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The Dog Rambler E-diary

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October 2011
Walk Dogs on walk

To the Bore Stane in The Pentlands Gina, Jerry, Finlay, Solo, Tim


6 miles

A fairly straight but climbing walk today as we headed to the high point of the Bore Stane. A changing landscape makes this an interesting walk despite its near linear progress. A lack of sheep also makes for a fun outing for the dogs, giving them more free range. Finlay took this freedom to heart and held sway at the front keeping well ahead. Only coming back when I called him back after getting a little too far ahead. He soon ploughed on again. Bizarrely after we turned to head back he was more often than not found in amongst the rest of them. Play was suspended on the first stretch. A farm road half one third tarmac, one third gravel and one third water filled potholes. The low sun reflecting off them like highly polished glass mirrors. Also streaming into our eyes and the camera lens making photos difficult to take. The dogs with their head down pushed forward toward the sun. Then from amongst the tall, slender trees and the coarse undergrowth several pheasants at irregular intervals took nosily to the air. Cracking their wings against the branches and snapping them together in almighty noise. Added to by their coarse calling. The dogs heads

came up and their feet picked up their pace. Soon they were running about. Their actions casting more pheasants into the air. All out of reach, turning from peacock brightness to small dark marks on the cobalt blue background off the sky. Before floating rather shakily on widespread wings back toward the ground. Jerry threw himself off the path, causing more to flap upward. Finlay came back to watch with the others hoping for a slow or misdirected one to come their way. None did. We left the line of trees as a gate thrust us onto the low moorland. Yellowing grass bending to autumns unyielding passage of time, stealing away the colour to eventually leave only empty husks. Across this undulating expanse Tim and Gina began to raise their spirits and power up ready for more fun. Not pheasants this time but with each other. Finlay strode off along the slightly winding road into the dazzling sun. Jerry bounced in the bending grass, rising above the now seedless tips of the stalks. Solo proceeded on a steady course making his way safely between the melee of Tim and Gina and the random crossings of the track by Jerry. The track swung by the farm peeking from some trees and turning into a rutted, puddled track led us by another line of trees and up onto the higher moor now splashed with heather and climbing toward the strangely shaped and stunted trees picked out on the horizon atop the Bore Stane. We climbed toward it with Tim and Gina still mithering each other and running into the heather. As the track climbed a little more steeply we slipped our way over the wet logs, placed to ease the passage of the occasional vehicle that must climb up here. The dogs ran around the Bore Stane, a group of large rocks covered in spongy grass and the twisted lonely trees. Like ancient hieroglyphics containing the secret of the stane. We turned around the Bore Stane and with the sun behind us began to head back down. Now below us a flattish plain of autumn coloured fields leading toward the misty blue of the Forth. Now Jerry rejoined us and had soon attracted the attention of Gina who sensed a new play mate. With Tim in tow they raced off into the grass. With Finlay back with us too he was not spared the attentions of Gina and Jerry.

With fewer pheasants the farm road was quieter, only disturbed by the squabbling calls from a high skein of geese. The dogs walked in a more orderly fashion back to the gate and car sitting just off the road.


Photo slideshow from the walk

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