Ridge

Starting from somewhere way left of this photo Scully and I, today, made another attempt on our ascent of that ridge which runs from left to centre top of this picture. It doesn't look like much but it's a long old drag. Where the bush changes texture about 2/3rds the way up this picture is where we stopped on Tuesday.

Today I carried water and a dog bowl and there were no steam train noises from Scully.

That change in texture is where the forest turns into enormous beech trees. The undergrowth is very sparse - having been eaten out by goats, deer and pigs. The pink tape markers we were following ran out part way up there but the old bushman had suggested I take a roll of toilet paper and stick a piece on a small branch every so often.

"Any fool can walk up a ridge" he said "but they'll lose their way coming down."

On the way up only one direction is up. When you turn around everything in front of you is down.

Scully knew the way down. It took me a while to realize she wasn't just randomly running ahead of me as she had done on the way up; she was going down the scent track we'd made.

I had let the old bushman know we were going up and said if I didn't check back by 1400 send some help, so I sent a couple of messages to say we'd made the top and again part way down. At the part down point I was momentarily 'lost' without markers and aware the ridge had a 'dog-leg' around about there. I told my friend the dog appeared to know the way and his advice was 'always follow the dog'. He's never met this dog and I was worried she was randomly casting about for the scent of the big ol' goat with curly horns that we'd seen (and she chased) on the way up. If that had been the case we'd be in the next county by now! However he was right and Scully was very clever and we arrived back down without injury, hungry and a bit tired.

Wee dog just gobbled a snack and wanted to rest.

Still recovering from his dislocated hip, the old deerstalker then did a very rare thing and asked for some help. (I wasn't joking when I called him fiercely independent.) I spent my afternoon on his roof modifying an arrangement that holds a shade sail over his big sun-drenched deck.

I got fed an excellent lamb stew and homemade bread for my efforts - and, grateful I didn't have to cook my own dinner, I understood how wee dog felt.

Time for a snooze.