Drow 'n' Smirr

The Raider’s Road – Manx style

May 26, 2015

6.8 miles 4h 2min ascent 117m

An unusual day out, the distance and time is made up of three walks joined by short hops in the car. it was cool enough for fleeces and though we had a few spots of rain on the windscreen when on the Queen’s Way, we had none while walking.

First Leg (0.7 miles):

We began in the car park among the pines by Clatteringshaws Loch. Audrey drew my attention to the hollow sound of our footsteps on the forest floor. I hadn’t noticed it but she was right. I could hear a hollow timbre to both her footsteps and those of the dogs, but not my own, though I could feel the quality of the ground as I walked. I don’t think I am particularly light footed so this must represent some form of filter in my perception.

Clatteringshaws an early bath

The Rosnes Benches were at the edge of the woods only a few metres from where we had left the car so we decided to visit them on the way back. By then we would have had more time to shake off the ambience of the car journey and better enjoy the view.

A narrow man-made footpath led us to Bruce’s Stone on Raploch Moss. There was Bog Myrtle beside the path, and having identified it a couple of weeks earlier we now find everywhere, and now the catkins are being joined by small leaves. The catkins are now somewhat brittle and leave a pleasant menthol scent on the fingers when crushed.

Bog Myrtle

There were a variety of wild flowers, including cuckoo flower (lady’s smock), cranesbill, violet, and forget-me-nots and new growth of a variety of grasses.

Bruce’s Stone sits at the end of the footpath. Bruce is said to have rested here after his victory over the English on Raploch Moss in 1307. This natural granite boulder stands perhaps 150m from the waters of Clatterringshaws Loch but would at the time of the battle have overlooked the moorland of Raploch Moss. This extensive moor then lay between the Black Water of Dee, Clatteringshaws Lane and Benniguinea, but was flooded to create Clatteringshaws Loch as a reservoir with the construction of a dam in 1932-34.

Broce’s stone, Raploch Moss

There is no official record of the battle though bones, helmets, swords, daggers and spears were said to have turned up over the years. There was a local tradition that there had been a battle here and that this boulder, referred to as the King’s Stane, is where Bruce’s Standard was raised.

An information board by the boulder doesn’t give any more specific information but suggests Bruce set upon a sleeping English Army in their camp. The eagle eyed will notice that the board’s drawing of Bruce resting on the stone has the loch in the background, a premonition perhaps that the land where the battle took place would be cleansed? Or an artist given an inaccurate brief?

We walked a little further north of the boulder picking our way through increasingly boggy ground until we had had enough. I had thought to head across to the loch and back along the bank but a combination of saplings, uninviting terrain and a desire for dry feet put me off.

We returned along the same path, then headed through the trees to the Rosnes Benches. I must have altered something on my camera here because several images were marinated in green. The benches are at the edge of the woods and look out across the loch to Darnaw, and Craignell. The trees and the benches are a little higher that the ground around the loch and though they were separated from the water by 150m of boggy ground, with more bog myrtle, nearby debris suggests that when the loch is fuller the benches will sit close to the water.

Clatteringshaws Rosnes Benches

On the short walk back to the car we investigated a fallen that had left beneath it a flat granite pavement with a chunk missing, the chunk still embedded in the tree’s roots. A chair made from a log stood inviting the unwary. I sat on it with care and can confirm that it is a rocking chair, or unstable, however you prefer to think of it. I didn’t rock far enough to test its instability.

There was both orange and purple lichen on trees, a star made of branches fixed to a tree, and tussocks sprouting new growth giving them the appearance of a group of muppets taking a mud bath.

Muppets…The Beaker People

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Second Leg (0.44 miles):

We had a brief ride down the Raiders Road, with me recalling the rather challenging visit to Cairnsmore of Dee some years ago with David. I had forgotten how far along the road we had walked before turning for the hill. Ah, tussocks and felled forest.

The car park at the Otter Pool was empty of visitors, but forestry workers were there strimming the grass of the picnic areas. Auto-correct had them strumming the grass, which would have been an interesting experience. The alternative world of autocorrect is perhaps a modern equivalent of Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass freeing us from the constraints of reality to expand our imagination. I can imagine a tradition going back through the generations where the young men go strumming the grass to raise bewitching melodies. As it was they were strimming, their noise putting paid to any appreciation of birdsong.

A stone otter sits, holding a fish, looking across the waters of the pool as he has for many years. His details are looking a little weathered now, having waited so long for the music of strumming grass to bring him back to life.

The Otter Pool

The dogs had a paddle in the river, Sweep showing himself to be more adventurous in the water than Eddie, but the water was too full for the humans to easily reach the other side. I had intended crossing the river here and walking along the forestry tracks of the far side so we needed a change of plan.

Otter Pool Rosnes Benches

We strolled along the bank into the trees. The greens and browns supplemented with blue of bluebells, pink and white apple blossom and bright yellow broom. The three Rosnes Benches were among bluebells at the riverside and this time my camera’s white balance behaved. We could I suppose have wondered back and further along the bank downstream but with the forestry chaps working it wasn’t safe to have the dogs running near them.

Otter Pool

Just before leaving I heard another bird calling to Sweep…”hwee”. Last week I had thought this sound was from a wood warbler but now I wonder because this time we could see the culprit clearly, a chaffinch.

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Third Leg:

Stroan Loch probably takes its name from sron, literally a nose, though often applied to headlands. There is a small car park at the southern end of the loch with a memorial to the late Charles Parley, Forester-in-charge of the Bennan 1947-70. “The afforested panorama visible from this point is its own testimony to his boundless enthusiasm energy and loving care above all he is remembered for his kindly nature which made it a pleasure to work with and for him”

Stroan Loch

We went through the gate onto the disused railway track. This was the Stranraer to Dumfries Port Line, often referred to as the Paddy Line, that ran from 1859 until the Beeching cuts in 1965. With no pre-planned route and having driven off the bottom of the OS maps I had brought along we turned towards Mossdale.

Woods by The Paddy Line

The path ran through a cutting with moss covered rock walls overhung by trees in full leaf. A willow had fallen from its perch at the top of one section but must have either been left with some intact roots or re-rooted itself in the rock, and despite lying below the canopy, shoots grew from the fallen trunk, their leaves making use of the remaining light.

Once out of the trees we were on a raised section of railway looking over the tops of the conifers on either side with a view similar to that seen from cable cars when skiing. Bennan, mentioned on the Stroan Loch memorial, stood proud to the north. The hedgerows had a good variety of flowers including wild strawberries.

In the distance we spotted a circling raptor, and with the binoculars this was clearly a red kite. Luckily for us it chose to drift closer and eventually flew by giving us an excellent view of its plumage. We were to see it, or another kite, twice more. When driving home yet another red kite flew by carrying something in its talons.

At a gate the forest gave way to farmland, and sheep. There was a tempting waymarker post beyond, presumably one of the red kite trails, but rather than constrain the dogs we turned about and headed back.

On the return journey we noticed a faint path in the woods to our left and after a bit of jungle work managed to reach it. Unfortunately within a few metres it was really too overgrown to follow and I worried that if I let any more branches flick back into Audrey she might lose her calm demeanour.

Apple blossom

A little later we did leave the railway for a clearer track that led us back and beneath the viaduct. We still had quite a bit of walk left in us so we headed back to the gate, repulsing a surprise attack from a pack of sausage dogs (i.e. Eddie ran away from them, with tail between legs), and headed west along the Paddy Line.

There were black headed gulls on the loch and I had given them little attention but when on the viaduct one flew across and Eddie took off after it, jumping up onto the parapet of the bridge. That bloody dog can jump much higher than I had thought. I rushed him off the bridge then waited for my heart to slow before continuing. He crossed on a lead on the way back, and Sweep, just in case.

