The Dog Rambler e-diary 05 Sept 2011
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Transcript of The Dog Rambler e-diary 05 Sept 2011
8/4/2019 The Dog Rambler e-diary 05 Sept 2011
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and
Walk Hartside Hill and Clints Hill,
Scottish Borders
Length 6 miles
Dogs on walk Dylan, Jolie, Lucas, Maggie, Solo, Tim
The twin hills of Hartside Hill and Clints Hill rose gently before us, a slight dip separating
them. Hartside Hill cloaked in its thick coat of trees part of an extensively planted pine
forest. Its partner Clints Hill different. Open moorland looking a little cold and bleak under
the ominously clouding sky. Some of the clouds rising in great columns climbing high into
the sky. Turning from a fluffy white to a threatening angry grey and black.
With one eye on the weather we set off along the track toward the forest and its winding
route cutting casually up the slope of Hartside Hill. Jolie was immediately off down the
track so full of energy. She caught the others by surprise and was on her own. She
stopped, looked back. Thought about it and came bounding back. Leaping into the air and
landing right in front of Lucas. That was enough and he chased off after her back along the
track with Tim gallantly pushing himself along behind them.
Nearing the gate we had to wait for Dylan. Who recently has taken to moseying quite
slowly, sticking his head deep into the grass to get the fullness of the scents. As we waited
Maggie and Solo stole off into the stream passing under the track, their splashing sounds
giving away their supposedly surreptitious foray.
The Dog Rambler
E-diary
Monday
05September 2011
8/4/2019 The Dog Rambler e-diary 05 Sept 2011
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Through the gate and the path cut right, but hold on someone was missing. Somehow
Maggie and Tim had failed to get through the gate because of one last dip in the stream.
Reunited we pressed on. Ahead of us on the hillside, towering above the mature trees,seven wind turbines rose white and majestic. Each of their three bladed arms turning
slowly in the mild breeze. Like the hands of clocks, counting down time.
Between the hillside’s coat of trees the track had a scarf of heather. Ribboning along on
either side pulsating with purple against the deep tweed colours of the stems and leaves.
Into it ran Jolie, Lucas and Tim and then back onto and across the track. As they began to
run along the track Dylan and Solo joined them. But as they swung off again Dylan kept on going to head the walk and stay there. Solo slowed down again until caught by Maggie
who he meandered along with.
Climbing higher the distant hills came into view, blueish and pale in the hazy light as the
sun fought against the semi blanket of cloud. In the fields below the cows, horses and sheep
were mere spots but the occasional lowing and bleating drifting on the air reminded us of
their true size.
Atop of Hartside Hill stands a tall communications mast. A skeleton structure of latticed
metal converging to almost a point at its top as though it were bones waiting to be clothed
in flesh. Its electronic equipment of dishes and aerials humming almost imperceptibly, its
heartbeat. Jolie ran beyond it into the boggy hummocks of grass. I called her in case of
deer. I had seen them once here, nestling in the grass, quite some time ago. Until we
pitched up and spooked them away. So you never know. There were not any today. Wereached the trig point marking the true top of the hill, almost hidden in the trees.
We were not finished with the hill yet and returned to the track to follow it round the
other side of the hill to a natural turning point. We headed back until we could cut off
onto Clints Hill. Bare compared to Hartside Hill and with a smaller almost truncated mast.
Beside it an ancient cairn. Clashing modernity with lost history. Without the trees we were
afforded wide uninterrupted views. Of no interest to the dogs who relished getting backonto the wooded track where Maggie sprung to life leading Jolie on a chase down the
track. Without doubt she can go faster downhill. But she was soon panting and left Tim to
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take up the chase. However, he was beaten as Jolie ploughed into some deep heather
leaving him marooned half sunk like a capsized rowing boats. Jolie found a stick and Tim
swam out of the heather to tug at it with her. By now Lucas was just behind me and no
amount of encouragement could persuade him to go ahead and join the games. He washappy just like Dylan waiting some way ahead for us to catch up.
We did, by the time we reached the gate again. In a less splayed out group we arrived back
at the car able to look to our left to see the trace of our walk climbing up the hills.
Nick
Photo slideshow from the walk
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Nick Fletcher
The Dog Rambler
9 Links Street
Musselburgh www.thedogrambler.com
East Lothian [email protected]
EH21 6JL t. 0131 665 8843 or 0781 551 6765
Your dog walking service for active dogs