Let me explain.
Oh well, I thought, thrilled at the prospect of adventure. May
as well go with it!
So I chose a random, nearby alleyway, angled towards it, and
delved into the unknown. (I should point out at this stage that I in no way
advocate heading down strange alleyways on a whim. It doesn’t always turn out
as well as this. Sometimes it does! But sometimes you get mugged. Not fun for
anyone involved. Except the mugger. Maybe. They could just be misunderstood. Or
they could be crazy. Either way: strange alleyways generally equal bad.)
I drifted off again, despite reassuring myself I’d stay on
my mental toes, and unsurprisingly ended up winding through a secluded
labyrinth of big houses and tree-lined avenues which I was fairly certain had
not existed until this very moment.
Nonetheless, I ploughed on. It was a bright, fresh day,
perfect for exploring.
Soon enough, a hill loomed out
of the horizon, and to my surprise I realised I’d come to Blackford Hill, the
home of the Royal Observatory of Edinburgh. Roaming up its woodland paths, I
rose above the city and spied on the houses and paths and roads and allotments
arrayed below.
Eventually, some wind and wispy mist swooping over the hilltop, I reached the trig point. Here I stopped for a breather.
Onto the trig point was bolted a
panoramic map of the surrounding landmarks. Circumnavigating the map, I worked
through the distant castle, the towering bulk of Arthur’s Seat, the distinct
but hazy peak of North Berwick Law, and all the towers and spires and blocks of
Edinburgh arranged in between.
Then I faced west. And there, on
the map, were scored the words ‘Ben Lomond’.
Let me explain why this was
significant. Where I come from originally, near the southern bank of Loch
Lomond, Ben Lomond is the most prominent and impressive feature on the horizon.
She is a bulky, wide-shouldered Munroe who oversees loch and sky from her lofty
heights.
And suddenly, here in Edinburgh,
the complete other side of the country, I could still see Ben Lomond.
Following the trig point’s
marker, I could just make her out,
the tiniest smudge beyond a puny hill ranges.
This left me surprisingly
shaken. Loch Lomond and Edinburgh were two such different, distinct parts of my
life. They are divided my experience and geography – except suddenly the
physical geographical element of this division was gone.
From the top of this relatively
low hill in Edinburgh, I could see my past!
Now maybe I was just delusional
from dehydration, and maybe the wind was scooping rationality out of my ears,
but this seemed hugely significant, and I stayed there staring westwards for a
while.
Eventually, another runner
appeared, and his bald head bobbing up the path towards me shook me out of my
contemplative state. I turned and started jogging down the hill, parallel to
the other runner, who was following a different path.
I had was thinking so hard at
this stage that my feet weren't really a priority as the route downwards became steeper… I think you can see where this is going.
This is the view the other
runner would have seen of me as we ran down our parallel paths, separated my
low ridges:
When my feet found a muddy
patch, slipped and flung themselves up in the air, I realised a few things as I
plummeted upper-spine first into the mud.
1.) Aaargh- Oh! I don’t scream like a girl any more! The noise I made
as I fell was hardly macho, but at least I maintained a shred of dignity.
2.) The sky’s clearing up again. Nice! Sometimes it takes a muddy,
splatty fall to make you appreciate blue skies.
3.) I think my neck and tailbone are broken… But at least I can lie here
for a bit and gather my thoughts! Mud, grass and stones aren’t that
uncomfortable as long as you don’t mind getting covered in muck.
4.) I should really have watched where I was going. It’s far too easy
to look back and keep looking until it obscures your vision of everything else.
I should have waited until I was on the long, straight streets on solid ground
before drifting away on memories of Ben Lomond!
5.) Well… The run back should be fun!
The run back was fun! To be
specific, watching people reacting to having a lanky youth running through a
city covered on one side top to toe in green-and-brown muddy mush was fun.
When I returned to my flat, I
had a shower and thought over what had happened. Refreshed and exhausted at the
same time, I considered my rediscovery of Ben Lomond. Initially, on that
hilltop, I had just been startled, maybe alarmed. But at the same time, knowing
she was just there, just over the horizon, reassured me too.
I suppose the past will always
be there, as out of sight and mind as you want it to be.
I hope to go back and spot Ben
Lomond peeking over the horizon from time to time. I’ll nod to it, turn, and
carry on my way, feeling reassured and refreshed. And I’ll try to watch my
footing on the way down.
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