I’ll keep this brief.

We were once again under the Scottish  Highlands’ blanket of cloud and back its mode highest temperature of 13°C. I have lost count of the number of days that have topped out at a meagre 13°C/55°F. Odonata hunting was clearly not going to be rewarding so we decided to go to the limit of public navigation of the road beside Glen Affric. According to the Forestry Commision Scotland, It is, after all“one of the most beautiful places in Scotland”.

Driving the 10 tortuous miles along the single track road to the end of Glen Affric is moderately nervy with blind S-bends, passing places, occasionally just before the blind bend and muddy verges. It is of more concern when road signs indicate “construction traffic” to contend with as well. I drove very conservatively and finally, after passing some of said construction traffic and a couple of jumps into reverse to let a campervan descend, we arrived at the final car park to experience one of Scotland’s best bits of scenery.

There was a short walk of about ½ml up to a viewpoint and back. As we approached, I could see that we were going to be disappointed. OK, the weather was dull and the light was rubbish but … really. The very centre of the view was ruined by a crane and assorted construction detritus. Bloody brilliant!

Thankfully the car park ticket machine was out of order, like the one at Dog Falls, so at least we didn’t waste any money.

On Monday morning we relished the thought of finally being able to leave our car park camping site in Kinlochewe. We had had a very convivial Sunday evening with our visiting friends but now it was time to move on to Cannich at the foot of Glen Affric. Our journey was about 60 miles and would take about 90 minutes. I planned to leave at about 11:00.

Guillaume had other ideas. We hooked up and one brake/rear light failed to function. Out came my tool kit. Never travel without a tool kit if you have a caravan. You may not be able to do anything to fix a modern car but caravan technology is not modern, frequently breaks and can be fixed, if you’re lucky.

I removed Guillaume’s right light cluster. The bulb looked good. The contacts, however, were not living up to their name; they were not in contact with the bulb. I fiddled with the contacts, gave a spray of good ol’ WD40 and refitted the the light cluster. rear and brake lights OK but now the indicator failed. Unbelievable! I removed the light cluster again and cleaned the indicator contacts. I refitted it all. Indicator OK but rear and brake light not working yet again. Bother! I removed the light cluster for a third time. Again, the contacts on the rear light were adrift. The securing mechanism, plastic spring clips, was not securing the contacts successfully. I used a matchstick to wedge them apart and secure them more firmly. Isn’t high technology great? I refitted it yet again – my screwdriver muscles were beginning to ache. All lights on. An hour late, we hit the road.

The other thing that hit the road for the 60 miles of our journey was my 12S (supplemental) plug – that’s the one that powers the interior caravan features, like the fridge and lights. I’d clearly forgotten to refit it in all the frustration of fixing Guillaume’s rear light cluster three times. It was ruined. Bother again!

After a calming drink and lunch, we used the essentially pleasant afternoon to forget ruined plugs and to scout out a likely location. The campsite owner was kind enough to point me to one walk in particular which did a loop around Dog Falls and included Coire Loch. I was surprised to find that Coire Loch was specifically mentioned in the Smallshire/Swash dragonfly guide as being known for Brilliant Emeralds, one of my few missing UK species. Hmm?

The road up Glen Affric is one of Scotland’s beloved single track roads with passing places, though not quite as frequent as those we’d become accustomed to on the single track roads around Poolewe and Kinlochewe. The road is 10 miles long. We had to negotiate only the first 4 miles to get to the Dog Falls car park. Mercifully, the parking ticket machine (£2 for the day) was not working so parking became free.

The walking route began gently enough and then headed uphill.  It continued uphill. I couldn’t quite imagine a loch/lake in this generally very sloping terrain. The route began heading back downhill, around some turns. Further down and around a few more turns we finally saw a very attractive looking piece of sheltered habitat, Coire Loch. Mr Campsite had referred to it as a lochan; whatever it was it was delightful.

We descended and the path got close to the edge of the water – close but not that close. To get really close, where the footfall became very boggy, one really needed Wellington boots. We were clad in trainers but I did try a few tentative steps onto the squishy moss beside the water proper. It remained overcast and this was just a scouting trip. Picking my way via small trees, which don’t grow on the boggiest areas, I got to lochan-side. For a while nothing moved but then we did spot what looked like a a couple of Emerald dragonflies.