Hawthorn in blossom

We passed hawthorns in various stage of bloom, some with very early blossom looking like heads watching us to trees in full bloom. Why trees in very similar positions should be in different stages I don’t know.

A large roe deer watched us then bounded into the trees unnoticed by the dogs, who also ran straight past an adder lying on the path. Eddie did though run after butterflies and small birds, or their shadows. When we came to stop for lunch we rested on a boulder among bracken on a slight rise above the path. Here Sweep’s snuffling turned into digging and he had a good go at pulling a root out of the ground. Eddie stuck with chasing shadows and when they faded as the sun passed behind a cloud he too took to digging for the lost shadows. He managed to wash off the mud a little later when he ran onto some moss that turned out to be floating on a pool deep enough to give him the full immersion treatment.

As ever it was Sweep who called time on our lunch break. He started barking and we had the strange experience of the sound echoing off the nearby trees. I can’t say I’ve noticed that phenomenon before.

Adder

We had intended walking out to Skerrow Halt but Eddie got a sore paw a mile or so short of the destination so we headed back. I didn’t know if I would end up carrying him but he was back to running and jumping normally within a few minutes.

Back at the Loch side the dogs had a chance to wash off any remaining mud and have a drink.

Five Rosnes Benches in a day.

And why Manx? Three legs of course, or perhaps it could relate to my origin, Manc’s.
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Posted in Dumfries & Galloway | Tagged Low Level, Rosnes Benches | Comments Off

A lonely mountain lake in a treeless waste

May 25, 2015

9.2 miles 3h 30m ascent 283m

This was a straightforward there and back route from Craigencallie, along forestry tracks past Loch Dee, over the Laggan Burn and up the slopes of White Hill/Curleywee to the Loch Dee Rosnes Benches. On the return leg we went down to the loch itself and the dogs washed away the worst of the mud.

The weather and the experience were glorious.

Malcom Harper walked here in the nineteenth century without the benefit of forestry tracks and was stirred by the place.

Loch Dee is a lonely mountain lake, in a treeless waste, about five miles north-east of Loch Trool, and is only approachable by the pedestrian, or by very rough bridle roads. Heath and moss, rocks and stones without end, and jagged hills, with here and there bright verdant patches on their rugged sides, form the chief features of the landscape.
Agriculture is nowhere to be seen, and the traveller might in a day’s walk not alight on a human habitation. The whole region being one vast sheep farm, only here and there a solitary shepherd’s sheiling is to be found in low sheltered places. The district is not opened up by roads, and its interesting character is but little known — its solitudes
being seldom trodden save by the shepherd, the sportsman, and the student of nature.

The mountains, which in proud and sullen majesty rise round the source of the Dee, are rendered spirit-stirring by the memories of other times, and are calculated to arouse in the breast of the rambler feelings of patriotism and admiration of our ancestors. Being ” the birthplace and cradle of our country’s independence “under the patriot king, and as having afforded a safe retreat to our Covenanting forefathers from the fury of the persecutor, this district ought to be interesting to every lover of his country.

Our visual cortices like his were well stimulated, the views bathed in a deliciously full light. The hills on show were: the Rhinns of Kells from Darrou to Corserine, with Carlin’s Cairn just peeping over from behind Corserine and Meikle Mulltaggart, the wilder southern hills of the range climbing into the smooth grassy northern summits; the grey rocks of the Dungeon Hills with Craignaw and Dungeon Hill guarding the Nick of the Dungeon, and a terrain designed for breaking legs; Craiglee (Craig Liath), the grey hill, which has to share its name with another grey at the northern end of the range, was still sporting its straw coloured Winter livery; Curleywee, a wonderfully strange name to us but really just a simple description, Cor le gaeith (pron. gwee) the peak in the wind, in its green Spring livery, the slopes from a distance a siren call to the unwary, looking to be an easy, albeit steep, ascent but on closer examination, actually knee deep dense undergrowth.

The Dungeon Hills from dr Borthwick’s bench

Competing with the hills for aesthetic effect was water, which could I suppose lay claim to have shaped the hills themselves. Loch Dee itself was deep blue when first glimpsed from below Cairngarroch and when looking east from the Rosnes benches, but rendered brown by the reflection of Craiglee on its surface when seen from between the 272m spot height and the Laggan hollow. Standing by the Loch itself, with waves touching my boots, the water took on a recognisably darker hue. Laggan Burn, Green Burn and Dargall Lane flow into Loch Dee and the aptly named Black Water of Dee issues from it. Dargall is said to derive from dobhar (water) gall (literally a foreigner but also a name for standing stones). A lane being a stream that is so slow that the movement of water is almost imperceptible. Dargall Lane is a relatively short waterway, certainly less than a mile in length so it is easy enough to look over its surroundings. The only man-made constructions I could see by the Dargall are the dry stone dyke and a ruined sheep ree. There were no ancient standing stones, the Giant’s Axe Head to the west being a modern addition. This land is though littered with erratics, so perhaps, long ago, some prominent rock was used to indicate this stream. Or perhaps a band of foreigners camped in the valley.

Droughandruie Strand

The forestry track took us over three burns and gave me pause for thought about their nomenclature. Such waterways in my youth would have been brooks, whereas Audrey recalls them as becks, but here we were in the land of burns. The Droughandruie Strand,
drochaidh an druidhe, named for the druid’s bridge, tumbled over rocks and waterfalls amongst the heather and tussocks of Cairngarroch’s northern slopes then flattened when it plunged into the forest before joining the Black Water of Dee. The Green Burn was perhaps named by the inhabitants of the hollow in the hills, the Laggan, to differentiate it from the Black Laggan and the White Laggan burns.

Droughandruie Strand

The water of this Green Burn was much slower, its surface smooth and the rocks of its bed easily seen though through water rendered brown by the peat particles it carried. The Laggan Burn had much the same appearance though when I have seen it running higher it carried black water. Perhaps one day we should explore the valley and compare the water to the White and Black Laggan Burns.

Beside the forestry track, particularly on the side nearer the hills was a shallow drainage ditch. Before the Laggan Burn this was filled with moss and held muddy, peaty water. The dogs kept their paws, and indeed their whole undercarriage, wet and muddy by running through this and they were happy to share this cooling liquid with us with the odd well timed shake. I can’t say that these episodes were unexpected but they did catch me, and the camera lens unawares a few times. After the Laggan Burn the ditches contained crystal clear water with sand rather than peat for their beds.

Cloud above Cairngarroch

And while we consider water we should not forget the sky. We were spared rain and what clouds we had were low level wispy affairs that did not obscure the sun. The day was hot but without the shimmering that can sometimes distort the views.

The middle distance offered us woodland and moorland. Birds flitted from tree to tree, one staying long enough for a careful examination. It looked to me as though it had been grasped about its waist and plunged head first into a pot of yellow paint. Audrey, whose eyesight is better than mine, picked out some more subtle features and back at the car we found it best matched the drawing of a wood warbler.

The forestry had been a’felling in the area so in places the curtains of green had been drawn aside revealing the chaos of felled forest but allowing us views of the more distant landscape. I feel a mixture of wonder and perhaps satisfaction with most natural sights, be they trees, heathland, bog, water (standing, running, falling or suspended in the air), rocks, hills and even paths, but I am still searching for the aesthetic pleasure in recently felled forest. Perhaps I need to spend more time in its contemplation.

Looking up the valley between the hills of the Dungeon and of the Kells we had the green and straw colours of cleared forest and darker ground between that and the Black Water of Dee. That land there must have been too boggy even for Forestry use. Even with binoculars I could not tell if its brown colouring was heather or bog myrtle, but I suspect the latter. Beyond the river the higher ground of Ellergower Knowe with its dense forest hides the distant the Silver Flowe.

