The Dog Rambler

Friday

21 E-diary
May 2010

Walk From Balerno over the Kips, The Length 6.5

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

The legendary vagaries of the Scottish weather are discernible just now. It is hard to believe
that it was barely two weeks ago that we were walking in snow in the Pentlands. Today
heading for a ramble over West Kip and East Kip, it was shorts and tee-shirt weather.
Despite the sky being the texture of beaten egg whites, the power of the sun was pulsating
through and pushing the temperature up and up. The whipped cloud cover was keeping
the early morning moisture in the air, pushing up humidity levels.

We parked in the Pentland Hills’ Treipmuir car park near Balerno and set off southwards
along the mettled private road heading toward Bavelaw Castle. The five dogs spread
themselves broadly across the road and into the verges as we headed to the drained
reservoir, where some major renovation works are taking place. Crossing the bridge at a
narrow channel in the reservoir an avenue of beech trees greeted us standing to attention
beside the road which, with their sentry rose majestically in a straight line up an incline.
The trees arced over the road cathedral like, with a cool and tranquil interior. As I kept to
the road the dogs wandered into the verges under the trees, nosing out smells of events
that had gone before.
At the top of the beeches a t-junction offers a choice. We chose right and the dogs chose to
fall off the track into a channel of water. As with yesterday, water would be a precious
commodity today, but fortunately in greater supply. Having taken their first tankfull of
water, we had to wait while a farmer negotiated his Land Rover and trailer through the
gate we were headed for. The dogs calmly gathered around me to wait, sitting and
standing in a loose group, and after an almost imperceptible wave to us, with the farmer
just fluctuating a couple of fingers off his steering wheel, we moved on.

The gate took us onto open moorland shadowy and subdued in the heat of the day. Cold or
wet weather seems to bring the colours to life on moorland, in the dry and heat of today
it was rather lacklustre. Lacklustre nearly describes the dogs today too. They were all in a
great and obedient mood, but they were also measuring themselves against the heat of the
day.

The track, known as the Red Road – perhaps it is in the wet, today it was just the usual
colour of any soil track – rolled gradually upward over the moor, slipping slowly toward
the Kips. The Kips were hidden by behind the substantial swelling of Hare Hill, ahead and
to our left. Topping Hare Hill could be seen a raised area of earth, into what looks like a
platform. This marks the site were a German Junkers 88 bomber, crashed in 1943 after
having been hit by anti-aircraft fire. Sadly the crew perished, but in a sign of forgiveness
and restitution the German pilot’s son attended the unveiling of a plaque atop the hill in
1999.

Easing to the right of Hare Hill, as we continued our relentless but gentle climb, the
toblerone tops of the Kips rose before us. As I admired the view with the moorland
sweeping away below us, the dogs sought out another watering hole. They are very good at
identifying spots where there should be water, be it a dip in the ground, taller grasses and
reeds or signs of a long channel. As we moved around our circuit all these signs drew
vigour from the dogs as they foraged forward toward them, drawn like moths to a light.
Only occasionally did their mission end in disappointment, with a dry and cracked mud
bed.

Just ahead sheep fell across the undulating moor, with as usual several drawn to the path,
like the dogs toward their hoped for water spots. Many had lambs, still remarkably white,
glowing in the brightness of the day. It had just been a matter of time before we
encountered them. As with most of the Pentland sheep, they were pretty much
unconcerned by our approach, reluctantly moving away from the path as we edged nearer
and nearer to them. It was like a game of dare. The dogs’ behaviour was impeccable and
they managed to sidle past the sheep without the need to go on their leads. Some quiet
and continual talking from me kept their attention focused on me and away from the
sheep, which only got the occasional glance. A man coming the other way with his dog was
impressed by the restraint of the dogs. Further encounters with sheep as we came off the
Kips, were equally as successful.

Having stopped for a chat with the man it was now time for the final assault on West Kip,
rising conically up to obscure all behind it. Normally the sight of a hill and the start of the
climb up it is like a signal to the dogs to enter into a chase. But not today; they ploughed
forward slowly drifting across its sides. Three quarters of the way up I thought I may not
be the last to the top. However, the dogs lifted their pace as my fell away in the final steep
incline.

Coming off the top Otis decided it was time to get some chasing done. He ran back and
forth a flash of white. At first no takers. Then Finn was drawn in. But after one wheel
across the grassy slope he opted out. Otis ran again, nearly brushing the dogs’ noses with
his tousled fur but to no avail. Instead we pushed our way up East Kip, with its rewarding
views into the central Pentland glen below and the staggered rise of Scald Law and
Carnethy Hill ahead. These were not for us today. Instead as we reached the coll between
East Kip and Scald Law we took a grassy track to the left, cutting down the bulky side of
Scald Law.

Along this track gliding angularly down, the dogs ignored the sheep; senses only alert for
those tell tale signs of water. Several rather mean trickles were uncovered but the greatest
prize could be seen below on the glen floor – Logan Burn. After a gentle meander the
track abruptly dropped turning back on itself as it fell the final drop to the burn. The dogs
gratefully threw themselves into it, like an oasis in the desert.

After a long drink and paddle, we followed Logan Burn through Green Cleugh back toward
Threipmuir. The Cleugh was narrow with steep sided scree and heather covered slopes.
More sheep clustered in the shade of the high sides, on the tight floor. The path came out
around the back of Bavelaw Castle, now a family home, where we rejoined the beech
avenue. It was a short walk back to the Jeep, where the panting dogs clambered in to
settle themselves for the homeward journey.

Nick

Photo slideshow from the walk

E-diaries now also available at www.scribd.com/TheDogRambler

Follow The Dog Rambler on Facebook

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

Your dog walking service for active dogs