Thursday

The Dog Rambler E-diary

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October 2011
Walk Dogs on walk

Around some Pentland Hills Darcy, Jerry, Lucas, Ozzy, Tim

Length

6 miles

Our third day in a row in The Pentlands. Making up for lost time having been laid low with that chest infection. And another day of glorious sunshine. So low in the sky that its warmth was dissipated before the rays reached us. Casting out long shadows like eerie halloween figures grasping in the grass and heather. The sun catching the deep orange of the bracken waving in the wind, making it glow like flames licking over the hillsides. Leaving Bonalys busy car park we climbed through the high Scots Pine trees, dotted with deciduous trees in their autumn coats of oranges and browns. The dogs headed up the wide track to the gate out onto Bonaly Moor. With the open deep brown twisted heather stretching away the dogs got fully into their stride. Darcy on form today was keen to be at the centre of the action. But who to play with first he had three willing partners in Lucas, Ozzy and Tim. Jerry was already off bounding through the heather. Unable to make a decision Darcy just threw himself into the middle of them and waited to see what would happen. They all responded and soon there was a mass chase. Jerry echoed this with a forlorn chase after a grouse, disturbed from its lair in the heather.

Before reaching Bonlay Reservoir we cut off to head toward Harbour Hill and across its shoulder. I could see the white dots of sheep strewn either side of the path we were going to take. Its brown muddy line cutting diagonally through the pale bleached out grass, beginning to flatten under autumns clutches. Why the sheep were so eager to occupy this windy shaded slope I do not know. But they were not keen to give it up. As the dogs walked very well to heel, we had to stop several times to give the slow sheep the opportunity to reluctantly move away. The dogs waited with great patience and were eventually rewarded with a chance to run and chase over the thick grass slopes. From Harbour Hill we travelled down Maidens Cleugh on its gravel and mud track, deeply cut by the wheels of bikes. The low sun light up the land but obscured our views. The dark ridges of some further off Pentland Hills in the shade of the sun cast gloomy shadows in our direction. From in the shadows smoke rose from a shepherds cottage. White, twisted and gnarled like the ghost of an ancient tree. Slowly dissipating and seeming to become part of the wispy clouds hanging overhead. As we climbed back upwards leaving the deep blue gaze of the reservoir winking back at us from below the dogs raced off once more. Good moorland grass wrapping around them as they flayed about, jumping and twisting in a manic dance of intricate meaningful moves. Each one a signal to each other of how the chase was to proceed. This continued as we half climbed Capelaw Hill before heading off along a faint grass path around the low deep corrie. A tumbled down a long abandoned shepherds cottage mournful and lonely cast a long shadow from its sole remaining half gable. Like a sundial marking the long passage of time and decay. As we climbed out of this lonely corrie, a line of backpacks silhouetted against the sky caught the dogs attention. The weighted down people slowly climbed a wooden stile over a drystane wall. They had all just crossed by the time we reached them. Much to the dogs dismay, as they had shown a keenness to greet them. Then one straggler caused Lucas to bark. We crossed over the far shoulder of Capelaw Hill following the path drawing us back to Bonaly Reservoir. The dogs threw themselves into its cold waters. Jerry was back out almost immediately. But Tim bravely swam twice as Ozzy and Darcy stood knee and ankle

deep respectively, staring at me as through I may do something. We did not linger and strode quickly to dry off back across the moor. But the dogs had not finished yet with Darcy and Ozzy racing off one way and Lucas and Tim the other with Jerry not able to find any more grouse picking up with them. The trees led us back down to the car where a contended and weary bunch scrambled back into the car. Nick

Photo slideshow from the walk

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Nick Fletcher The Dog Rambler 9 Links Street Musselburgh East Lothian EH21 6JL

www.thedogrambler.com nick@thedogrambler.com t. 0131 665 8843 or 0781 551 6765

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