The pale moon is rising

This is a photograph I took one night not so long ago, reminding me of the first line of a song I've sung - to often less than enraptured audiences - in many an alcoholic gathering: 'The pale moon is rising above the blue mountains' (the sun is declining beneazth the green sea.) Almost certainly those words are slightly or entirely wrong. Dee says I know a couple of wrong lines in every song ever written. Small exaggeration no doubt, but the lady is inclined to exaggerate and we all have faults do we not? Even she.

I took the photo from outside our home in Aultbea, therefore the water is Loch Ewe and the mountain (or 'hill' as, locally, we call all Scottish mountains)  is Beinn Airidh Charr. I often think when looking at this one of our friend M's account of her ascent of it, years ago, probably before Mr Armstrong set first foot on that golden orb up there. She was and we were so much younger and fitter than now. Sigh! But hey, looking back is a mistake and besides, I get as much pleasure from just seeing the hill that was there long before Mankind first set foot on planet earth than were I able to climb it this very day. I wonder if I could? ... well, I know I could try ...

Could Beinn Airidh Charr be the "Beinn Torobach" in my novel in progress? Could be, but then so could Baosbeinn, An Teallach, Beinn Groblach of any one of a half hundred others here on the bewitchingly beautiful West coast of the Highlands of Scotland. The first eighteen chapters are now on line if you're interested, and nineteen of the whole, maybe twenty four, is coming along. Even the Second Coming along, perhaps?

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