SS2:EB, Grey Mare's Tail

My trip through the Borders continued as I wound my way through the hills between Galashiels and Moffat. Few people live in this short stretch of Scotland, as the hills make for poor pastureland for all but the hardiest of sheep. The sky was threatening for the better part of the morning, and I was bracing for a wet, windy hike up to the Grey Mare's Tail waterfall.




The lone motorway between my ports of call, so to speak. It was a beautiful drive, one punctuated by numerous stops along the shoulder as I whipped out my camera.

As lovely as the hills were, they were of secondary interest. No, I was a woman possessed. I had a mission and my sights were set on this spectacular plot of land:




I honestly haven't the foggiest notion how this photo came out as well as it did. Pure dumb luck, this one. Here we see the Grey Mare's Tail waterfall in all her glory. Standing at a smidge over 200ft. high, the falls are sourced by the waters of Loch Skeen. There's a 4km trail to the top of the falls, so I set out for a wee walk.



The view up the fell from the trail. One patch of early morning clouds had burned away in the sunshine, but there were a few lingering rain clouds slowly coasting toward the falls. I was eager to miss the rain, so I quickened my pace up the trail. I was making fantastic time and was all set to reach the top of the falls while there was still a skoch of blue sky.

Then I came across this:




Damn it, National Trust of Scotland, I'm a very important person with many important things to do. Seriously, though, I gave little thought to the above warning. After all, I'm an out-of-shape, mediocre hiker who's spent so much time living below sea level that I'd benefit from a set of gills. Surely I could handle a sub-par trail leading to this wee trickle of water. Carefully, I made my way around the gate and continued my trek. Until I came to a gaping hole in the path where the side of the fell had completely collapsed into the stream below, that is...

So, this is as close to the falls as I could get before the rain began falling in earnest. It's not a great picture--it's not even a good picture--but it's all I got.

I made my descent and happened upon a ewe and her lamb, happily tramping up and down the sides of the fell, mocking me. "Oh, look at me...I'm an ungulate with ankles specially adapted for rocky outcroppings."



As I watched them dither about, I lamented my own inferior human ankles. As far as synovial joints go, human ankles are pretty crap, and mine are even worse thanks to an unlucky encounter with a trampoline in high school. (Ask me about the Louisiana summer I spent either hobbling on crutches or plodding around in an immobilizer boot.) In any case, my envy quickly melted as I got a better look at this charming little face:







After nearly three weeks in Scotland looking at lambs, bunnies, calves, and human bairns, my ovaries are threatening to go on strike. Apparently they're overworked and under-appreciated. I just hope they don't unionize.