An Ocean Among Mountains

A View of Glencoe

WORDS AND PHOTOS BY CELESTE NOCHE

I've always been an ocean girl. I grew up on the California coast and other than scenes of Gimli and his home in Lord of the Rings, rarely thought of mountains. In my mind, they were too still. Too quiet. I craved the expanse and movement of the ocean, and the rush of water sounded like home.

The first time I saw Glencoe, I was flooded with panic. I was an American in Scotland, barely driving a manual car on the opposite side of the road. Every minute was stressful, and when the road inclined to enter the glen, my anxiety multiplied. I was entering the most majestic landscape I'd ever seen, and all I could think about was not stalling and blocking the line of cars forming behind me.

The cars began to slow, in what I think was a mutual pause of wonder. None of us could believe we were here. I pulled over and let my eyes study the expanse of the towering mountains. The sun shone gold, dispelling the cold I'd anticipated. It was still and quiet, but I also thought of how ancient these mountains were—the lifetimes they have seen. In the stillness, I heard a sea of whispers and echoes across centuries and knew these mountains told stories in their silence. I could see that they were still moving and that I, too, had become part of their tale.

I took a breath and got back in the car, peace pooling inside me.