Trampling on Kettle Chips

Campsies from Lime Craig

Well, I know that visitors to this blog are a bit bored with more scenes in the hills, so I thought I would provide a soundtrack as well. It was another alpine-like morning, and pre-porridge found me heading up the woods to the hills again. The hard night's frost had created sparkling, hard and crispy snow, and the still air created a sound chamber of acoustic excellence. Even the gentle gurgling of the not-quite frozen water in the burns had a joyous jingle. The forest canopy was a natural aviary for the birdsong, which ranged from the knock-knock-knocking of a woodpecker to the twitterings of dozens of small birds. I disturbed a jay, and the flash of colour was accompanied by the whirring beat of its wings.

And providing the metronome for all of this was the rhythmic crunching of snow asI approached the summit of Lime Craig. It was like trampling on kettle chips. Listen below.