Monday

The Dog Rambler E-diary

top 23
January 2012
Walk

An almost aborted hill climb Dylan, Jolie, Lucas, Otis, Solo, Tim

Length

6.25 miles

Dogs on walk

What a horror Tim was today. He likes to push boundaries but today it all went too far. We had got nicely through the idyllic tiny hamlet of Swanston and were beginning our climb toward the hills. A traverse of Caerketton hill, Allermuir hill and Capelaw Hill was on the cards. It was a bright cold day ideal to capture the clean air of the hills. As we sidled up between some still proudly producing gorse bushes I spotted two women and at least four dogs on a downward course. Their dogs were roaming about in and out of the bushes. I gathered our group together and in a tight bundle we moved toward them. Then whilst they were still some distance off Tim broke the invisible bind. He began to shoot off. I called on him to stop. Which he did. Only for a second though as he weighed things up and then shot off even faster throwing himself into the melee of other dogs. We were little more than half a mile into the walk and he was up to no good. But worse was to come. As I gathered all the dogs back once the two groups had passed each other. I bent over to give Tim a ticking off and to also put him on his lead as a wee punishment for such disobedience. Instead he twisted out of his collar and ran about leaving me with just

the hoop of fabric in my hand. From this point on he refused to take any notice of me. Dashing this way and that to keep as far away from me so there was no chance of him getting into further trouble or more importantly onto the lead. The rest left him to his antics except for Lucas who was a little traumatised by it and slotted in behind me hardly to fall outwith my shadow thereafter. Jolie bounded about but with Tim keeping clear and Lucas hiding she had no one to play with. Dylan, Otis and Solo were just keen to keep moving. This became quite difficult as we began to climb the steep diagonal pathway on Caerketton Hill. As we slogged up Tim ran along the lower slope below the path until he had to come back toward us as the fence beside the ski slope rose upwards. It levelled for twenty yards before climbing again and on this level patch Tim sat down and refused to move. Guessing he would eventually, we pressed on gaining good height. But each time I looked back he was still sat there. After some time we were about a quarter of a mile ahead of him and still he sat there motionless. Now no more than a white speck in the green yellow grass. The next section took us out of sight. We disappeared and then waited. Surely now he would have to follow. Patiently the others sniffed and nosed about as we waited. I stepped back and peeked. He was in exactly the same spot. Nothing for it but to go back down. As we neared him he ran on ahead but not in any of the directions we wanted to go. By now I had decided that it was best to get him back to the car. That took another three quarters of an hour and more than a mile out of our way on a range of wrong tracks. He was playing with me running in amongst the others, mingling with them, but then refusing to go where we needed to. Until we were able to usher him back through Swanston with a little help from another walker (who thought the others may have been bullying him!) as I struggled in vain to get him to follow us onto that last bit of path. We left him in the car to think things over and set out again. Needless to say we did not cover the hills but did manage to swing around on to the Caerketton ridge from its other side. We had followed most of the paths on the Swanston side. We went up from the western side of the golf course. Jolie now finding a good playing partner in Dylan as we clambered over the tussocky lower lying hillside. Our climb onto the ridge revealed elegant silhouettes of further hill ridges their darker and lighter shades delineating which range

each hill belonged to. Lucas did join in occasionally but it took some persuading. Otis and Solo were more than happy to stroll and sniff. Until it came to heading off the ridge down a very steep almost ravine like descent. Ahead they all dashed as I picked my way down. Then it was back onto some of our earlier paths and the return to Swanston again. Tim was sitting very quietly in to car as the others piled in around him.

Nick

Photo slideshow from the walk

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Tuesday

The Dog Rambler E-diary

top 24
January 2012
Walk

Gradual ascent to Snow and the Bore Stane

Length

6 miles

Dogs on walk

Gustave, Finlay, Jerry, Gina, Otis, Solo, Tim

After his disgrace of yesterday Tim was on his best behaviour today. Possibly helped by their being no other people or more importantly dogs to distract him. There were plenty of his pals to keep him entertained too, particularly Gina and Gustave. A great shame for Otis. He has been staying with me the last couple of days and has had some respite from the dog in season in his street who had been driving him mad. Lo and behold Gina is now coming into season and once again his hormones had him in their grip and he was helpless having to follow her about. This resulted in him getting pretty muddy. The Pentlands themselves were dusted in white from an overnight snowfall. But it had been rain lower down and our farm track taking us into the hills was mud and puddles. Soon they were all pretty grubby. It cut a straight line beside scrubland fields toward the white glow of the hills, just being claimed by drifting clouds snaking down their slopes. The harsh croaking cry of pheasant sending Jerry off the path and into the deep grass or between the occasional lines of trees. Sometimes joined by Gina or Tim and up front Finlay leaving the track once or twice. Finlay was well ahead today. Stopping to look back but moving on again before we got anywhere near him. I probably should have called him back and encouraged him to mix a bit more. However, he seemed happy and Gina had her paws full with Otis following her, Solo gallantly by her side and her trying got get away from them to play with Jerry. Tim had all but been pushed out by this, so as the path began to twist through a scrubby grass field come moor he moved closer to Finlay and found himself kind of marooned in a no mans land between them all. To our right the lonely farm house, more visible than usual with the trees having cast their leaves, marked the turn in our way. Onto another less solid track beginning the long fairly gentle climb to the Bore Stane, sitting at the top of the pass coming off the cloud misted East Cairn Hill and going over to North Esk Reservoir. The Stane is a rocky outcrop protected by its mysterious troop of stunted and twisted trees, exposed to all weathers and beaten and lashed into their wraithlike shapes. They cast long glances down toward us and were our constant guide and marker as we climbed upward and through icy ground into shallow snow.

On either side the land began to rise toward forming a gateway of hills. Finlay ever drawn forward looked back less and moved a little further ahead. Gina slipped her escort and chased with Jerry. Tim still unsure who he should link up with finally came back and harried about Gustave. As we neared the Bore Stane the sky darkened making the slight snow covering seem all the brighter. We pushed our way up the final steepening slope and reached it. The rain holding off until we began to descend. Little use in cleaning up the filthy dogs. Finlay joined us briefly before making his way back to the front. Tim did rejoin the group and the way down saw the occasional tumbling about with involving him, Gina, Jerry and Gustave. Otis possibly glad of the respite and Solo happy to check on me. The rain only drizzled darkening the track back toward the car. For good measure the dogs ensured they were well and truly filthy but there was little else they could do on such a muddy, water filled pot holed passage to the car. Nick

Photo slideshow from the walk

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