There’re three species of Emeralds possible in this neck of the woods. I thought what I glimpsed looked quite bright but we’d need another chance to be definite.

We’d need better conditions and a lot of luck, too – Emeralds do not perch readily.

Francine and I have been “stuck” in Kinlochewe’s Caravan Club gravel-rich car park for the last three days. As ungracious as stuck may sound, we have been stuck because we have a long-standing meeting arranged with friends who are driving up to Kinlochewe just to see us today. The weather has been utter crap. We have been treated to solid grey skies of one set of shades or another, strong winds and frequent lashing rain.

We’ve had a few valleys to investigate to try to keep us amused. We drove up to a viewpoint looking down on Loch Maree where Francine could capture several of the multiplicity of shades of grey commonly available on the northwest coast of Scotland.

We investigated Glen Torridon, sporting several more shades of grey over Loch Torridon. There was one outstanding nature highlight, however, when we spotted a browsing Red Deer stag in velvet, unconcerned about those pointing cameras at it and slamming car doors nearby. The door slamming was actually quite good because it was about the only noise that would make the stag look up from its browsing.

We did have the “pleasure” of driving what I believe must be the remotest stretch of hilly, winding tarmac, I’ve ever driven. Beyond Torridon itself (another one shop settlement), this single track road wound its way over pass, down and round water to remote Diabaig. It made Alpine passes look like a doddle.

Francine had begun these three days admiring the moody grey skies. The moody grey skies had now become clichéd and tiresome, though, and she has finished feeling wearied of them and desperately wanting some colour and light to return to her photographic life.

There was a glimmer but it was only a glimmer and very brief. The fifty shades of grey were still there, though.

As convivial as our evening with our friends was, we’re both looking forward to moving on, at last.

Today we moved on from Poolewe, 25 miles down Loch Maree to the Caravan Club site at Kinlochewe, which had been my originally planned centre for hunting the Azure Hawker (Aeshna caerulea). Moving Guillaume occupied us for the morning. Checking in to the Kinlochewe site after the delightful Camping and Caravanning Club’s Inverewe Gardens site at Poolewe was a bit of a shock. Even though our Inverewe Gardens pitch was hard standing, the site had a grandstand view of Loch Ewe and all intervening spaces were grass. Now at Kinlochewe, we were faced with a campsite that was not just hard standing but hard everything.; each of the five or six enclaves were entirely gravel, not just gravel where the vans stood. It was like camping in a car park. We both felt disheartened. I would happily have dragged Guillaume the 25 miles back to Poolewe. Our feelings were not helped by the fact that we had packed up in brighter conditions at Poolewe, driven in those bright conditions for at least 20 of the 25 miles, then hit leaden skies with little light as we approach Kinlochewe. Still, it was new, gave us a couple more valleys to explore and gave us easier access to the hunting grounds. It’s also 25 miles closer to escaping Scotland. 😉

Francine had arranged to meet our allies, Pablo and Susana, in the Beinn Eighe Visitor Centre at 13:00. Once Guillaume was set up, we crunched our way across the expanse of grey gravel and drove about 1 mile to our rendez-vous. Pablo was off trying to get his Wellington boot stuck in a Scottish bog while Susana waited to meet us. We investigated the cloud-shaded track from the visitor centre first. On the way out we saw nothing – hardly surprising – but having turned to return hawk-eyes Francine spotted a Common Goldenring (Cordulegaster boltonii) hung up low down sheltering from the wind in the heather. It gave us something to do with our cameras and, as I said, they are always a thrill for me not being one of my home team.

We returned to the car park through mizzle and set off to a second Beinn Eighe car park to show Pablo and Susana the boggy area we’d eventually found at the end of the Woodland Trail a few days earlier. We spared them the unnecessary height gain followed by a descent and took the more direct, flat route, by going “the wrong way” round the trail. In a stiff breeze under Beinn Eighe’s cloud, the story was a similar one: “not a creature stirred, not even a mouse”.