The forests here are mostly conifer but with splashes of deciduous, and mostly younger, trees. These look to be natural growths but having seen the deciduous saplings ready for planting on our last walk I wonder if this natural growth has had a helping hand. More obviously natural though are the trees bordering the conifer forests, many of those along our route were eared willow, I think.

Spring is here

Finally, calling in to use the lower section of my varifocals were flowers, blossom, leaves, rocks and artefacts: a rocky arrow pointing towards White Laggan, a national cycleway sign overlooking the loch, southern upland way marker posts, and Dr Borthwick’s memorial bench. Audrey pointed out that the things I had thought were new cones on pines were in fact a brown skin covering new green growth.

We left the forestry track briefly to climb the small knoll with a 272m spot height on the OS map. This gave us both a view of the Loch and its surrounding hills as well as a taste of the off track terrain: rocky and boggy with tussocks and deep heather. Exhilarating.

We noticed the Rosnes Benches which looked like two grey surfboards floating on the moors ready to ride the slopes down to the loch. W were intending to walk up to the Giant’s Axe Head, but noticed sheep on the path up ahead. They would almost certainly have left the path for the hillside as we drew closer but it was lambing time so we would have had to put the dogs on leads, so the the Giant’s Axe Head was removed from our itinerary. But we have visited it before. (PS the pup is in a phase of rapid eye movement sleep beside me as I write, his nose and legs twitching as he dreams of chasing birds across the moors. Unless of course his dreams hark back to a lupine time when his ancestors ran down their prey as a pack).

Rosnes Benches at Loch Dee

The Rosnes benches overlook the loch and its surrounding hills and with the glorious weather were an ideal spot for lunch. On the down side, the ground was boggy in places and something activated the dogs’ digging reflexes so our idyllic lunch break was disturbed as we were showered with globules of wet peat.

Walking back we passed a small group who had stopped for a picnic. They called to the dogs and might I suspect have given them some treats but Sweep doesn’t like strangers and kept his distance. Eddie bounded excitedly towards them then got frightened and ran away, but encouraged by them, repeated the cycle several times getting closer each time. Eventually though, at about 2m from them he couldn’t bring himself to get any closer and instead barked, jumped away, jumped back, barked again etc. much to the group’s amusement.

But sight is not everything.

Sound is so easily overlooked, but two sounds on the walk were important enough to make me wish I could have captured them in my photos. Firstly, birdsong was with us throughout the day. Cuckoos were calling throughout the day and we heard a greenfinch from a stand of trees then heard it from the same trees on the way back. Of the bird songs I could not identify one was pyu-pyu-pyu which I think could be a wood warbler. We saw a bird that would fit the bill but wasn’t making any calls itself. Most of the bird calls we heard were thin with a quality similar to that from a small radio but sometimes the birdsong sounded as though it had come from a top end sound system, with a much fuller quality. Perhaps it was a different bird, or perhaps it was the weather/wind/air pressure. One bird early in the walk kept calling “Swee” to Sweep. I was trying to mimic this so I could remember it for later and each time I said it Sweep would turn to look at me. My research tells me that Chiffchaffs call “Hweep” and listening to recordings I’m pretty sure that was it.

The second sound was water, the sound of running water from the Droughanduie Burn and the lapping of the waves on the shores of Loch Dee, the latter spiced by the call of a distant waterbird.

As we approached the Laggan on our return journey, looking down to the burn itself with some distant sheep, we heard the chirrup of crickets/grasshoppers. The sound was not as prolonged as that of a grasshopper warbler and was just like the sound of cicadas from mediterranean holidays. I can’t say I’ve ever heard one up here before and on hearing them my mind was transported instantly to Portugal. But apparently they are pretty common. Perhaps my ears haven’t been tuned in to them before.

But there is a more powerful and pervasive sound that is so easily ignored. The silence of a forest is not the silence of an upland moor or the silence on the banks of a still loch. Each place, and each time, will have its own noises, the lapping of waves on a shore, or the creaking of trees in the wind, and to these we bring our own: the tread of a boot on heather, the panting of a dog, the creak of a rucksack strap, or the rustle of clothing, and each is modulated by the environment rendering them subtlety different when heard amongst trees, in heather or at a loch-side. These differences are difficult to appreciate but we are I think aware of them at a subconscious level.

Another sensory dimension will have been experienced more vividly by the dogs, the scent-scape, which to our human perception seems hardly evident. Sweep and Eddie investigated many areas closely with their noses as well as standing, snout in the air, sampling the chemical messages carried on the air. They would at times stop, gazing intently into the trees, presumably having caught a scent too faint for the human nose. I don’t recall many specific scents other than a whiff of pine by recently cut logs, but I suspect the overall scent milieu of open moorland, forest and loch registers differently in my brain. Could I identify these places by smell alone? Perhaps. Unlike the dogs, we did not purposely leave a scent trail behind.

Taste is perhaps the sense which contributed least to my experience of the walk. The main opportunity would have been to taste the water with peat and that with sand. The dogs drank from burns, muddy pools, clear pools and the loch whereas we, fearing gastrointestinal pathogens, brought tap water in plastic bottles. I hadn’t come across any vegetation I would recognise as edible so my only taste experience from the walk, other than a ham and mustard bagel, was salt tasted when licking my lips after a slug of the imported tap water. Perhaps I should walk out with heather honey on future walks.

Without a sense of touch and proprioception I would have been unable to complete this walk but the importance of touch is a rarely acknowledged aspect of the walk’s sensory experience. On reflection, most of my touch experience was through my feet and legs. I could feel both the gradient and the terrain. The forestry track was always firm but in places smooth, in others uneven with small mobile rocks. The moorland offered the bounciness of heather or peat, the watery give of boggy grasses, and the rocky firmness of granite. I had consciously registered the climb away from the car, glad that the return would be downhill but had not remembered the descents as carefully so was surprised how much ascent we had when returning. My lower limbs had the hard graft of sensation on the walk whereas touch using my hands was more of a luxury, and often an unthinking use. When I looked closely at a rock, flower or leaf I would hold it and while doing so experience its physical characteristics. It took a conscious effort however to do this consciously. I had sat upon the Rosnes bench looking out to the Loch while at my side I was running a hand over the surface of the bench. Did this alter my experience? I don’t know but I suspect those perceptions are now linked in my mind. Only occasionally was touching the main purpose of an examination but it showed me that similar looking leaves can feel quite different.

Easily missed unless you tread on it

And staying with skin as a sensory organ, since I had forgotten to apply my SPF50, the sun has left me with a warmth of my head and arms. It might have been worse but I had brought the suncream in my bag and applied the protection after lunch.

And other senses?

What of Chronoception? My perception of the passage of time during the walk was I think suspended. I had no sense of time passing which perhaps reflects an absence of boredom. Each moment was filled with sensory experience. To look ahead to a destination fixes a distance to travel, either in space or time and travelling that route will have a temporal dimension. Perhaps experiencing each moment of the journey for itself can remove that perception of passing time.

On paper this looked to be a rather commonplace walk, but it proved to be anything but commonplace. The recognition that sound was an aspect of my outdoor experience that I had previously overlooked had opened my eyes, or more accurately my other senses to a fuller experience.

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Posted in Dumfries & Galloway | Tagged Rosnes Benches, SUW | Comments Off

Swallows on Loch Trool

May 16, 2015

5.1 miles 3h 50m ascent 112m

Another Rosnes Bench outing. I was keen this time to find the Covenanter’s Memorial that I had missed on the previous visit to Caldons when we were walking the SUW. We didn’t realise it when we set off but this was to be the Glentrool yellow waymarked route so there were no navigation problems.

