‘Up Trail and Down Dale Weekend’ – Carder Low Monday

Hot Millie

Or the Last Word, Sheep with Attitude and a Hare Chase…

Millie continues to show a rebellious teenage streak and lies in bed gazing out of the awning flap and growling at legions of D of E kids and their giant rucksacks as they march past. No amount of telling off will stop her and like every teenager she just has to have the last word…

We lie in bed, it is late and we should get up but it’s nice to lie here watching the trees blowing in the breeze and enjoying the start of another perfect summer’s day.

We walk into Hartington along Highfield Lane. It is hot and dusty and the hills burn under the relentless sun.

We stop to dunk Millie in the green algae covered village pond. She doe not approve and I tell her it is a necessary evil.

And it is, as it is blisteringly hot and without the breeze we wouldn’t be walking anywhere.

We take a footpath through Madge Dale where we come on a group of teenagers collapsed in the shade of wall,

“She’s wet and smelly”, I warn them as Millie hunts through their packs for food.

“So are we”, they chorus back as they all pat her,

“Poor little legs”, one of the girls says but Darrell is convinced that she is really referring to him.

We cross fields full of sheep with attitude, one half grown lamb marches up to Millie and stands nose to nose with her bleating belligerently. The rest stop pretending they find the desiccated grass stalks delicious and set up a sheep chorus all around us. Even a Jack Russell finds that a little daunting…

We stop in the shade of some trees below Carder Low. Millie puts up a large hare and gives chase but is hopelessly outclassed. She doesn’t care in the least and flops down beside us grinning and extremely proud of herself.

As we eat lunch she rumbles a warning at passing walkers for no discernible reason other than she is growing into her Jack Russell genes. We remonstrate with her firmly but we might as well have saved our breath for all the notice she takes.

We carry on until we pass through the yard at Vincent House. The sheepdogs howl as if they might tear her limb from limb but she is totally unfazed and I have to stop her trying to find a way into the cage with them.

We head back down the Tissington Trail in the heat of the afternoon and finally turn off into the trees with a feeling of relief.

Back at the van at last we open all the flaps and let the cool breeze pour in.

Millie curls up on the bed and within minutes is dead to the world…


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