5

I want to talk to a deerstalker.

‘John MacLennan's your man,’ says Ian. ‘My neighbour.’

So I go down the lane and cross the road to John's bungalow on the hillside above Comar Lodge, where we sit outside in the pale sunshine.

John MacLennan has been stalking man and boy on the West Affric hills, hard country many miles away at the far end of the glen. According to the local custom he's Johnny Affric. His father Duncan, in whose footsteps he follows, was Dunky Affric (and John's wife is Cathy Affric). Billy MacLennan, his cousin, is the local builder and stalker at Fasnakyle but Billy's not an Affric – he's Billy Charm after his dad, who was called the Blue Charm. Strange name.

John's a thickset man, sturdy and deeply bronzed. He wears a deerstalker hat, green jersey with shoulder pads and wellies – he's been gardening. Cathy appears with a tray of coffee, shortbread, sponge cake and scones warm from the oven. This is a treat. She's famous along the glen for her baking.

West Affric, once a private estate, now belongs to the National Trust for Scotland which bans stalking for sport on its land. There's a twist to this. The trust needed to keep deer numbers down to encourage the ancient pinewood to regenerate and the group of sportsmen who used to shoot there volunteered to do the culling for them. So the trust kept its hands clean, the syndicate continued to stalk and John kept his job.

John attended the discussion when they all sat round the table and the deal was struck – somewhat uneasily on the part of the trust. He was amused to hear the trust's man grudgingly admit, ‘I suppose the stalking's all right so long as you don't enjoy it.’ My question is this: can I go out on the hill with them? Not to shoot – just to watch, as an innocent observer.

John gives me a hard look. ‘How fit are you?’ he asks. I must have passed muster. ‘Phone me in August,’ he says.