6.4 miles 2h 45m 450m
I started half way down Daer reservoir near a farmhouse and a small promontory named on the OS as the mound. There was no obvious parking space at Kirkhope Cleuch so I headed a little further along the track looking for a suitable place to park. The first spot was a passing place but only large enough for one car; the next was larger and I left the car there. The weather was better than my last visit to Daer, the sun peeping out but occasional raindrops also making themselves known. I decided to do this walk without a rucksack since it was relatively short. So I had a big slug of water before setting off. In retrospect a banana en route would have been nice but wouldn’t have fit in my wee waist bag.
I headed straight up Watchman’s Brae climbing a recalcitrant gate on the way. All the hills in this area have steep lower sections with numerous false horizons to sap the morale and the wind was blowing directly in my face despite being on the side of a hill and once the hill was crested it was truly buffeting. The hat and gloves were deployed though I did worry that my woolly hat would get blown off.
It is difficult to identify a top to Watchman’s Brae since it is just a shoulder of Rodger Law, but there was a small stone, a wannabe cairn, that probably marks the spot. The view from here was good. Rodger Law loomed ahead and to my left the ridge to Earncraig, that I had walked a couple of weeks earlier, was now fully visible, having been shrouded in mist back then.
There was a quad bike track heading up to Rodger Law but it was very waterlogged so I took a more direct line up. The tussocks were there to welcome me and threatened to upended me every now and then. Once on Rodger Law summit I could see the Lowther hills, Queensberry, the Moffat hills and more distant peaks that I couldn’t identify. What seemed strangely absent was a large hill to west, Comb Law, which was to be the final hill of the day. Ballencleuch Law and Comb Law were the two Donalds I was intending to visit. The former was there but only a smaller, lower hill to the west. The map was consulted and position checked. Though Rodger Law is not a Donald it is higher the Comb Law. So the wee hill to the west was Comb Law.
Ballencleuch Law looked quite a distance away but there was a good downhill stretch to give me a rest. The col between the two was a little wet but with care a dry route could be found. Eventually I joined a fence that led up Ballencleuch Law which lacks any exciting summit features. The was a bundle of old fence posts that appeared to be occupying the highest ground.
From Ballencleuch I followed the fence back down the way I had come but followed it as it struck off north. There were a great many hares on these hills. Ahead in the lower ground on the way to Hirstane Rig there was a coven of peat hags. My planned route was to leave the fence to cut a corner but it was clear that the ground was wet, wet, wet, and sticking to the fence line looked the better option albeit a longer one.
I see from the map that several of these areas nearby have the epithet ‘midden’ and that does capture the reality quite well. Having made my way through this kind of terrain a couple of weeks earlier in thick mist, I’ll have to say that it is much easier to find a route when more is visible. There were old fence posts strewn about here and some had been thrown across the mud in places. Even so I had to use the fence as a bridge across some boggy areas. Slightly more irritating were discarded fence wires which tripped me a couple of times. Luckily it wasn’t barbed wire.
At Comb Law I did the summit-baggers search routine of wandering from one spot to another trying to find the highest among several minor mounds as well as checking out any piles of stones. From Comb Law I decided to go for the direct route back to the car so a compass bearing was chosen and I set off across the tussocks. If I walked this route again I think I would follow the fence and dyke down where the contours are further apart As it was, on my direct route the ground soon began to fall off quite steeply so I had to zig-zag at times. There were several apparent tracks but all were running across my own path. Once in the valley I crossed Kirkhope Cleuch near an old sheep pen and made my way across the foot of Watchman’s Brae back to the car.
This final section was tussocks and wetness. Initially there were drainage channels to cross every twenty metres or so but once they stopped the ground had standing water between tussocks. It was here, within sight of the car that my foot sank into a deep hole. The entry of my foot managed to dislodge my gaiter and allow the boot to fill with water. It is strange how time seems to slow at these times because I was fully aware of this yet it can only have been a fraction of a second between the foot entering the hole and me pitching onto my face.
