Water everywhere but loch is out of reach

Hello. Welcome to part two of the story. So there we were, desperate to find some fishing as the previous few days' rain had scuppered our plans for river fishing. We piled into Ally's Land Rover, which I was coveting, and set off.

Mark and Ally had found a loch on their Ordnance Survey map that they thought looked good. Ally rang up the owner, to ask if we might fish it. At some point that day it had rained but – and this is testament to what a good time I was having – I don't remember exactly when. But as the roads narrowed and became less manicured, we started driving through bigger and bigger puddles, until we had to keep the windows shut because the whole car was getting drenched.

The inside of the car grew quiet as we all looked out at the scenery which was becoming more dramatic and more awesome by the minute.

"The great thing about Angus" said Ally as we headed off road, "is the variety in landscape. You've got the coast not very far away, big flat open spaces, then the mountains... the glens." Suddenly, it seemed as if we'd turned this corner and left the 21st century behind. We appeared to be at the end of the world (in a nice way). We'd left the relative flatness of Brechin, from where we'd originally set off, far behind and were now in Glenesk, the least commercialised of the Angus glens. No telephone poles, no awful mobile phone masts or satellite dishes in sight, no roads, no people. Nothing. Just huge stoney mountains with waterfalls – made overkeen by the previous rain – oozing out of them.

We were all instantly calmed, in the way that only big nature can soothe. Personally I was in heaven, already mentally selling off my worldly goods and picking out a spot that I might pitch a congruous tent to live in. Forever.

We got a little lost, passing right by some beautiful horses that made me feel like I was in a 1970s Athena poster. We knew we'd have to pass a ford, but weren't sure how passable it would now be. When we got to it, Pete – like all of us, clad in waders – waded in to check. It was much deeper than it looked but Ally drove through with the little Land Rover, brave as a terrier, lurching sideways, then safely through. Eventually we passed a little house on the Invermark Estate, which Ally informed us you could stay in (for those seeking real seclusion it's called the House of Mark, tel 01356 670315 or see www.thehouseofmark.com). To the left of us was the water of Mark which usually, I would imagine, is a tremendously passable bit of water. But not today: it was very coloured, very fast and – we discovered by poking my wading stick in here and there – too deep to wade. There was no way we were going to cross it.

Maddeningly, the loch we wanted was just on the other side of the water. We could almost touch it. But we couldn't see it. It was in a raised bit of landscape. "I bet it hasn't been fished for years," said Mark, imagining and drooling. I could see Pete and Mark champing at the bit. We discussed all sorts of ways we could cross the river. "Let's get a ladder and put it across the river," someone said despite the fact we had no ladder. "Let's try and swim it," someone else suggested even though this would have meant being swept away. "Let's just drive in and see what happens." We paced up and down, looking for bits that were narrower. But where the river slimmed down, the water was way too fast.

"There's no way you're crossing that water," said Ally, finally and wisely. "It's too coloured and you can't see where you're stepping." With heavy feet we all got back into the car and drove back, stopping off at another loch, Loch Lee, on the way to have a look. The weather was closing in now and there was one solitary little boat doing battle with the elements on this vast loch – the source of the river North Esk that we'd been fishing earlier that day. It costs only £10 to fish this loch (01356 670208) and you've a chance of catching beautiful brown trout and arctic char – left over from the last ice age. I think that's tremendously exciting. If you do get there, do pay a visit to the lonesome little ancient graveyard just by the loch. It's an evocative sight.

a.barbieri@independent.co.uk