Let the trials begin

Loch Ness on my way to the Fort Augustus trial early Saturday morning. It is a very long lake, rimmed by hills and cliffs. The setting feels primitive, as if mankind is merely a visitor trespassing on nature's secret garden.

Loch Ness

Today we went to two trials. The first in Fort Augustus had a flock of very spirited blackface. I ran fifth. I watched my sheep plunging wildly back and forth across the top of the field while the competitor before me attempted to finish the course. My girls tried every option to avoid being set, dashing each direction, splitting in various configurations and dashing different directions, but in the end were briefly stabilized in the intended zone. Song tends to lift with more deference from a left hand gather but the girls looked more fragile on the right so I sent right. Sure enough, ready or not here I come Song came up over the rise with more force than I felt the situation called for. Overriding my opinion she declined to stop. And the setout dog refused to let the sheep go. And Song was going to bring me sheep. All this provocative action is Song's excuse for blowing off all stop whistles until the fetch panels which by some miracle we made. Now for the turn. The four blackies decided I was Satan. This would have been flattering if they had conferred me some of the powers of Satan, something I might be able to use to pull a reasonable run out of the hat. Instead they just crossed themselves and said three Hail Marys as they dove away from me. Song did manage to settle them somewhat once away from me on the drive. Our lines were not horrible but we missed both panels. Now for the chute. I could not get far enough away from these girls holding the rope. Song did some excellent work holding them in the working area but I did not see success as a likely outcome. We retired to let the next victim go to the post. Already I saw a fresh packet darting across the top.

I did not stay long after my run, heading four hours southeast to another trial in Westruther. I am getting pretty handy with friendly Fred the rental car. On this next leg I discovered he manages the windshield wipers for me, turning them on and off and adjusting the speed as needed. Geraldine GPS, on the other hand, can be very annoying. A protracted incident that began with an imaginary roundabout had me ready to toss her out the window near Edinburgh. The drives have been lovely but now I have a schedule so no time to stop for photos.

The Westruther sheep were mules. Light but reasonable. Song's sheep broke hard to the other side as she ran out. I could not see her from the post to see if she had caused this but when she came into view again she was running wide off them still. She worked quite well with decent lines but my failings lost us both drive panels. She was great at the pen and I handled it well too. The split was easy.

Now I am in bed at a B&B somewhere on route to the next trial. Poor Song is spending the night in the car.