STILLNESS IN THE GLEN

I WAS UP EARLY and out with the camera, an act of communion in the pre-dawn stillness before the kids stirred. Witch’s breath hung weightless over Loch Beinn a’ Mheadhoin, the water mirror-calm, the forest silent and at rest. The mist lifted as I padded softly around the water’s edge, now draped gently on the treetops and slung around the shoulders of Carn Fiaclach’s slight prominence, before the sun rose and the moment was gone. The loch itself may be dammed, an ‘unnatural’ accessory to the human demand for energy further south, but in these moments the landscape feels prehistoric and never-changing.

Enough of my communing, though – there was catering to be attended to. Back at base camp, my two children were withering away by the second. Actually famine-stricken, I was informed! Water for coffee and porridge soon boiled, the one advantage of the overnight mercury hovering close to zero being that our morning gruel was soon at a more child-friendly temperature. The busyness and energy of children discovering and exploring filled the woods soon after.

I’d brought the wolf pack to Glen Affric for half term. With aging parents and work