R is for Rannoch Moor #atoz2025 #booksky

Rannoch Moor is one of my favourite places—to think of, and to draw. This is the A to Z Challenge, and I’m continuing the illustration theme, with examples from my books. It’s also MMGM day. Marvellous Middle Grade Mondays, a blog hop, is run by Greg Pattridge at Always in the Middle.

My ten Princelings books and the two for younger readers, Messenger Misadventures and Cavies of Flexford Common all have illustrations. Most are chapter headings. Cavies is designed for younger readers (c 7 yrs old, Key Stage 1 in UK educational parlance). That has illustrations throughout.

Feel free to comment below!

The A to Z is also a blog hop, so do go to other people who are doing it. You can find the links here.

Rannoch Moor

A vast and wild expanse of moorland located near Kinloch Rannoch. Stretching for miles in all directions, the moor is home to diverse flora and fauna, including rare bird species and iconic Highland wildlife.

CALEDONIAN sleeper @ sleeper.scot

Rannoch Moor is vast and beautiful in the sunshine. It looks great. If the midges aren’t around, it feels great too. I’ve never been there in winter, but I can imagine the glory of the snow…

I can also imagine the utter desperation of trudging through cold wind and rain, with wet feet, sodden clothing, and a long way to a warm, cosy bed.

This is my updated illustration of Dylan, Dougall and Kevin trudging over Rannoch Moor on their way south to restore Prince Kevin to his rightful inheritance. The pen & ink illustration in the book that you can see below is an also favourite: you can see nothing in it except driving rain and a few rocks and tussocks in the foreground. I love both images. I think I captured the atmosphere!

Excerpt from The Princelings of the North

Here’s an 800 word excerpt: Dylan and Dougall are helping Kevin to get back to his home in the south, after they rescued him from the place he’d been abandoned by his uncle on Mull.

Kevin wondered how Dylan could be so cheerful when he was cold, wet, tired, and presumably hungry. They’d finished their lunch, but Kevin could have eaten twice that again.

“Shall we move on again before we get cold?” Dylan asked.

Everyone got up, and Dougall and Kevin got behind Dylan again.

An hour later the sleet gave up, although the wind still swept over them. They paused to look around. The moor spread black, purple, cream, and fawn around them in all directions. Dylan got his compass out.

“That way is south, and it seems to go on until it reaches that high ridge. The way east looks like it starts to dip down, but I think those are high hills beyond. What do you think, Kevin?”

“I see a ridge of mountains with white tops. They’re a long way off, though.”

“We’ve been going a little north of east, and to me it looks like the edge of the moor is not far in that direction. Do we want to get off the moor or head more southeast?”

“Off the moor,” said Kevin.

“Head southeast,” said Dougall at the same time.

Dylan sighed. “I was afraid of that. I suppose it’s my decision, then.” He paused for a moment, judging the light, the weather and the lack of easy routes. “I think we should get off the moor, so we can find some shelter for the night. We don’t want to spend another night up here in this cold. Are you ready? Come on then.”

They plodded on for another hour, taking heart that the clouds were lifting, or maybe it was that they were finally going downhill. The water seemed to trickle rather than ooze between the tussocks now, and they hoped it would soon become a stream, cutting its way downhill. The wind diminished to a light breeze. Kevin poked his nose out from behind Dougall and sped up to walk beside Dylan. He wanted to lead for a while.

“Aiee!” Kevin lost his footing and felt himself sinking rapidly into the cold, fibrous, gloopy mud. He thrashed around to find a tussock, or a root, or something he could grab hold of, but his cold hands refused to grip on anything, just sliding over little roots and strands of marsh plant. He could feel hands on his back, but his ears were already under the surface. Something was sucking him down, like the great monster of the moor he’d heard about in stories. He looked up into a shaggy face and tried to scream, but water came into his mouth. It was gritty and acrid and tasted of dead things. Hands pulled his shoulder and the other side of his coat. He flopped out onto a tussock, coughing and spitting the foul liquid from his mouth, and shaking bog from his ears.

“Crikey, that was close. Another few seconds and I reckon we’d have lost you.” Dylan moved to Kevin’s side and rubbed him all over, trying to warm him up. Dougall did the same on the other side. 

“Are you okay to move?” Dylan asked after a few minutes. “The sooner we find somewhere drier, the better. There’s a bit of a track just over there. Let’s get there and then you can walk between Dougall and me.”

Dylan and Dougall got Kevin over to the wider area and shook their thick, shaggy coats over him. Kevin was astounded how hot they were under the surface layer. It was like having an extra blanket. Kevin felt cold with his single layer of coat, while these two didn’t get any rain, wind, or snow penetrating the outer layer.

Walking three abreast, they made good progress down the slope. They started to see heather, then small bushes, and eventually stunted trees as they continued to lose height. The gloom of the clouds was constant, though, even though their base was higher, and Kevin felt that it was nearly sunset. He hoped they’d soon find shelter in a place where he could get dry.

They emerged from the edge of the small trees to see a flat, black area spreading before them.

“It’s a lake,” Dylan said.

“Which way does it run?” Dougall asked.

Dylan checked his compass. “Practically due east.”

“Oh dear. I hoped you wouldn’t say that.”

“Why?” Kevin asked.

“Well, it looks like a huge long lake. If it widens out at the bottom and runs southeast-ish, we’d have been at Lomond, which would be okay, but more on the way to Clyde than Edin. The other lakes on the way to Edin shouldn’t be this big. I think we’ll be able to tell more when it’s lighter, but I think this is Loch Rannoch. That’s miles and miles out of our way.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, no.”

“Well, the good thing is we’ve crossed Rannoch Moor, the most dangerous moor we could have found, and nobody is ever going to believe we went this way. If Uncle Heath is after us, he won’t find us now.”

Dougall’s good point raised their spirits. Now all they needed was shelter. And food, if at all possible

The Princelings of the North, chapter 7.

(c) J M Pett 2022

More Illustrations

The first is Kevin’s isolated ruined prison, not too far from where Dylan and Dougall live. The second is the original Rannoch Moor sketch. It’s based on a pastel painting I did of the moor from Rannoch station, many years ago. I did two paintings, one is on my wall still, and I sold the other.

Dylan and Dougall have four shorter adventures in a chapter book for eight years and upwards, the Messenger Misadventures. The Rannoch Moor incident is from the Princelings of the North, book 8 in the Princelings series.

I start by using pencil (Derwent Cassell HB or 2B) on paper. Then I use an inkpen over to create the line drawing (I have a set of three Pilot Drawing pens, nos 01, 03, and 05). After that, I usually erase the pencil. By book 9 I was doing all my illustrations on the iPad, and I could take a JPEG copy of a hand-drawn castle, and amend it, or change it about a bit, rather than start again. At present I’m using the iPad from scratch, using the Tayasui Sketches app with my iPen.

I’m Jemima Pett, author, blogger, illustrator and guinea pig wrangler. My interests are in fantasy, environment, science (inc. fiction) and thrillers, to name a few things. This is my nth AtoZ Challenge. Mostly I talk about books. This time I’m talking about something I do without much thinking about… my illustrations.