Just because it's raining...

...that's no excuse to stay inside.

Far better to go for a walk though the Ballogie Estate, which is where Gail and I were on Friday morning.

After a mile or so walking through the forest we reached open fields and, yes, the umbrella was still up...

On arrival at the village of Marywell I checked out the library but didn't see anything suitable for Gail so we pressed on.

Gail claimed the skies were clearing. Is this what a clearing sky looks like to you?

Back into woodland, five miles into the six mile walk, and despite the continued precipitation, I was still going strong...

....only stopping to pose nicely when Gail waved a treat in front of my face.

And now I would just like to point out how my WFT furs blend perfectly with the autumn colours and still look adorable, despite the two hour trudge through the rain and mud. 

Bad decisions and delusions...

Today, Nature Friday, I want to return to the perennial topic of how humans (mine in particular) so often make bad decisions. 

I would of course hope this week to be bringing you photos of the glorious Deeside seasonal colours, the wooded landscape resplendent in the soft glow of the October sunshine, blah, blah, blah...

But all I have on offer is a city street, and fallen leaves swept into the gutter by yet another autumnal downpour.

Oh bad luck Gail and Bertie, I hear you thinking, it's obviously been raining all week in your part of the world.

However, this is not actually the case. Take for example Wednesday. The day dawned mild and bright. So the first thought of any caring owner would surely be to take their beloved pup for a nice long walk in the countryside. Not a difficult decision. Except...

Gail blithely announces that her Thursday cycling ladies, having carefully studied the weather forecast, have altered their routine and are heading out a day early to make the most of the sunshine.

How could they enjoy themselves while knowing me to be alone and pining? 

Gail eventually came home, all rosy-cheeked and cheerful from her pandemic-compliant bicycle ride (apparently these days her friends have formed themselves, as per current requirements, into an 'organised group' with proper affiliations, a 'Covid officer' and appropriately documented Covid-specific risk assessment). 

She told me how three of the cyclists had earlier in the week taken advantage of another rare window of fine weather and ridden from Montrose down the North Sea coast to Carnoustie then back via Forfar, and how they said it had "felt like they were by the Mediterranean".

MONTROSE "LIKE THE MEDITERRANEAN"!!!!

Hmmm. As much as the experts insist exercise and congenial company are good for our humans' mental health, I have to question if that is the case when said company includes folk deluded enough to see a resemblance between Montrose  (a drab little town situated on one of less enticing stretches of the Scottish coastline) and the Med...

I'm hoping Gail will henceforth decide that going for walks with her very sensible and mentally stable WFT is the better option on a sunny day.

Happy Nature Friday friends! And thanks once again to my delightful friends Jakey, Arty, Rosy and Sunny, for hosting the blog hop.

 

Saturday outdoors and in

You could see the clouds were gathering when we took an afternoon stroll on the Aberdeen City Beach.

By evening the Scottish weather had fully reverted to type. 

So I settled down on the sofa with Gail and she brought out her latest knitting project.

Inspecting progress so far, I noted that I thought this jumper was going to be far too big, unless I was fed a lot of cake in the next month or two. You can imagine how shocked and dismayed I was when Gail said this one was intended for her not me! 

'Frost and fir' pullover pattern picture

But I soon overcame my disappointment and dozed off again.

An hour or so later, the needles were still clack-clacking away and, starting to feel neglected, I gave Gail my best "I need a tummy rub" look.

And adopted the appropriate pose. 

Gail held out for a minute or two, but eventually succumbed, as she always does. 

So all was well, until it was time for the TV news, and then I had to cover my eyes. 

 

The wrong kind of rainbow

The weather forecast for Torridon last weekend was mixed. Gail has a tendency, inherited from Human Grandad, to look on the bright side, and claimed, as we headed west to our cottage on Friday morning, it would at least be excellent rainbow weather.

On arrival we walked up the road and passed the local farmer who greeted us with his customary "nae a bad day".

But as the skies darkened, and the last vestige of brightness fell victim to a pincer movement obliterating any hint of a cloud break, even Gail had to concede that her optimism might, on this occasion, have been misplaced.