The day started a little overcast and looking up to the sky with the wind to my back, the clouds were moving left to right so I predicted rain. Wind on your back, clouds left to right, weather’s not right. My walking partner dismissed this as an old wives’ tale, preferring to put her trust in the met office. Predicting rain in D&G is rarely wrong.

Crossing the Water of Trool bridge we turned west along the SUW, and almost immediately spotted three Rosnes Benches among the oaks, hazel and birch. I hadn’t really had time to get into “looking for the benches” mode and could easily have walked on past them. It was a bit too chilly to lounge on the benches so we took the necessary photos and moved on.

Next on my list of things to find was the Covenanters’ graves. I had not found these at the end of this SUW leg so I presumed they were a little way off the SUW, perhaps hidden in the woods. Imagine my surprise therefore to come upon a large sign “Martyrs Grave” by the path, and a very visible 1.4m high stone enclosure just a stone’s throw away. How we can have missed this I don’t know. I suppose back then we would have been walking for 6 hours and the bracken would have been higher, but all the same it was a bit of an observation failure. Perhaps it says something about me that I did notice the lack of an apostrophe on the sign.

The walls of the enclosure were a little high for us to see over easily but there are plinths to allow the vertically challenged to get a view of the inside. A gravestone inscribed with the names of the dead stands within the enclosure and a plaque on the surrounding wall reads:

“In memory of six martyrs who suffered at this spot for their attachment to the covenanted cause of Christ in Scotland Jan 23 1685”

Malcolm Harper in Rambles in Galloway (1876) gives the story. “In the quiet of a Sabbath morn of January 1685, a few of the persecuted, undeterred by the rigour of the season, had assembled in the seclusion of this retreat to worship God according to the dictates of their conscience, when they were suddenly surprised by a troop of dragoons, under the command of Colonel Douglas, and after a brief resistance, six persons, James and Robert Dun, Alex. McAulay, John McLude, Thomas and John Stevenson, were killed. One of the party, by plunging into the lake, and keeping his head above water, covered by a heath bush, managed to conceal himself from the infuriated soldiers, and had a remarkable escape. Of the dragoons two were killed, one of whom. Captain Urquhart, was shot under rather peculiar circumstances. As tradition narrates, he had that morning, exasperated by the difficulties of the road, sworn a dreadful oath that he would be revenged upon the unoffending Covenanters. He had dreamed that he would be killed at a place called the ” Caldons,” and while approaching the cottage of a shepherd in search of fugitives, he inquired the name of the place, on learning which he gave utterance to a fearful oath, and drew up his horse, uncertain whether to advance or retire. At that moment a shot fired from the window brought him to the ground.”

It is a peaceful place now, among the oaks and birch of Caldons Wood, silent but for wind rustling the trees and birdsong.

We continued along the SUW, over several mossy knolls with oaks in bud, their autumn leaves still on the ground. The woods then gave way to a more fen like terrain. The SUW here is a man-made path giving easy dry walking. The land beside it though was very boggy indeed. The dogs as ever felt the need to take a dip in the pools we passed. Some of these were black whereas others had crystal clear water.

Last week we had identified a shrub as bog myrtle and we now saw that large swathes of land were covered in this, with catkins but as yet no leaves. I look forward to seeing what this plant looks like later in the year.

Water of Trool, bog myrtle in the foreground

As we made our way through the bog/fen safely on the artificial path we noticed a walker on the far side of the Water of Trool, his large rucksack marking him as an SUW walker. He shouted across to ask how far it was to a bridge. When told it was at least half a mile, perhaps further and he looked dejected. He had followed what he had thought was the correct route, and when the path petered out he had persisted and was now walking through very unpleasant terrain. I suggested he leave the river and strike out for the nearby road and he agreed.

This reminded me of our own SUW experiences. Beguiled from the true route by the SUW’s version of sirens. Paths that take you into increasingly difficult terrain and then fade away often leaving you able to see where you should be, but with something preventing you getting there. We can laugh about our own SUW experiences now but I know how that walker felt.

When we got to the footbridge over the Water of Trool just short of where it joins the Water of Minnoch I had a look at the signs to see how easy it might have been to mistakenly cross the bridge if one was following the SUW, and the waymarker posts seemed pretty clear. But then we did walk right past the graves at Caldons without noticing them. The SUW experience wouldn’t be the same without some route errors.

The next section was the same riverside track we had walked the previous week, but now the bluebells and wood anenome were coming into there own. Sweep went in for some major undergrowth snuffling here but came away with nothing more than a muddy face.

We had another look at the waterfalls near Stroan Bridge then rejoined the yellow route on the far side of the visitor centre car park. The return section which is initially through felled forestry but on a very easy path, then zig-zags down through deciduous trees and back to Caldons. It passes just below the Spout Head Waterfall on Torr Lane. Why this wee burn is named a lane I don’t know. Lanes are waterways “of which the motion is so slow as to be scarcely perceptible” and that does not describe this stream.

The county flower of Wigtonshire is Yellow Flag, but not the type of yellow flag we found along the route.

Not the right yellow flag

We came upon a sign of things to come in this area recently cleared of conifers: several dozen deciduous saplings: maple, sycamore etc.

Loch Trool, the photo at the top of the post is twenty minutes later

Once back at Caldons we headed into Kenmure Woods along the Loch Trool trail and found a couple of large boulders beside the loch to sit on for lunch. A couple of dozen swallows were skimming the water and we watched them through binoculars. Once we sat down though, they came much closer and their jumbled chattering was our lunch soundtrack.

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Posted in Dumfries & Galloway | Tagged Rosnes Benches, SUW | Comments Off

Glentrool, Black Linn and the three Waters

May 9, 2015

8 miles 4h 30m ascent 185m

Black Linn-Minniwick Woods-Bargrennan-Braes of Barmore-Cree Woods

Our walk began at Stroan Bridge where the Water of Minnoch cascades through a rocky gorge. The Glentrool visitor centre here once nestled among tall conifers but the forest north and east of the small wooden visitor centre and car park has been felled recently, completely changing its appearance. It is now open to the sky with the rocky tops of Bennan and Buchan Hill as a backdrop. The car park is pay and display so don’t forget your pond coins.

First on our itinerary was Black Linn with the Glentrool Rosnes Benches. We set off past the carved squirrel, ignoring the sign for walkers and taking instead the Pulnagashel (Poll na gaiseail, stream of the fort or castle) MTB trail. A wooden footbridge took us over the burn and being far enough away from the road we could let the dogs free. The trail followed the burn but soon turned, with the burn, away from the river. I knew we needed to be walking with the river which meant I had chosen the wrong path, not a good start. I had not seen a path by the river but thought one might exist so we headed back, cutting across the felled forest to the visitor centre building. Ah, the joy of picking one’s way across uneven ground strewn with the remains of tree felling.

Rosnes Benches

There was indeed a faint trail heading along the river bank and we were soon at the benches by the Black Linn Waterfall. The Rosnes website says the benches are reached by a short scramble down the river bank. There is a ledge immediately above the thundering waterfall, but the benches are not on the ledge. I presume that someone has re-thought the positioning of the benches and set them higher up. I would have climbed down to get a better photo of the falls but I thought the dogs would follow me and if they fell in, getting them out with the steep sides would have been impossible.