The Poolewe end of Loch Maree still looked brighter. [BUGGER!] We drove back in that direction to see what transpired. Approaching Slattadale, life looked brighter, if not actually sunny, so we called in to see if we could improve our luck. We (Pablo and I) both knew the trail to walk up but Pablo had read something that spoke of “a glade on the  left with logs”, that might be a profitable location. On the right, we did disturb a couple more Goldenrings but we were having trouble finding anything resembling a glade on the left. On the left was mostly thick bracken descending into a tumbling stream. We played with the Goldenrings again.

Just after 16:30 the sun put in an appearance. Shortly afterwards, we found an area that could, possibly, with a little stretching of the imagination, be called a glade and there were certainly discarded sections of tree trunks in it, constituting, perhaps, logs. A dragonfly buzzed around and landed on the end of a log. I stood on a tree stump and snapped. I shouted, “there’s one here”. I fell off the tree stump in my excitement. Bother! [Or words to that effect.] I was inelegantly flat on my back amongst bracken and stumps, legs in the air, desperately clutching my camera and monopod to save them but I thought I’d got my own first shot of an Azure Hawker (Aeshna caerulea). The things we do for love. No herbage obscuring the beautiful critter anywhere – what a delightful beastie.

My compatriots joined me as I extricated myself from my ungracious position, with Francine’s help. There were actually two individual Azure Hawkers flying about and settling occasionally. One had a sideways-distorted abdomen. The other was a fine specimen and turned out to be quite a showman. It began by making it impossible for Francine to snag a picture by settling on her hand, beside her camera. A while later, it settled on Francine’s bum. Pablo could hardly believe he was zooming in on Francine’s bum. Eventually it settled on each one of us. In cooler weather Azure Hawkers have a reputation for settling on rocks to bask and soak up heat. This beauty was clearly borrowing warmth from our mammalian bodies. When it settled on Pablo, he could hardly contain himself.

The sun remained and our friendly Azure Hawker continued to fly sorties but return to our “glade with logs”. I got one particularly interesting shot of it sitting on a curved section of bark, pressing the entire length of its abdomen down into the bark in an attempt, presumably, to increase the contact area and absorb as much heat as possible. I’d never witnessed this sort of position before.

Target #2 well and truly achieved, even without a female. Pablo and Susana may have been staying in a naff hotel but I have never seen four such happy campers in all my life.

Right, targets #1 and #2 achieved, we can leave Scotland now, Oh, no, we have friends driving to Kinlochewe just to see us on Sunday.

In this case, my friends in question were one of our dragonfly recorders, let’s call him Pablo, and his partner, Susana. They had coincidentally arranged a short break to travel to Gairloch, to coincide with ours, also in search of my 2nd target species, the Azure Hawker (Aeshna caerulea). So, we’d both done some research and would be able to pool resources. Eight eyes are better than four. Yesterday, after picking up some irresistible venison pastrami and squat lobster tails from Poolewe’s Tuesday market, Francine and I had been heading back into Poolewe on foot when a toot behind made us jump. Pablo and Susana had arrived and had found us whilst they had been driving through. We shared a coffee at the Spanish run Bridge Cottage Cafe followed by la late-ish lunch chez Guillaume.

We were surprised to learn that Pablo had been given an additional suggestion by the tourist information office steering him  to a likely hunting ground a few miles north of Poolewe at Laide Wood. How great to see that the local tourist information apparently included information about their celebrity dragonflies. Wonderful!. We set off in convoy under the familiar grey skies to check it out.

Laide Wood provided a parking area complete with a map. There was a circular route with two ponds marked at the far side. Promising, if the weather would only brighten up. We set off and soon logged the ubiquitous Large Red Damselfly (Pyrrhosoma nymphula) and Common Bluetails (Ischnura elegans). Things got a little more exciting when we spotted a female so-called Highland Darter. Unfortunately [in my eyes, that is], rather than being a distinct species, the erstwhile Highland Darter (Sympetrum nigrescens) [as was] has been shown by DNA tests to be just a darker form of the Common Darter (Sympetrum striolatium). It does look noticeably different, though, so perhaps referring to it as Sympetrum striolatum form nigrescens might be reasonable.

