trA1l marathon

That's supposed to say trail marathon with A1 in the word trail. As in the road. As in a mixed trail around the A1 that goes for 26 miles. Needs some work before I market the hell out of it like the N500.

With the weather looking cold but bright I packed my backpack for a long Sunday run and set the clocks forward. The run was ostensibly marathon training as the Porty Sunday run was too grim to consider (out the coast road again 😨) and I have to keep that road FRESH for marathon day in May. Haha.

So while I was pretending it was run training, it was a route that suspiciously went past half a dozen favourite butterfly hangouts within shouting distance of Dunbar. If you can shout 13 miles. Since the first train only left Edinburgh at 11am I checked out the bus option and it seemed surprisingly helpful. Stop at Abbeyhill less than a mile away and about an hour to Dunbar. I ignored the tragic loss of an hour overnight to the B(ea)ST, and managed to get up the road for a sunny, chilly 8.45am bus to Dunbar. Extra camera battery packed and skies blue. It's gonna be GREAT!

My only slight worry was the forecast for Sunny Dunny wasn't as clear skied as the Edinburgh version. Perhaps I was going to the wrong place? And also it was single figure temperatures and the butterflies might stay indoors. I tried to be grateful that I had my health and it would be a very jolly run anyway. But in my heart I knew if there were no butterflies I'd come  home disappointed. Several people had been posting great photos online and in social media, and although I generally cover more ground than any of them it is rarely as fruitful ground. Often, as today, I'll return to places I've had successes before, but sometimes I feel as if I'm searching a cellar in the dark, blindfold. With tied hands. Just where are these wee bastards?!

I got off the bus about 10am, found a coffee to glug back in the street then headed East out of town on the Doon Hill race route. Birds singing all day though not a flutter in sight, and worse still, the sun had gone behind a cloud by the time I ducked below the A1. Guess that meant no Speckled Woods sun bathing 2 turns away where I found the first ones of last year. I took the first of many blossompics but didn't wait for the sun to return. Plenty more places to visit. Accept defeat with grace. Move on.

About 4 miles of mostly runnable climb eventually levels off at a broken down cottage. Last year on May 10th I did a very similar run (blogged here) and could have happily spent 2 hrs trying to photograph the Orange Tips and other Whites dancing in spirals at this spot. There are neglected woods across the trail from the cottage and the whole place was heaving with butterfly action. This time though was a bit early in the season and despite an extensive kick-search through much of the undergrowth there was absolutely nothing. Apart from an odd looking squirrel with an unusual bounce and raggedy tail. 2-nil. Try not to be discouraged. 

The trail then descends to Woodhall. And the sight of a peacock rising up from the dirt path ahead was like a blessing. Well at least there were some butterflies out and about today. I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. I got a distant shot but didn't bother with close ups as it was a bit flighty and sat on the dirt there; it was never going to be a masterpiece. I ran on with a spring in my step waving very jolly hellos to an elderly couple who smiled and said kind things about my running.

first of the day!

I took this exact photo a year ago as well.

First major place of exotic beauty is Woodhall Dean. It never quite comes out in photos as brilliant as it is in real life. I come here regularly on snake hunts. Mostly theoretical snake hunts as I've never seen so much as a single forky tongue slithering off in the leaflitter. It did seem ideal snakey weather. Cold enough to lure them out into the warmth of the sunlight; if a little early in the year though, according to the signage. I was pretty sure there'd be no snakes but kept my eyes open all the same.

Normally I'd do a circuit of Woodhall Dean exiting at the entrance and continuing on to Pressmennan. However after studying the map I had noticed a farm trail just a hundred yards beyond the far end of the circuit. Which would save me doubling back. I knew there were often cattle in those fileds and there'd be fences to climb but I thought it would liven up proceedings. However which side of the glen to go up? The right hand side is the South facing sunny side so prob more snakes, the left has a more snake like feel to it. (What do I know? Never seen a live adder.) I went left and shortly afterwards I could hear a couple of young folk on the right side. Good choice, they'd be scaring all the wildlife with their noise. A little further up the path I saw a squirrel. It was sitting on it's back legs eyeing me curiously. Second nature to take a photo without really thinking about it. And as I got a bit closer it ran off in a strange and very bouncy way then ran up a tree displaying a scraggy tail with a black tip. Hang on that's not a squirrel at all. I increased my pace to get close enough to get another picture of the tail end disappeaing into the cluster of branches at the top of the trunk. It had got stuck and had to squirm to get any further. It then quickly disappeared and even though I gave a few words of encouragement to return in exchange for some sandwich there was no futher sign.

