Wednesday, 29 January 2020

last run of 2019


Dec 31st: batten down the hatches, the streets will be awash with arseholes. But first a glorious run from Bonaly into the Pentlands. A month on and I don't remember a lot about this outing. Except I was feeling a bit cautious. I hadn't been doing much and had some coughy/coldy bugs. The normal attitude of immortality was replaced with a wrinkle of vulnerability and I left a note for Mary saying roughly where I was heading in case my frozen corpse needed to be retrieved.


Although everything turned out fine I realised as I cycled up the road, 2 mins from home, that I had forgotten my Suunto gps. I was annoyed, but not enough to turn around and get it. This was an indicator that I was defo below par mentally (and probably physically as well). It reminded me to pay attention and err on the side of caution when leaping fences or deciding to go in for a swim. As if.

I was swithering between a local run round Holyrood and something bolder. Given the blue skies and the 2 hill races I'd signed up for (Jan and Feb) it had to be a trip to Bonaly. It takes under 40 mins on the bike and so is my preference for a Pentlands starting point. Unfortunately there is no designated bike parking so I padlock it under the trees near the car park and never properly relax until I come off the hills and it is still there. 


Rather than run up the steep stony trail to the gate I turn right at the trees and head right at the fence at the top. This (see first image) is more photogenic and you can pretend you have stopped for pics as the steep gradient kicks you in the lungs.

At the fence hop over heading slightly left which curves right and after another gentle slog turn left at the fence and climb the wooden steps over the wire. Walk through the trees and you pop out to the lovely vista of Bonaly Reservoir. (As above.)

Back through the trees at the Southern end of the reservoir and up to Harbour Hill which gives some of the best views of the hills along to the Kips. From Maiden's Cleugh I headed towards the summit stones of Bell's Hill then after dropping into the swampy cleft before Black Hill turned right and contoured round to cross the nose of Threipmuir Res cutting back to Harlaw and the climb back up Maiden's Cleugh.



descending Bells


Threipmuir 



thin icy covering near Harlaw

back up Harbour


Just in case there was any amazing photos to be had at Bonaly Res I popped back through there. There wasn't, but it was really pleasant with the sun going down and the water fairly still. I ran cheerfully back down the same way I'd gone up and was relieved to find my bike unmolested where I'd left it. 




I was tempted to wait till the sun slid behind these trees making a better photo, but was also keen to get the cycle home done in the remains of the daylight. Too cold to hang around.



phew! still there
Very enjoyable last run of the year.

Although I hadn't taken the Suunto I was able to map out the route
on the route-planning software. Around 7.5 miles.

Tuesday, 28 January 2020

just another day


All the way back to December the 25th for this one. I have been dragging my feet about writing up exploits since returning from holidays on the 24th, but with my Tax Return hovering in the wings, any amount of distractions are welcome. I have also been complaining mightily about living in a cold, dull grey outpost of Northern Europe and wondering why I don't move somewhere warmer and with more butterflies. 

Of course there are really nice days; just few and far between. December 25th was one of them and made an acceptable transition from the sunshine and warmth of Tenerife, to cold but sunny Scotland. Some people celebrate a heathen festival of drinking and family squabbling on this day. In anticipation of this and the shops being closed, Mary and I had bought some suitable food which waited patiently in fridge and freezer until we returned, weary from our travels. The journey back was bad, but not terrible, and Edinburgh Airport is so small and domestic you can rattle through it and onto the airport bus (never used a Tram yet, never intend to,) and home without really waking up from the 4 hr flight. 




And what a day to go for a run. The streets were zombie apocalypse empty and it was a joy to fire up the Berlingo and scoot down to Gullane to see the venison in the fields rather than on a platter.



some sherlock holmes mistyness








birds stacked by species,
oyster catchers with orange bills holstered

With caffeine fuelled shadow puppetry we tried to conjure up images of Shiva, but ending up looking more like 2 drunks on a motorbike.


The tree troll was wearing seasonal specs which Mary modelled.




I spent a long time taking pics of the gnats or flies that circulate in the sunbeams. They are often a precursor to butterfly activity and can look like fairies. Sadly no butterflies today. Around this spot a bloke went past muttering commands to his dog but totally blanking M and I. We rolled eyes and raised eyebrows in silent smirk; to not acknowledge other humans when the thin trails push you into such direct contact is borderline psycho.

And yet. About a week later Nick, Mary and I were running over the Lammermuirs and busily chatting and gossiping, pausing to let a lonesome hillwalker pass by. He took great affront to us not hello-ing him mid-conversation and as he went past, let out a grumpy sarcastic complaint. We were all in such a buoyant mood we were surprised by his outburst and had to think hard about how we could have possibly upset this individual so much. Mostly I will share a passing "lovely day..." with fellow travellers but can also pass in (what might seem ignorant) silence if I am deep within the tardis contemplating how to achieve just the right mix and amount of finishing plaster for an upcoming job. And Mary and I always wait till we're out of earshot before contemplating out loud "wonder what's up with that wanker?" It's only polite.



