The Dog Rambler

Tuesday

27 E-diary
April 2010

Walk Gore Glen, Midlothian Length 6 miles

Dogs on walk Dylan, Finn, Otis, Struan, Talaidh

Into the Gore Glen on a warm and fresh day with the Glen responding with the vibrant
new life of spring. A lively bunch of dogs leapt from the Jeep and rushed off down the
steep zigzag descent into to glen. Today was the first meeting of Dylan and Otis. After
some initial low rumbling growling as they met in the confined space of the Jeep once loose
at the glen they quickly sparked up a friendship, with Otis hot on Dylan’s heels as they all
raced away into the glen.

The tall spindly trees covering the glen with their canopy of bristling needle branches put
up a patchy barrier to the rising heat of the sun. The naked trunks, shuffled together as if
for warmth, caged the river with their bars. Flashes of bright ribbon were the only sight of
the river but enough for the dogs to get a hint of their first opportunity to quench their
thirst and also take on reserves for the walk ahead.

The path stitched its way through the trees following the narrow Gore Water until it was
swallowed by its neighbour the River South Esk, without any perceptible effect on its
churning volume of water. We crossed the disappearing Gore Water on an ivy clad, stone
arched bridge, holding at least a century of memories from the glen. Ahead some of those
memories lay in ruin on the bank, beside a weir. The remains of the once bustling and
dangerous gunpowder mill.

We followed the path through a widening stretch of trees on a flatter plain on a tight
meander in the river. Where the river nearly turned back on itself the dogs stopped for a
paddle from the shallow inner bank. None of them took the opportunity for a cooling swim
into the deeper waters toward the steep undercut far bank. Although Dylan and Otis
waded out several feet tongues stroking the water. Talaidh shifted her weight forward as
through preparing to push off but did not follow it through. Struan and Finn rather
meekly just paddled and lapped at the water in its shallowest area.

We followed the path which continued to lead us sashaying thought the trees travelling
against the flow of the river. The dogs jumbled together then separated or broke into pairs
before coming together again as if in some intricate dance requiring them to swap
partners as they twirled between the trees.

Across another stone bridge with its veil of ivy, we began to climb away from the river
with the path opening briefly into a grassy area. As we rose the trees soon swallowed us
again and we now were walking high above the river. The burly warm breeze carried on it
a wealth of scented information, enchanting the dogs who stopped their head down
ramblings and now walked with noses high in the air drinking deep on the cocktail.

The tress fell away down the sheer gradient toward the glimmer of the river and soon our
path began a decent but on a gentler gradient. Suddenly the sliver of river came before us
but now wide and inviting and the trees gave way to a wide plain of grass which drew the
dogs into a wild chase across its provocative terrain. Otis was the first off the mark with
Dylan close on his tail. The others having first stopped for a drink were soon also in hot
pursuit. They ranged across the expanse with a widening gap then narrowing gap between
them as they twisted and turned in response to Otis’ movements.

We re-crossed the river by another stone bridge, guarded by spiky gorse bushes, on a long
disused track as transport and social changes have left it forgotten. On the other side the
grass plain continued and so did the dogs but at a perceptibly slower pace like a clockwork
toy winding itself down more slowly and slowly and bit by bit until its momentum is
exhausted.

A small climb took us upward from the river as we crossed a spur. Rambling down the
other side the landscape and foliage was unexpected. Tall exotic cypress trees swayed above
the path and beyond. Below these a sprawl of rhododendron bushes were spreading
unhindered. It was obvious that we had stumbled into some lost, informal gardens,
abandoned to their own devices. Beyond the rise of the glen lies Aniston House, a grand
William Adam, Palladian style mansion house, over five floors sitting squarely and bold.
Most of the glen and the plantings are part of its wider estate.

We swayed through the trees following the path below a road bridge and away from the
gardens onto the forested banks of the river climbing upwards toward the village of
Temple and its ruined Temple Church. The church dates back to the twelfth century and is
linked with the Knights Templar, whose principal seat in Scotland was at Temple. After
the dogs had roved around between the lavishly inscribed ancient gravestones we headed
back toward the glen.

Coming back through the trees and the garden Dylan, Finn and Struan were tugging on
sticks, at one point three to a stick. Otis picked up the odd stick to see what the fuss was
about but did not seem to feel the same compulsion for them as the others.

Back onto the grassy expanse and more chasing ensued again sparked off by Otis. It ended
with Dylan and Finn wrestling on the ground all legs in the air. Following this the dogs
showed some signs of exhaustion as they gathered around my heels for the final stretch of
the walk.

We climbed back to the car park all panting slightly and were happy to see the Jeep come
into view, where to dogs collapsed on the back seats and in the boot.

Nick
Photo slideshow from the walk

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Nick Fletcher
The Dog Rambler
9 Links Street
Musselburgh www.thedogrambler.com
East Lothian nick@thedogrambler.com
EH21 6JL t. 0131 665 8843 or 0781 551 6765

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