Thoughts from Balmoral

It won't come as a surprise to my readers that, as soon as light dawned on Friday, the first day this year when we were allowed to drive into the hills, Gail was bundling me into the car and heading up Deeside to one of our favourite haunts, Ballochbuie Forest. 

The spring sun was shining brightly on this unfrequented corner of the Queen's Balmoral Estate, and in carefree mode I even ventured in to the sparkling river for a wee paddle.

Only up to the knees mind you.

Among the ancient pines the air was crystal clear and sweet, and the warming temperatures had melted most of the ice from the higher level streams and ponds.

And as we wandered around the royal forest Gail remembered it was the the eve of Prince Philip's funeral, and her thoughts turned to our Queen, widowed after 73 years of what was apparently a strong and supportive marriage. We are told that, throughout their long life together, she and Philip enjoyed some of their happiest moments in this most lovely and tranquil corner of the Scotland. 

A corgi cushion: adventures at Balmoral

I'll be honest with you. I was a bit alarmed when Gail suggested yesterday that we take our lovely young (but camera shy) visitor Helen, who is up from England for a few days holiday, for a walk around Ballochbuie Forest.

Why the alarm?

Let me explain.

Ballochbuie Forest is part of the Balmoral Estate, and it is well known that through August our Royal Family take up residence at their Scottish home. And although we understand that the Duke of Edinburgh, age 98, has finally agreed to turn in his driving licence, one suspects he might still have access to his Land Rover keys, and be tempted to go for the occasional wee spin around the forest tracks on his private territory.

But it was a pleasantly warm day, and the threatened rain never materialised, and so despite the danger of near-centenarian drivers, we three all headed up through the forest, past the waterfalls, aiming for Gail's favourite lunch spot on the front steps of a secluded wooden chalet, hidden in a hollow among ancient Scots pines and heather.

In retrospect we should have realised the game was up when we approached the usually deserted chalet and saw smoke rising from the chimney. And even more so when we passed by a 4WD vehicle in which was sat a hefty chap wearing a suit and tie and shades, and a stony faced young lady in 'country tweeds'.

But ignoring all this, Gail and Helen made for the chalet steps and started unpacking their picnic lunch (in which of course I took a close interest). But no soon as the squashed cheese sandwiches had seen the light of day than the tweedy lady approached and, awfully politely but quite firmly (us pups recognise these nuances of human communication) said we all had to move away from the chalet, as "visitors" were about to arrive. Oh yes, and could we please eat our lunch somewhere out of sight?

As Gail, ever the obedient subject(!) made to move, the lady opened the chalet door, and I seized the opportunity to enter. What did I see inside? A table laid for four, logs glowing in the wood-burning stove, and on the sofa a cushion decorated with a picture of a corgi.

I was politely but firmly ejected before I had time to investigate further.

As we ate our lunch a discreet distance away up this hill - I was given a pig's ear to chew - we spotted another large black 4WD vehicle heading towards the chalet.

A few minutes later, we heard a dog barking.

I'll swear it was a corgi.

The walk ended with a refreshing sip from the River Dee, and relief that we had arrived back safely...

Lucky Doyle, and an encounter with Camilla

This is Doyle.

He must be among the world's luckiest dogs.

His owner Fiona is a Ranger on the Queen's Balmoral Estate, and he accompanies her to work every day. As far as I can gather from Gail, this means he spends his days romping around the forests and hills, or being driven along the estate tracks in the front seat of Fiona's Land Rover.

Gail met Doyle last Friday when she and another volunteer spent the day working with Fiona on a conservation project, measuring the extent of patches of a rare plant called Twinflower.

Although it is not obvious to me that there is anything so special about the tiny pinky-white bell shaped twinflowers,  I must say I was pretty miffed at being left behind in Aberdeen - apparently on the basis that I might be a "disruptive presence". Me, disruptive? Can you imagine?

So I had to make do with looking at Gail's photos.

I was most disappointed that Gail did not capture on camera the day's most interesting event, when the plant monitoring party came across Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, walking her Jack Russell terrier along one of the forest tracks.

Apparently Camilla gave them a friendly smile and a wave (I guess she's had plenty of practice at that).

After any encounter with a member of the Royal Family, it is of course obligatory to report on their attire, and so I demanded to know what Camilla, our future Queen, was wearing.

Was Gail kidding me when she described "a muddy pair of leggings, a battered Barbour jacket and one of those plastic rain bonnets that fold away concertina style - the sort I was embarrassed to see my mother wearing in the 1960s..." ??

PS Gail did take me for a nice muddy walk in the hills this morning, so the earlier abandonment is forgiven.

So nearly a brush with royalty

If Gail and her friends Yvonne and Neil had bothered to get going earlier on Sunday morning we would have arrived at Balmoral Castle in time to see the Queen attend the local church service.

Instead we were met at the car park at noon by a conspicuous security presence, although I must say that the young policeman we spoke to was all smiles and friendliness, enjoying the warm sunshine and seemingly not at all worried that our party constituted a terrorist threat.

Gosh it's a lovely place, the Balmoral estate. 

