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The Dog Rambler E-diary

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March 2012
Walk

Into the coolness of Gore Glen

Length

6.2 miles

Dogs on walk

Brooklyn, Cyrano, Darcy, Dylan, Finlay, Otis, Tim

Another promise of a warm day greeted the morning opening of the curtains. As I was getting ready to leave home the sun streamed through the windows catching the dust in its rays. A weekend of house cleaning ahead I think. Then into the car, still cool from the cold clear night. Soon warming in the sun and, as the dogs filled it up, with their warm breath. The windows and sun roof opening further like gaping mouths trying to catch their breath. The gaping jaws of Gore Glen awaited us beckoning us down into it cool interior. The promise of water lighting up the dogs eyes. For its heady cocktail of elixirs; coolness, fun and swimming. The tall trees like fingers pointing upward and clasping each other like two hands joined formed a cover of sorts. But still quite bare. The buds of the new leaves still nudging through. But on the open glen floor wood anemones with their bright white six pointed star flowers grew. Forming unknown constellations, turning their heads toward the sun like planets caught in its pull. Down in the glen and no surprises that Cyrano and Finlay were the first to break to the river. First into the smaller Gore Water, which gently played over stones and rocks. But

they had to pass Brooklyn who had the energy of three dogs today. I think he pretty much exhausted Darcy and Tim. Darcy at his best again today ran more that I have seen him do on his last three outings put together. Dylan did not fancy the water and always waited on the path, at a little distance until the fun was over. Otis with no such qualms was in there with the best of them. So as I got warmer they got cooler. More so as we reached the wider River Esk tumbling over half broken weirs from the days when mills toiled along the waters edge. The only toil today was splashing or swimming for sticks and when these ran out stones. All this accompanied by the beat of Finlays excited barking. Echoed from the thickening swathe of trees by a woodpecker, sternly, toiling at its own industry. All along the walk we were attended by the military rhythm of woodpeckers drumming, like a hundred heartbeats in an instant. We climbed back into the sun and onto the top of the glens high barrier. Climbing the barriers of fallen trees before descending again to another of the dogs favourite places. The wide open green space sliced across by the meandering river and bordered by thick green spikes of pine trees. Above several buzzards spiralled, gliding lazily upward on rising columns of air. No laziness on the ground. Naturally Cyrano and Finlay made for the river. Darcy, Dylan and Tim raced each other across the flatness of the grass. Brooklyn was torn between the two and almost ended up doing neither. Feeling the heat Otis was in the river much more than usual. Its elixir must have worked on him for as we came back across the grass he suddenly burst into a frantic run back and forth. It did not take Tim long to latch on, like a fish chasing a lure. With some very well exercised dogs, who even the powers of the river could no longer revive, we clambered back out of the glen and into the rising heat of the day to find a fairly hot car waiting for us. Baking the dogs dry until the cool breeze blew through the open windows and sunroof. Nick

Photo slideshow from the walk

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