NOT a squirrel

I thought at the time it was a pine marten. While it was a mustelid, it was a smaller one: a stoat. That is to say about squirrel sized with a bounding arched-back gait. Pine martens are more cat sized and better at climbing trees. But otherwise really similar in appearance, if bigger. Slightly more pointy faces and bigger ears in proportion to face. The black tip on the long tail is the defining difference between stoats and weasels although weasels are also much smaller and run close to the ground. Stoats and weasels can climb trees but are not in the agility bracket of squirrels and pine martens as this one clearly demonstrated. I was very pleased I had taken a photo before it turned and ran - even though it was at full zoom and some distance away it helped me identify it later.

a stoater of a tail

Which got me thinking about the squirrel I saw back at the ruined cottage. I think it must have been a stoat as well - given the similar bouncing running style and scraggy tail. This article suggests there is a resurgence of mustelids after nearly being wiped out by gamekeepers in the 19th and 20th centuries. The bounce back is largely due to human activity; or rather the lack of hunting, trapping and toxic chemicals and they are "...coming back as a result of legal protection, conservation, removal of pollutants and restoration of habitats,” said Professor Robbie McDonald, head of Exeter’s Wildlife Science group." 

Before I had time to properly enjoy the moment or wait for the stoat to return shamefaced from his inexpert tree climbing, a tree-creeper flew past and started circling the trunk of nearby trees. Tradition has it I take a load of piss-poor photos of this almost impossible to photograph bird a mile above the ground at the top of a blurry tree. Job done! Well one of the pics (above) actually turned out so you can tell the bird apart from the tree which is something of a first but it probably won't even make the cover of Specsavers in-house magazine.

more blossompic

So at the far end of Woodhall Dean (all the snakes must have been on the right hand side of the valley) I climbed a fence and ran up to the perimeter of a field and climbed another gate. There was no ferocious cattle in the field but it was so steeply raked there could have been bulls just round the corner so I kept looking about and moving briskly until back on a proper track. From there I dropped down past that carriage with the bush growing out the top. Last time I was there I was running with cattle, so I was pleased to have missed that field of pleasure again.

Back onto some tarmac and I came across the scene below of a path going North just before Halls. Not my intended direction but I got good vibes from a small stream nearby which cut below some flowering whatever (Hawthorn?) which I fancied should be heaving with flutter byes. My instincts were not bad as a peacock which had been sunbathing on the wet mud track (and not near the blossoms) flew up and into some nearby gorse. It looked a bit dozy and might do itself some harm floundering in the gorse so I reached in and lifted it out. It sat on my gloved hand for a bit recovering in the warmth before taking off and flying back into the gorse but making a better job of it second time. There was a second peacock which for a moment or 2 landed on the blossoms and my heart beat dangerously quickly as I contemplated the perfect composition of butterfly, blossom, blue sky and... but it flew off into the horrible distance. 

practice with bees

into the shredder

rescued!

butterfly on blossom (nearly)

and back in the gorse

So a mile or 2 of tarmac then into Pressmennan through the back door after running alongside another stream with some horses I kept well away from. A lone deer shimmered in the heat haze before bounding off. I ate another sports bar and felt optimistic: was buoyed up by the 2 peacocks which suggested there could be more. I remembered an early comma round the lake-side path at Pressmennan. But that the woods, like Woodhall Dean, weren't a great repository of lepidoptera. Although very picturesque. Which doesn't always cut it with butterflies. I have found far more in scrubby littered wastelands next to car parks than in places I'd choose to hang around. OK sometimes a nature reserve like Tentsmuir or St Abbs can be the best place to visit, but they do not seem to just be drawn to pretty surroundings. 

Pressmennan is a lovely place but the sun went in just as I arrived and mostly stayed away which neither produced any butterflies or any attractive photos. There were a few dogwalkers and hikers but it was quite cold and damp and I was almost relieved to get back out into the more open fields heading past Luggate to Traprain Law. I had worked out the route on the Suunto map, a lot like google maps but with very small tracks and trails for the benefit of cyclists and walkers. So the actual route took me somewhat by surprise and I had to climb another couple of gates, ford a wee stream and carefully walk round mothering ewes and lambs to get back onto decent roads for another couple of miles of tarmac before Traprain hove into view.

I was most of the way to the last big hill when I saw a possible line along the edge of a field. No farmers about and it looked well trod so I followed this more direct line to the bottom of the hill. Almost immediately another peacock flew up and then returned to the sunbathing wall. I crept up cautiously but it took off again before I got close. We played this game a couple of times before it raised another peacock and they spiralled and danced about over the field, over the next field and then back to my field and fell into the long grass for a fight. I went over to referee and perhaps take photos but one got up off the grass and they both flew madly away chasing each other until I lost interest. I looked out for more on the wall which crossed the entire field and then climbed up to the bottom of the steep climb (where signs try to dissuade you from proceeding) and I saw a couple of deer looking at me in a very disapproving way. 

