“After Lairg it became very narrow, a slender ribbon coiling through the wilderness. At distances of a hundred yards or more glimmered the white staves of passing places, and often they appeared in unexpected situations to which the road gave no indication that it would wind. But it always did. There was but the one road, climbing and turning across the mountains, the single, tenuous evidence of man in this empty, primeval landscape. We met few vehicles. We were often alone through many miles of... wrack-laden country. When the mist parted we caught the sight of dark peaks and stretches of dreary moor and bogland. There were few trees, there were no animals, and we passed more lochs than houses. The rustle of the rain was brisk and continuous; the whole of Sutherland seemed to weep. Once I stopped to fill my pipe, and then the only sound was of rain. It battered the car and hissed on the road and rattled on the foliage of scrubby birches. It seemed to sum up the remoteness of a country that was proof against the usage of man; here he could fret a little at the edges but no more: he didn’t belong.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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