Dalkeith Delight

So, last Saturday morning I set out to have a gentle run around Dalkeith Country Park, but was thwarted by park closure due to a music festival, and instead had a hard time on the rough stuff in lesser visited southern Pentland hills. This morning I'm off to the country park for a second attempt, I've checked, there seems to be no event there today, should be all clear.

The car park seems to be a field near the impressive pile of Dalkeith House. From here the start, and I've no real route plan this morning, this is going to be a follow-your-nose run, with occasional stops to consult the map if (when!) lost. One of the great things about these kinds of runs is that lost is good, lost is safe, and no need to lug around the safety stuff (compass, whistle, spare clothes, waterproofs, survival blanket, survival food ...). Anyway I'm starting along a path through the trees, marked on the OS Explorer as "Dark Walk", the earth underfoot is firm but forgiving, and I'm loving the sight of morning sunlight through the trees. It's very quiet and there are fewer folk around than I had imagined, it's peaceful, relaxing, the straight line of the path through the trees is drawing me in, my mind is emptying of work-a-day clutter, and mostly I am aware of my footfall, my breathing, and sounds of sweet bird songs.

The start at field near Dalkeith House ...

... soon onto sweet trails at Dark Walk.

I soon reach a junction in the paths and pause as I wonder which way to go, every way looks enticing, and I've little idea where any of these paths before me lead. Soon there is a new sound, rushing water, and sure enough the river is rushing over some small rapids to my right. I arrive at a pipe-line and footbridge across the river, hmm, cross the river or continue on this path, I think I'll cross the river ... now to the left a stoney track, to my right gentler underfoot, easy decision, to the right. I get the impression this track might be leading nowhere, and spot a diversion to my right down toward the riverside, alas soon a dead-end, so back onto the track which also turns out a dead-end ... at a white plastic door?!

Enjoying the sound of the river to my right.

Attractive side-trail is a pretty dead-end here ...

... and the track is a bit of a surreal dead-end.

Ho-hum turn around and back-track, but as I reach the footbridge I notice a small path to my right, no idea at all where it goes, so it simply has to be the right choice. It is, big time, I've arrived at the tunnel. Its only a short tunnel, but it twists, and is really dark in the middle. I bump into a wall, but in a couple of seconds there is light at the end of the tunnel. I remember this place, the family was here a few years ago, there are some fine horse chestnut trees on the other side of the river, and we stopped to gather conkers for Junior. I remember throwing sticks into the trees to make the conkers fall, and almost falling into the river. I do not however remember the layout of the footpaths. Anyway, I digress, and in a moment the path forks, there's an arrow-thing pointing to the right uphill, but I can see another underground thing ahead so I'll ignore the trail marker for now. There's a kind of seat-thing carved out of the rock (photo does not work well alas) on the right, and to the left a window overlooking the grand conservatory building - so this must have been created as a viewpoint. Anyway, its another dead-end, so time to back-track and follow the arrow-thing over the top of this little tunnel-thing.

Here's another charming little track to ... somewhere ...

... ah good it leads to the tunnel, short and twisting ...

... dark in the middle, but there's light at the end.

Then another underground thing ...

... with a seat ...

... opposite a window with view to the grand conservatory building.

Bah, another dead-end, and back-track.

I have a short climb and before me are the remains of some kind of amphitheatre(sp?) type construction. I run through and, guess what, another brilliant view over the conservatory. I read that the conservatory, which would have glass in the walls and roof at the time, in its glory was heated from underneath by coal fires, for the growing of exotic fruits and vegetables. Nice bridge over the river as well. Soon followed a bad patch in the nose-following approach, with a bit of snafu on the map interpretation. I know that if I go left across the bridge I have some road-work past the old stables, so I deicde to go right. After about half a mile running along the asphalt, hoping it was going to go in about the right direction, I got bored and turned around, over the bridge and past the stables. I'm amused by the sign "NEW ADVENTURE COMING SOON" (bring it on!) and a fine peacock. Quick peek into the stables yards, some fine old buildings and a few more birds, then check the map, at least I know where I am at the moment.

Some kind of amphitheatre-thing ...

... with another show-off view over the conservatory.

NEW ADVENTURE COMING SOON, and peacock ...

... fine old buildings, and more birds, at the stables yards.

The map scrap has been useful, at last, yay! Lovely little paths uphill through the trees, once more enjoying the sunlight through the canopy. Mentioning sunlight, when I left home this morning is was, to say the least, fresh, and now it is warm, I'm sweating like the proverbial and I have to stop for a wardrobe adjustment ... and answer the call of nature. Anyway, lovely view through the trees back toward Laundry Bridge (see, like I said, I know where I am now, but this will not last long ...). The great thing about a follow-your-nose run like this is that you're just completely free, you can follow any little trails you like, whatever looks good at the time, and enjoy discovering wherever the path leads. This beautiful little path seems to lead to a pond covered in green stuff, and to a path-less field. Over the fence I see a small group of pigs, looks like a couple of sows and a bunch of piglets. They are startled by my footfall, or perhaps my rasping breath. I find that in this field I am confined by a barbed fence, so I'll just follow the fence until I find a gate or something, soon I spy a stile near an old tree. I must be on one of the marked walking trails, there are green arrow-thing signs. Anyway, over the stile and more lovely trails through the trees until I reach a bridge over the river, for no particular reason I choose not to cross, to continue along this path. Good choice as it happens, in a moment I am at the "Meeting of the Waters", a bit of a beauty spot. Here the South Esk and North Esk rivers join, and continue as the Esk river.

