There's a particular kind of luck in watching rain move across a Scottish hillside without it ever quite reaching you. That was the story of our day stalking at Mar Lodge with Head Stalker Chris, out for a September stag with nothing but the three of us and the hill.
Damp, Drizzly, and Never Quite Warm
The forecast gave us drizzle with short breaks, and that's exactly what we got. Not the kind of rain that soaks you through, but the sort that gets into your bones if your layering isn't right. From early on we could see weather fronts drifting across the glen, sheets of grey moving over distant ridge lines while we stayed dry, or dry enough, underneath our own patch of sky. It felt like the hill was giving us just enough grace to get the job done.
The heather-sided slopes rolled up and down without any brutal inclines, the kind of walking that lulls you into a rhythm rather than testing your legs outright. But hours of glassing in a damp chill tests kit and patience in equal measure. Stopping still after a long climb is when the cold finds you, and it was in those still moments, binos to the eye and waiting for Chris' word, that good kit either earns its keep or lets you down.
As it turned out, the two stags Chris picked out on the far side of the glen would be our only opportunity of the entire day. Everything that followed came down to getting this one stalk right.
The Long Crawl
Chris spotted the pair settled on the opposite slope almost a mile away, resting in full view but well out of range. Getting to them meant a proper piece of hill craft rather than a straight approach. All three of us walked back and forth behind the ridge of the opposing mountain, using the high ground to judge the best line towards the stags without ever breaking the skyline. One glimpse of us against the ridge and the day's only chance would have been gone.
Once Chris had worked out the correct line, we dropped along the far side of the mountain, out of sight of the glen entirely, and began working our way back up and over the top. That stretch came with its own hazard. Grazing sheep sat between us and the summit, and a spooked flock would have sent the stags off the hill before we got close. Every step across that ground was placed with as much care as any stalk that day, watching the sheep as closely as the wind.
Once we were over the top and back on line, Holly took up a position above the mound overlooking where the stalk would unfold, camera in hand, while Anthony and Chris continued on for the crawl itself. From up there she had a clear view of the stalk and roughly where the stags would be, but Anthony and Chris were another matter entirely. Their jackets blended into the heather and grass so well that she could only just make them out, even knowing exactly where to look.
Below her, the long crawl continued in earnest. This wasn't a short dash into cover. It was a measured, patient approach across open ground, reading the contours of the hill for anything that might give them away. Wind direction shifted more than once, and every metre gained meant checking scent and sound before moving again.
Getting above the stags without spooking them took time, discipline, and total trust in Chris' reading of the ground. There's a particular kind of focus that comes over a stalk like this. Conversation stops. Every step is placed with intent. With only one chance on the cards, there was no room to get it wrong.
The Stag
The patience paid off. Anthony took a clean shot on a twelve point stag, a result that made the damp hands and cold knees from the crawl entirely worth it. Knowing it was the only stag we'd see all day added real weight to the moment. There's a stillness that follows a successful stalk, a mixture of relief, respect for the animal, quiet satisfaction of a clean kill and the enjoyment that comes from days spent learning the ground and trusting the process rather than forcing a result.
Days like this remind you why stalking rewards those willing to sit still and wait for the right moment rather than force it. Chris' reading of the wind, the ground, and the stags themselves was the difference between a missed opportunity and a clean, well earned outcome.
Kit That Held Its Own
- Anthony's Dedito Moorland Boots handled the wet heather and uneven ground without a single slip, his Harkila Aspire trousers stood up nicely to the long crawl in over rough ground, and his Swazi Tahr smock kept him so well concealed on the crawl that even Holly, watching from above, struggled to pick him out against the hill.
- Holly's Deerhunter Lady Muflon Pro trousers stayed warm and flexible through the walk in and the long wait above the mound, paired with a Ridgeline Monsoon Classic smock that shrugged off the damp entirely.
- Chris' Crispi Hunter GTX boots and Swazi Ibex jacket blended into the ground just as effectively, proof of why proven estate kit earns its reputation on ground like this.
Why It Matters
A day like this is a reminder that stalking success comes down to preparation as much as the stalk itself. The right layering, reliable boots, and waterproofing you can trust make the difference between a miserable morning and a stag on the ground, especially when you only get one chance to get it right. Colour and pattern matter too. A jacket that disappears into heather and grass is doing exactly the job it was designed for. Weather on the hill can turn in minutes, and the gap between an enjoyable day and an uncomfortable one often comes down to what you're wearing before you even set off.
If you're planning your own season on the hill, explore our range of stalking clothing and footwear built for exactly these conditions.