“And is no nook of English ground secureFrom rash assault ?”Gunnerside Gill off Swaledale was filled with burning, digging, banging, crushing and smelting lead ore, at the time Wordsworth was writing. Industrial buildings thrown up willy-nilly, plate-ways carved diagonally up hillsides. Today, a path climbs the narrow re-wooded valley, passing… Continue reading

Ben Sgrithgeal

To the south lie Loch Hourn and the Knoydart peninsula. To the east and north the big summits of the Five Sisters and behind them the Mullardoch mountains. Out west, we gazed toward Eigg, Rum, and Skye. “The view remains in my mind, as possibly the finest I have ever… Continue reading