On my third day in Scotland I drove down from the Isle of Skye to Glencoe. But this little post isn’t really about Scotland; it’s about bluebells.
Scotland is a beautiful country, but I found that even in early May the Highlands are still teetering on the edge of spring. The lurid yellow gorse is everywhere and the greenery is still a little brownish but every now and then there is a little burst of colour to balance it all out.
Once I had checked in my bag at my b&b, I took a little drive through the Glencoe mountains. Not very far through because there was heavy mist and I was starting to feel tired and hungry, but just enough to make me smile and make my heart ache again. Oh the Glencoe mountains are something I’m never getting over. I drove a little and pulled over a few times to just sit and stare at the mountains until my rumbling stomach said I should turn back to find some dinner. One the way back I took a right turn down a seemingly endless one-track road, not really sure but hoping it was another route back into Glencoe village, when suddenly I could see a river and a bright splash of purple on my left.
It was such a beautiful clearing hidden under a canopy of trees. The river rushing past wasn’t very wide but it seemed so fierce and everything just smelt wonderful. The crisp smell of fresh water paired with the rich earthy moss growing all over the thick visible tree roots made me feel like I was in some kind of fairytail forest. And then just off to the side, where the tree cover thinned out a little to allow the sun though, there was a huge patch of wild bluebells.
I sat there for ages just soaking up the atmosphere of that little clearing. I half wish I had taken more photos… but I also don’t think anything I would have shot could really come close to how I was feeling at that moment; exhausted, hungry, but completely content sitting in the middle of a riverside patch of bluebells.