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.

We have a sunny day in the offing. Don’t get excited, it’s the only warm-ish sunny day in the foreseeable forecast. There are some sunny intervals forecast in a few days but the temperature is then due to top out at a risible 13°C. Sheesh!

Since today we had sun and clear mountain tops, and since we’d hit our target species here already, we thought we could play tourists and go to try the Cairngorm mountain railway, a funicular up to near the summit of Cairngorm itself. We munched a bacon sarnie to keep us going and set off

We paused en route at a ski car park for views back over Loch Morlich, beside which we were camped, and Aviemore (sans fuel station) in the distance. Quite pleasant. Then we headed off for the funicular station, parked, grabbed cameras, and wandered off for tickets.

Now, get this. The funicular ride to the top is just 8 minutes. The 8-minute ride costs a whopping £13.50 each. Once you get to the top, you can’t leave the building (restaurant and obligatory gift shop) and walk UNLESS you have booked one of their guided walks. For their guided walks, they want another £12.00. Jee-zus!! Has someone got themselves a license to print money, or what?

OK, the view was quite pleasant – midsummer’s day tomorrow, sunny day, 8°C at this altitude – but it ain’t worth £13.50 when all you are now is the captive of a cafe and gift shop with no hope of escape other than descent. We went, “ooh, ahh”, our bank manager went “ouch!”, and we descended to look for sun-loving insects in what may turn out to be our solitary sunny day.

Uath Lochans [I think lochans are small lochs] looked interesting – three modestly sized lakes with nature, car park and footpaths. I skilfully overshot the turning to the car park so we had too flip a U-turn t try our approach again. We turned around at the entrance to an estate but, more importantly, opposite the entrance was a mossy pond with dragonfly activity. These turned out to be Four-spotted Chasers (Libellula quadrimaculata) and Large Red Damselflies (Pyrrhosoma nymphula). Nothing greatly exciting but worth a look.

Our second attempt at finding the car park was more successful though it looked oversubscribed. A man was boiling water in the only remaining space. He graciously moved for us. He was into dragonflies, too, and asked if we’d come for Northern Damselflies (Coenagrion hastulatum). Well, yes, I’d love to see more of those. He pointed us to the lochan’s edge and we set off in wellies. Good choice of footwear – off the path things became decidedly boggy. We saw a few blue and black striped jobs. Eventually I managed to snag one. Wait a moment, that’s a Common Blue Damselfly (Enallagma cyathigerum), surely? There were Four-spotted Chasers and Large Reds a plenty, too, but blue and black stripes-wise, the story was the same elsewhere: just Common Blues.

We walked a good distance around one of the tracks but didn’t see anything different. Now I was left wondering if there actually were Northern Damselflies here or whether the Common Blues might have been mistaken for them. Frankly I doubt the mistaken identity but we saw none. We never saw anything resembling the correct habitat for Northern Damselflies, either, but maybe there’s a patch around one of the other two lochans. We’ll never know.

We finished the day with a visit to the nearby RSPB reserve of Insh Marshes – sounded interesting. The map wasn’t great but we chose a route through an orchid field. It turned out to be about three miles around and showed nothing in the way of marsh but at least Francine got to find some more orchids: Fragrant (Gymnadenia conopsia), Heath Spotted (Dactylorhiza maculata) and Northern Marsh (Dactylorhiza purpurella).

How many times has this happened? We turn up to a new location in reasonably fine weather and look forward to our visit. Then morning dawns – well, almost – to the gentle drip of rain and cloud-laden skies, thus dampening ones enthusiasm a tad. I’ve lost count and whatever my lost count had been it just went up by one.

Mercifully the rain eased off as we were enjoying our traditional first-morning hearty (i.e. fried) breakfast. The solid cloud was still with us, though, and the temperature was a paltry 12C. This did not bode well for odonata hunting. We thought we could usefully go and scout the likely Northern Damselfly (Coenagrion hastulatum) – a.k.a. target #1 – locations around Loch Garten but prior to that, investigate Aviemore to see what it had to offer. That way we’d be ready if and when the conditions improved to favourable.

Aviemore had most of what we might need. We bought a few supplies in the modest but reasonably sized Tesco store and, unusually for me, I bought some additional warm clothing, the temperature being lower than I had anticipated. A Fatface sweatshirt appealed. Well, you’re never too old to slip on something trendy. [Oh yes you are!]

What Aviemore doesn’t currently have , as I mentioned previously, is a fuel station. I quizzed the very friendly assistant in Fatface and she informed me that the fuel station was being redeveloped and would return. The redevelopment, however, would take 3-4 months, much to the horror of the local inhabitants who now have a 30-mile round trip to get fuel every time their vehicle needs topping up. At least Aviemore is not permanently screwed, though. We got a couple of OS maps, too.

So, after shopping, here we were shortly after midday, two days before the longest day of the year, so-called midsummer’s day even though it is actually the start of summer, and the temperature in the Cairngorms was a blistering 12.5C, accompanied by some occasional drizzle. It’s Scotland; I was prepared for some rain. What I was not prepared for was rain at 12.5C. Brrr!

