Bog Dog

On the path to the Stacks, there were several breaks in the peat.  The dogs, particularly Maggie, found these spots irresistible.  She would see them and literally run and jump landing in a big splat.  Thatcher can be a bit prissy, but even he liked these spots.  The smell I tell you was not pleasant.

You will have to imagine the smell radiating from this 'puddle'

Smell has been successfully transferred from 'puddle' to dog
White dog wearing peat socks

We also saw evidence of puffins
Notice puddle slime of dog's nose

Journey to the most Northernly Point of Mainland Britain

This weekend the weather was GLORIOUS. 

As a result, we had an outside Sunday followed by breakfast for dinner at Bo's.  We all climbed into the car and drove toward Duncansby Head, which is the most northerly point in Britain.  We stopped first at Brough Bay.  This ramp was constructed to support the material delivery for the Dunnett lighthouse construction in the 1800s. 

Weird British factoid: all the lighthouses in Britain were designed and constructed by the same family for 150 years.

Maggie and Thatcher had a fantastic time playing in the water.  Thatcher got a little over-confident, not realizing that the sides of the ramp dropped off into the ocean, even though Maggie had done it a number of times.  His eyes were like saucers realizing that he was going swim or drowned - yes, it is true, I have a Labrador that cannot swim.  He got himself back to the ramp and pulled back on, but he was VERY careful afterward.

DOGS PLAYING ON THE RAMP; 2 SEALS WATCH

After watching the funny dogs and the curious seals, we got back into the car (mmm, wet dog) and continued on to Dunnett Head.  There is a lighthouse there and some buildings that were used as an outpost during the war. 

AT DUNNETT HEAD

There was a little path that took you to the top of the hill and you could see Stroma, Orkney, and Thurso.  The surrounding hills showed areas where they have collected peat, and there was ocean, lochs and rolling hills.  It was fantastic.

SURVEYING THE LANDSCAPE

After Dunnett Head, we moved on to the Stacks.  We hiked across the fields, which skirted along the coast.  You could see the stacks get closer and closer.  By the time we got there, they were not nearly as spectacular as they were from a distance.  They were COVERED with seagulls.

THE STACKS

We had a great day, as I think you can see.  This area is really beautiful; it is desolate, but it still sort of tugs you along. 

I had to go down to Inverness on Saturday to get my haircut, and I noticed that I had a smile on my face the entire time.  I am happy.

Dog TV

This looks like a sliding glass door and I think it probably is, but I haven't figured out how to work it.  If you turn the handle (acts like it doesn't want to, but it will) you can actually pull the top part of the door out, so it's kind of cracked and let's fresh air in without being completely open.  Since this is the only way I can make the door do anything, it's often in this configuration.

Maggie loves to cram her nose in the crack and sniff and huff and sniff and huff - that's when it's Maggie's smellivision.

Dumbest Dog Owner EVER!

Seriously, I am... 

I think I have established that Maggie's a lovely dog, but she clearly doesn't like other dogs and sometimes kids.  She has a few good dog experiences under her belt recently, but she is still fairly unpredictable - she really hates dogs that aren't on a lead and come right up to her.  I have a hard time getting angry at her in this situation as seriously, aren't dogs supposed to have some instincts - pack mentality, predators, and all that.

Well a couple of weeks ago, Bo was playing with them, and he commented that Maggie sure loves a tennis ball, she won't drop it for anything and carries is around until drool is coming out of her mouth.  It was then that I had my eureka moment, seriously a light bulb grew right out of my head. 

What if I took her favorite tennis ball donut on the walks with us?!?!  What if I used the donut when other dogs were approaching to distract her and then give it to her as a reward?!?!

So I tried it. 

The conflict was etched on her face dog - donut - dog - donut, but she chose donut.  I let her keep the donut as another dog approached again conflict, but then the dog got in her face so she quickly dropped the donut, bite the offending dog on the nose and then picked the donut up again. 

Hmm, slight change in tactics - always hold donut when other dogs are approaching.  Her head is on a swivel, dog-donut-dog-donut, but donut always wins. 

The added benefit of this technique is that it generally drives the approaching dogs a bit crazy too; this donut has magical powers.  I get to see other dog owners struggle to control their pets, which is curiously satisfying.

Check it out, that bird has a crown

Yep, bird's got a crown

You know says Bo, there is this place called Whaligoe, want to go?

Sunday lunch was a bit different today.  Bo called me in the morning and said since it was just the 3 of us, we should make lunch (Chinese) at his house and take a little trip to Whaligo steps.  Jason and Bo went the first week we were here, but the sea was so rough that they couldn't go down the steps - the spray was hitting them in the face.  It's kind of hard to explain, so I went to the internet and picked up my favorite stuff.  Curiously, the spelling is never the same, but I like it best without the 'e.'

