Finding myself in a lost Scottish forest

What it takes to finally let go

Hello, I’m Molly and I write about my slow and simple life in the Scottish Highlands. Please subscribe to support my work and to read more of my stories. You can also find me on YouTube and shop my Etsy Store and sustainable Teemill Clothing.

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I could feel the cool, moss-crusted stone through my leggings.

I was sat in the middle of wilderness. Perched on rocks, resting my chin on my knees that were pulled tightly to my chest. Losing myself in the mountains.

It was undoubtedly autumn this morning, despite the fact that the calendar indicated we are still in August. I prefer to listen to nature’s clock. I watched the mist play with the hills outside my bedroom window. Felt the chill as I left our Tiny Home behind and started off on a mid-week adventure. Revelling in the privilege of being self-employed. I can respond to the call of the wilds as they came.

The earth was saturated. We had heavy rain two nights ago and the rivers are finally starting to rise again. The dense fog added a dewy weight. I was grateful for my waterproofs as a ploughed along a ramshackle whisper of a path, engrossed in late summer’s considerable vegetation. It was a very different place to my last visit, in early spring. I kept Skye’s tail in sight and trusted that she, at least, would not get lost.

Finally we burst onto a more substantial track and we were on our way.

There is nothing as satisfying as the gentle thud of well-worn boots against a dirt path. I enjoyed the laziness of the wildlife. The hurry of spring and early summer is easing. The wildflowers have begun to droop. A bumblebee sauntered by, seeking out what pollen remained. Its busy buzzing muted to a soft murmur.

I always seemed to forget that this walk, what I fondly call the Lost Forest (as no one else seems to venture here), requires a fair bit of climbing. Perhaps its a thought I’d rather not dwell on. Although I love being out in the rugged Scottish landscape, as a rule, I prefer a gentle sloping to an established hill. Despite the refreshingly mild temperatures, I could feel myself begin to sweat.

The landscape slowly faded to heather. Being in full bloom, it was quite a sight. The hills were awash with violet and pink hues. A spectacle I will never quite get used too.

After numerous breaks, panting slightly (me, not Skye), we arrived at our destination. A gathering of rocks, scattered amongst the heather and completely surrounded by mountains. It is a view to stop your breath. And, as usual, I have it all to myself.

I peeled off my sodden waterproofs and felt the sweat instantly starting to cool. The mountain breeze had a bite today. I hurriedly pulled on my fleece and hat, before the important task of organising our much-deserved tea break. Whilst Skye munched her treats, I rummaged for my own snacks and trusty thermos, before sitting back to enjoy the view.

Removing my boots, I angled my damp socks to the tepid sun. The first sips of tea were glorious. The tannins rolled on my tongue. A welcome burst of caffeine. It never quite hits the spot the same way on a baking day in June. But on a crisp autumnal morning, its the ultimate comfort.

The quiet was remarkable. Other than the odd squabble of skylarks, their melodies bouncing off the rocks, there was barely a whisper. I hadn’t realised how much I needed this.

I felt something give inside me. A weight released. I was finally letting go.

I have been through a season of change in my life. Leaving my conservation job to go full time on my own creative career. It was something I had been dreaming of and striving towards for years. Yet, when it arrived, I was surprised that I felt no real difference. I was certainly happier, but I was still me, and my life continued as it always had.

Sat as I was, in the middle of a landscape that has utterly changed the very fabric of my being, it washed over me. The grief, anxiety, fear and euphoria. All battering within my heart for longer than I would care to admit. A shaky breath. A tear. And I was finally able to let go.

I felt utterly at peace. The last few years washed away and my heart was my own again. My soul was ready for this life. Of wild beauty and a gentle tread. Carefully nurturing every version of myself. With the Highlands as my home, I will never be alone.

Thank you to everyone who has supported my journey.

Until next week,

Molly xx