03/09/2026
Hillwalking Alone
There’s a particular sound absence makes in the Antrim Hills when the mist is down or the cloud is about to take the horizon away completely. Not silence exactly. The wind still moves through the grass and finds the odd gap in the peat hags to whistle through, but there’s no other human note in it anywhere, no voices carrying from another party further along the ridge, nothing but your own boots going down into the bog and coming back up again. You could walk for two hours out here without seeing another soul…
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