The waters of Gurnall Dubbs reflected an intense blue in a clear, blue sky. Along the shore we looked out for the flying rowan, a flogron of magic properties. A flying rowan has its roots neither in earth nor heaven, but suspended between realms. This flying rowan grows in the cleft of a glacial erratic and today the strong sunlight gleams on its bark and its poll of fine branches. And an old nest. Imagine the brood of nestlings hatched in a tree of super-magic.
A flogron, the flying rowan of Norse mythology. So what's the story, I'm asked.
I love that cold, northern sunlight of intense blue through to icy chill that is the backdrop to the rowan tree. And the way the strong light picks out old ways, stone walls and glimmer crag- intensifying our seeing. There are elemental forces on the loose today, the fierce cold and the wild wind. Each of us withdrawn into our hoods and striving to battle the wind. From time to time we gather to regroup and charge our sense of camaraderie- we'll remember this day. The coldest day of the year, with snow in the east and on the distant Lake District fells.
A challenging walk because of the wind. And a challenge to come up with a story: the myth of the Gurnall Dubbs flogron.