We continued on our 20 km crossing to the island of Arran. As the clouds to the south slipped away, the soaring ridges of the Glen Sannox mountains were illuminated by the late winter sunshine and stood out boldly as they reached for the sky. The cold north wind had brought crystal clear air from the Arctic and the distant snow dusted summits seemed so close.
As our bows rose and fell to the rhythm of the dark backed waves, this song came into my head:
I'll sing my song to the
wide open spaces
I'll sing my heart out to
the infinite sea
I'll sing my visions to the
sky high mountains
I'll sing my song to the
free, to the free
Pete Townshend, The Who
We had never felt so free.
