Pentland Hills 8 July

Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Gus, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Rex, Robert

It's a hard life being an Ooter

We met at Paul’s flat in Dalmore and were treated to bacon rolls and coffee on our arrival – none of this ‘You’ll have had your tea nonsense’. Many thanks to Paul and Margaret for their hospitality.

Our guide for the day, Paul, had promised us a fairly gentle walk in the Pentlands and so we set off for our starting point at Flotterstone Visitors Centre. This was to be new territory for us and the earlier rain had not dampened our enthusiasm. The first stretch, in which we met intermittent brief showers, took us from the Centre towards Glencorse Reservoir before heading up across Phantom’s Cleugh. At this point the rain became heavier and stayed so for about twenty minutes before going off and staying off for almost the rest of the day. The track we were following took us gently up across the countryside until a smaller path was taken up to the top of Capelaw Hill. By this time the weather was clearing and views across the Pentlands and over to Edinburgh began to emerge from the gloom.

A dreich view of  Glencorse Resevoir

The well-defined path network could be seen and our route was to take us down Capelaw Hill and straight up Allermuir Hill which at 493m was to be the highest point of the day. Coffee/lunch was called for in the gully between the two hills and in the shelter of a wall, but Allan decided to do the climb first before stopping. Johnny joined him and they reached the top before having a break and enjoying the ever-improving vista.

Is Abramovich in town?

Looking back as we climbed Allermuir Hill

The castle emerges from the mist

Johnny surrenders

Next stop is Allermuir Hill

Spot the bridges

Once the whole gang had assembled at the top, the path was followed down and then up again to Caerketton Hill where, lo and behold, Margaret, Paul’s wife, was waiting for us. Paul had turned sixty-five the previous day, so Margaret had brought up a bottle of Prosecco and birthday cake. A lovely touch, and we toasted Paul’s health and wished him a happy birthday. Maybe next time Margaret could see her way to bringing up a barrel of beer!!!

Seriously, thanks again Margaret.

As our Sherpa set off down the path back to her car, we continued on our track down the hill. This was a steep descent which tested all the old knees and ankles, but nonetheless we made it without mishap and congregated at a signpost. After a short discussion about which was the best path to follow, we, not surprisingly, took Paul’s advice and headed along a damp track which bordered Boghall Plantation. At this stage thoughts were turning to the pub, but the walk back to the cars was to prove longer than expected. “The cars are parked below that hill in the far distance. The one that looks like a bum”. “You mean buttock summit”, was the cheeky reply.

The walking was not proving to be easy as we followed the way markers over farm fields, on sloping ground, and along muddy paths before we stopped for a breather at the Tytler Monument(s). Tiredness was approaching and we were happy to arrive at the Souterrain at Castlelaw which meant that we were nearly home. Nearly was not enough though as, not like us, we lost the path and headed down an open field before being confronted with a jaggy hedge and slippy, challenging wee slope to negotiate before emerging on to tarmac. This not-to-be-recommended route did however bring us out a quarter of a mile nearer the cars than the path we should have taken – every cloud etc.

The weather was beginning to deteriorate again and we were glad to avail ourselves of the shelter of the toilets of the Visitors Centre to get changed. The walk had taken a full five hours and we made the short journey to the Flotterstone Inn for FRT.

Well done Paul on organising this grand day out.

When's the next bus back to the cars?

Arthur's Seat