Last Thursday I picked up Great Uncle Murphy and we took a wee walk on Lewis Crag above North Third reservoir. You may remember I mentioned the igneous sill exposed at Gillies Hill. Well, the crags above North Third would appear to be another exposure. If you look at the shot below taken from Google Earth you can see the line of crags starting at Stirling Castle in the north – continuing through Gillies Hill – then onto Lewis crag.
It was a rather pleasant, if sometimes boggy, amble – until we hit the uphill section.
Great Uncle Murphy likes to be in front…too far in front for my liking. There are places where I would rather he was behind me and approaching the crags was one of them. I whistled, he trotted back, I waved him behind, we started upwards…
“Harrumph…sorry m’boy….sorry…oh, sorry….harrumph!”
Maisie could walk at my heel without too much difficulty on ascent…but Great Uncle Murphy was another matter, as he clipped my heels for the umpteenth time.
“Sorry m’boy, it’s the arthritis y’know…damned paws won’t go where I want them to these days”
Defeated, I ordered him back to the front.
There is a more than passable view from the top of Lewis Crag, my only problem has been trying to photograph it. Why? Dogs and crags don’t mix. Today was to be no exception.
One thing Great Uncle Murphy has in common with his late sister – the total inability to stay seated when told to. Turn your back for a second and he’s right behind you. There was another blast of “MURPHY” when I realised, a couple of feet from the crag edge, that he was now only inches from my heels…not a position I was over happy with him being in given his performance on the ascent. I pointed away from the crag. Tail down, he turned.
I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the old boy as he plodded away, he was trying his best.
But it wasn’t all bad news for Great Uncle Murphy. He had a great time, nose down, thumping through the old deciduous woodland on the way back to “The Tank”, his straight, stiff, front legs stomping their way over centuries of compacted leaf mould muttering as he went…
“Harrumph…damned rabbits…where d’they go…I’ll show ‘em…harrumph!”