Mary led the way back through the car park at Gullane while I ducked round a little cul-de-sac where flocks of starling / fieldfare mix were settling in for the night. I say fieldfare but didn't get close enough to see if they were redwings or what, before they saw me coming and flew 80yards into another tree. This continually frustrated any kind of decent photos and I didn't want to incur the wrath of khan by chasing them back down the beach for 2 hours while someone sat fuming in the berlingo. I even blew the fly-past photo of a prile of what might be whooper swans as they flew overhead. I'm not such a fan of swans I can be arsed properly id-ing them. Large white jobs. A bit dull. (Also wikipedia says, pronounced hooper swan, can that be right? So that has to be the dumbest W word pronounciation since Whiteadder.) (Latest ambition; to get a photo of Whooper Swans at Whiteadder Reservoir.)



traditional sprint back across Goose Green.
Excellent way to spend the 25th December and not one mention of the C word.

just under 9 miles
then back home for custard on fruit pudding

Monday, 6 January 2020

Tenerife Holiday pt 3


Mary had recovered a bit from the exorcist incident earlier in the week and felt she was up for another venture into the hills. This time we took a bus to Los Silos which was at one end of the Los Silos to Erjos hike. Given Los Silos was on the coast and Erjos was over 3000' in altitude I think we were possibly the first ever hikers to do it in this direction. The plan was to catch a bus back from Erjos, or if we felt fine, hike back to Los Silos by a different route. I quickly put the info in to my Suunto so we could follow that. 

sun up at 9am



The bus arrived, we used the travelcard, we got off 20 miles West, at Los Silos. It was little concerning the hills immediately inland of the coastal town rose at alarming rates all around. Was there really a pleasant path up between them? Reassuringly there were a few signs pointing the way.


This was the only day of the holiday when there was cloud cover. We had pencilled in a trip to Teide to get above the forecast cloud, but there didn't seem to be much in the way of buses there, and it was easier to plan this hike. We were reluctant to hire a car and put Mary through the stress of driving on the wrong side while I shouted bad nav from the passenger seat! Also easier to bail if Mary wasn't feeling well. So far Mary seemed fully recovered and we both enjoyed the outlandish rocky landscape as we contoured up the spectacular gorge.





photo Mary

The climb went on and on. One of the better websites I found when researching the island was 12 unmissable hikes in Tenerife. We did 3 of those routes and they were all well worth doing. The route description for this one says "On this hike, you will witness the different climate zones that Tenerife has to offer and the varied vegetation that comes with it" and we joked as we climbed that we were now passing into the Medieval Zone, or Aztec or Futuristic.

We stopped at various points to take photos of mushrooms or flowers, but largely it was a 3 mile slog up a uniformly steep gradient to a village of about 117 population around 3,300'. Although Erjos is on the side of a major through road we approached it from the other side and it felt initially like finding a few isolated shacks after a climb devoid of any signs of humanity. 








We were thinking we would hit a cafe then return to Los Silos by the alternative trail. We had only taken 2 hrs to do the 3 hr hike and Mary was feeling good. It was Sunday and we thought everyone might be in church. In fact everyone was rammed into the 2 cafes in the place. And while it was partly appealing to cram in with the cyclists and hikers and locals, the thought of smoke and bustle was less attractive than being outdoors. (Smoking still slightly more popular than in Scotland, and accepted some places indoors here.) So we had a regroup, a look around and a sports bar or 2, then headed off on the other trail, a more convoluted return route to Los Silos. At first it was good and we passed a few other walkers.

photo Mary


a log Rudolph



Then we got on to this large wide trail. It was fine enough running but a bit samey, a bit boring. Worryingly my Suunto was having trouble getting a decent signal and when it did, it was suggesting we were off the trail I had plotted. We were going roughly parallel so I wasn't hugely concerned and the signs we occasionally saw all seemed to confirm we were going in the right direction. However the wide trail continued to descend, and it seemed to repeat the same 800m again and again. I was worried we would come to some point where we realised we would have to return up the long boring trail to find the point we had gone wrong, and the climb back up would be hugely unwelcome. We consulted the maps (bought online weeks before the holiday) and Mary got annoyed with me telling her how far off the Suunto sat-nav trail we were. Because of the tree cover we wouldn't have been able to see the "correct" trail even if it was quite nearby. And there were other possibilities: maybe the trail had been expanded with this wheelchair friendly version and folk were now being routed on this newer better version. And suunto hadn't updated their website maps. We just didn't know. 

