The Dog Rambler

Wednesday

19 E-diary
May 2010

Walk Three Peaks in the Northern Length 6.4

Pentlands miles
Dogs on walk Finn, Lucas, Otis, Phoebe, Roxy

A return to The Pentlands today, after few days away. And we were joined by a new
companion Roxy, a ten month old Labrador. She was first in the Jeep and greeted each
dog we picked up with great excitement and enthusiasm. This was not always
reciprocated, particularly by Lucas, who likes to get to know a dog before it sticks its nose
in his face.

With a full Jeep we arrived at the start of the walk, Bonaly car park, with cloud cover
rolling over the sky, a tide coming in to cover the remaining blue. The sun now a lost
starfish beneath its deepening gloom. Nothing depressive about the dogs behaviour. Once
released from the Jeep, Roxy was the centre of attention. A very excitable Finn was all
over her, Phoebe bounded up a down like a giant Zebedee, Otis tried to find a way past
Finn to make himself known and Lucas kept a stately distance biding his time.

For the first few hundred yards Roxy was on a lead with me as we got to know each
other. But once she was off, mayhem broke loose. Roxy remaining the centre of attention
was in a guddle of dogs, chasing across the side of White Hill, as we climbed away from the
car park. They wheeled over the path into the heather and short bilberry bushes, Roxy
giving as good as she got and encouraging more chasing when things began to flag. Not
that Finn, Otis or Phoebe needed much encouragement. Lucas, still being a little
circumspect could not help but get caught up it all from time to time.

We rounded the shoulder of White Hill, the south west of Edinburgh receding below us,
individual houses merging into a sea of ebbing and flowing urbaness; awash with mingling
colours. Above us the tall Scots Pines held their lonely sentinel above the city. Our path met
a fence with a stile and a dog gate, opened by lifting it upwards. Finn as usual pushed his
way to the front, Lucas took to the stile, disregarding the dog gate and Otis being the
gentleman was last through. We emerged onto moorland, climbing slowly toward the hills.
Boggy in places we ploughed across the heather and the limp grasses a combination of
bright green growth against the bleached winter stalks.

After a short breather and a drink from a stream cutting under the heather, the
revitalised dogs broke into play again. Although less manic, perhaps knowing there was still
a long walk ahead or the initial excitement of meeting Roxy had lessened. We now climbed
toward Capelaw Hill, heading for a spur. Nearing the spur we saw our first sheep of the
day, slightly below us. As a precaution Roxy went on her lead, but the others did not even
glance in the direction of the sheep.

From the spur we began the final gradual climb onto Capelaw, across a barren expanse
gently undulating upward, offering no view ahead. Then peaks in the distance began to
come into sight, we were reaching to top and tall southern Pentlands were striking for the
colourless sky. At the top all around a stunning view became clear, Edinburgh and the
Lothians to our left and ahead more of The Pentlands stretching away to the right.
Nearing the horizon, all around the hills were overexposed, their colours washed out pallid
blues and greens.

From Capelaw we headed eastwards making our way toward the higher Allermuir. The
dogs were more settled and for most of the time I had Lucas and Otis as my walking
companions, with occasional forays off to see what the others were up to. Most of the time
they were wandering over the moorland grass, noses scuffing the tops and then a sudden
burst of play.
We descended to a tall stile with wooden steps. Finn was only dog who fancied his chances
on it, leaping over and then coming back again. For the others I had to wrestle open a
dilapidated gate. Ahead and across the path up Allermuir a small flock of about fifteen
sheep were camped. A whole wide hillside to themselves but they choose the path we
wanted to walk on as their preferred spot. Lucas, Phoebe and Roxy went onto their leads,
whilst Finn and Otis walked close to me as we moved forward. The sheep saw sense and
after a short amble along the path they decided to move off it and cut across the hillside.

Free again the dogs roamed up the steep side of Allermiur reaching the top ahead of me.
Although Roxy was almost behind me, her tongue hanging out. She had overdone it in the
early stages of the walk, not knowing how long or hilly it was going to be. However, she
regained her energy when Lucas decided it was time to goad all the dogs. Having sized
them up, he made a foray for their ankles, giving a yelp for good measure. Success as they
began to chase him, but his nimble body wheeled around away from them, leaving them
lost.

From Allermuir we traversed the long wide ridge, undulating toward Caerkertton Hill.
Buffeted by the wind and pressed down by the depth of dense cloud overhead, the day was
still warm. The remnants of yesterday’s hot weather still clutched the air. This made it
heavy work climbing the last incline onto Caerkertton. It was not only the dogs who were
panting.

Coming off Caerkertton we met several people, which made Lucas bark wildly. How dare
other people climb in his hills. Whilst he ran about barking the others took to opportunity
to get some petting from some of the willing walkers. Moving on we walked along the
northern side of Caerkertton above Hillend Ski slope before dropping into the hollow below.

Now a grassy track took us over a rise and above Swanston Golf course, before dropping
down into an open grassy area with clutches of trees breaking it up. The open soft grass
provided a great play space for the dogs, where more chasing ensued. At times it was
difficult to see who was being chased and who was doing the chasing. After another water
stop there was one last climb, back around the side of White Hill.

Below Bonaly beckoned us down with the promise of a restful sit down in the Jeep.
Arriving back at the Jeep, Lucas decided he wanted to travel in the boot along with
Phoebe and Finn. Otis and Roxy sprawled themselves over the back seat.

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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