I become free every time I enter these hills. When, in the past, I have travelled abroad, I have not experienced this same heavenliness, but rather something akin to its opposite. Which leads me to believe that the real travel is not the lure of the exotic through distance and seduction, but the getting to know the local through intimacy and using one's own steam to get there. In other words, the 'world' is already here before you. You just need to open your eyes a little more widely. Trust in your legs and your lungs a little more confidently. Open your Mind, not to those who wish to corrupt it, but to the hills themselves. Only then might you hear what they have to say. And in the process, become free.
Blairskaith Muir and trig. point, with the Campsies in the background.
The traveller by the idyllic Ballagan Burn
The great Campsie Fells
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