Eventually, and with relief, we came to a sign which pointed us towards Los Silos. It was a smaller narrower trail and considerably more entertaining, though probably harder work, snaking up and down through the trees and zig-zagging like crazy. This was more the sort of thing I had anticipated and as we ran we got closer to and eventually joined up with the trail I had plotted. Everything improved as we dropped out the clouds and the sun began to filter through. The tension lifted and we started having fun again, stopping to take photos of the plants and occasional speckled wood.















W could tell we were getting back to civilisation - an occasional hiker, a young couple walking a playful pup, glimpses of the coast and sea. The last 2 miles were maybe the prettiest of the day, contouring round spectacular outcrops of presumably volcanic rock. Remnants of huts and smallholdings were being reclaimed by the vegetation and the sun warmed our backs as we stepped carefully on rocky trails. There was still plenty opportunity to trip on tired legs and take a flying header into a cactus filled gorge, so we didn't rush the last few miles back down to Los Silos.

There was a cafe just opposite the trail head and after checking the bus timetable at the stop we popped across for a beer and some tapas before catching the next bus back to Puerto de la Cruz.





Croquettes are big in Spain and Tenerife. There were slight language issues at the cafe and although I thought I'd ordered chicken croquets, spinach ones arrived. However they were outstanding, as was the beer. Mary had coffee and fizzy water. The hike had turned out slightly longer than planned on the return leg. 3+ miles out and 7 back, but since it was all downhill it wasn't that bad. And it was better than returning by the same trail.

over 10 miles, under 5 hrs


As we were sitting at the cafe I noticed this building across the way which I found very weird. The breeze block and poured concrete meeting at that angle seemed a very strange thing to do. One of the other walls had similar so I'm guessing it wasn't going to be rendered or plastered. As a result it looked a bit unfinished. And all those windows at the top but very few below? Never did find out what the story was. 

Good hike though and recommended. And the travel by bus and back all went very smoothly.



Mary's sister Caroline tweaked the lift photo.



9am
Last day and not sure what to do with it. After searching about on the internet I found a run that started practically outside our hotel and went East up to a high point a few miles along the coast where there was a cafe. That seemed to be an ideal compromise.



Mary had completely lost it and was trying to feed the bananas.


There were some quite steep cliffs and drop-offs along the coastal paths. Just here the cement stair case was crumbling away making a nightmare-like climb with deathfall potential. Brave scaffolders had erected this platform on 4 rocks of differing height in a bold move to repair the walkway. Thankfully there was a diversion! When Mary and I walked over for a closer look we both felt a strange shudder between pee-pee and poo-poo.


bananas in pyjamas


There then followed a rather zig-zag steep hike up the hill to the posh houses and cafe that overlook Puerto de la Cruz. We passed a handful of wheezing tourists doing the same climb, exchanging commiserations.



The ascent eventually reached a wall and squeezed out between these buildings on a steep narrow staircase. We came out onto an upmarket street of large houses with well kept gardens. There was a sign for the cafe and bus stop. Sadly the cafe was closed on Mondays which was a tragedy as it had a splendid view and would have been just the place for a cold drink. There was a monarch butterfly mural nicely painted on a wall. The return down the slippery slope we had just come up was not particularly appealing and so we went off in search of the bus stop or alternative run-route back into town. We found neither after a comprehensive wander along and back on the side of the autopista which seemed the only way back into town other than the steep earthy slope again. 






back down here it is!


hundreds of these moths








6 miles


All in all quite a pleasant last day of the holiday. After a shower we went out for a meal and walk along the front. The huge waves were still crashing in. A troop of hari krishnas danced past, singing, smiling and twirling. They looked like a great advertisement for dropping out and dressing in orange and pink. We had a lovely meal, eating at an outside table! The sun went down about 6pm. About 8pm we had an ice cream, the first and last of the holiday. From this shop that pumped out a sugary sweet perfume that was as moreish as crack cocaine. 

It was a really fab holiday. Very inexpensive - about half the cost or less of the Spanish trip back in Sept. I think this will become a regular event to escape the winter horrors. Just superb to see butterflies during their 6 month absence in Scotland. And to go running in vest and shorts. The sunshine therapy was a great success and we both returned to Scotland feeling revived and able to get through the remaining Winter in one piece. Or at least that we were past the worst, the days are getting longer again and we are heading in the right direction.

I'd certainly go back to the same city, maybe even the same hotel. The only bad thing about it was it was a bit noisy on a couple of nights - or rather the area/hotel nearby was noisy. And the WiFi was fairly crappy on the fifth floor. So sometimes I'd do my online stuff in the comfy chairs in the lobby. Otherwise it was great. Might even get round to a swim in the pool or the sea next time. And 2 weeks instead of 1. Though it might be harder to leave after 2 weeks!



dining outside, late December

the crack cocaine shop