I’ve just been for a walk across the fields. Well mostly on fields. Sadly the circular walk I like to do every now and then does involve bits of road and on a day like today some of that was treacherous . Black ice in the pockets where the sun hadn’t filtered through . Not only did I have to watch my step but I was concerned about any cars breaking and skidding on one particular corner . Easy to assume all the ice had melted on a sunny blue skied day like today but it was not so.
I exercise a minimum of three times a week to keep me ‘match fit’ for the gigs and a life style that can include lack of sleep, large amounts of time travelling and strange eating habits and also so that my immune system has help on it’s side when keeping my lymphoma at bay. So I view the walking or swimming etc as part of my working week and not something that can be swopped in or out. i.e. it’s essential.
Todays walk put me in mind of a little break, quite a few years ago now, which we took once in Glen Clova and in fact we stayed in the Glen Clova hotel. Quite a quirky hotel, if I recall , and we were kept awake one night by what sounded like a punch up going on downstairs. Never saw anything and we were perfectly safe but never the less….anyway I digress as always.
It is fantastic gorgeous walking country and we decided we would hike up the hill/mountain from the Glen.
The first part of the walk is forested, dappled by sunlight poking through the flora and fauna and peaceful in a way that only woodland can be. That was also helped by the fact that much of Scotland often appears undiscovered by the rest of the world and I am always amazed there aren’t more people there enjoying it’s natural beauty although I confess to selfishly enjoying that from time to time. I’m not far from the peak district here and whilst that is also beautiful it’s mobbed by comparison. Scotland , in certain parts, you can walk for hours and not see anyone
So there we were, decked out as you’d expect, walking boots, Ronhills for me on the legs, walking waterproofs etc and, as you start to climb you get hot and sweaty so you start tying your coat around your waist and looking all pink and flushed. We could see the tree line in the distance but it was still a way away and as we tuned a corner a man and a dog appeared…shock horror! As he approached he spoke, “Excuse me you haven’t seen a red dog lead have you?”. Unfortunately we hadn’t but his dog looked nice and friendly and well behaved and we said so but he wasn’t happy, “Unfortunately I seem to have dropped it and there are sheep grazing above and she’ll need to be on the lead”. Then totally out of the blue he furrowed his brow, looked at me and said , “Are you Jo Freya?” Forgive for pointing this out again but I was on a Scottish mountain, with a scot who hadn’t known me that long being recognised by another scot in the middle of nowhere. Anyone would have thought I’d paid someone to impress my companion. I hadn’t, of course, and I was so flabbergasted myself that my response was utterly ridiculous – “How do you know?” I said. ‘How do you know? what a totally ridiculous thing to say. He started stuttering and said he’d seen me play. After hopefully redeeming myself through a little more chat about how amazing it was that we should bump into each other like that and he saying how much he liked my music etc. He then carried on down and we resumed our walk up. Regardless of the fact I didn’t pay for this to happen I am pleased to report that my companion was very impressed….she says preening her feathers!
My glory wasn’t to last long.
In hindsight it was a very fortunate thing that he’d lost the dog lead and we hadn’t met him much further up. Half way up the side of the mountain where there wasn’t one iota of a tree or bush cover, or even large rocks for that matter. My stomach decided that it had been given something it really didn’t like very much and it wished to evacuate all said matter swiftly. To make matters worse, whilst Scotland often appears to have no tourists the entire lot of them had landed on that hillside in the open precisely at the point where I had to drop my trousers .
We retired, wounded as they say, from the hillside and the only saving grace was that in re-telling the story to ourselves and recounting the whole thing including the near miss that certain walkers nearly had in being treated to a not too pretty sight of my bared and active backside on a mountain, we were laughing all the way down and had to run the last bit as my companion nearly wet themselves.
The mention of the ‘pretty red and poisonous’ was because it was on this walk that I learnt the stereotypical red spotted toadstool that is common to fairy stories and the like, isn’t fictitious at all but exists…we saw it there in the woodland known commonly as ‘fly agaric’ or ‘Amanita muscaria’ and is also a muscimol mushroom and not a toadstool at all. Far more common than I knew and strange that I’d never seen one before. I like learning things.
To the walker who recognised me I apologise for not being more gracious and to the other walkers…I don’t apologise at all. You had a near miss so count yourselves lucky. Fortunately, on balance, my companion was still impressed by the encounter despite having to be a lookout to a gross action on a hillside! Phew I seemed to have got away with it.
Jo Freya’s Musings 