Red Light Spells Danger
- Details
- Published on Monday, 03 March 2008 06:09
- Written by Allan Hutton
The annual appearance of the “Big Sedge” as we like to refer to them at Hillend Loch is my favourite time of the season and as the hatches of the Great Red Sedge this particular June evening were so numerous, my mate Colin and I lost all track of time as we cast after cast to free rising trout which grabbed our cdc sedge imitations and fought so majestically before succumbing to the net.
It was 1.30.AM when we decided to pack up and leave the North Shore and return to my car, which was parked on the South Shore at the Clubhouse. To get back to the south shore we had to walk round by the Mound and then onto Lowe’s Bay and then negotiate the pitch Dark Whitehill Woods.
We entered the wood cautiously, as we had forgotten to pack our torches, and moved slowly as the floor of the wood is littered with dead roots and discarded broken branches. The only sound that could be heard as we walked through the darkness was the sound of our boots squelching on the wet and muddy path. It was quite an eerie experience walking through the dense dark trees as the twisted trunks and branches of the Scots pines appeared like outstretched arms of statuesque figures frozen in time reaching out for help.
Just when I thought we had overcome the worst of the woods and that my mind had stopped playing tricks on me, a strange red light appeared right in front of me glowing through the strange black shapes of the trees. I froze and said to Colin “ Do you see that, what the hell is that? ” Colin never answered me. As we continued to walk, the glowing red light seemed to disappear then re appear.
Now, I know that Bonnybridge is only about fourteen miles or so from Hillend but I have never been one for believing in aliens or UFO’s and all that kinda stuff, however this was now starting to alarm me. There seemed to be no reasonable explanation to what this strange moving light might be. We continued to walk through the darkness and I continued to get frightened. “What in the name of Hugh Falkus is that? “ I cried out to Colin. “ I’m not sure,” he said nervously.
Apprehensively we walked on until we cleared the trees and then everything became clear. The red lights of the Blackhill television mast were shimmering on the surface of the Boathouse bay. I must admit that it was quite a relief to realize how foolish I had been. My mate Colin insisted that he knew all along what the glowing red light was but I’m not so sure that he did.