The Bonnie, Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond

Idolised in song, Loch Lomond captured me the moment I caught a glimpse of it through the trees as we drove along the motorway. We have lakes in Canada, but lochs are quite different, narrow gashes that cut through sloping hills, comparatively long rather than wide. I followed the length of Loch Lomond for some time, stopping by it for a picnic lunch and some tranquility. It was a still, overcast day, the sun glinting off the water when it managed to sneak between clouds. The loch was cool and clear like glass, kept guard by silent mountains watching over it.

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I felt two things standing on the shores of Loch Lomond that day: the first, that I was quite small in the grand scheme of things, and the second, that there is no greater calm than that which accompanies simplicity. I was so utterly content just to be there. It was a reminder that we don’t always need to have, or spend, a lot to be happy.

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I snapped a few photographs, but after a while I just sat in silence, listening to the water lapping against the shore and watching the occasional bird flapping overhead. After the excitement of Edinburgh, it was a relief not to feel my attention being pulled in different directions or to be overwhelmed by all there was to see. Loch Lomond lets you come to it, and never disturbs your thoughts.

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