Tim's Tales: A daunder through time

The initial section of this path is a short but steep climb, which soon gives you a view of the craggy cliff edges of the old quarry. It’s a good place to pause and catch your breath. The whin was out on our walk, giving bright colour to the hillside. It guards a dangerous edge, where much care is needed, but the view is enticing.

I don’t know for sure how high the ‘cliff’ face is, but it gives a sense of drama. At certain angles, it looks like a natural formation but, of course, it isn’t. A huge slice has been taken out of this hill by the quarrying, and the result is an eerie abandoned space surrounded by tall volcanic walls.

Thankfully, the quarrying was stopped in the mid-1970s before it destroyed even more of this iconic hill. The abandoned quarry site is now also part of the human story of Traprain Law, which begins in ancient times, glimpses of which have been revealed by archaeology, but also by its older name Dunpelder, which could mean ‘fort of the spear shafts’ in Cumbric, the tongue of our Celtic land ancestors.

Traprain Law

Archaeological discoveries have shown that the hill is a vital part of the prehistoric story of our county, and indeed of our country, with evidence of occupation going back 6,000 years. I suppose my imagination will always bristle with the image of the Celtic fort on its summit, with its spear-laden rampart and walls, and the mystery behind the ‘Traprain Treasure’, a hoard of Roman silver cut from artefacts and buried in the fifth century AD in circumstances we can only guess.

But if hills could speak, the stories Traprain could tell would show us that despite our current domination over the landscape, our story is indeed a very recent one compared to its. It was made underground 320 million years ago by magma, which is lava that hasn’t made it to the surface. Instead, it formed into an underground mass of volcanic rock called a laccolith.

Then millions more years of erosion exposed it, while it was given its final manicure by the ice, which sculpted and smoothed the hill into its present shape.

Traprain Law

When we reached the base of its towering southern slope, we paused for snacks and stories, with the rolling landscape of East Lothian at our feet.

It is a hill soaked in legend, and I told the ancient story of King Loth, or Lot, whose cruelty and obsession for power didn’t even spare his own daughter, whom he had cast over the rocky cliff to her death; according to one source, at the very spot where we were munching our apples.

If you know the story, you’ll know she didn’t die, but if you don’t know the story, then it is one to discover before you set off on your adventure here.

The legends and glimpses of history at this wonderful place teach us a lesson, I think, that tyrants come and go, that empires rule and disintegrate, that… “that stories last”, said my daughter, interrupting my thoughts, which I’d spoken out loud.

“Aye, sure enough,” I said, “as long as they are told and listened to”.

Our second break was at the ruined dwelling which sits beneath the western edge of Traprain.

I’d love to know the stories of this place; who sat at the now-ruined fireplace, who looked out of the window which my kids now use to play. A skylark provided musical accompaniment to their game; the bird’s song is a sound of spring.

We never made it to the summit on this occasion because we had dawdled so much and it was getting late.

You could do the walk in under an hour, but we took nearly three. But we dawdled not in the sense that we wasted time; quite the opposite.

We had a daunder, and we made the most of the time, in our own way.

Next time we will head for the summit and the Maiden Stone. But that will be another story.