Water of Trool

After the usual photos at the benches we headed back to Stroan Bridge, hearing a cuckoo on our way, crossed the river and headed across to the edge of Minniwick Woods. Having heard what I thought were chaffinches, I was pleased to see one flitting about near the black cycle route sign by the road. It proved a bit camera shy though and flew off when I got the camera up. Opposite the cycle sign is a footpath into the the woods signposted, Footpath Glentrool Village 3/4 mile”. This path runs parallel to the road but is far enough in the woods that the road is not visible.

National Cycleway Sign. Chaffinch has flown away

National Cycleway Sign. The chaffinch has flown away

The ground in the woods was covered in bright green mosses reflecting the underlying peat, but with large areas of blaeberry just coming into leaf and flower. A small beech still retaining last year’s leaves was a single splash of gold amongst all the greens. It is interesting to see that the larger beeches do not keep their leaves.

There were some muddy areas for Eddie to dive into and small clear pools more to Sweep’s liking. Eddie felt the need to jump into the mud then try to burrow into it, whereas Sweep prefers to stand in water. They enjoyed themselves while Audrey and I stumbled over naming the numerous white flowers as wood anemone; a pronunciation problem rather than one of recognition.

Minniwick Woods

We emerged from the woods at Glentrool Village and had a choice of walking along the road to Bargrennan or trying the forestry track. I was not sure the track would not be a dead end so we opted for a mile and a bit of road walking. This meant having the dogs on their leads and they decided to do bloodhound impressions, straining forward and breathing loudly, like bloodhounds out of Cool Hand Luke, pulling us along and draining out the birdsong. Our choice took us past a line of bird cherry trees coming into blossom, and a campsite with a carved owl. Here, Audrey and I juggled dog leads to each other while trying to photograph the owl and pack away our fleeces but still managing to get entangled in the leads.

Bargrennan Church

Bargrennan means “hill of the house” and though grennan is sometimes given as meaning palace, its original sense may have been more like “a sunny place”. The sun was certainly out when we got there and as we passed the House o’ the Hill pub I reflected that the new laws now prevent me having a shandy before driving home. Probably a good thing.

An old church was just glimpsed through the trees when we reached the A714 and there is also an SUW information board here. We turned left and soon after this saw an SUW sign. Eddie was slim enough to squeeze through the stile but Sweep was too portly and had to be manhandled over. Then we were back in woodland and could release the dogs again.

SUW by the River Cree

This section of the SUW, among conifers beside the Cree then deciduous trees beside the Minnoch, is one of my favourites, perhaps the favourite. In the Braes of Barmore we had soft ground underfoot, dappled light through the canopy, the River Cree audible below us, birdsong all around and the sound of lambs carrying from the far side of the river. We were last here in late September 2013, when we were walking the SUW, and it has changed somewhat. This was Spring rather than Autumn so the ground was not yet covered with bracken and there were no toadstools, but the difference was more than that. Much of the forest on the higher ground above us had been felled, allowing more light into the woods and views of the now denuded knolls to our left.

Bird Cherry Blossom

We crossed a very minor road near Bught Hill, passing a lady with a large Spaniel (literally, not a euphemism). No doubt the dogs had more interesting sniffing after that. The SUW then turns away from the Cree following a wall over a small rise. The oak trees to our right were still standinding but to the left all had been felled. On the far side we joined a tarmac covered forestry track. Here as well the trees to our left had been felled but a stand of conifers on a small knoll had been left. They must once have been within dense trees since their only greenery was at their tops. I wonder how they will fare in a storm.

At the top of the rise, before we joined the track the dry stone wall had some very substantial rocks sticking out which may once have been a stile but there was no sign as to why the wall would have needed crossing at that point.

SUW by the Water of Minnoch

Across another minor roadway and we were walking beside the Water of Minnoch. There are many rocky outcrops within the river, but as with our last visit, the direction of the sunlight made photographs difficult. The water was certainly higher than at our previous visit so more rock was underwater this time and the place where we had previous walked out onto rocks was partially submerged. The OS map has three “wiels”, whirlpools, marked along here: Cashnabrock Wiel, Quaking Ash Wiel and Mc.Kie’s Wiel. There were certainly plenty of sections with turbulent water but I can’t say I noticed a whirlpool.

View from SUW by the Water of Minnoch. Second shot since someone walked right into the back of me while I was taking the first.

We took lunch halfway between the first two of these wiels, at a point where the Minnoch turns east and a sluggish burn joins it. I presume the sluggish burn does come awake at times judging by the detritus hanging from the lower branches of trees beside it. This was a good place for lunch, shaded by trees, a small rise to sit on, and views down the Minnoch to Larg Hill and its neighbours.

Water of Minnoch. View from our lunch spot

Water of Minnoch. View from near our lunch spot. See stuff on lower branches.

Lunch. I used my new purchase here. A giant corkscrew that I screwed into the ground and affixed the dog’s leads allowing me to have lunch in relative peace while they had a snack and some water. Not that they had not taken drinks along the way. Eddie wasn’t happy at first but settled when he found a pine cone to chew. Unfortunately Sweep is not one who likes to tarry and soon turned to barking at me. I recognise the sequence, three barks, hang head down, slowly look up with baleful eyes, repeat cycle until master shows signs of getting up, then wag tail.

When last we walked here it was a sea of bracken just beginning to show autumn yellow, but this year’s growth was yet to come. There is a section of fen to cross that would have been difficult had it not been for wooden footbridges over the wider sections of black still water.

Trees guarding a moss covered knoll

The predominant trees here were oaks, birch and beech, with holly growing among the oaks. A recurring feature here was stands of trees, without as yet a single leaf, standing proud on a moss covered knolls. These had been fully leaved at our last visit so had quite a different appearance this time.

Beside the path we noticed a large round stone atop a pile of rocks, looking very much like a cairn though it could have been a natural rock outcrop. It is not marked on maps. The ground between us and it did not look inviting so we just mused on it from afar.

When we walked the SUW this had been our fourth section and one where we had not found the Kist. I had not forgotten this and had been examining each of the waymarker posts carefully so I was excited to I spot an Ultreia badge on a marker post. A faint track led off the SUW at the marker post so we followed it to investigate. It went back along the river bank but there was no sign of the horde there.

So we continued along the SUW track and a little further on spotted something unusual among the trees. This is probably the best way of recognising the horde kists. Anything that makes you say “that looks funny” deserves investigation. This turned out to be real thing, a hollowed out trunk topped with a broken ceramic inscribed with a web address that no longer exists, www.waymerks.org.uk. Deep inside, bright coins glistened and we eagerly took one each. This was the “Water of Minnoch – The Moors” waymerk, our tenth. Looking at the kist I can see how we might have missed it. The views to our right, away from it, would have drawn the eye, and later in the year the horde would have been hidden by bracken but for two or three paces of the path.

SUW Kist

While gloating on our find we heard voices and a threesome of walkers with their dog came along the track and overtook us. They showed no interest in the kist. Having stepped out of their way and onto higher ground I looked back and could see the remains of the Old Bridge of Minnoch.

The next section of the walk had several boggy sections but we were able to negotiate them with dry feet, at least the humans had dry feet. A wall with a built-in stile might have been a palaver with the dogs but we were able to get around the end of the wall. This was across a bit of a drop into the river but luckily gravity chose to ignored us this time.

Heather at the foot of the creaking trees

I stopped by one stand of trees where I could hear a faint noise. Was that a far off woodpecker I could hear? No it was the trees themselves creaking.

We were next among the mature oaks of Holm Wood. The ground here had a good covering of white wood anemone but on a background of green leaves with the occasional bluebell. Another week perhaps and the bluebells will cover the forest floor hiding the anemones. The other white wildflower of woodland that I recognise, wood sorrel, was growing on moss covered tree stumps.

