component. It is impossible to explain how deeply moving these places are. They are magical, mystical and take us far away from our everyday cares.

Joy!

And lastly, the magnificence of nature brings us joy. It would be impossible to say how many times my husband and I came across a vista that actually made us gasp at its beauty. We simply could not stop ourselves smiling. ‘Look! Look!’ we would say to each other as yet another amazing scene came into view. Each new day seemed to top the last and it seems fitting that our final destination topped them all. Loch Morlich, outside Aviemore, combined everything we love in one place: snow capped mountains, a clear lake, sandy beaches that were backed by pines. But I am open to our next visit providing us with something even more extraordinary.

Souvenirs

Our souvenirs are not trinkets but memories and reminders that finding places of peace, of sanctuary if you will, are essential to our well-being. Sadly, we won’t be able to return to the Highlands for a weekend, but we can bring the magic of that world to our own. No matter how urban our environment, we can find those still places and, if we adjust our vision, we can see worlds of wonder within them. I took our dog, Hermione, to the local park today and though it was fairly busy, there were little quiet spots to enjoy. Tadpoles wriggled in the fish pond; grey squirrels skittered up trees; dogs loped across the grass. My brief trip there was like a micro vacation from daily life. It replenished me for a very busy afternoon. The word holiday is derived from holy day. Perhaps we should remember that and honour its regenerative qualities.