After romping around the forest and enjoying the fine views of Upper Deeside we approached the castle and were surprised to find the grounds still open to the public despite the Queen being in residence*.

In the café I met this lovely young lady called Steph, who has taken a summer job on the estate.  Can you see the smart Balmoral insignia on her apron? 

After giving me a biscuit and a nice pat, she told us how a couple of days ago she actually met with the Queen. I hope I am not going to get Steph sent to the Tower of London when I tell you she described her employer as "funny and really quite sassy".

Which made me feel even more sorry that I did not run into Her Majesty, as it's clear we have much in common (notwithstanding her well-documented preference for corgis). And no doubt Queen Liz too will now be regretting she missed the chance to have her picture taken alongside me and posted on this blog!

*Gail says: apparently the Queen is staying in a smaller house in the grounds of the estate, away from the visiting public. 

Winter at Balmoral (no Corgis in sight)

Contrary to the impression given by calendars featuring the Scottish Highlands, it is rare indeed that our winter weather is conducive to the perfect outing in the mountains.

But just every once in a while, the weather gods permit that ideal combination of blue skies, no wind, enough snow to cover the ground but not too much to make walking difficult, and the right temperature so that the snow is in a pristine  powdery state (neither slushy nor icy). Such was the case this Saturday.

In general it is easy, on days when fine conditions prevail, to persuade Gail to seize the moment (especially when the alternative is shopping for a new oven). And so it was that we headed out first thing to Ballochbuie Forest on the Queen's Balmoral Estate, one of our all time favourite places.

Actually, Gail said something about needing to celebrate that civilisation had more or less survived a year of You Know Who as President...

We first stopped for a wee peek at Crathie Kirk,

but the doors were locked,

and so it was onwards for a four mile romp in the sparkling forest.

I thought we might see some corgis but apparently they are all soft southerners and prefer to stay at Windsor or Sandringham in January. I did encounter a bad tempered spaniel who nearly succeeded in taking a chunk out of my flappy little ear. I was so brave about it that Gail only realised when we returned home that I had sustained a very small cut.

On the topic of the Royal Family, I confess I am still holding out hope that I might be adopted by Harry and Meghan. They seem such a lovely couple. A few weeks ago, they even chose Nottingham for their first joint official visit. Such excellent taste! Although I am not aware they have been to Balmoral yet. I hope it is not politically incorrect to point out that my colouring (a mixture of black and white, with reddish furs on my head) would make me the perfect modern Royal Mascot for this particular duo?

PS Thank you for all your suggestions for boots to protect my sometimes sensitive paws. I'm afraid I live with a human who is indecisive about these matters so it will probably be summer before she has placed an order...

A gory traffic jam at Balmoral

So Gail and I took advantage of the continued fine weather and headed off to the Queen's Balmoral Estate to climb Lochnagar today.


Near the summit we heard some stags roaring.


Then we heard a shot. Or was it two?

Later, as we descended we noticed fresh blood on the path.


And then in front we spotted a well camouflaged party leading two ponies.

Readers of a sensitive disposition may wish to stop here.

A member of the group came over to Gail and asked very politely if she could "hang back" as one of their ponies was apparently frightened of dogs. (Perhaps this pony had once had a run in with the Queen's corgis?)

So we stayed behind the deer stalking party even though they were descending the steep slope by the waterfalls very slowly indeed. The black pony seemed to be struggling with his burden.

 Gail took loads of photos.

Eventually a young man, who was casually swinging a dripping stag's head (which had very recently belonged to the animal on the back of the 'grey' pony) in his right hand, told us we could pass,


And we continued on down and back to the car without further bloody encounters.

There's nothing better…?

So, now we are settled back in Scotland, I decided it would be a good idea to treat Gail to a day out in the hills, to spend some quality time together.

OK, I admit it (you'll have guessed anyway). Being a canny wee laddie, I did have an ulterior motive.

The time was right to remind my dear human that she lives in an incomparably beautiful country with - let's not be modest here - with an exceptionally adorable dog.

I happen to know that Ballochbuie Forest, at the western end of the Queen's Balmoral Estate, is one of Gail's very favourite places.

And I knew it would be looking particularly stunning this spring Saturday, under sunny blue skies and with the mountains still capped with snow.

I led Gail along the track through the heather.

And allowed her a stop for coffee while I did a little exploring on my own.

At one point I tried my paw at deer stalking, but returned to Gail as soon as I realised she was distressed by my absence.

Oh gosh you can't believe how good I was being.

I even voluntarily cleaned my paws in the river Dee, just before we returned to the car.

I don't think Gail will be wanting to abandon me again for foreign parts any time soon, do you?

I can't believe she didn't buy me some...

...of these sausages.

Yes, that's right, Gail looked inside the meat cabinet in the farm shop, took a photo and then came home with just blue cheese and yoghurt.

Tragic.

Oh, and I guess you would like to see a few pictures from my weekend walk up Craigendarroch, a steep wee hill just outside Ballater.

Looking beyond Ballater to the Balmoral estate, where the Queen too must be fretting about the future of her realm.