Traprain Law - looking west about an hour before sunset
One of my favourite views of Traprain Law. We’d had a quiet new year. I’d gone to bed around 22:30 on Hogmanay. I’ve never been a great enthusiast for new year. By the time Christmas has come and gone, I’m thinking, enough! Despite this, we had a pleasant afternoon at friends on New Year’s Day. A languorous long lie this morning, reading. The hard frost overnight persuading me that an outing on the bike would be ill-advised. Hil and Rachel went for swim in sea off Whitesands, returning home with contemptible vigour. I’d spent the time more productively in bed, dipping alternately into a kindle trash novel (I seem to be stuck in an early 19th century military history groove) and more demanding subscription news and comment feeds.I eventually crawled out of bed for a late roast tomato and bagel breakfast, by which time the kids had disappeared down the A1 in the truck to Barter BooKs in Annick. Hil assures me that I’d abandoned them there at a tender age whilst attending a site visit somewhere in the murky depths of Northumberland. I’ve no such recollection of such irresponsible parenting, but it seems that wilful neglect is not without its longer-term benefits. Anyway, eventually Hil and I agreed on a walk (seems everything is by step/wise negotiation) - a simple walk up Traprain Law from the house (about six miles and 200m of mostly gentle ascent). It’s chief attraction is that it only takes 2 hours, straight from the front door, mostly on well found paths and affords generous views over the Lothian Plain, south towards the Lammermuirs , and north across the Firth to Fife (the Kingdom of). Gradually gaining the western ridge (appropriately gentle given my slightly delicate condition) the sun-infused air was cold, clear and possessing exceptional visibility. The Lomond hills of Fife were clear of snow, but more distant smudges of white further north could only have been the Angus Glens. The promise of the North. The descent off the Traprain ‘tourist’ path was rock hard frozen turf in the best Scottish tradition, but with only a few icy patches requiring care. By contrast, the low horizontal sun had not reached the treacherous slopping slabs of frozen water ice on the Hailes road, lurking malevolently in the perpetual shade cast by the now stripped bare hawthorn hedging. Seems indolent lying in bed, is sometimes the wiser course.
Traprain Law - looking west about an hour before sunset
One of my favourite views of Traprain Law. We’d had a quiet new year. I’d gone to bed around 22:30 on Hogmanay. I’ve never been a great enthusiast for new year. By the time Christmas has come and gone, I’m thinking, enough! Despite this, we had a pleasant afternoon at friends on New Year’s Day. A languorous long lie this morning, reading. The hard frost overnight persuading me that an outing on the bike would be ill-advised. Hil and Rachel went for swim in sea off Whitesands, returning home with contemptible vigour. I’d spent the time more productively in bed, dipping alternately into a kindle trash novel (I seem to be stuck in an early 19th century military history groove) and more demanding subscription news and comment feeds.I eventually crawled out of bed for a late roast tomato and bagel breakfast, by which time the kids had disappeared down the A1 in the truck to Barter BooKs in Annick. Hil assures me that I’d abandoned them there at a tender age whilst attending a site visit somewhere in the murky depths of Northumberland. I’ve no such recollection of such irresponsible parenting, but it seems that wilful neglect is not without its longer-term benefits. Anyway, eventually Hil and I agreed on a walk (seems everything is by step/wise negotiation) - a simple walk up Traprain Law from the house (about six miles and 200m of mostly gentle ascent). It’s chief attraction is that it only takes 2 hours, straight from the front door, mostly on well found paths and affords generous views over the Lothian Plain, south towards the Lammermuirs , and north across the Firth to Fife (the Kingdom of). Gradually gaining the western ridge (appropriately gentle given my slightly delicate condition) the sun-infused air was cold, clear and possessing exceptional visibility. The Lomond hills of Fife were clear of snow, but more distant smudges of white further north could only have been the Angus Glens. The promise of the North. The descent off the Traprain ‘tourist’ path was rock hard frozen turf in the best Scottish tradition, but with only a few icy patches requiring care. By contrast, the low horizontal sun had not reached the treacherous slopping slabs of frozen water ice on the Hailes road, lurking malevolently in the perpetual shade cast by the now stripped bare hawthorn hedging. Seems indolent lying in bed, is sometimes the wiser course.