The first pond produced nothing so we went to the second, which had better access. Now approaching 16:30, a few breaks in the cloud looked as if they may get to us. We waited and amused ourselves with another teneral Highland Darter and some Bluetails. A relaxing Common Goldenring (Cordulegaster boltonii) was also spotted and gave us more entertainment. These are commonplace for Pablo, living near them, but a thrill for someone from Bedfordshire, where they do not fly.

Then we spotted something hawking along a tree line at our end of the pond. In flight, brief glimpses made it look as if it might be our target. Four pairs of eyes all watched eagerly. It was very active, flying fast and changing direction rapidly and unpredictably. It didn’t show any signs of settling. Then it It disappeared along with the sun as our window through the clouds closed. After some time another window opened, the sun returned and along with it our suspected Azure Hawker. It zoomed about haphazardly as before but eventually, this time, settled on some heather, just once and quite briefly. Its colouring was good camouflage against the heather. but Francine was nearest, spotted where it landed and managed a grab shot.

Guess what. Our friend was a male Common Hawker (Aeshna juncea) and not our highly prized Azure Hawker (Aeshna caerulea).  Now, I have only ever had two previous encounters with Common Hawkers so this was not unwelcome; it just wasn’t what we’d all been hoping for. 🙂

The day dawned grey. Quelle surprise! So, it didn’t seem to be a dragonfly hunting day. Instead, we thought we’d play regular tourists.

There’s a couple of dead end turns around Gairloch, which is as major as a major town seems to get in this part of northwest Scotland. That is to say that it is blessed with more than one shop, which is all that Poolewe has. It also has a fuel station and we already know how rare they are. Francine had targeted one of those dead end roads and a helpful neighbour mentioned the other. We decided to investigate both roads.

The draw of the first of our turnings was that there was mention of the possibility of White-tailed Sea Eagles at its end, where we’d find a parking area. We could then walk a little way and hope to get lucky. The turn is in the centre of Gairloch itself. We took it, passing a couple of the shops, then continued 9 miles down a largely single track road with frequent passing places. At road’s end, there was indeed a parking place with room for five cars. Five cars were in it. Bother! I should point out that one does not abandon ship at the roadside here because to do so would effectively block the road. We returned the 9 miles, spotted a raptor en route which turned out to be “just” a Buzzard, and went to try our second dead end.

The road approaching Gairloch from the south, the way we had initially arrived, is a little heart-in-mouth when towing. There’s a section, 5 or 6 kms long, of single track road with frequent (fortunately) passing places. So, when towing, one has to proceed slowly enough to ensure that one can make it safely to the next passing place. It’s not difficult, just a bit tedious. Now heading south out of Gairloch, just before the single track section was the second of our right turns. As we left Gairloch, though, we were delayed by some interesting activity in a harbour. A group of folks was manually hauling in a fishing net. It looked as though there might be a fresh bounty here but it transpired that they were catching Sea Trout for research purposes. I considered offering to research their cooking methods and flavour but thought better of it.

Continuing, we made the right turn towards our second dead end of Red Point. Now we got to enjoy another 12kms of single track road. Single track roads are very popular in this part of Scotland. We paused at some windy habitat supporting quite a few Common Blue Damselflies and then we stopped at a road block of wandering cows and sheep. At least we were forewarned by a sign proclaiming “free roaming animals”.

At the very end of the road was another car park but we didn’t get to find out how many spaces it held before it became evident that it was already full to capacity; a van was reversing back out. Familiar story. A second car park slightly back down the road was more accommodating and provided a higher viewpoint.. We went “ooh, ahh” at the Isle of Sky across the straight and returned with ear worms driving us nuts.

