Freedom

As we made our way back to the cars it was mentioned that we were going on a walk. Fine I thought it`ll be nice to be able to stretch my legs and back out after so much time sat in the car this past few days or being cooped up in a hotel room. The fresh air and scenery will do wonders for someone who spends a large part of the day outside and has struggled with not being able to do as much as they would have liked.

Over the small bridge we went along a small winding road towards some deserted buildings with the conversation mostly about the stone we had just lifted and the history of it. After around 15-20 minutes Peter pointed out were the sister stone of the “Stone of Dalness” was situated. It was buried about three quarters up in the mossy ground again covered in red gratify. Well I decided there and then that it had to be pulled out of the ground and returned to its true resting place. What came over me I`m not sure it was just an overwhelming urge to lift the stone and get it back. Over the wall I went and pulled the stone, with some effort, out of the sticky ground ready for its journey home.

It was a stone lifting trip we were on so in keeping with the theme of the trip the stone had to be lifted. And what a stone, heavier I would say of “The stone of Dalness” and a tad larger in diameter. Having just been removed from the ground it was quite wet and slippery which made lifting a lot harder but it was going up I was sure of that.

What an honour to be the first [known] Sassenach to lift it.

Then it was Paul`s turn and with his lift again he attempted to get the stone pressed upwards off his chest but the stone was not having it. A few more attempts were made by the both of us and I made it clear that I wanted to take the stone back. Paul`s initial reaction was “well I`ve done the Dinnies so you can carry it”. Fair enough I thought but I bet you join in along the way, and I was right.

We made our way steadily back along the path we had just trodden, me trundling along pushing this rock for all I was worth. Determined to get it back before I ran out of steam and made a fool of myself. It soon became apparent that pushing it was not going to work, the shape of the stone meant it would not roll like a ball but would shoot off at angles every so often as it bobbled onto one of its curved sides. So down I went get the stone up to chest level and realised I would have to walk as some pace or the stone would never get back before the sun set. Off I went in my own little world of pain and excitement, excitement just like a little kid waking up on Christmas day.

The stone was heavy, lets not get away from that and it took it out of you not only because of its weight and shape but also because of having to try and keep it so high so that you could walk comfortably with it. A few minutes down the road Paul took over the mantle of carrying the stone so I could have a rest and off he set. It soon became a bit of a relay race with the stone as we tired we either put it down on the floor and lifted up or in one instance Paul passed the stone straight to me and I crushed on of my nuts into the side of the leg and was over come with a sense of pain and nausea which brought howls of laughter from everyone else.

Eventually we were nearing a large gate that we had had to climb over which was going to cause some problems. Nope I wasn`t having any of that, up to the gate I got and over it went. No messing around, heart and lungs pounding I was over the gate and off again till it was time for Paul to take over again. Paul carried the stone the last part of the track till we where back at the small bridge we had earlier crossed and it had been decided that I was to be the one to liberate the stone over the final few yards to freedom.

Steven. A. Barlow© 2010