My larks in the glen
The mist swirled around us, obfuscating the landscape as we climbed the steep rocky road up to the moor in the Land Rover. It was not looking good for grouse shooting.
A couple of hours earlier I had been up to my waist in the Dee watching large salmon jump tantalisingly in front of me. A tug on my line made my heart race, but I didn’t catch it. The chance of getting a legendary Macnab was slipping out of sight.
The Land Rover descended into a glen and I saw sunshine illuminate a kaleidoscope of colour. Purple heather, moss and tussocks of grass all made up the patchwork landscape. The heather was late to flower this year and
