The rivers rise and fall with the passing of each rain shower which washes clean the forest. All the dingy pools of which many huddled in the meanders and dried up gravel beds of the summer season have been flushed and the forests streams once again run clear. The rains haven't penetrated much though, for the most part the ground remains firm under foot; no, on contact with the hardened forest floor rain merely heads for the nearest stream or brook, to be whisked beyond the forest bounds and off out to sea. Soon you wont be able to ford most of the bigger streams, like here on Highland Water, well not without the high chance of a dunking or at the least filled boots. All the seasons present different challenges to the walker, insisting you change many of your regular routes and roams. There are routes that soon I shalt walk again until spring or early summer and other that I'll return to now, having left them un-walked, by me anyways, since spring gone. A change is as good as a rest and it's always cool to return to a much loved route with juxtaposed emotions; walking the old well known tracks with renewed vigor and wonder, as is walking them for the first time.
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