Scotland in the Spring: Glen Tilt

Most people who leave the A9 to go into Blair Atholl head for the historic Blair Castle, or are heading for the House of Bruar - that monstrous retail complex dumped incongruously in the Highland landscape. A better choice than either of those two options is to take the narrow road adjacent to the bridge over the River Tilt, and up to Old Blair to the car park which grants access to Glen Tilt. It's where I went, with my bike this morning. Atholl estates used to allow vehicular access up the glen, but they have reversed this policy, helping this long and beautiful glen to retain its wild and remote feel - a feeling that grows in intensity with every charming mile of progress made. Spring in the Highlands is wonderful. In the bright sunshine, Glen Tilt today was alive with nature, bursting out into the the Spring sunshine - the shackles of winter having been loosened so much over the last few days. A cacophony of bird-song filled the woodland air around Gilberts's Bridge, while red squirrels darted across the road, dangerously close to my front wheel. Vivid psychedelic butterflies, danced in the sunshine with all the joy of their random flitterings, and spring lambs ran and sprung and assaulted their mothers for milk. Further up the Glen a huge Buzzard soared, patrolling his domain, while the trees below echoed to the steady cooeing of the first cuckoo I have heard this Spring. Pine cones are strewn around the track, now with the warmth and dryness, all starting to open to present their seed back to the soil. Further down in the forest it is warm too, the rich carpet of pine needles is steadily heating and giving off a tasty pungent aroma

Glen Tilt is a classic Scottish glacial trench, with a flat base and steep sides - mercilessly carved through the landscape by the giant ice sheets, millions of years ago. Along the ice-formed sections of the glen, the river Tilt fans out, meandering across the flat valley-bottom, appearing to be heating the whole glen with its dazzling array of rippled reflected sunbeams. At the end of the last ice age, a huge loch formed in-front of the retreating ice, and overflowed through the glens to the south. Where such fluvio-glacial activity has left its mark, the River Tilt now rushes and crashes through steep gorges, over rocks and below towering river-cliffs.

And then I got a puncture and in disgust dumped my bike in the hedge and went on up the Glen on foot, realising that it was going to be a far longer day out than initially envisaged! Sadly time pressures then meant that I was unable to continue to the North of the glen to see the Falls of Tarf.

The lower slopes of Beinn a Ghlo, reflected in a puddle, still blocking the path.

Stripes in the heather - evidence of burning.

Peat, drying and cracking in the heat - at 800m on the way up Carn a Chlamain