I wondered if I should write something and this sort of fell out so I suppose it was right…
It's strange to watch something familar and beautiful burn. To watch it happening from far away via social media, feeling powerless, yet knowing that an army of experts and volunteers have joined forces for many days to do battle against nature's destroyer.
On the north-east side of the plateau, viewed from the Dava, Grantown, Tomintoul road, and Nethy, the view is dominated by Bynack (the sacred mountain), Strath Nethy (gateway into the heart of the hills), Ryvoan Pass (the magic bit), and Meall a' Bhuachaille. Gazing at this landscape (usually from somewhere on the hill above Grantown) is a constant ever changing gem, a chance to notice the changes throughout the year and daydream about past adventures taken in those places.
This land, now burnt and burning, is the backdrop for locals living under the mountain: casual glances when walking or driving around to check the weather, look at the snow line, take in the light, and enjoy the beauty of the view. For nature and pinewood enthusiasts, there is hope in the national park - a celebration of its biodiversity and projected future of a return to what once was.
For the active, these areas are a place to measure oneself and enjoy the wide-open space, also challenging for those brave enough to push into the hills through adverse conditions. It is an amazing testing ground for groups young and old to come, visit, and venture out expedition style.
The Green Loch and Ryvoan offer an easy accessible way for tourists from all over the world to enter the magic of the Caledonian ecosystem and Cairngorms geography. The Green Loch especially touches so many with a sense of beauty, magic, and fae (I did see an inflatable unicorn swimming ring there once!).
It is a muse for many in various ways—musicians, poets, filmmakers—and for me and many others, a rich subject and source of inspiration for photography and art.
It is an important place for so many, and this moment has really highlighted that—a shared love and shared sorrow for this special almost anthropomorphised part of nature... But it's good to bear in mind: next year the bog cotton will lay its snow white carpet, some of the old surviving veterans will drop their seed, and the birds and possibly volunteers will bring back the rest.
