Glen Clova

There was a heavy dew this morning when we crawled out of the tent, but thankfully the strong wind of yesterday which played havoc with pitching our second home had completely died down.
The sun was up, and skenes of geese flew overhead honking an early morning greeting to us.

We drove to Glen Clova and walked from there up the road to Glen Doll with the sun beating on our backs and our jackets tied round our waists.
The verges were full of thistle down and late heather, while further back the bracken was turning from green to gold and umber.
The shadows on the glen sides were well defined and dramatic; nothing disturbed the silence, only the very occasional car passing.

We couldn't believe our luck: the weather was hotter than ever with the tar on the roads softening beneath His Lordship's walking poles.

Now back to the tent with the hope that the weather stays fair for striking camp tomorrow.