Walking with Talos

One of my great pleasures is walking, specifically walking in places that make me forget I'm in a city. By some great stroke of luck, walking, especially in 'wild' places, happens to be one of a little puggy-lady's favourite things as well. Neither of us are super energetic, athletic beings, but neither of us are true couch potatoes either. Long walks suit us perfectly, and so, last week, to celebrate the removal of her stitches, we took to a smallish nature reserve in the city of Pretoria.

The walk starts off amongst long, dry grasses. It's winter now, so everything is a dusty brown, with a blue sky overhead.

The hill shows off the natural foliage of the Pretoria region very nicely. Grassland on the flatter areas, switching out for shrubs and small, stubby trees (not even up to my shoulder) as you climb. The rocks, for those interested, are volcanic in nature, mostly granite (pinkish in colour, often seen in kitchens), with some quarts seams as you climb higher.

It does not go up the hill in the background immediately, but in stead winds through a small shaded area along a stream.

The stream is the Moreletta Spruit, nearly unique in still having water even in the middle of winter. It will keep getting drier until about mid September, when we expect our first rain again.
The water is so polluted that no frogs can survive in it any more, and no insects hang around either. No swimming for dogs or people. Sadly, a great many people rely on this stream as their only source of water, more and more so as publicly accessible taps become a thing of the past. The counterpoint to this is that you are warned to not walk alone or with any valuables, as the park can easily be entered by hopping a fence (to avoid paying the nominal entrance fee). As a teenager, a friend and I did this often.

The park is well used, especially on weekends, which leads to erosion.




This is especially troublesome so near the stream, but it makes for a happy puggy who can bounce and climb as we go along.
My pictures show nothing of the foliage, but it is mostly an invasive creeper heavily covering wild fig, black wattle (another invasive species) and bushwillows.

 Soon enough the path winds us up the hill, or perhaps I should call it by it's proper name, one outcropping of the Magaliesberg (Magalies mountains). They hardly warrant that name, being but a hundred meters or so of steep uphill to the top. The city center is nestled between two rows of these 'mountains', and both of these rows are mostly nature reserve. The suburbs and slums have swallowed the surrounding area for many kilometers, but here, near the city, wildness remains.

Talos and I climb upwards. She enjoys the loose footing quite a bit more than I do...
 

... I, in turn, enjoy the scenery more than she does.

The imposed sit on a bench allows me to catch my breath, I am hardly the fittest I've ever been, and admire the view. The little Empress tolerates the bench with the poise of one of her station. She has such a proud bearing.

The granite here is old. These are fold mountains, creases in the earth from when the continents separated. Even such a very durable stone shows its age.

Talos here has climbed a chunk of quarts. It is important to me that these walks are communal. She cannot choose to come here, but she can choose which way we turn, and which rock to climb if she is so inclined.

The path walks you along the crest of the hill, and here, an old friend sits and waits for us in a red bushwillow bush:




A female grey hornbill, birds that have been in gardens, in wild places, everywhere throughout my life. Zazu, from Lion King fame, is a yellow-billed hornbill.

Talos must be the only dog to know a 'shush' command that means stop making panty snorty noises, not stop barking. I often need her still and quiet, to observe a bird or small creature near me, and if luck is with me, to take a picture. It is a hobby and a vain ambition to one day have my own picture of every species of bird in South Africa.

On the way down, in the shade of a bush, we take a last break before the three odd mile path concludes its roundabout trip and lands us back at the gate. I can confide anything to my dog, and she listens, patiently and attentively. I often don't even have to speak to her to manage to feel like I've shared my innermost thoughts with her. We found ourselves in such a meaningful silence in our patchy shade.

What is she listening to? Could it be my thoughts? No, I'm exaggerating, it's likely the surrounds. Still, the feeling of a very deep companionship is there.

As I've said, winter is brown. But in it's own way, this is quite beautiful. The brown has such varied textures, and everywhere there are flowers. Yellow ones, nearly the same colour as the dry grass, and tiny purple flowers.

It feels like this dog and I have been together for many years, but the calendar tells me it's just a few months, approaching half a year. It's amazing how they creep into your soul.

I love walking with Talos :)