The small figure of my granddaughter (she’s slightly smaller than me) emphasises the scale of Puck’s Glen, the marvellous gorge to the north-west of Dunoon. After the autumnal russets and golds of the world beyond the gorge, today’s walk was green - green moss, evergreen trees - black, and rushing white water. The path winds to and fro, crossing a variety of bridges, climbing steeply to the forestry track above, passing below dripping crags and trees with massive roots like the strangler figs growing over the ruined temples of Cambodia.
It seems like only last year that we were encouraging the very small grandchild as she made her first adventurous ascent; now she strolls along taking photos and discussing sleepovers.
At least the gorge remains the same ...