Despite the dreich weather in southern Scotland yesterday, we
found ourselves in the forest above Phaup Burn. Accompanied only by the sound
of occasional birdsong and the musical tinkling of hidden streams, the wind
song was muted by the army of conifers. But
what a different story once we left the forest tracks behind! The keening and moaning of the wind in the low
cloud provided an eerie soundtrack to the first stage of our trudge up to the
unseen summit of Skelf Hill. But once on the summit, the banchees were shrieking,
as in in protest at our visit
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| Towards the forest |
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| The wind begins to moan |
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| The banshee is shrieking |
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| Molly doesn't like the wind |
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