“In Glen Derry, the relationship between people and pines is written into the landscape”
I am walking through Glen Derry, frost-filled and with the first of the winter’s snow smattering the path, softening the calls of the Scottish crossbills that fill the still air. This glen cuts through the heart of the Cairngorms, coires (bowl-shaped valleys) sprawling along its flank.
‘Derry’ is an anglicisation of the Scots-Gaelic ‘doire’, meaning grove, and the glen is well-named. Ancient trees sprawl along the valley, each grown into its own unique mass of large trunks, big limbs and open canopies. They proudly sport blue-green needles and scaly, rusty red bark. A black grouse sends snow shivering from the canopy to the forest floor. There is a fresh, savoury flavour