Even more staggering was the temperature gradient between here and back home. At home Francine’s sister was “suffering” 29C. With a temperature gradient like that you should be able to hook up a thermocouple and power the National Grid.

We arrived at the Loch Garten RSPB reserve. We approached the young lady at the welcome desk and what was lying on the desk beside her? The European Guide to Dragonflies and Damselflies by Klaas-Douwe Dijkstra and Richard Lewington – the European bible. Promising. I explained our interest ans she helpfully pointed us at a couple of known dragonfly ponds.

Before heading off to find the ponds, we just had to go and see poor EJ who was still sitting on her now empty nest. EJ is a female Osprey in the public limelight. She made headlines this year when a heavy fall of snow in May all but buried her sitting on her eggs. She and her mate, Odin, have been together for about 9 years and have raised many chicks successfully. Having overcome the May snowfall this year, however, real disaster struck. Soon after the chicks hatched, Odin disappeared. His fate remains unknown. The most likely theory is that he died, for whatever reason, but today we overheard another idea that he may just have become “tired of it”. Hmmm? Either way, EJ couldn’t hunt for fish but had to remain on the nest to keep her chicks warm. A forlorn hope: with Odin, the provider, missing, the chicks didn’t get fed and they perished in the nest. The last chick to hatch had never been fed at all. Such is nature’s dark side. Hopefully, EJ will find another suitable mate next year.

The first dragonfly pond proved difficult to find, largely because we’d been directed to the wrong side of the road and because it was considerably smaller than I had expected, about 4m/13ft long. Eventually we did find it but “not a creature stirred, not even a mouse”. Given the current conditions, I was not surprised. It looked most suited to Whitefaced Darters (Leucorrhinia dubia) with its floating moss, though, rather than Northern Damselflies (Coenagrion hastulatum) which like sedges and horsetails of which there were none.

The second pond proved easier to find, largely because we spotted four bods, two with tripods and cameras aimed over the water from the boardwalk. We parked and added to the throng. The two tripods disappeared. Our remaining friends, also wildlife enthusiasts with top of the range Canon kit, said the tripods had been trying long exposure landscape shots. Boardwalks tend to shudder unless everyone remains motionless. I don’t think they were especially impressed.

The temperature was still only about 14C. Odos tend to remain motionless themselves in such conditions. Our friends had some binoculars and had spotted my first target species in the horsetails which surrounded part of the boardwalk. I got some shots – distant shots but shots. In the tangle of horsetail stems focusing proved tricky so I tried switching to manual a few times. In these conditions I was surprised to have seen anything. I was moderately satisfied.

We began heading back. Francine spotted an orchid in the verge at a corner so we stopped for her to snag that. It was a lonely-only Northern Marsh orchid (Dactylorhiza purpurella), a new one for Francine’s catalogue.

Passenger happy, we paused a second time to call into an old fashioned tea shop where we indulged in a pot of tea for two and a date and walnut scone each. The scones were excellent. As we sat feeling a little like Derby and Joan, breaks appeared in the cloud. What the heck; we headed back to try to improve on our initial Northern Damselfly encounter.

And improve we did. When the sun was out the temperature soared to ~17C and the Northern Damselflies were now active. We saw a couple of couples in cop – our first glimpse of a female – and I found a spot just before the beginning of the boardwalk where there were specimens I could get better access to. I played with those for quite some time and eventually a female posed all by herself. It’s nice to have the full set.

Now, on a day on which I expected nothing, I’d got my first target and was a very happy camper indeed.

We awoke to a dawn chorus comprised largely of Rooks croaking away. Eventually, a Song Thrush joined in and added several more tuneful notes to the chorus. Our stop at Tebay was about 30 miles shy of our originally intended stop so today would be a little longer than originally planned at 260 miles. We hitched up and hit the road at 08:30.

Fuel planning. Now get this: Aviemore is a major tourist destination both in winter (Cairngorm skiing, wsalking) and in summer (walking, canoeing, Odo hunting). There is, of course, also a significant local population. Aviemore no longer has a fuel station. It had a fuel station but the fuel station has closed. Can you believe it? From Aviemore, one now has to drive 20 miles in either direction, north or south, just to buy fuel. I can’t help but note the irony of a restricted fuel supply just a spit inland from Aberdeen, the centre of the UK’s oil industry. [OK then, DK – Disunited Kingdom.]

Such things are an important consideration when towing Guillaume. A tank of fuel, good for ~500 miles solo in our latest, more modern tug, is good for ~300 miles with Guillaume in tow. What I didn’t want to do was drive today’s 260 miles and pitch up running on fumes with the nearest fuel station then a further 20 miles away. Were I to have filled up at Tebay, our overnight halt, that’s exactly what would’ve happened. So, having used 240-miles worth yesterday, we set off and squeezed the remaining 60 miles out of our tank before filling up. Now I had some flexibility; a modest safety net.

