88: pentlands
February 2012 began pleasantly in Edinburgh. Bert's overnight nosebleed may have ruined a Travelodge mattress and taken a couple of hours off my sleep allowance, but it wasn't stopping me from a second consecutive day on the hills. I caught the bus to Hillend and was soon tensely weaving through a gorse maze (invisible people could be heard screaming for invisible dogs), then up past the schoolkids on the artificial ski slope (never done that, never doing that) and on to the summit ridge of Caerketton Hill, where I encountered a cold blast which distracted from the glorious blue skies over Edinburgh. The biting wind accompanied me along the ice encrusted ridge to the summit of Allermuir Hill (493m), the first marilyn of what would turn out to be a long day.
The wind eased as I plodded on over three unremarkable grassy tumps en route to Black Hill. Some folks in military garb were following a very odd route at first in front of me and then down to my right. Perhaps they were on an exercise: perhaps they were navigationally clueless. Black Hill (501m) wasn't of much interest: flat-topped with short heather and a decent path. My rather direct ascent to the head of Loganlea Reservoir, with its lone idyllicly situated cottage, was a little more challenging. I was already racing against the clock. How many hills could I bag before darkness descended? I opted to miss out Carnethy Hill, heading up the steep but well trodden path to the summit of Scald Law, the high point of the range at 579m and my third marilyn of the day.
Allermuir in the centre, Black Hill on the left, ascending Scald Law
The descent over the Kips to Kitchen Moss was a highlight, following a sinuous and in places fairly narrow ridge which would be greatly celebrated if it were 500m higher above sea level. Kitchen Moss slowed me down. It wasn't wet, but the heather was the thickest of the walk and I didn't find a path. Indeed, most of the well trodden paths in the area seemed to be passes over the Pentlands rather than along their increasingly ill-defined spine.
I picked up something of a track from the Bore Stane to the summit of East Cairn Hill (567m), the hill with the deepest snow of the day (the snow line was around 450m), the Edinburgh council high point and a rare fourth marilyn in day. Now the big decision: to forge ahead to West Cairn Hill (West Lothian council high point) or to descend from the col. The moon had risen. The light was fading rapidly, but surely moonlight would suffice and anyway I had a torch. The ascent went well. It is a joy to be on a snowy summit in placid twilight. Although lights twinkled in the distance this more westerly Pentland outpost felt much more remote than Allermuir. It would have been a good place to camp out (with a much warmer sleeping bag than I own).
Visible stars multiplied as I retraced my steps to the track crossing the pass near the col, the "Thieves Road". It had looked a good track, but it soon began to meander while I slipped on invisible icy puddles. Out with the torch. It helped somewhat. Looking back at Then the path flattened out and became harder to follow as the ice gave way to boggy patches. If I had lost the path at this stage it would have been incredibly tough going, but I managed to stick to it until I reached improved pasture near Harperrig farm. At some point it was supposed to kink rightward, but in the dark the change in grass tint indicating the path line was not apparent. Having lost the path, I clambered over a couple of fences, skirting just behind the back garden of the farmhouse (hearing ominous barking, but not receiving a canine welcome) and on to the dam of Harperrig Reservoir. The worst of the walk was the resulting slow, cold trudge with sore feet (I had kept them dry until the invisible puddles) along the A70 and B7031 to Kirknewton station: lots of jumping towards the ditch to steer clear of southward speeding cars.
The wind eased as I plodded on over three unremarkable grassy tumps en route to Black Hill. Some folks in military garb were following a very odd route at first in front of me and then down to my right. Perhaps they were on an exercise: perhaps they were navigationally clueless. Black Hill (501m) wasn't of much interest: flat-topped with short heather and a decent path. My rather direct ascent to the head of Loganlea Reservoir, with its lone idyllicly situated cottage, was a little more challenging. I was already racing against the clock. How many hills could I bag before darkness descended? I opted to miss out Carnethy Hill, heading up the steep but well trodden path to the summit of Scald Law, the high point of the range at 579m and my third marilyn of the day.
Allermuir in the centre, Black Hill on the left, ascending Scald Law
The descent over the Kips to Kitchen Moss was a highlight, following a sinuous and in places fairly narrow ridge which would be greatly celebrated if it were 500m higher above sea level. Kitchen Moss slowed me down. It wasn't wet, but the heather was the thickest of the walk and I didn't find a path. Indeed, most of the well trodden paths in the area seemed to be passes over the Pentlands rather than along their increasingly ill-defined spine.
I picked up something of a track from the Bore Stane to the summit of East Cairn Hill (567m), the hill with the deepest snow of the day (the snow line was around 450m), the Edinburgh council high point and a rare fourth marilyn in day. Now the big decision: to forge ahead to West Cairn Hill (West Lothian council high point) or to descend from the col. The moon had risen. The light was fading rapidly, but surely moonlight would suffice and anyway I had a torch. The ascent went well. It is a joy to be on a snowy summit in placid twilight. Although lights twinkled in the distance this more westerly Pentland outpost felt much more remote than Allermuir. It would have been a good place to camp out (with a much warmer sleeping bag than I own).
Visible stars multiplied as I retraced my steps to the track crossing the pass near the col, the "Thieves Road". It had looked a good track, but it soon began to meander while I slipped on invisible icy puddles. Out with the torch. It helped somewhat. Looking back at Then the path flattened out and became harder to follow as the ice gave way to boggy patches. If I had lost the path at this stage it would have been incredibly tough going, but I managed to stick to it until I reached improved pasture near Harperrig farm. At some point it was supposed to kink rightward, but in the dark the change in grass tint indicating the path line was not apparent. Having lost the path, I clambered over a couple of fences, skirting just behind the back garden of the farmhouse (hearing ominous barking, but not receiving a canine welcome) and on to the dam of Harperrig Reservoir. The worst of the walk was the resulting slow, cold trudge with sore feet (I had kept them dry until the invisible puddles) along the A70 and B7031 to Kirknewton station: lots of jumping towards the ditch to steer clear of southward speeding cars.