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Caerketton Hill (Dave Henniker) |
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Swanston Village Cottages with thatched roofs (Undiscovered Scotland) |
After
wandering through Swanston Village with its thatched roofs, which was a revelation to me, we followed a
small burn set amidst a sylvan green pasture. From there we came across the
army’s firing range. If there was a red flag flying we needed to make the
difficult decision about turning back or somehow reconnoitring. By-passing the
T Woods-not really a T, but actually a cross which was disguised from the
northerly Edinburgh direction. One of the group said the T stood for the
Trotter family who had planted it. From there we then had to climb and scramble
up the scree slopes of the northerly side toward the summits of Caerketton and
Allermuir. I found this quite scary indeed. I had to keep up with the party so
forged on. The climb was worth it, because once at the top we could survey and take
in the whole panorama of Edinburgh and where our home, Oxgangs Avenue and The Stair fitted in-it was an early opportunity to take one's bearings-to look at the bigger picture and realise there was a world beyond Oxgangs.On one of these early adventures we had forged deep into
the glens beyond the hill tops. For some reason my wee brother, Iain (2.5 years
younger than me) and I had to turn back to go home. I didn’t really know my way home. We
were both in tears. Eventually we found our way back to the summit. What a
happy relief it was to be able to again survey the whole panorama of Edinburgh and to
say to Iain that we’re fine and I think I know the way home. From the heights
it was all downhill to Oxgangs through
Robert Louis Stevenson’s Swanston Village.
2 comments:
Hi Peter,
Wasn't it a great place to grow up? My mates (mostly Oxgangs Road North and various Colinton Mains streets but a few school mates from Oxgangs proper) used to spend a lot of time on the Pentlands, Craiglockhart Hill, the Braids and Blackford hills - we probably crossed paths :) I particularly remember hiding out on the various golf courses and nicking balls as they came sailing over the crest of a hill, ut of the site of their owners. Even cheekily trying to sell them back to the golfers.
Regards, Gerry
*out of the sight* doh!
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