Tuesday

The Dog Rambler E-diary

To 17
July 2012
Walk Dogs on walk Straight on to the Bore Stane Length 6 miles

Cyrano, Finlay, Gina, Jerry, Martha, Otis, Solo, Tim

That is pretty much what this walk is. Straight on to the Bore Stane. Only a few curves and kinks in the track as it climbs slowly to a pass and the stone. A big clump of rock, half hidden by grass and trees. But still prominent nonetheless. More so because it has the only trees for some distance. The meaning of its name no longer clearly known but its prominence still recognised. We set off along the gravel farm track between tight fields. A herd of cows making a quick getaway at our approach. Then quietness as their stumbling and bumbling faded into the distance. Overhead swifts sliced the air on razor sharp wings. Their acrobatics bringing them close to the tops of the tall pine trees along sections of the track. Finlay and Gina soon finding the first puddle in which to take a dip. Solo warming up for the steepening climb ahead ran along the track. On what was proving to be a warm day. Drapes of blue between gaps in the for once broken cloud cover. Despite being straight this is a walk over varied terrain. First the farm track between green fields edged with trees and then through a gate onto a rolling moorland like area of grass.

Here the panoramic views of the hills opened in front of us. Not of interest to Cyrano and Solo who made for a ditch or small stream. Hard to tell. But as they were not too dirty as they emerged it was probably a stream. Not clean for long, however, as the farm track gave way to an old rutted track with grass in the middle. Well there would have been grass in the middle if it were not for the thick, smelly mud. It was obvious that this section, on some low lying ground next to a small wood, has been flooded recently. Soon all the dogs and me were looking like we had been on a swamp expedition. Martha managing to stay the cleanest, picking her way over the less thick areas. I followed. Finlay just running through it. A paradise. Otis and Tim having to catch up. They had dawdled all the way so far, like naughty schoolboys hanging back. The mud gave way to a grass track as we climbed into the basin of the hills. The land rising up on either side of us and an abundance of heather beginning to show itself. Cyrano pulled a dead sprig up. Waving it for all to see. Looking for a chase. But no one noticed. Until he began to run and then Gina was over and off through the heather. This alerted Tim to an opportunity to rampage about. Jerry having needed no invite as he was already charging through the heather chasing his own ghosts. Tim had tried to follow once but got stranded in the deep heather. We approached the Bore Stane and its wind bent crown of trees. Cyrano, Gina and Tim running again over the thick bladed grass and through the heather. The track curved around the stone and trees. Before it began to cut its way up West Kip Hill we turned to head back down. Long views across the edge of Edinburgh, over the Forth and into the hills of Fife swept away in bands of colour below us. Like the rippling waves of the sea pushing into the shore. Martha kept a close eye on me on the way down as she padded ahead with the others. Cyrano, Gina and Tim finding another burst of energy to chase. Jerry putting in the odd appearance as his wide runs brought him back across the track. Back along the boggy track and we stopped by a stream to get a bit of a clean up. Finlay, Otis and Solo emerging more of one colour that the two tone they had been exhibiting.

It was back onto the gravel track. Still some energy being displayed as scents from the trees curled around the dogs and drew them in. A loud pheasant taking off in a field brought their heads and ears up. But it was the only one. Instead what they could see was the car beside the road awaiting our return.

Nick

Photo slideshow from the walk

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