The afternoon was brightened more than expected. Francine suggested going down to Loch Maree to look for dragonflies but I’d had enough of navigating single track roads by now. We returned to Guilaume to relax where the evening proved more successful. Firstly, being on the campsite at Poolewe with a view of Loch Ewe we didn’t need to find a parking space. Secondly, it looked as though Francine might finally get a chance of a sunset, the very reason I’d chosen this site. Sure enough, as the evening advanced the sun began sinking through a few breaks in the cloud. After the first shot below, about 22:20, it was tempting to think that the show was all over. Not so. Waiting a further 20 minutes turned the golden glow to orange as the underside of the clouds lit up with the sun now below the horizon.

Francine’s efforts were not without their trials. Midges! She had gone out wearing her Incognito insect repellent. This is supposed to disguise the fact that you are a food source rather than actually to repel insects. It’s sold more for mosquitos but claims to be effective against other flying pests. The midges were nonetheless bothersome. Francine switched to what is reputedly the chosen insect repellent of the SAS, Avon’s Skin So Soft. This fact conjures up wonderful images of macho guys armed to the teeth and smelling like big girl’s blouses. Utterly terrific. Francine reported, though that the midges did retreat to a respectful distance. Maybe they thought she was SAS. Lesson learned. No wonder Skin so Soft is sold in many of the campsites and camping shops round here.

The uncomfortably high winds have passed and with them, we hoped, the lashing rain. It is still windy, though, just not gale force, and the temperatures remain pitifully low for a supposed summer, hovering around a daytime high of 13°C, if and when the sun is out. This is hardly odonata hunting weather; the little darlings require both a modicum of warmth and sun, just like me, but it was certainly fine enough for us to have a drive round scouting out locations discovered during my pre-trip research.

The eastern side of the country near Aviemore and Loch Garten was all about the endangered [Red Data List] Northern Damselfly (Coenagrion hastulatum). Our shift to the west coast is all about the vulnerable [Red Data List] Azure Hawker (Aeshna caerulea) – I like a challenge – the south-western shore of Loch Maree being, reportedly, something of a hotspot. [Don’t take hot too literally – this is Scotland.]

The main point of the Camping and Caravanning Club’s Inverewe Gardens campsite at Poolewe, facing west, is to give Francine a chance of some sunsets, assuming that the sun deigns to rise in the first place. That’s an evening affair, though, so during the daytime, both tourism and odo-hunting are fair game.

A couple of locations had come to light along the shore of Loch Maree. Starting from the north-western end, the first of these was a place called Slattadale, which our orchid friends from Aviemore had also mentioned. We found the car park and set off on foot.

We were soon heading up a not-too-strenuous hill beside a tumbling rocky river on one side and a tiny peaty stream on the other. The landscape a few feet beyond the stream resembled something destroyed by a falling meteorite. Splintered boughs and branches remained but hardly a tree stood. The Forestry Commission had been at it again. With the canopy gone, all the moss beneath had died. Mossy bog pools are just the kind of habitat I wanted to see.

The opposite side of the track still looked useful but, in the breezy low temperatures, even with some sun, all we managed to spot was a single Large Red Damselfly (Pyrrhosoma nymphula).

The south-eastern end of Loch Maree is overlooked by the towering peaks of Beinn Eighe [pronounced Byn Ay, or so we think] at ~1000m. Here there is a visitor centre and, about a mile away are both a mountain trail and woodland trail, the latter sporting an area of bog pools. The woodland trail is a little misleading; the first thing it does is head up hill at an alarming rate. Up we went. Then it heads back down hill, which is considerably less strenuous. Down we went, Finally, almost back where we began and back at base level, we came across the bog pools. It was again overcast, still windy and once more, “not a creature stirred, not even a mouse”. At least we knew where some potentially useful habitat was, though, and could avoid a repeat of the pointless mountaineering next time, should conditions improve.

I’m so glad we used up space in the car carrying two picnic chairs and a portable gas barbecue, neither of which look like being of any use. Firstly, with evening temperatures dropping to the 10°C mark, I don’t think we’d regard sitting outside as an appealing option. Secondly, keeping either a match or, indeed, the barbecue itself alight given the winds that prevail are less than likely.

