Lonely Donalds in the mist

8.5 miles 500m ascent 4 hours

A less than perfect forecast, and the met office almost got it right. Cloud covered hill tops, correct, and showers, incorrect. Heavy persistent rain.

Loki, god of mischief, was working overtime today. My camera battery ran out, despite showing several bars the night before and the GPS battery gave up the ghost three miles into the walk. While driving to Kirkhope, by the Daer reservoir, I missed the turning and found myself at the water works and a dead end, before finding my way along the southern upland way for a short while to the farm.

As is often the way, the weather seemed somewhat better at the beginning of the walk. It was raining, but little more than light drizzle. There was a cloud on the top of some hills, but only the highest and only the summits were covered.

I had thought there would be some parking at Kirkhope Farm but couldn’t find any and drove back to Crookburn where the roadside looked strong enough to take the car.

I crossed the bridge over Daer Water, which a few miles downstream becomes the Clyde, and headed directly up Nether Law. At the top of this hill I got the camera out, to find that switching it on took the last juice from the battery. Phone photos would have to do.

The hills I had in mind were now visible with skull caps of cloud. No paths here so I took a direct route over the various summits. Here, as elsewhere there were many more ups and downs than the OS map suggested. As I climbed onto Over Law the rain climbed up a couple of notches so the waterproofs were deployed, something I still seem unable to do with panache. By the time I and my trusty rucsac were covered, the cloud had come down and the views disappeared.

Nothing to see but grass, no obvious target, so out came the little used GPS, which I had loaded with waypoints for the day’s summits. After much climbing, and trudging through sodden ground I came upon what appeared to be the highest ground, but the GPS informed me I had another 2 km to go. So this was Lamb Hill not Earncraig. The ground fell, then rose again and then something new entered the scene. Peat Hags.

Now I must admit that I find Peat Hags interesting. Good photo opportunities and something to muse upon (regarding their formation). But these hills had a whole coven of Peat Hags, large and small, often obstructing my path while being surrounded by boot-sucking mud or standing water. Climbing on and off these certainly gave my legs a work-out. Luckily, there was a fence heading from Lamb Hill to Earncraig and as well as guiding my way, it was useful to climb along when getting across some of the wider water features.

By now my gloves were soaked through. I had taken ski gloves since they appearred to have some water-resistance but found I needed to wring them out every so often. How many times have I stood in an outdoor shop looking at waterproof gloves, thinking “I’m not paying that”? Well next time I’m buying some. But to give the gloves their due, they did keep my hands warm even when soaking wet.

Earncraig hill’s summit was confirmed by GPS and, more importantly, wandering about to see if there were any higher areas. I suspect a small mound to the NW of a bend in the fence was the top. Since there was a dry stone wall here I was able to crouch behind it and get some shelter while having some lunch. Not the most enjoyable place for a meal, but a necessary morale boost.

Before setting off I got out the GPS to get a direction and distance for Gana Hill, but while looking at it, it shut down with a little message about “battery low”. I decided that opening it up to put in new batteries carried a risk of getting water in its vital parts. So I consigned it to the bag. If I got really lost I would put the spare batteries in. If I needed a GPS grid reference I would use my phone, in its plastic (sandwich) bag. So back to compass.

There was a fence heading down hill in the same direction I was taking. This descent was steep. So steep that I felt obliged to move away from the fence. The fence was topped with barbed wire and I worried that I would reflexly grab it. Eventually the ground levelled then started to climb but the fence ended. I looked to the compass and set off.

After only a short time I glanced back to check I was still following the line of the fence, but it was lost in the mist. I was climbing onto a shoulder of Gana Hill, which had more peat hags to get around but also much more in the way of marshy uncrossable sections to negotiate. I spotted something off to the right, possibly a cairn, a cow or the end of a wall, so went to investigate. A cairn. There are two on the OS, so I got the phone out and confirmed my grid reference. I was at the more northerly cairn. From here I thought I could make out a fence, which I headed for and followed to the summit of Gana Hill.

There is a shoulder of Gana Hill called Gana Shank and here I found a gate in an adjoining fence. On the other side was a wide track. This wasn’t marked on the map and given the mist I couldn’t see where it went but it did look to be descending so I left it. Once back I had a look at Google Earth and the path runs between Gana Shank and Gana Hill.

On Gana Hill there was a small cairn but several areas looked a little higher so I had another short bout of wandering around these and then returned to the cairn. The photo of the cairn looks quite clear and doesn’t capture the mist at all well.

From here I planned to head north to Thick Cleuch. There did seem to be a narrow path heading down and though it disappeared at times, I kept heading north and eventually descended out of the cloud to see Thick Cleuch and Haggy Hill. Terry Marsh in his book ”On foot in southern Scotland” describes walking in this area as a “tiring, trying romp through heathery, tussocky, and boggy terrain – great fun”. Perhaps it wasn’t raining when he was there.

As I walked down to the burn I did wonder if it would be easy to cross and when I arrived I was in “f**k -it” mode. So I jumped off the bank where the water looked shallow, holding on to the bank in case it was slippy, then got across as quick as I could. The boots and gaiters seemed to keep most of the water out.

The OS shows a path along the side of the burn, but I could find so sign of it.

Thick Cleuch Moss had several other watery sections to get across, but I found a quad bike track that slowly climbed around an area called Grouse Butts. Eventually this led me to the rocky track that would lead me back to Kirkhope through 2.5 miles of rain, and a couple of fords. On the way I spotted a bird of prey with markings like a soldier’s desert camouflage, a Kestrel, I presume.

While climbing these two lonely Donalds, I didn’t see another soul. Indeed I only saw one human bootprint and that was very faint whereas my boot sank to ankle depth in the mud beside it. So the print was either old or made by a very light being, possibly an angel?

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