I am no intrepid explorer. No mountains or beinns are climbed on my walks. I’m more of a meanderer, a wanderer, a ponderer.

There’s something about just ambling along.

To me the achievement of just going outside and walking the twenty minutes to the Loch is wonderful accomplishment.

Years ago, doctors told me I could be in a wheel chair in my thirties if I didn’t keep moving and do my physio. That idea supplanted itself in my head like a little parasite.

It wasn’t really until we moved out to Collieston that I began to be able to breathe. The Reserve held a lot of beauty, and with it opportunity, optimism and hope. The doctors would not be proved right if I had anything to do with it.

At the time of writing, I am 30. No wheelchair in sight. Determined to keep moving. To make it to my perch.

To hear the Reserves call, giving me stability – however unstable my legs may be.