I think I have only done this ascent during the hill race. It is quite a bit more pleasant when you haven't got to go full steam and carry on down the rough descent without so much as catching your breath. Also, I had distant memories of a photo I took of a Painted Lady and a Red Admiral or Peacock (in the same photo) taken just yards from the trig point of Traprain. Sure enough as I ran past it, another peacock took off and flew in so many directions at the same time I lost track and spoke out loud in frustration about how naughty it was to taunt me like that. However, and very much on the upside, I could see the ponies and knew they would be more obliging about posing for photos. There are signs saying do not feed the ponies. I very much follow this request as it is a bit like do not give water to gremlins. I once took off my back pack and got out some stuff to eat within earshot of the ponies and was nearly stampled to death. 

I'll be going under that bridge shortly

 

 

skylarks overhead

told you

I ran the route (or nearly) of the hill race which goes back down the path to the riverside and follows the Tyne back into East Linton. The sun went away for a bit which was a let down as this was my last hope for a decent turn out of butterflies. Iain, the butterfly whisperer, had been posting great photos of swarms of commas, peacocks, RAs and small torts he had been conjuring up, mostly on riverside walks featuring large willows and lesser celandine. I was hopeful I could find similar conditions here and in fact one section of the river had not only all these items but there was a nearby ancient lichenous wall angled perfectly for sunbathing insects and lots of flowering wild garlic and other blossoming trees. I was nearly tearing my hair out stomping around and asking the sky and ground where the flippin butterflies were? Nearly shouting come out, come out wherever you are!

But nothing. I pulled myself together and continued running downstream until I slowed to let an angler pass by. He was carrying a long rod and off the end of it hung a white piece of paper, maybe a lure or fly; wait a minute that's a butterfly and it wasn't tied to anything. It flew behind him for another yard or 2 then settled on the garlic. I nearly knocked the angler down chasing him up the path. I was anticipating maybe a small white but it was definitely a green veined white. I slowly got down close and took a lot of shots quickly until it became apparent it was not going anywhere in a hurry. I took lots more photos until a woman came past with a dog which moved the GVW but it landed a yard or 2 away and continued in a very nonchalant manner. O frabjous day Calloh! Callay!

that's probably enough!

I felt elated! A pine marten AND a GVW! OK one of those might have to be downgraded but it was defo a great day already. I went to the coop in East Linton to celebrate with a chicken and bacon sandwich and some cold drinks. I couldn't remember what the distance was left to run (7 miles) but it was mostly reasonable ground and on riverside paths, so if the sun stayed out, who knows!

I had tipped a bottle of highland spring fizzy water into my back pack reservoir. As I ran it inflated my back pack and I thought I best deflate it before something ruptures. As I was kneeling on the ground a bee flew past and was heckled by an aggressive butterfly which nearly took my eye out on the way past. I sorted my backpack and got the camera back out, wading into the kneedeep jungle of greenery and dried straw between the river and the path. I came across several peacock and 2 or three Small Tortoiseshells. Under scrutiny much later, one of the tortoiseshells was also one of the others; but it was a joyous and unexpected interlude and although no great photos were taken, the subjects were playing by the traditional rules of you can only disappear entirely from sight and indeed existence if the pursuer takes their eyes off you for more than .6 of a second. In between the merriment there was a sorbet of 2 different flavours of wagtail and a ladybird.

Whether it was the refreshments of East Linton or the bonus wildlife features before the estuary (didn't even pop any paracetamol this run) I found myself refreshed and picking up the pace for the final few miles back to Dunbar. I was slightly later than planned, having dawdled, and it looked like I'd make the 4.40 not 3.40 train. I'd bought a return bus ticket (£7.50, cheaper than even a single rail ticket at £9) but felt I might treat myself to a train back because my legs would appreciate the shorter confinement of the train. So I legged it at what felt a decent pace for the last 2 or 3 miles of the 26 arriving in plenty time around 4.30. Unfortunately there was no 4.40 train the next one being well after 5pm and I knew the bus was at 5pm. I found an almost discreet alleyway off a close to change into dry warm clothes then had a wander until 4.50 when I stood for 10 Baltic minutes in the stiff icy breeze on the High St before the bus turned up. I flipped through the 600 photos during the hour back on the bus. What a brilliant day out! Highly recommend the route if anyone wants the gpx file of it!

26.4 miles clockwise

hilly, but nothing unbearable
last one and highest is Traprain Law