Foulford Inn to Glendevon

Today was like a tasteless sandwich, the two slices of bread being much nicer than the unpleasant filling. I also knew it was going to be a pretty big sandwich, so instead of the usual cooked breakfast I had some cereal in my room and sneaked out into a clear and frosty morning. As I followed a snaking track over the rolling heather covered moorland, it felt good to be striding through the hills in the first rays of sunlight while the rest of the world were enjoying their lazy Sunday mornings. On reaching the solitary standing stone that is all that remains of an ancient stone circle, the sandwich filling was spread out before me. Flat plains covered by a patchwork of fields and small woods stretched out to the distant and hazy hills I knew I had to reach by the end of the day. Although the wide landscape was a beautiful sight, seeing all the required footsteps was dispiriting.

I dropped steeply down onto the plain and started to follow a series of lanes as they endlessly but rarely directly made their way towards my far off goal. The scenery grew boring, isolated buildings the only variation. Mileage signs slowly counted down the distances as the repetitive movement lulled my mind into an easy trance, my only thoughts were of the next rest I would allow myself to take. The wide stones of the Kinkell Bridge over the River Earn were suitably confortable for lunch. A road junction later a middle aged couple tucked in behind me and I increased my pace to gain a bit of privacy, my current gait having more to do with minimising my aches than any ideas of elegance. They easily kept pace, their trainers more suited to the road surface and their shoulders unburdened by the accessories of the long distance walker. I pushed harder, trying to give myself enough time to make navigational decisions at the upcoming road junctions. By the time we marched into Auchterarder I was visibly suffering from my pride, which couldn't stand the thought of being overtaken. Although the competition had nicely taken some of the boredom out of the last few miles.

Crossing the dual carriageways of the A9 I took a lane up into the hills. The lane turned into a track then a path as it climbed steeply to a pass, which got the blood pumping through my tired body. From the highest point I could see down to a green track clinging to the side of deep glen, a historic cadgers route. The grass on the hillside is kept short by the free range sheep, and I started to relax and enjoy the pleasant surroundings, knowing I had almost finished the sandwich. There will be many more days that contain uninspiring walking between increasingly precious areas of beauty, but I was just glad to have finished this one.