Falling water: Mull
Scotland in September was soundtracked with falling water…
Saturated by months of rain, every knee-high tussock on the Isle of Mull gurgled with a thousand tiny rivulets, and every rocky lochside path through the rhododendron thickets chattered inches-deep like a living stream.
Mares’ tails billowed white from every crag, pouring over precipitous shelves of volcanic rock and crashing in heavy veils across waves of bracken and myrtle, while hanging bogs and hillsides belched water into rivers that overtopped their low autumn meanders with startling, sterile clarity, rushing unfishably to the sea.
My latest guest blog has just gone live on the Financial Times’ How To Spend It ezine. Art writer and culture blogger Beatrice Hodgkin has recently taken over as my commissioning editor, so please do click on over to read the full text and make her day!
Update: an extended version of this piece has now been published in the Wild Trout Trust‘s annual journal Salmo Trutta.
[…] forests of kelp with sinking lines and heavy Clouser Minnows) the experience certainly wasn’t. Out there on the rocks, humbled by boundless horizons, connected by crashing surf to the churning of…… this was elemental immersion at a level that’s rarely possible to achieve on even the […]