We walked up through the Glen, sheltered by the tall elegant figures of Scots Pines. The air was still and hushed with winters cold breath, yet filled with the clear scent of the trees and their pink light. Heading towards Glencourse Reservoir we were following in the ancient tracks of the white deer, sovereign of these glorious hills. Hunted repeatedly by the Kings hounds, she escaped across the stream we were following many times. The spot where she was finally felled by a knight’s hounds, was marked as holy, and later a church was built in honour of St Katherine. It lies now, submerged in the reservoir, blessing the tap water of Edinburgh with its holy stones.
The spirit of these ancient Silurian hills, rolls down in soft waves, soothing the mind and soul of all who visit. Filled with echoes of the distant past, the stories of our ancestors weave themselves into our present. Dazzled by the sun setting over the drowned holy shrine, all worldly worry is washed away, carried into the freshly forming past. Freedom in light as white as the long passed deer, birthed in the heart of the Pentland Hills.