The 2016 Challenge, day 7: Came Ye by Killiecrankie - oh? (11)

At the confluence of the Tummel and the Garry, I turned left and followed the Ricer Garry upstream - and what a contrast it was! Whereas the Tummel had been angry and seething with white water, roaring at me as it rushed pell-mell down its narrow gorge, the Garry was slow and placid and laid back. This was a river like the gently flowing Cam of my youth, sliding idly through lush watermeadows between Grantchester and Cambridge; or the Great Ouse which has been my watery companion these last 25 years, crossing the 20 metre contour line in the middle of Bedford yet still having some 60 miles to flow before finally reaching the sea! And yet ... the sand under my feet told of another character. A character I was not seeing today, yet one which it must surely have. A character without which it could not pulverize the rocks and stones with sufficient vigour to pound them into sand. So here, in truth, was a veritable Jekyl and Hyde of a river ...