It had been an amazing day, taking my youngest son and his radge pals up to the Falls of Falloch to chuck themselves off some big drops and have a watery adventure up the canyons at the back of the falls. The boys had just been released from the first Rona lockdown, and with a second possible hoose arrest on the horizon, we took the opportunity to get ootside, off their devices, and experience life away from online schooling and Zoom calls.
Five years ago the youngsters were a bunch of mentalists bursting into their teenage years. They were enjoying the playlist Patrick was choosing as he rode shotgun, although to my old ears the selection of mumbling rappers sounded like vandalism of the music I listened to when I was their age.
The Falls of Falloch are about an hour and a half from Stirling, we headed out to Balloch then turned north and followed Loch Lomond’s western edge, near the top of the loch, we passed a boarded-up café. It may have been protected due to the inactivity of lockdown, but the long grass creeping up the walls and weathered paint made my stain brain decide it had been closed for a wee while and lying in a state of disrepair for years. That speedy drive-by caused another story-brainspunk moment. I stopped considering the heights of the ledges we would be jumping off or wondering if the boys would be up for a wetsuit adventure through the canyon above the falls, I started thinking about writing another story.
Writing just sort of happens, it’s the only thing I seem to be creatively drawn to, art or music the games a boogie. At the time I wasn’t chasing another story, I was still trying to make my first story Dukes Pass readable. Although, it was getting hampered by social media. Doom scrolling is playing havoc with my tapping out words on my phone, it’s rubbish when I realise I’ve licked ma screen for an hour instead of doing something constructive or creative, which is maybe why a third story has been lying derelict and forgotten like the café in this story.
We had an amazing time, with heart stopping jumps into the water and discovering some of the wee hard to get to spots up above the falls, as we were heading back home in the van full of radges. I used to enjoy jumping off ledges into water, the higher the better. This time I was terrified and another sign I was freefalling into old age was my inability to appreciate the music of the youth, but instead of dwelling on my slow down, I had a waterfall of possible storylines running through my boulder nut, the main one being — what would happen if folk used the café illicitly during this Covid crisis?
Possible stories bounced about my napper until I went back to work, it began slow with an introduction of the two main characters, then I started letting my imagination start jumping off ledges as I really started getting excited and tapped out words on my phone at every opportunity, some scenes and conversations were “funk me” moments, where I surprised myself. But then again, there are the odd glimpses of intelligence that help me to realise that I am not stoatin about like Terry Fuckwitt all the time. There was a moment, when I was tapping away lying in my offshore scratcher, when a scene changed and meant the plot altered completely meaning a lot of rewriting chapters but it was worth it.
I think what I enjoy most is coming up with and writing about ways folk’s lives can change — moments in time when things will never be the same. It’s that initial moment of “Oooooh ya dancer.” Like watching Patrick and one or two of his timid pals take ages to build up the courage to launch off a high ledge for the first time, then appear from the deep, dark peaty, cold water with a massive grin, before racing up the steep rocks to jump again without fear.
I think what I enjoy most is concocting ways folk’s lives change — moments in time when things will never be the same. It’s that initial moment of “Oooooh ya dancer.” Like watching Patrick and one or two of his timid pals take ages to build up the courage to launch off a high ledge for the first time, then appear from the deep, dark peaty, cold water with a massive grin, before racing up the steep rocks to jump again without fear. Or like me eventually getting off my erse and out of my comfort zone to try and have folk read these stories or encourage them to experience the benefits of cold water with this this Swim Outside malarkey.
If you enjoyed this blog you can download the story I have been mumbling about at the below link. Please enjoy.
If you fancy a watery adventure — maybe a little less sedate than the one described in the ramblings above. You may fancy a wee dip in a local loch, or maybe you want to take your own bairns or grand-bairns jumping in waterfalls but don’t know where or how to start, drop me a message and we can figure something out.
BTW most of the photos are from a recent visit to Norway. Its grand, dont worry I got loads of time swimming in the fjord.
Swim Outside. Feel Better.
Getootside 