Saturday the 21st of July didn't start out quite so bright. In fact, we had a few rain splatters on our windscreen as we drove north to the town of Gairloch. There, on a hill overlooking the town and its bay, we attended the Gairloch and District Sheep Dog Trials. Shepherds and their dogs from all over Scotland, from a few spots elsewhere in the British Isles, and one entry each from Australia, New Zealand, and the USA, competed at a set pattern of sheep-herding. We spectators stood at a fence looking out onto a field and a hill that rose beyond it. In the middle of the field was a pen, back from the pen and on either side of the field were gateways, and up the hill was a pen full of sheep. When the judge gave the signal, the shepherd and his dog walked onto the field to stand at the ready beside the pen. For each dog's trial, 3 sheep would be let loose from on top of the hill. At the shepherd's shouted and whistled commands, each dog was to run a circuit up the hill and then herd the sheep back down the hill. The sheep had to be run around the pen once, then out behind and through each of the two gateways before the dog was to herd the sheep into the pen. At this point the shepherd could "encourage" the sheep to get into the pen and then shut the gate.
We saw dogs who seemed to know exactly what to do but who couldn't quite manage to get the sheep to cooperate. We also saw a few dogs who seemed not quite sure what they were doing out there. And, of course, we saw all sorts of variations on those two models. Some shepherds had two dogs, but that usually just doubled the problems. What was amazing was how quickly we'd all be rooting for the dogs to get it right and inwardly cursing the stupid sheep for not cooperating. Occasionally, we'd see an almost perfect performance which would draw a warm round of applause from the onlookers.
After one particularly outstanding performance, we took a lunch break, retreating to the marquee tent for hot tea, home-made soups, bacon or wild boar sausage sandwiches, and home-baked sweets. Then we went back to watch more of the trials. We were eventually ourselves herded back to our car by the midges who just love humid, still, overcast days--and especially fair-skinned people like me! We had all doused ourselves repeatedly with Skin So Soft (which the locals just call "Avon" only they pronounce it AY-vun) but it didn't work for me. Otherwise, it was an enjoyable several hours and the dogs were all wonderful to watch, even the ones who were a wee bit confused.
After leaving the trials, we drove down into Gairloch and poked around a bit. Then we took a detour on our way back to the cottage to stop at Redpoint, a red sandy beach on the Atlantic. The sun was trying to shine but never quite managed to dispel all the clouds. Still, we had some sunny spells now and then. We passed a lovely wee loch on the way to Redpoint, where we saw a lone fisherman out in a boat. Once at Redpoint, Peter decided that as this was a beach, he must have a lie down in the sand so he spread his jacket and did just that. Don and I strolled on the beach picking up cowrie shells. On our way back to the car, we encountered a couple from Carnoustie who had been in a pub for lunch and had just seen television coverage of the terrible floods down in England. We went back to the cottage and watched a bit of the coverage ourselves. We couldn't believe that so soon after a recent flooding episode, it had happened again.
That evening we drove to the Shieldaig Inn next to the post Torridon Hotel for another delicious evening meal. When we got back, Kathy walked down to the honor-system pick-your-own farm down the hill from the cottage and dug us some new potatoes for the next morning's breakfast. Don boiled them so they could cool and be ready to be turned into his yummy home fries.
We saw dogs who seemed to know exactly what to do but who couldn't quite manage to get the sheep to cooperate. We also saw a few dogs who seemed not quite sure what they were doing out there. And, of course, we saw all sorts of variations on those two models. Some shepherds had two dogs, but that usually just doubled the problems. What was amazing was how quickly we'd all be rooting for the dogs to get it right and inwardly cursing the stupid sheep for not cooperating. Occasionally, we'd see an almost perfect performance which would draw a warm round of applause from the onlookers.
After one particularly outstanding performance, we took a lunch break, retreating to the marquee tent for hot tea, home-made soups, bacon or wild boar sausage sandwiches, and home-baked sweets. Then we went back to watch more of the trials. We were eventually ourselves herded back to our car by the midges who just love humid, still, overcast days--and especially fair-skinned people like me! We had all doused ourselves repeatedly with Skin So Soft (which the locals just call "Avon" only they pronounce it AY-vun) but it didn't work for me. Otherwise, it was an enjoyable several hours and the dogs were all wonderful to watch, even the ones who were a wee bit confused.
After leaving the trials, we drove down into Gairloch and poked around a bit. Then we took a detour on our way back to the cottage to stop at Redpoint, a red sandy beach on the Atlantic. The sun was trying to shine but never quite managed to dispel all the clouds. Still, we had some sunny spells now and then. We passed a lovely wee loch on the way to Redpoint, where we saw a lone fisherman out in a boat. Once at Redpoint, Peter decided that as this was a beach, he must have a lie down in the sand so he spread his jacket and did just that. Don and I strolled on the beach picking up cowrie shells. On our way back to the car, we encountered a couple from Carnoustie who had been in a pub for lunch and had just seen television coverage of the terrible floods down in England. We went back to the cottage and watched a bit of the coverage ourselves. We couldn't believe that so soon after a recent flooding episode, it had happened again.
That evening we drove to the Shieldaig Inn next to the post Torridon Hotel for another delicious evening meal. When we got back, Kathy walked down to the honor-system pick-your-own farm down the hill from the cottage and dug us some new potatoes for the next morning's breakfast. Don boiled them so they could cool and be ready to be turned into his yummy home fries.
No comments:
Post a Comment