Colzium

The sweet smell of meadow grass fills the air and a chaffinch rain-calls as the grey cloud base rolls overhead. I exit the small car park at the western end of Harperrig Reservoir and begin to walk along the narrow tarmac road away from the water.

Rosebay Willowherb

The coolness of the breeze drifting off the hills is immediately refreshing. This is forestry land and, as I walk, I notice how recent clearing now affords more open views up the slopes of West Cairn Hill. A few isolated bare trunks have been left here and there, punctuating the landscape like totems.

The warble-trills of wrens ring out all around. The scattered debris of the felled pines has left a habitat ideally suited to them – the nooks and crannies of branch, root and stump perfect for foraging and nesting. One wren is alarm calling furiously and as my eyes settle on the source of the sound, I see a jay rise from a tangle of branches and flap off. Was its raid successful? Just then, a squeak emerges from the undergrowth by my feet – quite likely a vole, but one who remains concealed.

The road’s borders burst with the colour of wildflowers - from the creams of clover and meadowsweet to the pretty pinks of common spotted orchid, and from vetchling’s ochre to rosebay willowherb’s vibrant magenta. The tiny delicate lilac heads of germander speedwell are also a delight, two long stamens projecting from each little flower like antennae.

Never-still meadow pipits perch on power lines above me, alighting on the wires only to take off again and bob through the air to the next section, tracking my progress yet not letting me get too close.

After a kilometre or so I am aware of a small meandering burn to my left. Literally narrow enough to jump across in places, this is the Water of Leith in its uppermost reaches, having been formed from the confluence of the East, West and Mid Burns on the slopes above Colzium farm. Before long, I reach the entrance to the farm road and it’s time to turn around, but not before taking some time to rest on the pillowy tufts of grass overlooking a pretty bend in the river. The sun begins to emerge between gaps in the cloud. It’s a perfect spot for contemplation and I gaze down at the dark water flowing by, thinking of the journey it will take, down to the reservoir and on, past our homes, through the centre of the city, growing all the while - eventually to emerge into the Firth at Leith.

Heading back, on reaching a blue gate part way back to the reservoir, I take a detour uphill along the forestry road for about a mile. The sun is pleasantly warm on my back as I ascend. There is barely a sound, bar the gentle background hum of insects. I watch an electric-blue damselfly hawk over a small pool by the path. The occasional cricket chirrups. A sense of deep peace descends.

There are more orchids here, great swathes of tall daisies too. With the flowers come the butterflies – common blue, northern brown argus and small copper all flutter around me as I walk, some of the twenty-two species of butterfly that can be found in the Pentlands.

Common Blue Butterfly

This has been the simplest of walks, and easy out-and-back, but one which can nevertheless take you on a journey in more ways than one. It was here that I walked with my son during the first lockdown - at that time the furthest we could travel. It was here we heard our first cuckoo of that spring…. that spring when, in our enforced slowdown, despite the anguish and fear we witnessed nature’s beauty unfold perhaps in greater detail and clarity than any other in living memory. It will never cease to amaze me how even a simple walk like this can help us gain that kind of perspective. Colzium still does for me.

---

Published in Konect August 2025

Author: William Weir