But in the climbing ecstasy of thought,
Ere consummation, ere the final peak,
Come hours like this. Behind, the long defile,
The steep rock-path, alongside which, from under
Snow-caves, sharp-corniced, tumble the ice-cold waters.
And now, here, at the corrie's summit, no peak,
No vision of the blue world, far, unattainable,
But this grey plateau, rock-strewn, vast, silent,
The dark loch, the toiling crags, the snow;
A mountain shut within itself, yet a world,
Immensity. So may the mind achieve,
Toiling, no vision of the infinite,
But a vast, dark, inscrutable sense
Of its own terror, its own glory and power.
From: In the Cairngorms, by Nan Shepherd
I once wild-camped in Coire Etchachan. It was July 2013. I count it among my most pleasant and 'successful' wild camps. The weather was settled and warm, the location astounding, the ground level, and running water was close to hand. This was in stark contrast to some of my wild camps, which have been battered by wind, tentpegs plunged into a midge-infested peat bog before darkness completely enfolds the world. And what I considered to be level ground proves to actually be a slight incline, resulting in an entire night spent rolling down a hill in a sleeping bag, then hauling it back up again.
There have been no wild camps the past two summers. First came the 'heating' pre-kundalini phase, when my being seemed to be softened, sweetened, and averse to long rough walks in the mountains. Then came full-on kundalini emergence, during which period the tenderising process continued, while accompanied by explosions of hitherto unknown energies, which rendered mountain heroics still less appropriate. And the hernia, which first appeared almost a year ago. The last thing this abdominal bulge wanted, or indeed permitted, was vigorous physical activity.
This coming year may well be different; I currently feel that it might be. But, until the time arrives, who knows?
Images: The wild camp, Coire Etchachan
Evening stroll from camp onto Beinn Mheadhoin summit
