The Dog Rambler

Monday

17 E-diary
May 2010

Walk Deepsyke Forest, Scottish Borders Length 6 miles

Dogs on walk Finn, Tim, Struan, Talaidh

A lovely forest ramble today, at a semi-high altitude – around 1,000 feet, but all the
climbing done beforehand in the Jeep! Despite the height the walk is in the shadow of the
Pentland Hills and southerly a line of hills jags the horizon.

With Finn and Tim barely keeping still on the backseat and Struan occasionally growling
from the boot, like an exasperated parent telling his kids that if they don’t behave they
can get out and walk. Talaidh was keeping her head down in the boot and staying out of it
all, as I was trying to do in the front. It was a relief to reach the start of the walk.

We got there by travelling along the A702 road providing a black, exposed and unnatural
boundary to the southern perimeter The Pentlands. On reaching Carlops a small B grade
road winds further south on the way the Lamancha, which for some reason makes me
think of Spanish sombreros and Sangria. The edge of the forest meets the road not far
before a cross roads, where a left turn takes us away from Lamancha and deep into the
heart of the forest. However, we do not stop but break out the other side with The
Pentlands rising toward us as we appear to have almost doubled back. Then at the side of
the road, on the right, a discarded track, now all grasses and bogs leads out over moorland
toward the eastern corner of the forest. Here we began.

We set off along the vague track, Finn and Tim straight into the tumbling about and
straight into a bog. Undeterred they hauled themselves out and were off again. The track
undulated over the moor of great breadth, broken only by the road behind us and a fence
closely bounding the lost track. Great tussocks of thick wiry bog grasses, pustules across the
moor, left a deep bronzed patina cutting through and rising above the green of the lower,
more delicate grasses. But looking again, and in the grasses the mosses too had bronze
tinges and great bright smudges of crimson spreading low and stealthily throughout the
moorland.

The wiry bog grasses drew Struan and Talaidh into a chase and soon four dogs were
leaping and bounding. Tim, Struan and Talaidh a clashing contrast to the scenery but
Finn’s coat appearing to grow more vibrant as it reflected and reproduced many of the
colours of the moor, giving him a princely or elfish air.

The track splodged to a gate. Locked. Last time this way I’m sure it was not. Nothing for it
but to lift the dogs over the fence, with its two lines of barbed wire. Little purpose this
fence or gate seemed to serve on this isolated moor. After much effort and some
complaining from some of the dogs we were all over in one piece. In lifting the dogs over I
seemed to have inadvertently pushed some hyperactivity button hidden deep in their coats
as they hared around like newly wound toys.

Now we entered the forest. The track remained indistinct, carpeted in thick velvety grass,
masking the occasional bog along the way. At more than 20 feet wide the track helped to
make the forest feel open, banishing any shadowy figures to the fringes. The dogs loped
around the track, sniffing into the edges of the trees, but not yet venturing in.

The sun shafted through the tall trees as it rose higher in the sky, shadows retreating
further into the forest. Many of the trees themselves were more than 30 feet hight, with a
wide petticoat of green around their bases tapering upward into a slim bodice around the
trunk. The outer edges of many of the trees shone golden, where the new growth was still
sheathed in its resinous glove, a pulsating green beginning to push it away.
We reached a kind of junction, taking the right fork through a fire break with a narrow
foot worn path. Well used planks and makeshift bridges eased the way over some of the
more boggy bits. Tim too caught up in chasing Finn, ran headfirst into plank stuck upright
in the grass.

The dogs splashed around in the bog, never short of a place to drink. They twisted in mazy
runs and jumps through the grass and over some of the bogs. Although in all too many
they half ploughed, half swam through them.

The fire break opened into a wider plain and then joined a well made track coming from
the south. We joined it and headed north to where it met the road. We crossed and
entered the forest on the other side. Very similar to the area we had left the grassy path
led us away from the road curving slowly in an arc. So as an unusual tower came into
view, we were nearly back at the road.

Instead we took another path heading north, meeting a black Labrador, who Tim would
not leave alone. A few minutes on his lead was his reprimand for leaving my echoing calls
of his name to just dissipate into the forest, with no response from him.

The path took us around the northern periphery of the forest, with a shallow grassy glen
to our right. We swung back through the trees, eventually returning to the road. We
crossed again and stayed on the well made path as it plundered deeper into the southern
section of the forest. The dogs continued to roam, with now the occasional brave mission
into the trees.

The path swung around to the east where we came back upon the junction from earlier in
the walk. We now retraced our steps back to the useless gate and over the fence onto the
moorland. After picking our way along the boggy track for a while the Jeep came into
view. After a quick towel down the dogs were in and ready to set off.

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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