uesday 12th July Light WNW sunny intervals after one brief shower.
I spend the morning intermittently waking up, reading and sleeping in turn. With no reason to rush as the ferry back to Oban isn't until 17:40, I can relax and take the opportunity to get into a philosophical and scientific book.
Looking out of the tent to the beach I wonder which beaches in the World are considered the best. Bondi? Copacabana? Surely neither of these can be as beautiful as this one and there isn't a soul to be seen here. I have the whole area to myself.
I can still bird whilst inside the tent and I have a list of four by the time I decide to get up; raven, meadow pipit, wheatear and herring gull have all been calling, cronking or tacking just outside the tent. One doesn't need to see them to know what they are.
More plastic on this beach though and by default I collect four large carrier bags of it and take them to the skip two bags at a time. The reason for the double trip is that on reaching the skip the first time I see that I have lost a pannier somewhere in the sand dunes and going back to retrieve it I decide to collect some more plastic.
On reaching the skip the next time I see I have lost my cycling gloves and have to go back to search for them! Twit.
Whilst lying in bed this morning I was thinking about various things from the past and I don't know why but a repetitive ditty from the Reading Rock Festival days from the 1970s. That one was about marijuana. I changed the words . . .
And he would pedal, pedal, pedal.
The Biking Birder.
He would pedal, pedal, pedal.
A little further
He would cycle in the rain,
Usually in some pain,
Up a hill, down a hill
Then get lost again.
And then he'd pedal, pedal, pedal,
A little further,
Until he saw the bird.
Give his pencil a lick,
And then put down the tick,
And then he'd pedal, pedal, pedal . .
One more time!
I had been thinking of the fundamental differences between Carbon Twitchers, the more normal birder who uses a car or airplane to get to the birds and my own Green Birding pursuit of the same.
My birding is 99% perspiration with 1% inspiring moments, to paraphrase Edison. Those moments though may come from landscape beauty as well as natural moments. They can come from a more intimate relationship with the environment than a Carbon twitcher gets driving along the same roads.
A crazy bit of thinking away from all that involved scale. There were a few midges in the tent this morning and I thought of how immense I am compared to a midge. A crazy thought with large error margins is that were a midge to be my size, I would be around four kilometres high to keep the scale comparison going. I wonder what the relative masses of us both would conjure up?
9.96 Miles 414 feet elevation up 448 feet elevation down