Wood sorrel

At a small burn we crossed a footbridge which looked to have been designed for children or jockeys. I’m no giant but could only have reached the handrail by crouching down. I don’t often get to feel like Gulliver in Lilliput. Then there was a substantial, full size, footbridge over the Minnoch. We had then to negotiate two more stiles. Eddie needed minimal assistance but Sweep had to be lifted over showing me that I need more practice lifting squirming muddy weights while balancing on a step with binoculars and camera round my neck, a rucksack on my back and another dog jumping up at me.

Still waters

Our route then continued beside the Minnoch. The path had been eroded away in one place and Audrey found herself taking the rapid route down the muddy bank but without injury. At least she didn’t end up in the river. A high-vis jacket hung from a tree here, perhaps to warn the unwary, or to distract the otherwise wary.

We had nice views across to the hills on one side and the river on the other. Sweep found his way down to the water a couple of times but thankfully didn’t jump in where the bank was high.

View from the bench. CCTV monitor sign on tree

There were several benches along here and a more substantial bench where the Water of Trool meets the Minnoch. This bench has a plaque to say it was placed by five ageing walkers who liked to tarry a while something I can relate to. I misremembered this bench as being further along, but as it was, I think it was placed nicely for us to sit, have a rest and finish our water. Any thoughts of improprieties such as skinny dipping/lighting fires/picking wild flowers/shooting endangered species/fishing without a licence etc had to be set aside though when I noticed a sign on a nearby tree warning us we were on CCTV. I couldn’t see a camera but I suppose it could be camouflaged. Why have CCTV in the middle of nowhere?

Bog Myrtle

After a short walk alongside the Water of Trool we left the SUW, crossed another wooden footbridge and joined one of the forest trails alongside the Water of Minnoch, which took us back to the start.

This was an enjoyable walk, one I would be happy to repeat. We had nice weather, visited another Rosnes bench and found a kist we had previously missed.

When I write these blogs I start by writing a list of things to include. Having written it I found there were two things I had not included. Firstly, willow warbler has now been added to my repertoire of recognised birdsong. Secondly, troll foot. This phrase must have auto-corrected as I typed. I have no idea what it should have been.

PS other flowers: meadow cranesbill, yellow wood anenome.

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Posted in Dumfries & Galloway | Tagged Paths, Rosnes Benches, Ruins, SUW | Comments Off

Twas long indeed, a country mile

May 4, 2015

2.33 country miles 2h 2min 34m ascent

Waterhead Rosnes Benches

Blanket bog is one of Scotland’s most extensive semi-natural habitats but if I am honest I tend to think of peat bogs as a difficulty to be crossed on the way to somewhere else, a difficult terrain, the walking of which should be minimised. When picking my way around peat hags my eyes and my mind are usually on the higher ground rising out of the bog or searching for an easier track.

This pair of Rosnes benches sit in the upland peat bog northwest of Waterhead on Minnoch and when I first set about planning a route I had considered the visiting the various surrounding hills, large or small, the Stinchar Falls or Aldina Loch but then I had a flash of inspiration. This was an opportunity to explore the bog itself, immersing ourselves in it, figuratively that is, not literally. The dogs of course embraced the more literal interpretation.

Immersion

There are seven 440m contour islands on the OS map and I did wonder if we could make this “The seven summits of Waterhead”. These islands are not obvious to the naked eye and given the ever changing shape of the bog they may no longer actually exist but they could I suppose be toured using micro-navigation techniques. But who wants to count steps all day. We happened to cross three of them. Had it been more I might have gone with the seven summits title for the post.

Straiton Road Summit

There isn’t much to say about the route. We left the road at its highest point which has a sign “The Summit 433 metres 1420 feet”, (so higher than Shap). The benches were just a short distance away and from there we headed towards the higher ground to the north, heading for a post on the horizon. This narrow wooden post bore a metal number plate “1760” but any thoughts that this commemorated the start of King George III’s reign were soon dispelled. The post was but one of many, some with numbers such as “1761”, some without, but with each taller post guarding four smaller ones. The four smaller posts, about 10cm high, roughly marked out a square metre.

Blanket Bog

The terrain was knee deep heather interspersed with boggy grass, reeds, moss both flat and in mounds, some with fruiting bodies, peat hags a metre or more high, black peat mud, open pools of water, and areas I took to be slime covered pools. When the dogs jumped in these however it was clear they were not pools but what I can only describe as gloop.

Moss mound

Birds flew about, cruelly teasing Eddie and with time, binoculars and listening we were able to improve our level of identification from “small brown fluttery things with dipping flightpaths” to Meadow Pipits. The calls clinched it. The only other fauna was a giant bee.

I had intended the walk to be aimless wandering in the heath but some direction is needed so we headed across to the rectangular stand of trees hoping to find the memorial marked on the OS map.

Cairn at 443m

We passed two cairns on the way. The first, a small affair almost lost in the heather, which would be missed unless you happened to stumble upon it, marks one of the 440m contour islands; the second, a better effort visible from a distance, marks the 433m spot height that is probably the summit of Black Hill.

Though this walk was about the bog itself, there were views of more distant places. Ailsa Craig was easily seen as was Arran, its mountain tops covered in cloud. A ship was visible off the coast. Closer we had the smooth shale hilltops such as Shalloch on Minnoch and the very different irregular granite tops of Cornish Hill and Shiel Hill.

Just before the trees we came upon a line of old naturally whitened wooden posts which must once have been a fence line though one “post” in the line was clearly a tree trunk. The rectangular stand of trees is I believe one of several forestry testing sites and had a variety of trees within it. From the trees we could see the memorial stone and picked our way through boggy ground to reach it.

Memorial stone

The memorial is a rectangular stone block inscribed “Agnes Hannah died here”. Unfortunately Agnes’ story remains uncertain. All I can find out about Agnes Hannah is a comment that she was a nurse and died here in a blizzard. The same information is reproduced on many websites and it is unclear if even this is true. The internet offers nothing more about Agnes or the memorial. I wondered indeed if this stone might be much older than everyone is presuming, perhaps back to Covenanting times, but I suppose if this were a covenanting memorial it would say so or be listed on their sites.

Memorial stone

Our walk here had been slow and tiring but we decided to return across the moor rather than use the road. A brief stop for sweeties was upset when Audrey had her jelly baby stolen by Eddie. His Scooby snack obviously hadn’t been enough. An impressively high jump though to give him his due.

Heading back to the car, Audrey, with her eagle eyes, spotted a lone conifer that seemed to have sparkly bits in its branches. Closer inspection showed these to be Christmas decorations.

Decorated tree

We had thought of having our lunch at the Rosnes Benches on the way back but by the time we were getting close the wind was picking up so we copped out and had our sandwiches when we got back to the car.

At the end I looked at the distance walked on my phone and was surprised to find it was only just over two miles.

The travelling stage had set me down
Within a mile of yon church-town;
‘T was long indeed, a country mile.
But well I knew each field or style; de Kruger, 1829

We had walked two country miles, equivalent to 6 (Naismith) miles I think.

Milestone

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Posted in Ayrshire | Tagged Rosnes Benches | Comments Off

Lotus Hill with bins

April 26, 2015

Binoculars. dim. bins; Device worn around neck to ensure no birds are seen.

The is the same 4.75 mile route as described in Three Spaniels on Lotus Hill from February.

