The pristine, natural paradise of the islands of Loch Morar, caught by the setting summer sun from Morar Cross, Morar, Inverness-shire, Scotland.

Poem.

 

Caledonian forest – a mature relic of an ice-scoured past,

a water-filled, thousand foot deep chasm, chiselled by the glaciers.

Now mellowed by the garb of heather, fern, gorse and woodland and interspersed increasingly with bare rock as elevation rises.

 

Islands seemingly floating, soften the image further as they cradle their remnant of the ancient glades.

So nearly joining numerous other arms of the sea as a fjord.

Blocked by a coastal rocky lip, this freshwater lake empties via a two mile, rapid-ridden river into the milky white shell-sand estuary of Morar Bay.

 

Rumours of cryptids supplement the mystique and wonder of this twelve mile stretch of water.

But detract, not one jot, from its peaceful beauty warmed by the setting sun.

 

Done