Huntly Writers

Huntly Writers


North East Writers

Carol Ann


Carol Ann

I was born a 'cockney' in S.E. London in 1948. Now a grandmother in my early sixties, I have lived in the foothills of the Grampian Mountains for the last 14 years and after 34 years in the IT industry have 'retired' to indulge my passions for travel, writing and photography. I enjoy travelling adventurously and have explored much of North and South America, Europe, South Africa, Asia, Australia and New Zealand. Recent travels have included a journey to the Buddhist Kingdom of Bhutan, following ancient pilgrim routes to remote temples and monasteries; a search for the 'Cathar connection' around Toulouse, the Pyrenees and south-west France; a hiking, boating and glacier expedition to explore the geology of Southern Greenland; a month on board a French scientific research and supply vessel visiting remote islands and wildlife havens in the Indian and Southern Antarctic Oceans; and a month exploring remote areas of Mongolia and the Gobi Desert. Seeing sacred places, spectacular landscapes and meeting indigenous peoples, has given me ample source material for my writing and allowed me to explore the links between sacred landscapes, their legends and underlying geology.

In spite of an increasing tendency to short-term memory loss, I continue to learn. I have never considered myself to be either a scientist or an explorer, but in March 2010 I finally completed a BSc Honours Degree in Geosciences with the Open University, studying subjects which have helped me to understand the mountains, volcanoes and landscapes I have encountered. One of my long term goals is to descend in a submersible along the northern section of the Atlantic Ridge, to observe volcanic activity and hydrothermal vents at first hand and then write about my adventures! Unfortunately I'm not as young as I used to be and the stiffening of joints, etc. that comes with old age, is probably going to limit my ability to lie in the cramped, confined, cold conditions which such a trip would entail — still I can always dream.

My writing experiences are varied and have often faltered along the way, but the Huntly Writers' Group has given me the impetus and confidence to renew my efforts. Two decades ago I wrote a series of poems about the nature of love, from the death of the old, to the birth of the new. I am now revisiting these poems and hope to have them in print some time soon. For two years I was invited to pen a regular column in the bi-monthly Australian magazine Eagles Wings, providing articles with a unique blend of travel and the exploration of sites of spiritual significance around the world. I have also published a children's book called Rifka, the Adventures of a Gnome and have given talks and slide shows about my travels.


Pachamama — Sun Island

Carol Ann

At the southern end of Sun Island on Lake Titicaca is a sacred place, used by the local Andean Indians and their Kallawuaya for rituals and offerings to Pachamama, the Earth Mother. The Kallawuaya is a fortune teller or native doctor of the Andean Altiplano and this one is a small man, dressed inconspicuously in a white shirt, dark trousers and crumpled old hat on his head. With thin sandals on his feet, he walks purposefully south along an unseen trail through eucalyptus trees, past the stone monument at the summit of Cerro Keñhuani (4024m), until he reaches his destination, a small, round stone enclosure. On his back a grey sheet encases a medley of strange shaped objects which are clearly heavy, because he's bent over forwards to balance the weight.

Once inside the stone enclosure the grey sheet is emptied of its contents. First he takes out a pile of wooden logs half a metre long and proceeds to build a square-shaped stack around a pile of shavings and small twigs. We admire the view — this is a beautiful spot with the snow-capped Cordillera Real and the sacred mountain, Nevada Illampu (6368m) in the east and the shores of Lake Titicaca in the west. It's mid afternoon. The sky is clear and very blue, the lake surface is placid and the Sun is still very hot. We turn back to the Kallawuaya who is now dressed in a bright red, sleeveless poncho with an intricately patterned woollen hat on his head — he is ready to begin a ceremony which has been handed down through his family over countless generations.

The offering package was bought from the Witches Market in La Paz and every item has a special significance. The contents can vary depending on the price paid, but this one contains a small llama foetus, coca leaves, sweets, small gold and silver coloured trinkets, images of the sun and the moon and crushed quartz and other crystals. We take turns to present the offering to the north, south, east and west, saying a few words to Pachamama in each direction. We are asking for peace and prosperity for the Lake and the people who live in and around it, but the words can be anything depending on the occasion. Offerings to Pachamama are made to celebrate marriages and births; to ask for rain and a bountiful harvest; to ask for luck in exams; anything the giver chooses. The package is finally handed to the Kallawuaya who murmurs his own incantations, before placing it on the wood stack and lighting it. The heat from the fire is fierce and we move away to the edges of the stone enclosure, where we sit and watch as the logs and offering burn down to embers.

The ceremony is complete, the Kallawuaya is thanked for his services and we leave the sacred area to its guardian spirits, beckoned on by the need for a cold drink and seat in the shade.



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