Started off blue sky and guidebook.
Picturesque guaranteed.
My camera has it on oath.
Then the path went AWOL
clumped into tussock and dyke.
A deer fence moated by a burn
sat across the route, wire ribs
impassable as a portcullis.
Its shape said No.
A hundred yards away a farm
laughed at us from a tarmac drive
we’d sweat to force a route to.
Then tramp, tramp, tramp,
dip, rise, dip, rise.
The road home would wind for hours.