Yesterday I adopted the right to roam.
“In Scotland, we have very few laws telling us what not to do and more laws telling us what to do.” Eddie, our Scottish guide and host told us, his accent just light enough that we are able to interpret his vernacular.
“We have what is called a right to roam.”
A right to roam means that anyone can go.. well, anywhere, unless trespassing directly onto someone’s immediate property.
So, here I am, in one of the most peaceful places I have ever laid my head to rest, adopting my right to roam.
I find myself a six hour drive from Edinburgh, through the winding singletrack roads that lay like a zipper on a crumpled, oversized green hoodie. The hills here are dotted with white sheep bahhhing and eating, roaming and populating this vast green glen.
The chalet that I have made my home is a tiny three bedroom, one bathroom, wooden house that overlooks the glen. There is a white horse (that I am certain came straight out of Princess Bride)
grazing outside my window with a tiny brown foal at her side.
This is the land of Hagrid’s Hut in Harry Potter, the land of Skyfall, and the land of my ancestors on my paternal grandmother’s side. I cannot help but feel and hear them calling me to love this land because it is a part of me.