Relaxed about fuel, all went well until, approaching Glasgow, Sally Satnav began bleating about some problem en route. We weren’t really sure what she was saying. That’s our fault for not being quite as familiar with BMW satnav technology as we might be but it didn’t appear to be recommending a detour. Road signs spoke of a road closure “in off peak times”. Francine set about fiddling with Sally Satnav to find out what she could while I kept driving. This took her ~5 minutes worth of shuffling back and forth between screens, screens which required careful reading, and still left us unsure. Imagine being faced with that as a solo driver, concentrating on the screens instead of the road ahead. No wonder people have accidents. I really do have to question the application of modern technology, sometimes.

We were approaching Perth, site of whatever the problem might be, around midday on a Sunday; not off-peak presumably. Sure enough the road was not closed but there were lane closures leaving just a single lane still open on each road at the major confluence of the M80 and M9. Once again, forward motion ceased, with occasional progress yard by yard. This queue was a baby, though, compared to yesterday’s accident (I wonder if they had been interrogating a satnav?) and we lost only 25 minutes covering a handful of miles.

We’d driven out of England’s blazing sunshine into Scotland’s cloud cover. There was occasional drizzle, too, but then things brightened as we approached the Cairngorms. We checked in to the Glenmore Forest Campsite at about 15:00 in sunshine and with plenty of fuel left. 😉 We were rewarded with a delightful pitch in the woodland close to the shores of Loch Morlich.

Those traffic jams are tiring, though. Where’s my drink?

The start of Guillaume’s Grand Tour.

Guillaume’s Grand Tour has been months in the planning. It was originally going to be a male bonding trip with just Franco and Guillaume. Francine had been intending to take her sister to see Casa Libélule in Spain, so I hatched a plan to go to Bonnie Scotland hunting Odonata; just me and Guillaume. I’m missing four Odos from my UK list and two of ‘em can be seen only in Scotland. [One of the four can be seen only in Ireland, incidentally, but you can forget that – wild horses wouldn’t drag me to Ireland.] Since my track record vis-a-vis weather in Scotland is pitiful, I blocked out three weeks, hoping three weeks would give me some chance of a bright spell or two, and began researching dragonfly hotspots and likely campsites nearby.

The National Biodiversity Network Gateway was a great help identifying locations – it’s where all the observation records we submit end up. Their original Interactive Map application was terrific. Then some wag decided to “improve” it. Their new mapping application is not terrific. Such is progress. Fortunately, my planning pre-dated the change.

My first stop was to be a week near Aviemore looking for Northern Damselfly (Coenagrion hastulatum). Then I’d move over to Loch Maree on the west and spend another week trying to find Azure Hawker (Aeshna caerulea) whilst simultaneously trying to avoid the accursed Scottish midges. Then I’d go for a third week in the centre, just on the north-western side of Loch Ness investigating Glen Affric, supposedly Scotland’s prettiest glen as well as seeming to be a bit of hotspot for my Azure Hawkers. Who knows, if I was lucky there’d also be a chance of Northern Emerald (Somatochlora arctica).

Then Francine’s sis couldn’t do Spain so Francine could come, too. That’s fine, Guillaume and I are glad of the company. [Did that sound sincere?] It did require some re-planning, though. Francine, being keen on landscape photography, fancied a bit of real west coast sunset stuff [the sun has to come out first, Francine]. Dutifully, I shortened each of my planned stays at the three original campsites and plugged in a fourth site, to be our second stop, right on the coast at the western end of Loch Maree. Right, everyone happy? Booked!

Eventually, a further adjustment was needed. I’d originally planned to stay en route at Englethwaite Hall near Carlisle, in both directions, a handy-dandy Caravan Club site. Then their blasted local water company decided to dig up the main approach road closing it. The resultant diversion wasn’t helpful. Instead, I booked in to the campsite at Tebay services [this is the best service station on our motorway network] on the M6 and has a bona fide campsite. Much less faffing about.

This morning at 08:30 Guillaume, Franco and Francine set sail for Tebay. It’s a journey of 240 miles so should be ~5 hours. Traffic was flowing well; the M6 Toll Road would’ve been a waste of £6.60. Our first comfort break was at Stafford services, which were pleasant and even had a large pond in the sunshine with some Odos to record. Good start. 🙂

Around Wigan, at junction 26, on the M6 things took a turn for the worse; the traffic stopped. We sat in continued glorious sunshine, baking just a little, because some dickheads had contrived to have an accident closing two out of three lanes up at junction 27. J26 to J27 is a distance of four miles. It took us 75 minutes. Nothing trivial, I trust?

We checked in at 15:00 after 6½ hours. No matter, the campsite residents get 10% at the Westmorland farm shop at the services and they do have some good cheeses. And wine.

It’s a good job we’re doing this in June 2017 because it’s been announced that this long-standing campsite at the finest service station we’ve got is to close for good in September this year. Apparently, offices are going to be built. The delightful campsite staff said this was described as “progress”, with a wry smile on their faces.

Ah, yes, I’m very familiar with progress that makes things worse.

What a crying shame. Though a little utilitarian – all cinder gravel hard-standing; no grass – the campsite really is quite pleasant, very friendly and extremely convenient. It’s at the perfect halfway point travelling from the south to the north AND you don’t have to piss about going far off the motorway and back again. Sad.

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