Roaming free (eventually) on Morven

The weather was set fair on Wednesday for a roam up and around Morven, our favourite Aberdeenshire Hill.

See how I am on a lead at the start of the walk. 

This unsatisfactory situation persisted while we ascended the first, rather steep, section of the hill.

Gail claimed I was restrained because of the sheep grazing on the lower slopes. But we passed a group of hikers who offered an alternative explanation. They had paused to 'admire the view' (i.e. catch their breath) and commented on how lucky Gail was to have a dog helping to pull her up the stiff gradient.

Do you think they were right?

What's certainly true is that when we reached the gentler slopes of the broad summit plateau I was at last allowed to roam free. So I raced on ahead, stopping only occasionally to remind Gail to hurry up and ensure we reached the small summit shelter ahead of the group we'd passed.

I'm pleased to say we made it! As usual on top of a hill in Scotland, even the least protection from the wind was welcome.

I was a good boy and did not chase the solitary mountain hare we saw near the highest point, or the brace of ptarmigan on stony ground a bit lower down. Gail failed to catch these on her camera, but she did take some photos of the wild, expansive landscapes which we both love.

Near the end of the walk, and entirely of my own volition, I took preemptive action to avoid the need for a bath in the kitchen sink.

Wild swimming (or at least wading) is so much more fun than a home shampoo, don't you think?

Happy Nature Friday friends! Once again we are delighted to take part in the LLB Gang's always wonderful blog hop.

On the beach at Nairn

Gosh that looks like fun.

Can dogs go kiteboarding?

YouTube says yes, but Gail says NO!!!

Neighbourhood gossip

We're spending another few days at the Torridon cottage. Yippee!

The early morning walk here is a c.2 mile circuit through the scattered settlements of Wester Alligin and Inveralligin 

The route should take about forty minutes, but that depends on who is around and how much they want to talk. Yesterday we set off before eight am and didn't get back until after ten thirty.

I expect you want to hear the local gossip.

We're just walking out of the gate when Mary, from a nearby cottage, pops over to discuss concerns about sightings of the dreaded invader Rhododendron ponticum. A noisy cuckoo in the woods behind us seems keen to muscle in on the conversation.

Further up the road, Donnie the local crofter has much to say about the recent road resurfacing work, claiming the council has poured so much tarmac on our quarter of a mile stretch they could have filled every pothole between here and Inverness. Oh and, now that his lambs have arrived, he's hoping for some rain so the grass will grow. (Hoping for more rain is not a sentiment you'll often hear in this part of the world...)  

Behind neighbour Phil's gate, I spot a new resident, a chunky bulldog, but I'm not allowed to say hello to her. She belongs to Phil's son and, Phil says, she has "issues" (don't we all?)  Apparently this bulldog has lived in Australia and California and has been transported between continents at phenomenal expense. Because she's worth it. I guess. 

Friends Julia and Alan are out in their van and, Highland style, they stop the vehicle in the middle of the single track road for a wee blether. They have grandchildren staying just now, and are trying to think up ways of tiring them out. Gail says "just like living with Nobby then..."

At the other end of the village, while Arjan and Gail boringly discuss local school closures, I am frustrated at not being allowed off the lead to play with Arjan's Patterdale terrier, the appropriately named 'Nipper'. 

A new part-time resident, out for a run, slows down to walking pace and introduces herself. Turns out Caroline's a geologist, husband's a GP, she works in Aberdeen, and knows some of the hill runners in Gail's Thursday cycling group. They have the 'it's a small world isn't it?' conversation. Later I notice a handsome yellow lab on Caroline's doorstep. I hope I get to meet him properly soon. 

Finally, we see Irish terrier Duffy and his owner Bridget, out for a stroll. Duffy is a year older than me, but Bridget says she is still waiting for him to calm down. A discussion on terrier behaviour ensues, and Gail shows Bridget the video of me doing the weave poles (see Friday's post).

In truth, Gail has contrived an excuse to show that video just about everyone she's met this week. 

You might almost imagine she's proud of me.

Just one thing this Friday...

Comparisons

Some readers might remember the old (19th Century) fox terrier oil painting on the wall of Gail's not-very-tidy study. 

I wonder if anyone else saw one of the photos from Monday's post and noticed a similarity in the composition? 

And on the theme of comparisons, Gail had the cheek to ask me if my foxie friends from Sunday really are the same breed as those stuck up types who strut their stuff around the show ring at Crufts...