South looking North.
South looking East.
Hard to find a more dreary place than the south bank of Loch Ness, perpetually damp, dank and almost (apart from the lost) tourist free. Communities seem to cling to the wet rocks and the over powering trees, hanging on in the deepest shadows for grim death or life or whatever comes first out of the green, dripping woods. It's a single track road to ghosts, waterfalls, nowhere and nothing, so it's well worth a visit in other words and other worlds.
Always worth popping into Boleskin House for a cuppa tea, a digestive biscuit, a small bit of human sacrifice and the rites of passage ceremony to the upper seventh level of Thelema a strategic place in the universe of spheres that I've managed to maintain since 1971 or thereabouts.
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