Rough stuff and a grave matter

I've spent the last few days dreaming about a couple of hours of easy going morning trail running through the woodlands in Dalkeith Country Park, just outside Edinburgh, enjoying changing colours of approaching Autumn. Luckily the family cooperate this morning, but I must be back home at before lunchtime, I am expected around noon, take Junior to play with a friend in the afternoon and other dad duties. I read that the place opens at 9am, so I'm coming toward Dalkeith a few minutes before, and signs direct me to the King's Gate which is not the usual entrance. Something is up, and I soon find out what's going on here. There is a music festival here today, and no way am I being allowed into the park without buying a ticket. I think to myself this is madness, the event runs from 11.30am to 11.30pm ... all I want to do is have a nice little run around in the woods ... nobody will see or hear me ... and I'll be gone before they even get started. (I guess I should have done some research!?) No matter, I am turned away, and what to do now ...

For some reason unfathomable I'm also remembering a run over Black Mount and White Hill in February of last year, and looking down onto pretty little Dunsyre Hill, thinking to myself at the time, I should have a run there soon. Just about eighteen months later and I've never been back. Recently I learned of a kind-of-nearby feature in this southern/western part of the Pentlands Hills called the Covenanter's Grave. It's marked on the OS Explorer and there seems to be a path from the little village of Garvald just off the A702 near Dolphinton. So as Plan B I'll try to scratch the itch today, find somewhere to park in Garvald, along the footpath to the feature on the side of Black Law, then across open country down to West Water and back up into the line of hills to the west, ending on Dunsyre Hill and across fields back to the car park. Found a space in Garvald, better phone home to let Mrs know about the change of plans, gah no signal. Drive into Dolphinton, make the call, I'll be home about an hour later, slight reluctance in acceptance, and back to Garvald.

I'm off and a short jog along the road past Garvald Home Farm with some impressive architecture. Immediately onto the soft stuff and endless gates, stiles and footbridges across the low lying fields, looking toward Dunsyre Hill with anticipation.

Some fine stone buildings at Garvald Home Farm

Straight onto the soft stuff, with stiles and gates and ...

... welcome wooden footbridges over the streams.

Enjoying a sense of anticipation looking toward Dunsyre Hill.

The route here is very well sign-posted which is a GoodThing(tm) for me this morning. I have a few scraps of maps to cover the possibilities of the journey, compass and bearings etc, but I can leave all of that in the waist pack for now. Feeling grateful to the Friends of the Pentlands at the moment. The little footpath leads me above and down along West Water and I'm happy, this is a beautiful gentle peaceful place. Too soon the path climbs above the river and before me lies a great tract of moor before me, Black Law looks very far away, and I start to feel apprehensive. This does not look like land which drains readily and there are plenty of pools and areas of too-soft ground. This path less trod becomes very faint, often indistinguishable from sheep tracks, and is often lost at the frequent boggy or heathery patches. There are signposts, which is good, but perhaps they are a little far apart, as most often standing at one post I cannot see the next. The next almost always comes into view somewhere unexpected as I struggle over rough wet ground, having again been deceived by some sheep track. The ground is so wet, too many times I am in ankle or even shin deep. Progress is slow, I cannot run much of this ground, in places I can only just about walk, sapping the strength in my legs. Time and time again the path is lost, and found, and lost again, and found again, and lost once more while I hack through heather, and then at last I stumble on my first objective, the Covenanter's Grave on Black Law.

The orange finger of Autumn touches the bracken above West Water ...

... a beautiful peaceful little place.

The wet moorland ahead, Black Law so distant ...

... conditions often like these.

The path (well, some path) at times easily found ...

... at times nowhere to be found.

The relentless not-steep but rough climb on Black Law and then ...

... at last the grave.

The Covenanter's Grave is a sombre, yet, I find, uplifting tale. November 1666 a local shepherd came upon a Covenanter soldier wounded at the battle of Rullion Green. The soldier was wandering the hills seeking a point where he could see the hills of Ayrshire (presumably his home) for the one last time. The next day the shepherd found the dead body of the soldier. He moved the body onto the high moors on Black Law from where you can see the Ayrshire hills in the distance between Bleak Law and Darlees Rig.

Bleak Law, what a name, certainly this place is bleak, but it has a great beauty and a great peace. I am completely alone with the sheep and the birds, there is no artificial sound here whatsoever, this place evokes in me a sense of timelessness and of perspective. I have not seen a soul since the farmyard and I do not think I will see anyone until I return. Well, anyway, I cannot hang around here, before long I must resume regular adult duties. The plan was to descend across open country to West Water, cross near a small dam, and then ascend on the flank of Bleak Law. I can now see the flaw in the plan, it is the nature of the open country before me ... abundant heather interspersed with wet bog. I see a solitary tree and decide to head in that direction then take stock. Near the tree, which looks very out of place here, I can see the dam quite far away. I must continue down toward the water using whatever small breaks in the heather I can find, or at least finding the shorter patches - the tall heather has been scratching my undercarriage for several minutes. I cannot describe this motion as running. I can hardly describe this motion as walking. The best I can come up with is heather-wading. Its jolly hard work indeed. I arrive at a rough track and contemplate the next move, but checking the watch I have very little choice, the last hour has been really hard work and at same time really slow work. I simply do not have time to climb these hills today, I must be home and be dad, I must run hard along the track which is heading in the about right general direction for now. Goodbye, Bleak Law, another day.