I sit typing this with Eddie curled up next to me and Sweep quietly snoring at the other end of the couch. They should sleep content tonight. Sweep takes it easy as befits one of his age, but he has had a full day today snuffling in the undergrowth, investigating woods and sniffing the air. Eddie being younger had squeezed more into his day, and all things considered, it had been a good day. Two meals. Two walks. Left-over toast after breakfast and some cheese that fell from a lunch sandwich. Out and about he had pee’d on plants (having got the hang of that cocking the leg up business), sniffed many scents and barked at some dogs, once they were safely away, to warn them they should keep going. He had jumped in streams, jumped in pools, and jumped in mud. He had rolled in deer shit and, when told to stop, had eaten it. There had been doggie treats on the walk and at home. He had chased a pheasant on the moors, some bees among the blaebery and a small unidentified bird that swooped near to him. There had been that dead crow to chew on, and even when it had been wrested from him, he had been able to run off with some in his mouth. At home the ice cream he had been allowed to lick off the stick had tasted nice. He was sure the family had been pleased with him barking at the golfers who had walked past the house. Indeed they had even joined in, shouting his name in encouragement as he barked. As the sun set he had eventually managed to chase the shadows away from the living room and he had even managed to sleep on the couch while still wet and muddy without being noticed. Days don’t get much better than that.

The walk takes in several terrains: forestry track gradually changing from man-made to natural; muddy routes through forest; heather moorland; felled forest; and soggy moss covered forest breaks.

I know where to come if I’m up shit creek

The ground was surprisingly firm, though that’s not to say it was not muddy or waterlogged in places. Certainly gaiter terrain. Especially since the dogs have a habit of suddenly appearing on the piece of ground I am aiming for causing my footfall to be diverted to less firm ground.

Moorland (the colours were more impressive in reality)

Spring is coming and the colour changes are noticeable. The birches that have stood bare over the Winter have suddenly thrown out their first leaves giving the trees a ghostly translucent green-ness. There are colours sprouting from the mosses. The moors are coming alive with the bright green leaves of blaeberry and the forest floor is carpeted with bright green shoots of bluebells in preparation for the blue flowers. The bluebells are already out in my garden so the forest won’t be far behind.

Blaeberry

I mentioned that Eddie went careering off after a pheasant, but he was beaten by the terrain, the bird flying up over a rocky outcrop. The dead crow was more of a problem. Eddie came running back to me with feathers, blood and bone in his mouth and thought it a great game that I was trying to get it off him. Using the foot-on-carrion-then-drag-dog-off method proved flawed. And all this in one of the muddy sections. The bird just fell apart and he ran off again requiring a repeat of the process. This took us out of the trees and onto the open hillside.

Old Man’s Beard

This is the first time I have taken binoculars up Lotus Hill, and I was also gifted good visibility. I was easily able to pick out four of Southern Scotland’s seven Corbetts: Merrick with a line of snow in the lining the Neive of the Spit; Corserine, a chunky hill midway along the Rhinns of Kells; Cairnsmore of Carsphairn with its guard-dog Moorbrock Hill; and Hart Fell to the east. At least 30 Donalds were visible, as well as more distant sights such as Tinto, the Cheviot hills, the Isle of Man and the hills of the Lakes. Nearby, of course, Criffel dominated the scene. I could see the break in the forest with the Pultarson Burn where Conor and I had climbed, amid swarms of insects, a couple of years ago. I looked for Sweetheart Abbey but it was hidden behind Waterloo Hill.

It was surprising to see so many branches ripped from trees and other trees toppled completely. I wondered at first if they had been damaged by forestry vehicles but the same things were present deep in the forest so it must be storm damage, though I don’t recall a recent storm.

There are numerous boulders (granite I think) scattered around this hill and the forest break running south from the hill has some particularly large examples. There are also, however, some softer white rocks. An area of felled forest seems filled with these white rocks and I walked over some on the open hill. This white crystalline rock was hard and sharp but had crumbled into smaller pieces. It looked like quartz but I’m surprised that it is breaking up.

The only other change to mention is that the various totem poles among the felled forest below the forest track have been developing. One now has some branches affixed to look like arms.

And here’s a few more photos.

Bluebells will soon be here

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Posted in Dumfries & Galloway | Tagged Wee Hills | Comments Off

The Flow

April 18, 2015

Sometimes the best walks are those you know well but it takes a little effort to see the things that you have walked past so many times. A whisky tasting the previous evening meant that my walk needed to start later in the day than usual. Mrs D ‘n’ S took the dogs for their morning constitutional and they joined me later to explore Kirkconnell Flow. A little history first then a description of the walk.

The retreating glaciers of 10,000 years ago left a large block of ice embedded in the sediments of the Nith valley. When this melted a shallow loch was formed at what is now Kirkconnel Flow. Plants colonised the loch and its surroundings and as the years passed accumulating sediments transformed the loch into a bog, an ideal niche for sphagnum mosses. Over the last 6,000 years these mosses have grown, died, been converted into peat, and built up above the level of the original loch forming soil dry enough to allow heather, Scots pine and birches to take hold. The trees then further dried the land and humans left their mark, cutting peat and digging drainage ditches.

The area is now a national nature reserve and in the last few years it has been managed to return the area to its previous state as an active raised peat bog. Over 50,000 trees were felled clearing the central bog of trees and another 12,000 in thinning the surrounding forest. Much of the raised bog is now covered in heather but the southern portion is returning to sphagnum moss.

I have tried walking all the way around the flow on a number of occasions and I am now pretty certain that the track at the southern end no longer exists, indeed I suspect some effort has gone into obliterating it. I don’t usually write reports about visits here but you can find the description of my first circumambulation in The Lost Patrol.

There are several distinct areas in this walk, and these are perhaps representative of different stages in the Flow’s development. The first section is through a birch wood which in some places looks to have been pollarded. The woods are not in their natural state since some trees have been felled in thinning the woods. The remaining tree stumps are covered with mosses and small patches of grey lichen. The dogs ran happily through the trees, the pup chasing butterflies and the older boy snuffling in the undergrowth. Perhaps one day he’ll surprise me and come out with a truffle.

The only bright colours at present are the yellow gorse and numerous white wood-sorrel flowers. The birches have an occasional Scots Pine among them such as the tree below with moss limited to its sunny side. The area must be ideal for the birches since there are numerous saplings making a concerted effort to return the wood to its usual density. There is even a small group of spruce growing in amongst the birches. The undergrowth is quite varied with sections of dense brambles, some purple moor grass (most as tussocks but some actually flashing a little purple), some ling and in clearings, normal short grass. And of course some mud for Eddie to jump in to.

The birches eventually give way to Scots Pine, but here as well the thinned forest is fighting back. There are numerous deciduous saplings here and a profusion of young holly bushes. Off the beaten track I could see some rhododendrons hanging on to their territory, alien survivors of the previous culling.

As I walked through these woods over the last few months I have noticed a beech tree beside the path that has held on to its shrivelled autumnal brown leaves throughout the winter and into spring. Having noticed this I have looked a little more carefully and seen glimpses of others deeper in the woods, also beech. Apparently beech and oak are semi-deciduous and keep some of their leaves through the winter. I can’t work out the benefit of that but there must be something.

Much of the ground here is taken up by the skeletal green stems of blaeberry which are just now throwing out leaves beneath which are hidden red tinged buds. Within a few weeks there will be a thick carpet of leaf covering the forest floor.

The woods were filled with birdsong and though I’m not particularly good at identifying these, the squeaky-pump “tea-cher” sound of the great tit was easy to pick out in the birch wood. The sound of birds lessened once we left the woods to walk across the heather and grassland, birdsong replaced by the caw of crows, honking of geese and a baying cow.

The raised peat bog stands about a metre proud of the surrounding land and the plants do not change much as you climb on to it. The photos below show today’s walk and a similar area last year. The saplings have now been felled and seem to have been deliberately placed across the path.

Carlin Loch, a small area of open water shown on older maps is no longer here but there is a broad water-filled ditch. This probably started life as a drainage channel, but is now dammed to maintain a high enough water table for the peat bog to regenerate.

