Thursday

The Dog Rambler E-diary

To 07
June 2012
Walk Exploring for a back route up Bells Hill in The Pentlands Dogs on walk Brooklyn, Gustave, Jerry, Lucas, Otis, Ozzy, Solo, Tim Length 6 miles

Murky, humid, sticky weather. Just right for exploring the hills with their energetic climbs! I was humid and sticky by the end of it, having had to take my waterproof just in case. Not needed as it turned out. Be prepared is the motto. At least I did not have the cavernous rucksacks we met which gave Ozzy a bit of a turn. It looked like some people were moving in to The Pentlands. Or maybe not because they were less than half way up the path to the hills and had already taken off their rucksacks and were having a rest. A rest which continued until we could no longer see them. But that was on our way down we had the best part of a whole walk to do before then. It all began beside the picturesque white cottage, or more of a house in the style of a cottage, at Kinleith. Bright and vivid against the backcloth of half angry, bruised clouds. Set near Threipmuir Reservoir. A long track, once beyond the deep puddles guarding its start, heading straight for the hills from beside the cottage. Off we went some running, some walking and some barking. Shuffling about to determine their walking positions. Nothing clear and they continued to jiggle around all day. Each one falling behind at some point, after lingering with their nose in the assortment of wild

flowers lining the track. A colourful array. A bit like the dogs. Black hill rose in the distance, an almost symmetrical dome, living up to its name under to brooding sky. No brooding dogs, however. Once through the gate at the top of the track and released from our corridor of trees and walls they raced off across the moorland grass. Only Otis and Solo staying back as spectators. The fun continued as we progressed deeper into the moor, only having to stop for a while because of the inevitable sheep. The smaller outline of Bells Hill now ahead beginning to grow larger in our sights. But first we had to negotiate a group of young people. Why do people always decide to stop for a rest and something to eat where all the paths join and there are gates to get through? With the dogs losing their momentum and me having to concentrate on getting them through the gate and avoiding the folk sitting and lying on the ground it was never going to be easy. A group of dogs is like a ship at sea. Moving at pace they are graceful and manoeuvrable. One they have slowed or stopped they are at the mercy of the conditions like a ship being blown by the wind and pushed by the currents. In this case the young folk and their food. Still we got away with it without any food going missing or people getting trampled. I cannot say for sure that no one got a tongue in their face. Obstacle negotiated it was time to join a small earthy path climbing over the shoulder of Bells Hill toward Black Hill. Great views along the length of Treipmuir Reservoir and away toward the central belt of Scotland. More sheep slowed us for a bit as did some very boggy ground. And an overexcited Brooklyn for no apparent reason at all. Winding Tim up quite successfully too. Then we saw what it was. Three old men, with hats and coats, had just finished a break, hidden in a dip. I can only guess he could smell their food. We caught them up as the ground gave way to a good track. Only to find Ozzy was still way behind them. He had stopped as he sometimes does when I call them to heel. But I had not noticed. Se we had to wait till he came along, much to the amusement of the men. We were not on this track for long for it was here where we sought a way up the back of Bells Hill. No real paths only half tracks left by sheep. So with some rough walking we

reached the small pile of stones marking the summit and joined our well used path taking us back off the hill the other way. The dogs getting into chasing mode again as we swooped down the diagonal track off the hill back to where we had met the young people resting. Now long gone thankfully. Back on the main track and it was the several groups of walkers some with the large backpacks who caused us to walk together rather than the sheep. With rain beginning to sweep across the hills we thought we may need to make for the shelter of the Scots Pine trees bordering the lower track. But it held off. Instead the dogs getting themselves wet in the stream beside the track and the deep muddy puddles just before the car. Nick

Photo slideshow from the walk

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