From the Top, the rock in the water along the top had a huge metal ring on it for boat securing

WHALIGOE  (whale geo or inlet of whales). A spectacular stairway with 365 steps – one for each day of the year descends to a landing place for small boats.  Boats had to be winched up to secure them in bad weather.  Some of the steps probably date from the 17^th century.  On the cliff stands an early 19^th century herring station, yard and manager’s house.

Part of the spectacular stairway

The stair is first mentioned by the Rev. Alexander Pope of Reay about 1769 when he wrote,

"In this parish (Wick) there is a haven for fishing boats, called Whaligo, which is a creek betwixt two high rocks. Though the height of one of these rocks in surprising, yet the country people have made steps by which they go up and down, carrying heavy burdens on their back; which a stranger, without seeing would scarcely believe. This is a fine fishing coast."

Bo on the mid-landing

A couple of years later, the Rev. William Sutherland wrote,

"The fishermen, on this part of the coast, to get to their boats descend a huge precipice by winding steps in the face of the rock, by which some lives have been lost; and yet, from practice, it is often done without assistance, by a blind fisherman in Ulbster. To secure their boats from being dashed against the rocks, particularly in storms and stream tides, the fishermen hang up their yauls by ropes, on hooks fixed in the face of the rock, above the level of the water, where they are safely suspended, till the weather is fit for going to sea. Mr. Brodie, tacksman of Ulbster, had paid some attention to the cleaning of these havens, and rendering the passage easier down the declivity. At one of these creeks (called Faligoe from the fall of water) is a fine cascade, rushing down a very high precipice, which, with the reflection of the sun, makes a very conspicuous appearance, from a considerable distance at sea."

At the bottom

 

"Whaligoe is now an archaeological site in the making. It is no longer useful, just old, but not venerable enough to be protected as an ancient monument." That is so British!!

The walk down was quite a bit harder then the walk up - for me anyway.  I'd done a rather hard yoga work out in the morning and I quivered all the way down, but it was a beautiful day and worth the effort.  It is hard to imagine doing all that work for herring, which I find quite strong and stinky.  Any way, it was a fabulous way to spend our Sunday and lunch was pretty good too.

To blog or not to blog...that is the question

I am not a blog expert.  In fact, the sum total of my blog information is associated with the book and movie Julie and Julia. 

My mom suggested I start a blog.  I suspect this was her way of trying to help me find some middle ground knowing I am really busy, but maybe if I could do one post, then that might happen instead of several different e-mails.  I chose this site quite randomly as I think it came up once when I was checking my gmail address and so I thought what the heck, how hard can it be?!?

Well it's not hard at all; everything is straight forward.  I choose a template, customized it and started writing.  I sent an e-mail to friends and family and thought no more Aunty- or Mom-guilt about 'I'd really like to hear how things are going...heavy sigh'.  

blog novices in matching pajamas

The problem started when I suspected it wasn't being read - particularly by the very person that had suggested I write it.  I was puzzled.  Then I went to see my mother and got asked NUMEROUS questions that were clearly answered in my blog: MOM WAS TOTALLY BUSTED.

There was some sputtering about how, "I DON'T KNOW HOW TO USE IT!"

I think that's sort of pathetic because she has an iphone and a kindle and is generally pretty tech savvy - she texts me. To eliminate the excuses, here are a few tips:

• Apparently if you join the blog, it does not send you an e-mail and tell you I have posted something new
• If you scroll down to the bottom, you can keep up-to-date by putting in your e-mail address, then the site will send you an e-mail when I post something new.  It will send you an e-mail confirmation that you want this - you have to respond in order for it to work
• You can and should comment on the blog - see there is like a comment box - you know it's for comments.  This is a great way to get in on the funny Scottish stories; it is also objective evidence that you are actually reading my blog
• You can do some other things like hit +1, which I think means you recommend it, but you'll have to ask someone under 20 or the guy in Germany that +1'd "Never Let Bo Make Your Travel Arrangements"

Blog trivia - that is my eye.  I didn't really want to use a photo of me, and I thought a photo of my eye would be a compromise because they are fabulous and whenever I look at them I think about my dad.  Imagine me on a Saturday morning in my PJs with makeup on one eye. 

Ideally, I would have used a photo of Margaret and Thatcher, but I can never get them to sit together.  In fact, they lead these really colorful and funny lives unless I take my camera out and then they just act like regular dogs.  Most disappointing...but every once and a while there is something so wonderful around they put aside their camera phobia and just go for it.