There were some cracks in the evening cloud cover back at Poolewe, so I wrapped up and stepped out to the loch-side, camera in hand, in case an opportunity arose. There weren’t any reds or oranges on offer but a few shafts of gold looked worth a few pixels. I was out earlier than Francine would have been – bloody amateurs. Rather than wait any longer, I retreated back to the safety of Guillaume when I began itching because a gang of marauding west coast midges had discovered me and were now regarding me as a useful evening snack.

OK, insect repellent next time.

Yesterday’s 35 mph winds were just meteorological muscle flexing; a little limbering up. Today we enjoyed wind more consistently high and gusting to 50+ mph with a staggering summer high of 11°C. Factor in the considerable wind chill together with slowly passing thrashes of rain and life became slightly unpleasant. 24th June and Guillaume’s heating is on. Brilliant!

One high point of the day: we discovered the Bridge Cottage Café in Poolewe which turned out to be a little gem. In this very bijou establishment with five tables, I enjoyed very good red lentil and coconut soup, to keep the summer chill at bay, whilst Francine chose tarta de Santiago de Compostella (an almond cake). There were several more cakes on offer and a very fine looking tortilla on the counter, too. Yes, there’s a delightful Spanish influence here. Everything appeared to be homemade, including the bread rolls that accompanied the day’s soup. I recommend it highly.

It is run by a young Spanish couple from Galicia, in the northwest of Spain. I can’t help but wonder why a young Spanish couple decided to leave Galicia for Scotland, though. Mr. Galician made one particularly telling comment, I thought: he missed the array of seafood available in Galicia, saying he found seafood difficult to buy here on the west coast of Scotland.  I have heard that the rich marine harvest here is mainly exported to parts foreign, notably Spain. How ironic would that be, if true?

For the last five days we’ve been staying at the Glenmore Forest campsite beside Loch Morlich. It’s a pleasant but rather odd campsite in that it feels like two different campsites or, at least, a campsite of two distinct parts. The larger part of it is more or less an open field with little seclusion whilst the smaller part is a series of more secluded woodland pitches within the tree-lined edge of the loch. We’d immediately chosen the latter – no contest.

Our position just a few metres from the sandy loch-side – yes, sandy, and I wasn’t expecting sandy beaches beside Scottish lochs either – gave Francine the opportunity to play both in the morning and evening without the need for staying sober enough to drive to and from locations, or for disturbing neighbours by moving our car about at unsociable hours.

Unsociable hours do rear their ugly head in some ways, though. Landscapers love to be opening their shutters in the hour before sunrise or after sunset – the so-called blue hour. Unfortunately, here we were spanning midsummer’s day in the frozen north of Scotland where the longest day is even longer, sunrise being ~04:00 and sunset ~22:15. It isn’t quite the land of the midnight sun but the sky stays light for an awfully long time. Francine did what she could without behaving too much like a vampire.

With the campsite being on the eastern side of the loch, the photographer’s viewpoint across the loch is mainly westward with the morning light, if there is any, behind the camera thus illuminating foreground features quite nicely.

Francine made a couple of evening visits after dinner. On her first visit she chose a view along the shoreline in a more or less southerly direction, this shows how much light there is at ~21:15. The sun is still up but is low enough to bring out textures in the rather unexpected (by me, anyway) sandy shoreline.

Her second evening excursion, slightly later,approaching 22:00, highlighted another Scottish problem. I was in Guillaume calmly enjoying a decaf espresso. A text message natter ensued along the following lines.

[me]: “What’s the view like?”

[Francine]: “Beautiful.”

[me]: “Excellent. Do you want Guillaume’s bucket?” [Photographer’s trick for wetting rocks.]

[Francine]: “Go away and leave me to the midges for a few minutes.”

…

[Francine]: “Aaargh!”

[me]: “Aaargh what?”

[Francine]: “Midges!”

Apparently Francine proved irresistible and was being eaten alive. Prior to our visit I had invested in a couple of special midge hoods consisting of a very fine mesh to keep the little blighters out. The trouble is, as well as a net hood being less than the height of sartorial elegance, the necessary fine mesh rather makes photography impossible or, at least, damn difficult since one is effectively staring through the fog created by an obscuring net curtain. So, hoodless and unobscured, Francine suffered long enough to get a picture, then retreated to the relative safety of Guillaume. Some midges did get inside Guillaume but an electric insecticide vaporiser seemed to take care of those reasonably effectively.