Some of the cut saplings lie across the ditch and though they sink a little when walked on they did allow me to cross without too much of a dipping. The dogs, who swam the last time we crossed, came across the sapling “bridge” this time, which was unusual because they don’t usually care how wet they get.

After the water channel the ground was a little wetter and sphagnum moss was making a comeback in places. Strangely there were also patches of grey lichen which usually like drier ground. The route is much less clear here but there are posts which must once have marked the route. Where the track has been completely lost to the plant life these posts were our guide, though there were none when we needed them most.

The southwestern part of the bog is fenced in though the gate we found stood wide open. The photo below is taken from the gate and as you can see there is a very obvious track. If you look carefully though you will see that the dogs are not using it, running through the heather instead. This is because the apparent path is sphagnum moss and the dogs were sinking up to the top of their legs when walking on it. I made the mistake of stepping on to it and had water spill into my shoes, more than once.

The path-that-must-not-be-walked-on led across the bog to the trees on the far side and another open gate. Over to the right there is another gate, a sliding gate, also standing a little open but rather than strike out for that we went for the far gate by the trees. Here an obvious track leads through deep mud into the trees. I had previously used that route and not been able to find the way back so this time I followed the fence around to the the sliding gate. A pool wetted my foot again hereabouts.

From the gate I struck out towards the edge of the bog hoping to come across the track heading back. A few weeks before I had walked in the other direction and when the track disappeared I had come across to the sliding gate.

There are tree stumps from what must have been an isolated stand of pines and they were as good a target as any to aim for. The terrain here was quite varied, heather in places, sphagnum in others, old saplings, pools of standing water and branches to trap the feet (I tumbled once, twisting an ankle and pulling a hamstring but felt gratified to find the dogs came back to see I was alright) .

I must have walked directly across the old path without noticing it and found the going quite tough, so I headed back up on to the raised bog and spotted one of the path marker posts. Care is needed though, since there are other posts which have nothing to do with the path. I was pretty sure that this was a path marker but there was absolutely no sign of the path near it.

I think a concerted effort has gone into removing the path but once we got closer to the trees, more markers were seen and I found the path. On the picture below Sweep is walking along the track. The greenery on the ground is all felled conifer saplings.

This photo is a few years ago when the conifers were much smaller.

Coming back into the woods the birdsong surrounded us again and we were soon back to the main track which has a walkway through some wetland. This is presumably where peat has been cut in the past. I haven’t walked in the water but the dogs run through it so I presume it is mostly just a few inches deep. I wonder if this is what the area may have been like 6,000 years ago before the sphagnum moss became dominant.

Below are photos in different seasons.

Spring

Summer

Autumn

Winter

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Posted in Dumfries & Galloway | Comments Off

Glen Ness and the (5 year) old Fort

April 11, 2015

3.2 miles 1 h 55m 150m ascent

Ness Glen – Glessel Hill

A shorter walk than I had planned since there were sheep aplenty on the hills and the dogs had to be kept on leads for much of the time. One dog on a lead I can cope with, two on easy ground, but two when I need to watch my footing was too much, so the Big Hill of Glenmount was struck from the itinerary.

I had planned to walk up over the hills then back along Ness Glen but as I was setting off a young chap out walking his dog asked where I was going and suggested I walk it in the other direction. He pointed out that the great views of the loch and hills beyond would be at my back if I walked as planned, but would be in front of me if I walked the other way. Excellent advice, anticlockwise it was.

The River Doon drops 130 feet in a little under a mile along the Ness Glen, its water cascading over rocks at the bottom of a steep gorge, 200 feet deep in places. A walkway was built along the bottom of the gorge in Victorian times had fallen into disrepair but has been renovated in recent years.

The walkway begins as a typical woodland walk but once in the gorge is narrow and in places slippery especially where the walk is over bare rock. Some sections look as though they might be underwater when the river is in spate but were dry for me. Where there is only vertical rock above the river there are wooden bridges. I didn’t count them but read there are 22.

The dogs as ever wanted to get into the water, which was no problem where the river was black but I had to call them back when they were nosing towards white water. Birds chittered above us which had Eddie trying to run up the moss covered near-vertical rock walls of the gorge. Its surprising how far he can get before gravity wins out over momentum and friction.

There were several large tree trunks must have fallen from higher up and now lay across the river and footpath . They were easy enough to climb through and did add to the experience. Ideal for re-enacting scenes from Robin Hood I would think. But those wishing to reach the other side without a fight need only show patience.

Where the gorge ends is a footbridge and then a vehicle bridge and I imagine one could cross here and continue along the river up to Bogton Loch. I stayed on the western side of the river and turned left along the vehicle track. A group of horses watched impassively as we passed their paddock, the dogs not knowing what to make of them but sniffing by the fence.

The track ran alongside the Glessel Burn so we still had running water as a soundtrack for our walk and the burn had its own cascades of white water. At a bridge over the the burn we were faced by a trivium. One road crossing the bridge, one continuing on and one heading off to the left uphill. A sign lying by the the bridge had an arrow and the letters “SDOS” (Scottish Dark Sky Observatory). That was the direction I wanted to go but which way would it have pointed when it was upright? It could have been straight on or to the left. I went left.

The track climbed through trees then met a tall (deer) fence and a tall padlocked gate. Here my canine troubles began. Sweep scrabbled under the fence and took off out of sight, then Eddie took off along the fence in the same general direction. The pup came back when called and was put on his lead, but the old boy was slower to return.

The gate had a big sign for the SDOS, and a warning about the track’s roughness. Any damage sustained by cars would apparently be the driver’s fault. A rusted chain and padlock held the gate shut but circumventing the gate would have been easy enough. The more amply proportioned dog had shown he could squeeze under the wooden fence beside the gate and I could easily climb the wooden section. Doing this with two dogs held on leads though was a challenge and of course the ground immediately by the climbable section was muddy. I know it sounds easy but it was tricky, the dogs tangling their leads and pulling at me while I tried to climb. In the end I had to tie them to the fence, get over then untangle them again and get them across one at a time. I didn’t know what they had taken off after in the woods (a deer a presume) but I wasn’t going to let them free until we were a little way further along.

Away from the trees and round a corner from the unwelcoming gate, Fort Carrick came into view and I let the dogs roam free again. We walked around the fort but could not go in since the gates were shut. The fort has stood on this hillock since 2010. Yes, a whole five years. It is supposed to be based on an 18th century fort design and is actually part of a nearby activity centre. From a distance with the sun in one’s eyes, it looks like the kind of fort one would expect the US cavalry to be defending against the Apaches in films with John Wayne.

As we approached the fort we could see the Observatory just a short distance away. We climbed over a rocky knoll to get there to reach a gate in the drystone wall that would allow us out on to to hillside.

Unfortunately beyond the gate was not only hillside but sheep including a dead one on its back about 50m beyond the gate. So the dogs couldn’t be allowed through untethered. And then began the unpleasant part of the walk with a dog lead held in each hand, dogs unable to decide which side of me they wished to walk and me trying to tread carefully to avoid slippery moss covered rocks on the knolls and boggy sections in the dips. Every time I thought we were away from sheep we would see some more and have to take a detour to give them a wide berth.

I looked across at the Big Hill of Glenmount and knew walking across there like this would be unpleasant, so we headed for Glessel Hill and back to the car at Loch Doon.

There were nice views of the hills of the Rhinns of Kells and the Awful Hand, all topped in snow, and Loch Doon itself, but it is difficult taking photos holding dog leads. I’ll leave the Glenmount Hills for another day but I am also tempted to follow the riverside walk further.

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Posted in Ayrshire | Tagged Low Level | Comments Off