As you know, I am not one of those soft southern pups who disdains to to venture out in rainy weather. 

"Why fret about the wet?" could be my motto.  

At least the wind was strong enough to keep the midges at bay. 

And eventually, on the road up the hill from the cottage, I did spot a rainbow of sorts...

Clouds and cloudberries

 

Sometimes, in the face of weakening resolve, our humans need a bit of gentle persuasion, don't you find?

On Saturday morning Gail announced that she thought the cloudberries near the summit of Morven (our favourite Aberdeenshire hill) would be ripe and it was time to go for a forage.

Fine by me.

But when we reached the parking area, rain was splattering against the car windscreen, the top half of the hill was hidden under a thick blanket of cloud, and Gail came over all hesitant, muttering something about maybe a lower level walk, and picking raspberries instead.

Well I just gave her a 'look', which she correctly interpreted as saying:

"Raspberries are easy to find, and really not special at all. And by the way, the clue is in the name, CLOUD-berries. I think we should ascend as planned."

The rain ceased shortly after we set off up the narrow steep path through the heather. We met no other humans. The rounded summit was alive with ptarmigan and mountain hare, although when I moved to make a meal of one (no longer living) hare, Gail firmly pulled me away, asserting, "I didn't mean that sort of foraging Bertie!"

I'll admit I'm not the most patient of berry picking companions, especially when kept on a lead because of poor visibility and enticing wildlife. But eventually Gail located enough ripe cloudberries to serve as an accompaniment to her home made 'no-churn' ice cream when her friends John and Françoise came round for dinner later in the day.

So all in all it was a highly successful outing, and I think Gail is now grateful I had earlier given her that 'look'.

Only the second wettest...?

I have an apology to make to my dear friend YAM-Aunty.

When Gail and I arrived on Friday morning at Yam's lovely home in Dunoon, and she told us she lived in the second wettest part of the UK, I have to confess, I doubted her. I even suspected she was pulling one of my four long and fuzzy legs.

Wearing my metaphorical Bertie Boffin hat (in retrospect a real sou'wester would have been more useful), I demanded supporting data.

Three days later, having gathered evidence a-plenty, I am pleased to report that YAM-Aunty was telling the truth, my only outstanding question being, is there really somewhere wetter?

Thank goodness even Gail eventually conceded that indoor (in)activities were the best option.

And so of course we all had a wonderful weekend together.

Aren't friends great?

Wet weekend precedes a media blackout...

Not for the first time this year, the weekend just gone found Gail and I sitting inside our Torridon cottage, listening to the rain beating against the window as we eeked out our fast diminishing supply of firewood logs in order to stay warm. Meanwhile the radio spoke of a heat wave down south and the papers were reporting fears that climate change-induced water shortages might threaten the future of the Scottish whisky industry.

This photo below was taken during a lull between downpours which lasted, oh, a whole microsecond...

After three days of near continuous rainfall we decided to head back east early on Sunday to find somewhere dry for an afternoon walk.

You'll note the word 'dry' is used here in a relative sense.

Home in Aberdeen, I have decided hole up for the next few days in a sound proof room with no radio, TV or internet access until a certain visitor from the USA departs these shores. Gail is thinking about joining me.

Oh and by the way, in case you were wondering how this particular wire fox terrier dog occupies himself during a wet weekend on the west coast of Scotland, then click here for an explanatory video which, I'll warn you, is not everyone's idea of family viewing...

A good day for waterfalls

The rain was lashing against the window of our cottage in the Northwest Highlands on Saturday morning and to be honest I would have been quite content to stay indoors in front of the fire all day.


For a while Gail did occupy herself with diary reading and writing, then at noon, this:

"Come on Bertie, there's only a few hours of daylight left. We really ought to get some fresh air and exercise. I know, let's go and check out the waterfalls around Loch Torridon, they will be looking quite impressive just now."

Having established that there was an adequate supply of 'posing treats' in Gail's jacket pocket, I reluctantly agreed to brave the ongoing downpour.








After a couple of hours, bedraggled and aware that Gail's pocket was now empty, I made it quite clear I'd had enough.


I hope you enjoyed looking at the pictures at least...