I should descend here to West Water, first I'll get to the tree ...

... an incongruous tree, with small dam in the river in the distance ...

... more of the same heather wading leads me to this rough track.

Goodbye Bleak Law ... for another day.

Surprise! I see a mountain biker approach, and stop to say hello, and remark on how I never expected to see anyone this morning. Then another biker appears, and a third ... looks like mum, dad and daughter out to get a shot of healthy green exercise, excellent! They seem concerned that I might be lost, I am not lost, I know good enough where I am, I don't know exactly where I'm going, but I have map scraps. We talk about where we are going and where we have been, they are very interested in the location of the grave. I pull out the relevant map scrap, show them where we are now, and the way to the grave - but it's not really mtb-able, sorry ... I give them the map scrap anyway, I don't need it anymore today, maybe they might find it useful ... and they take a photograph. The track becomes muddy and crosses a few streams, at the first I can just about hop over the stones to the left, at the second I can't be bothered and enjoy a nice bit of a splash through.

Your truly :)

First stream crossing, hopping stones to the left.

Second stream crossing, splish-splash-splosh!

Strikes me that perhaps I should have a look at the map scrap, perhaps I should figure out where this track really goes, being as I'm running hard and sweating with a purpose, to a deadline. Looks really good up to a point, and, oh that's interesting, there's markup for some ancient remains, a Long Cairn and an Enclosure, just to the right as I will reach a T-Junction in the farm tracks. Well, I dont think I found any Long Cairn or Enclosure, perhaps a couple of not-so-interesting mounds of earth, but I did find a looks-like disused white wooden house near a small loch. And the diversion provided a great view over Dunsyre Hill, sorry little hill, another day, promise. Anyway, I said, the track looked good up to a point, and I've reached that point. I'm over rough ground again, trying to avoid distressing a flock of sheep, and doing battle with some exuberant thistles. These beauties are ninjas, one of them just sent a thorn straight through the mesh front of my shoe and its stuck into the front of my left big toe - ouch - just have to stop and pull the thing out I guess. To my right I see more gentle fields, so over the barbed wire fence. This field contains three mounds with piles of stones, most odd, looks like the remains of some ancient buildings.

Not so ancient relics found on diversion ...

... ah bonny Dunsyre Hill, I'll be back, promise.

The track is no more, over the rough, and this was the easiest part ...

... and the thistles were not even the worse part.

Ruins of some ancient home maybe?

The map shows a footbridge over West Water and this is what I need to find now. The only obvious path here leads to something which is certainly not a footbridge, although possibly maybe I could cross there. Ah, ok, map shows a pipe line and the footbridge just a little downstream. Should I go down, it looks steep, unsafe, but I can see as bit of a track over the tops of the bracken, so find a safe way down through some trees. Do I see some free-camping on the other side of the river here? Hmm, mentioning the river, no sign of a footbridge? Ho-hum, maybe some more splish-splash-splosh, well, looks kinda deep ... but what's this, a path-sign pointing steep uphill through the overgrown undergrowth ... cannot be right ... hmm is that a hint of a footpath I see to the right, some of the grass looks a little like it has recently been crushed underfoot ... and good, now here's that footbridge. In a minute I can see the farmyard, I'm nearly done.

Gah, that's not a footbridge ...

... maybe somewhere down there ...

... nope, not a footbridge.

You have got to be joking, back up there? Oh, hang on, ...

... ah, now that's a footbridge, at last.

Farmhouse in sight, home straight!

I reckon I'm on the home straight now, camera stowed, and over the field to the last footbridge. Just one last ankle deep wet marshy bit and then the last field, where fate serves me a final challenge. When I came over the gate into this field earlier there were a few sheep and an (at first) placid cow with bullock calf, as I went carefully along the fence edge mum and son got very interested. Now they are sitting between me and the gate. I spot a stile in the opposite corner of the field, as I jog along mum gets up and moves toward me. The stile is all broken and only leads into bushes and a waterlogged ditch. Meantime mum has sat down again, I must make it to the gate, sprint, and only just clear the gate before mum is upon me. In the adrenaline rush I take the wrong turn to the back of a barn and sheepdog barks and snarls, go back, unexpected gymnastics over the stile, a few deep breaths, and an easy jog back to the car.

What a morning, not the best of, must be said, not the worst of, probably, but sure you explore somewhere new you have to accept it does not always work out tickety-boo. Well I've only done 11km and 220m of ascent, and it has taken me about 100 minutes, the going has been hard. I want to run the next time on easier trails, and run faster, so the events at Dalkeith seem to be over this weekend, and perhaps ...

Enjoy!