Today we bad farewell to the midges of Loch Morlich and headed across Scotland for the west coast midges of Poolewe at the far end of Loch Maree. The 110-mile journey made Guillaume’s tug work hard for three hours because we were travelling more or less directly into a strong headwind. Still, at least that was better than a potentially dangerous crosswind, especially crossing the Kessock bridge at Inverness. We arrived and pitched up with good views of Loch Ewe in bright but decidedly cool conditions with winds gusting to 35 mph and a temperature of 12°C/55°F. Summer? Fortunately, Guillaume is basically nose into the wind so is not rock’n’rollin’ too much.

I felt sorry for folks arriving after us erecting tents in such conditions, though such activity did provide a perverse sort of afternoon entertainment.

West coast midges enjoy more fearsome reputation. Not in this wind, though.

The longest day of the year and so it promised to be given the weather forecast: wall to wall rain between 09:00 and 18:00. Before it started, though, Francine went to the Loch side to play with her camera and tripod. I remained in Guillaume catching up.

I was still catching up when Francine returned declaring that rain didn’t look likely and we should get out and about. Having seen nothing at the smaller of the two Loch Garten ponds, that would be our first target.

As we were parking, so did another car; the driver eyed us suspiciously. They hit the 4m boardwalk slightly before us under some brightness. Given the suspicious look, I made some throw away quip to break the ice. It turned out that they’d been “ticked off” by “a grumpy Scottish couple” on a recent previous occasion for stepping off the boardwalk. They had wondered if we were that couple returning.

We enjoyed about 10 minutes of bright conditions, as did the local population of White-faced Darters (Leucorrhinia dubia). This was only our second encounter with this habitat-specific dragonfly, a specialist of bog pools. Under threat from climate change and habitat loss, as a result of drainage schemes, it is now mainly in Scotland. Our other encounter was at Whixall Moss, Shropshire. We didn’t see them for long today, the sun disappeared as cloud cover rolled in, but it was worth it.

“The grumpy Scottish couple” did turn up, briefly. They were the same couple who had helped us at the Northern Damselfly (Coenagrion hastulatum) pond two days earlier, when they’d seemed perfectly friendly. Curious.

With the grey appearing stuck, our new friends, English but familiar with this area from frequent visits, offered to Show Francine a nearby rather special orchid. A short distance up the road was a colony of Lesser Twayblades (Listera cordata). Once found, the term lesser didn’t really do justice to its diminutive size. How anybody found/noticed these in the undergrowth of a heavily vegetated roadside woodland bank is a wonder to me. An ecstatic Francine.

We’d driven passed a house called Flower Field on the way to Loch Garten, with which our other couple were also familiar. Francine had seen orchid spikes in the field as we had driven past. Our guides said it was en route to another interesting find, the Small-white Orchid (Pseudorchis albeda). Off we set in convoy again to pause at Flower Field.

The amount of orchids in this large, sloping field beside the road cannot be overstated. Everywhere one looked there was a mass of orchid spikes. Counting them seemed an impossible task but it seemed as if someone may have tried since there were poles with streamers marking various areas. Most noticeable from a drive-by were Lesser Butterfly Orchids (Platanthera bifolia) but now, with the aid of binoculars (the field was fenced) we could see that Small White Orchids were mixed in with them. Looking further, Francine and friends found lower numbers of Northern Marsh Orchid (Dactylorhiza purpurella), Fragrant Orchid (Gymnadenia conopsea) and Heath spotted Orchid (Dactylorhiza maculata), making an impressive five species in all. I’d never seen the like before.

We continued following our guides to Tullochgrue where, they said, were Small-white Orchids that Francine would be able to get close to for photographs. Our route returned to Aviemore and continued a little further down a single track road. Sure enough, just a few feet from the road we were led us to a handful of Small-white Orchids plus a few Fragrant Orchids.

Eventually some rain did turn up but it was now later afternoon. So much for weather forecasts. I don’t mind it when they get rain wrong.