Loving view through trees back to Laundry Bridge ...

... and the small trails forward leading to ...

... pond covered in green stuff.

Then I startled a small group of pigs ...

... and crossed a stile near an old tree.

Avoiding an enticing footbridge ...

... the Meeting of the Waters, where North Esk ...

... South Esk ...

... merge to form the Esk.

More adorable trails through the trees climbing high above the river and attention is caught by something in the grassy undergrowth to my right, great patches of something gossamer-white looking. On closer inspection, turns out to be some kind of web soaked in the morning dew, and being in the shade of the tress the droplets have not evaporated. Lovely sight, and as I plod along I'm thinking to myself that I really have seen hardly anyone this morning, I'm surprised, am I the only person who will see this sight today. Then a couple of lady runners come charging toward me, as we pass we exchange a brief "hello" and "lovely day", then a short few seconds later I am alone again, and once more I am so aware of the quietness of the sound-scape, the sweet songs of the birds, the river below - I realise that I, with my footfall and breathing, am the intruder. The tiny trails give way to rutted forestry tracks (careful not to trip on the branches here) and on my right another green stuff covered pond. Oh hang on a moment, is this in fact the same green stuff covered pond I passed earlier? Well, turns out it is, and moments later I'm back at a gate I remember passing through earlier and wondering what to do now. I don't really want to back track more, so over some fields until I find a gate, and then more wonderful trails through the trees until I reach a fork. Hmm, left or right here ... well right is the smaller path, so I'll go that way, and what a nice surprise I'm near one of the rivers (not much of a clue which of them) and lost in dreams admiring the sight of sunlight reflected on the water. There's a sudden noise from behind, a bird startled and flapping through the trees, and I am startled and awoken and onward. I can hear rushing water, is that a hint of a waterfall or a weir ahead of me ... turns out to be a weir and a rather grand bridge. Small diversion down the steep river bank for a bit of a ganders, and a stumbling jog back over the stones.

Webs with dew, gossamer-white in the grassy undergrowth.

Is this another green stuff covered pond here? Oh!

Ah, easy decision, the smaller path every time.

Loving the sunlight reflected on the water.

Diversion to observe bridge and weir ...

... and a stumbling jog back to the footpath.

The footpath leads through an arch in the bridge to a fine view of the big house but no path forward. I think I'll back-track and take the left fork up to the bridge, and now with these landmarks a good time to consult the map and decide what to do next. So this is the Montagu Bridge, to my left on the road I'll be back at the car park field in a couple of minutes, to my right the very strong possibility of more woodland trails and getting lost again. So its right, a hundred metres or so on the asphalt, and to my left I see earthy tracks down into the woods. Surprise, as I start to descend the same two lady runners charge toward me again, smiles and "hello again". There is a large network of paths here with lots of temping turns on tiny tracks, soon I reach another junction with arrow-thing trail markers, which I think will lead me back toward the big house, so instead I decide to head on a grassy track beside a field, admiring the wide branches of the grand old trees, imagining the sight of these beauties in the fullness of autumn. The track turns to the right and passes over an old, decaying, stone bridge crossing a stream, here I see to my left the path less trod and as ever this is the way for me now.

More lovely tracks through the sunlit trees ...

... and after crossing an old decaying stone bridge ...

... I can see the path for me.

Happily going this way and that way with no sense of direction I suddenly pop out of the trees onto another gravel road, and jogging along the grass verge I remember this place, This is the King's Gate, this is where I was told, one week ago, that I could not enter, due to the music festival. I hope the folk at the festival had a good time, but honestly I am muttering under my breath, and a little bit tempted to jog up to the gate and make some appreciative gestures. Luckily I spy an irresistible break in the trees to my left, once more the path less trod, the blades of grass are tall and wet with dew, my feet are wet and cool. I spend a short while happily plodding on tracks through the trees, losing all sense of time, loving the sounds of the woodlands, and then in what feels like an instant I am awaken from the delicious reverie by a sense of deja-vu. I've reached a path junction which is somehow familiar, I was here earlier, hmm, which way shall I go now ... I am remembering that just a little before I reached this place I was so very tempted by a tiny path to my left, so its an easy choice now. Running here the undergrowth is caressing (scratching) my calves and I could hardly be happier, too soon this turns out to be another dead-end. The way-marked trail is above me to the right, so a short scramble. More random route choices, dead-end trails, and I don't have a clue where I am ... yet I know exactly where I am, because I am in paradise. I have a hunch that paths leading generally straight ahead will somehow lead me back to the Montagu Bridge, and its about time to wrap up this run ... fortunately the nav-fu is bang on at this time and soon I am trotting over the car parking field and finish.

Ahead the King's Gate (grr) ...

... irresistible break in the trees to my left ...

... the path less trod, grass tall and wet with dew.

Enticed by this small path ...

... alas another dead-end.

Lost and found in paradise.

Summary - very happy very gentle run this morning, I will be back here, there are so many more trails to explore. Too many photo-stops, I couldn't help myself today, I must learn to snap on the run. Distance 10.8km, small ascent/descent 180m (felt like more!), on the go (and the stop) for about 1:25. Message to runners of Dalkeith - you are very lucky to have this wonderful place on your doorstep.

Enjoy!

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!