Sell Moor Hill (NT480444, 424m)

 

Almost due north of this hill is a cattle grid on a B road, adjacent to which is a layby. That is where we ate a lavish* Sunday lunch before setting off for an unexciting bimble up this unremarkable hill.

A field of cows, a gap in a wall which was guarded effectively by a deep poor of slurry/mud/water...

...and a walk up another field took us to the top in just over 15 minutes. From there the extensive views told us that: a) there are a lot of wind turbines in these parts; and b) we were going to be lucky and dodge the shower we could see to the north.


The cows ignored us almost as much on our return leg as they had on the outward one, the feeder full of tasty hay being more interesting to them than two walkers.

A whole mile and three quarters had been walked with 90m of upness.

^{(*I may be exaggerating extensively as to the grandness of our lunch.)}

Edinburgh ParkRun

We know from past experience that there is good TV reception at Edinburgh Caravan Club site and, whilst we have managed nicely for 19 days without such entertainment, Mick was keen to watch the rugby this weekend. A booking was made and we arrived here yesterday (Friday) lunchtime.

After a week of hills, I thought that equated to a weekend of sitting around with my book, with maybe a gentle stroll along the Firth. Then Mick wondered out loud whether there is a local ParkRun – even though his calf is yet again crocked and he is sworn off running until after the TGO Challenge.

A quick search told me that that the most local event starts 1.5km away from the campsite entrance (and, indeed, then runs past it on the Firth-side promenade). How could I resist? 

With legs feeling a bit tired, and various tiny niggles from falling off tussocks and the like, I had no illusions of a fast (for me) time, but I was up for a gentle jog, so at just after 9 this morning, we left Bertie for a brisk walk up to Cramond. At 9.30 the ‘Go!’ command was issued … and I didn’t move. There were 524 people there today (rather a contrast to the field of 8 in Toulouse in December!), and whilst the promenade is wide, it still took things a while to get moving. It took much longer for gaps to open up to be able to pass anyone.

Using my usual trick, I found someone (or, in this case, a trio) running at a nice pace and I followed them, earwigging as I went. These were obviously serious runners and I was pleased to be keeping up – until there was a casual mention of their having run 10 miles to get to this morning’s run!

At the half way point I realised that the going was easy and that I could go faster (it’s a flat course and today there was almost no wind), so I left my trio of pace-setters behind. At the 4km marker, I picked it up again.

I crossed the line 3 seconds behind my ParkRun Personal Best, which was annoying from the point of view that I could easily have run three seconds faster, but was very pleasing considering how long it had taken to get moving at the start. Moreover, even with the slow start, based on the stats recorded on my GPS, my average pace was higher (i.e. it was a PB really, it’s just that the course measured slightly longer*).

So, quite a pleasing start to the day considering I was just going out for a gentle jog. If only any of our local ParkRun courses were that easy!

(*ParkRun courses are diligently measured with a wheel. The thing is that if there are lots of twists and turns, or corrugations on dirt/grass sections, then if you take the racing line and don’t take micro-steps, then you’ll flatten and straighten it out and end up running less than the officially measured 5km. Our local run at home is very twisty and is all on dirt or grass and I’ve consistently measured it at around 4.75-4.8km (it’s also hilly, so even though it’s short, it’s not a PB course). Today’s course was entirely on a hard surface and had no twists or turns, hence there were no shortcuts to be made and it came in at the full 5km.)

I am in this photo, but looking a bit blurred. Fortunately, you can’t see how muddy my trousers are, having not had the time to get them washed and dried since yesterday’s bogfest on East Cairn Hill.

East Cairn Hill (NT128593; 567m)

If I’d known a few years ago what I now know myself to have become, I wouldn’t have needed to make a special trip up East Cairn Hill today. In 2008 (on our LEJOG walk) and in 2010 (on our Kent to Cape Wrath walk), we passed half a mile to the west of this hill, and in 2014 (on our Home to Edinburgh walk) we passed a mile to the east. On any of those occasions I could easily have dropped my pack and have nipped up and down, but, of course, I had no idea even three years ago that hills with 150m of prominence would become of interest to me.

All of which means that this hill was calling to me, as we were so close by, so having dragged Mick out of bed earlier than he would have liked, we relocated to Little Vantage, and I left Mick breakfasting whilst I set out, overly optomistically dressed in tights and trail runners, for a speedy up and down of this objective.

Conrad – you wouldn’t have been pitching a tent on the bed of Haperrig Reservoir today – it was rather more full than it was in June 2008!

My quest for speed was thwarted as it turned out the ground was too waterlogged to make me want to run even the flat and downhill bits, so I just walked as fast as I could – which at times wasn’t awfully fast as I fussed around the boggiest bits and tried to remain vertical.

I was merrily making progress towards the pass of Cauldstane Slap, from where I was going to turn towards my objective, when I happened to look behind me and spotted that I’d just walked past a path that was obviously heading up my the west side of my hill. I duly doubled back and followed it, finding it to be a very steep, quite eroded and remarkably slippery line. I was soon resolving not to return the same way.

The benefit of steepness is that it causes you to gain height quickly, and I was pleased when the ground levelled out and a large cairn/shelter was before me, although not because I was at the top (I still had half a mile of walking, involving a very boggy dip, to go), but because at least the significant climb was over.

Looking back at the large cairn on the first of this hill’s two summits

A patch of drizzle, significant enough to have me stop to change from windshirt to waterproof (and five minutes later back again) was almost the only thing that had me pause, after I’d dropped off the side of the hill (deep heather and killer tussocks). The only other distraction was stopping to record this early frogspawn:

Mick had a cup of coffee and a croissant waiting for me by the time I got back to Bertie (not by his psychic powers, but because I’d sent him a text message asking him to put the kettle on). The stats were 7 miles with around 350m of ascent, in 2 hours 25 minutes, which equated to a distance a mile less than I’d expected and a time 25 minutes longer than I’d hoped.

 

(As an aside: When I write these Marilyn blog posts, I usually start by referring to Alan Dawson’s book ‘The Relative Hills of Britain’ to obtain the relevant OS Grid Reference and height information. In doing that for this hill, I was temporarily alarmed to find West Cairn Hill, not East Cairn Hill, to be listed (they sit opposite sides of the pass of Cauldstane Slap). For a few moments I questioned whether it was possible that I had erroneously gone up the wrong hill before thinking to look at the list of updates made to the hill list since the book was published. Panic over. I hadn’t gone up the wrong hill.)