The Glen Esk Effect.

Lochnagar and Maskeldie - pastel sketch on paper

To feel that a landscape could inspire a soulful belief within, that supercedes religious conceptions and harks back to a native spirituality where all the elements of being are respected, from the largest mountain to the smallest creature, is important to me. To seek out a special place to fulfil this belief is becoming increasingly difficult in this congested world, but the mountains, hills and glens of Scotland still have the capacity to bring this belief to the point of fruition in my mind.

On a high hill-top where a panorama of rolling hills stretches towards every horizon and the sky presses its focus in on you under a dizzying dome of ultramarine blue that forms the very gateway to the universe beyond, that feeling of oneness with the world comes readily. I spin around to feel the space and without the Earth's blur of blue sky and creamy cloud over sun dappled hill, there is no me.

Sketching today at the Slates, Invermark

Sheltering from a chilly wind, the Golden Eagle must have known that it was being looked for, as it made a sneaky escape over my head. Birds and animals, like us, seek out cosy spots to linger in and I knew that this rock encrusted slope was one of the eagle's favourite places. As I peered around the jagged boulders for feathers, pellets or lime left after roosting he had already set his feathered sails to silently glide over it all and flee from the crag on the opposite side of glen. In a nosey move, typical of this particular bird, he came straight overhead to check out the earth bound intruder. Wrapped up in a following wind with his wings and tail pointed out in speed mode he disappeared over the hill towards the loch and, like a seasoned star, had side-stepped the Brechin sketcharazzi. 

A brief viewing, but sufficient to slake my craving for an eagle sighting and now I will have a wee look at the crags where he flew from. The steep rocks provide turf terraces for small trees to grow on and that gives some respite from the stark moorland all around. The noise of heavy flapping coming from leafy branches half way up the crag halts my progress up the steep deer track to the plateau, only fighting Wood Pigeons but their spat sends a flock of twittering Twite from their perches into the air and encourages a busy, troglodytic Wren to start churring from the rotting under-world of a fallen tree trunk.

Following a deer track makes perfect sense, as they choose the best way up a slope using natural features in a zig-zag ascent and by adopting their laid back attitude to climbing, energy can be saved. Go with the flow of the ground at a calculated pace with measured and full deep breaths and look well to each step by planning the next few moves to get to a predetermined point above and never think of a steep slope as an onerous task but as an opportunity to enjoy a thought or a view or a conversation with a companion or nature spirit - simple.

Mount Keen and Invermark - pastel sketch on paper

             Sketching today 

Finally the track leads to the grassy grazing on the high slopes overlooking the glen, a deer paradise and on the sun dazzled sky-line a small herd of young stags are alert. I decide to stalk them because the wind is in my favour and, well, there might be a decent photo as a result. Let's see if John Gibb's stalking skills have rubbed off into the genes. Deer stalking in the hills has begun but does not take place on Sundays, so that is why I am venturing into an area where stag stalking usually takes place until the twentieth of October and hind culling until the fifteenth of February.

Sky-line stags

Step one, creeping directly towards them without moving sideways seems to make sense, as I will appear as one static shape from their position at this distance. Good progress is made up the grass gully to reach a peat hag, they are still grazing and look settled until a Roe buck barks out in alarm. The beasts gaze around, as I freeze on the spot, but they remain with heads pointing in different directions, not knowing. Step two, crouching as I follow the edge of the peat hag up the hill and then break away to the other side of the ridge by using another rising peat hag. They are actually coming towards me as they graze, things are working out as I finally get to the end of the peat hag and settle down behind my wall of heather topped peat to take some photos from about one hundred metres away, not bad without crawling in true stalker style. Most of the beasts' antlers are still in velvet and one is clearly shedding the velvet skin as it glows with a cob-web like quality against the sunlight. Must admit that they all seem distinctly uninspired by the imminent rutting season; I did hear a bellowing roar from another hill in the distance but that was it as far as rutting goes.

Young stags with the antler velvet coming off

No serious signs of rutting starting yet

Finally after taking one hundred and thirty six photos, most out of focus from the thumping beat of my heart, I stand upright and announce my presence like a submarine bobbing to the surface of a peaty sea. All heads turn and stare, then one stamps his fore-leg down, another pees with squirting trickles and then the consensus of opinion delivers a verdict - Neanderthal hunter must run - and they all charge up the slope to leave a cave painted impression of the hunt in my mind. I must admit to having a miraged plate of braised venison before my eyes as they disappeared.

Young stags

Under a deep blue sky my feet are languishing in the delights of the cool, corrie burn and at least they are at one with the world as the chilled water numbs pained toes for a while, just another Effock effect. A Kestrel patrols the grassy heights of the corrie, for a vole perhaps, while the accompaniment of a familiar 'chak' call alerts me to the fact that a certain migrant is still here. A few Ring Ouzels compete with each other for the berries that hang in bunches from the Rowans growing on the cliff terraces, the birds dart around and deliriously plummet from branch to branch as if they are under the influence of a toxin found in the berries, maybe they have found that elusive 'spirit' that I yearn for.  I am surprised that some ouzels are still here and have not migrated but, in common with the odd Wheatear, prefer to stay until the weather turns colder.

The sloughed skin of an Adder

Strangely enough there are plenty of Meadow Pipits in the glen and they frequent the south facing slopes where insects are now common in comparison with the cold, late spring when insects were absent from the hills until late May. Some migratory House Martins and Swallows that are seen skiffing over the heather as they hawk for flies on the high slopes are reluctant to move on, but bit by bit they are forced to head south to meet the sun in other lands where Wildebeest take the place of Red Deer; when the real 'cold push' comes they can travel two hundred miles in a day. My eyes are scanning for Adders that might be basking but nothing is seen except a transparent, sloughed skin tangled up in the grass, there has been a chill in the air but is that enough to send reptiles into hibernation when the sun is still strong at times. There is the occasional tuft of heather flowering on the moor but most of it is over for another year.

Heather

Mountain Hare bolting

That slow start to this year means that some Red Grouse are still fairly young and just learning the ropes of 'grouse-hood', but, in general, the number of birds that I flushed on the moor looked like a healthy population. Mountain Hares are plentiful as well and, of-course, they are mainly brown at this time of the year which matches the dry peat hag colours perfectly, some are dark brown whist others are paler and in another three months time they will all be changing into their winter phase pelage of snow white, can't wait to see them change again - magic.

A few days ago I gave a public talk in Brechin Museum about Sketchbook, highlighting some of the stories that are featured  in this blog. It is easier to talk about nature rather than art, so most of the talk was about flora and fauna. The museum is currently showing an exhibition of my Sketchbook pastels and hand-made books so the whole thing was quite good but I do hate public speaking and would rather have been up on the hills!   

Glen Lee with Lochnagar in the background

The foot reward

Notes;

All sketches and photos done on the day.

Please be aware that it is illegal to disturb nesting eagles or other raptors and you may do so inadvertently in your journeys into the highlands. I do not recommend searching for any of the species mentioned in this blog because this may cause undue disturbance to them. With my knowledge of the areas described in this blog I can locate and observe protected species at a respectful distance usually from about 1000 metres for short periods of time only.

John Gibb - Great grandfather who worked at Invermark estate.

native spirituality - North American Indian belief that everything in Nature has a precious, spirit value.

skiffing - just momentarily touching a surface.