Mulling, on Mull.

There is something about Islands,  that appeals to certain deep parts of the human psyche. 

Remote,  yet knowable. 

Self contained, with clearly defined boundaries.

'This is this,  and that is that'

Graspable sizewise by the human brain that would prefer to see the 'whole picture'.

Mull is one of the larger Isles. And would, most likely, take many weeks to get to know in any great detail.

In such fine October weather as this, the temptation might be, to invest more time in such investigations.

But time is the scarcest human commodity,  when there is so much to see and do.

So getting the pace right, is the thing.

Slow down enough to 'be here now'.

But not so much dawdling, and prevarication, that time is wasted.

So with that in mind,  tent down,  panniers packed,  and head out further west.

To see whats over the next horizon...

The friendliest Robin to share my breakfast,  and an understanding landlady at the local hostelry, having furnished me with some 'spare greenery'  from her kitchen, for the next couple of days meals...

So far,  so very good.