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'.

A very special walk up Morven

Just over a month ago (July 2nd to be precise) Gail disappeared off for the day with some of her oldest friends. I was most put out later to learn that they had all been for a walk up Morven, one of my favourite hills, and was not at all satisfied by being told it had been a "very special walk" and that my presence that day would "not have been appropriate".

Well I'm pleased to report that this weekend Gail decided to revisit Morven. This time I was allowed to accompany her and along the way I learned a little about the earlier "special walk".

It was disappointing to have to start off on the lead. Gail seemed to think I might chase after the sheep in field at the base of the hill, but I only wanted to commiserate with them over their terrible haircuts.

I regained my freedom when we started climbing the steeper slopes. I even stopped to pose in the heather, although, not being a Westie, this is not part of my contract.

Near the top Gail told me that the "special walk" in July had been to scatter the ashes of her dear friend Kate, who passed away earlier in the year in Australia, but who wanted to be laid to rest on this particular Scottish hill. A group of nearly twenty, led by Kate's husband Henry, had taken part in a simple but unforgettable goodbye ceremony on the windswept summit, on what would have been the twenty fifth anniversary of the only wedding at which Gail was ever a bridesmaid. 

In the summit cairn there is a visitors book, hidden in a waterproof plastic box, behind a wooden door.

Gail showed me what was written on 2nd July 2013.



After adding a brief note to record our visit today, we headed back down.


An off piste diversion to chase some noisy, low flying grouse (I SO nearly got 'em) led to an awesome patch of ripe cloudberries.



Gail would have been picking them all afternoon had I not pointed out the deteriorating weather conditions and that she already had enough for a nice 'multekrem' anyway.


Luckily we made it back to the car before the rain set in. Although not before I had been required to do yet more posing in the heather...

PS from Gail: Thank you for all your wonderful suggestions for a hard hat for Bertie. Please keep them coming!

From Cloud Nine to Cloudberries

Things started a bit slowly chez Bertie on Sunday morning. Gail had been glued to the telly the night before, awestruck by the sight of some other humans running and jumping and throwing things about down at the Olympics in London.

So I bounced up on her bed reminded her that no-one gets a body like Jessica Ennis by lying horizontal all morning, and that anyway she'd promised me we'd go on a cloudberry hunt today.

Now to be honest with you, although Gail can get excited about picking what apparently is a rare delicacy, I personally am not to fussed about berries of any description. My interest was only sparked when I learned that to find a cloudberry in NE Scotland you have to climb up to about 2000 ft and then you also need a bog, and well, that sounds like a mighty fine walk doesn't it, especially the boggy bit....

Anyway, before too long we'd driven forty miles inland and were climbing a hill called Morven. From on high, I surveyed the scene.


Of course, being Scotland, it didn't take long to locate a boggy area...


I veered off the track and went to investigate.


"Look Gail, see the little red thing, is that when we're after?"


"Let's have a closer look."


Well apparently this was a cloudberry, and I was dead chuffed with myself, until Gail told me that the red berries are not yet ripe and that we needed to find some golden orange coloured ones.

So I bounced around the bog a bit more, until I spotted this.


And for once Gail was delighted and full of praise. "Perfect Bertie just perfect, this is even more exciting than the Olympics".

Well, readers might have their own opinion about THAT.

Now Gail is telling me all about how cloudberries have a unique and intense flavour and are chock full of vitamins and anti-oxidants and stuff and so are super-healthy. 

But I have my doubts that the dessert she made when we got home, based on a Norwegian recipe (whipped cream, sugar and just a sprinkling of the precious cloudberries) was going to help her perform like Jessica Ennis any time soon.