At long last. We, the dogs and I, got to the top of Butterhole Hill. It sin’t a difficult Hill and to be honest, if I was on my own I could have climbed it easily. Having the two dogs presented some additional challenges.
Previous near misses were due to a combination of the hill being covered with sheep (not good when walking with dogs, even on a lead), boggy ground amounting to a actual pond, a wall and barbed-wire fence. The latter a particular problem when it comes to man-handling wriggling dogs over the barbs. I had come at it from Mabie and from Auchenfad in the past. Walking up through the farm would have been easier but that seemed like cheating.
Because it is outside the Mabie boundary I have been able to pretend it isn’t an actual “Monica” but it wrankles each time I see it.
I hadn’t set out to walk up it this day but chose the brown walking route then the track up to Auchenfad Hill. I noticed that there were no sheep on the hill and that might have drawn me towards it. There is a wee dip between Auchenfad Hill and Butterhole Hill which held a pond the last time I was there, but it had dried up or drained away when I got there. And where the wall beyond it had a small bend, the stones had fallen. And beyond the fallen stones the fence was just a single strand of barbed wire at waist height. High enough for the dogs to walk under and me to dip under.
the way in
And so we made it through and walked up the hill. The summit is a dip with surrounding higher ground, a little like the remnants of an iron age fort though I can’t find any evidence that there was ever a fort there.
Butterhole Hill
The name Butterhole is said to come from Bittern’s Hole (but without stating any evidence), but it seems unlikely that bitterns would frequent a hill-top so I presume the hill is named for the farm below it. And perhaps the name does relate to dairy produce rather than wading birds.
The Nith, till after it gets away from Ayrshire, is one of the most cheerless of streams, sluggish and shallow, seldom more than 15 feet wide, deeply tinctured with moss, and rarely graced with plantation, greensward, or even a bold bank, to relieve the dreary monotony of its moorland landscape.
Ordnance Gazetteer of Scotland
El sub sta, South Kyle Wind Farm, Under the “tori gate”, Wee quarry, The quarry (Meikle Hill), distant turbine in the mist, probably A02, Valley of the Loup Burn, Beside/above a young Nith, Another set of buildings, substation compound, Guys moving rocks, JCB man, H01, Source of the Nith a hollow at about 440m, Moved a bit, log for coffee, 180 and back
The Romans would nod with appreciation
This was a wee walk to find the source of the Nith amongst Ayrshire’s mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles. We parked near what the Ordnance Survey labels “El Sub Sta”. Electricity Sub Station rather than a Spanish outpost. We waved to the man in the “All visitors report here” hut and gathered from his lack of interest that a couple of dog-walkers fell outside the parameters of those who concerned him.
Lichen laden larches and sheepfold
A century ago this would have been an upland moor. Grass, mosses and heather in waterlogged peat with the odd stubby tree in sheltered hollows. An old sheepfold sat in one such hollow, beside the Powkelly Burn.
Smell of pine
But what we saw was mostly extensive felled forestry. Half a century ago it was probably dense forestry commission plantating, but there has seen widespread felling and areas replanted with saplings. The smell of pine reached our noses before we came to the stacks of logs beside the track.
We were not walking forestry tracks. These roads, built for the construction of the turbines on South Kyle Wind Farm, would make a rural “A” road envious. The massive quarries we passed along the way presumably provided the rock base. But it meant easy walking for us and kept us out of the marshy ground around us.
H01 Turbine ahead, The Nith to my left
There were still some trees awaited the loggers but stands of dead larch, heavily laden with lichen told us that larch disease has reached here.
So what would have been a forest walk a few years ago is now on road through wild upland. A wilderness that could easily be mistaken for wasteland but a close look soon shows it is not. We had a misty day so you tend to notice stuff close at hand.
Mucilago crustacea – Dog sick slime mold
The slime holds were an interesting find. These are neither animals nor plants. Nor are they fungi. Talk about not fitting in. The balance of opinion on the internet seems to be that they are inedible, according to some, edible according to others, not flavourful, suggesting someone has tried them, but not obviously poisonous. The “dog sick” alludes to its appearance rather than its action. Mind you, the internet also says the literal translation of Mucilago crustacea is “great lime foam” which is clearly not correct. Though “great lime foam” is the translation of its name in Dutch, Groot Kalkschuim. The Latin name, though, is more about mucus and encrustedness. Gelatinous material produced by plants is apparently called mucilage whereas it is mucus in animals. Another day, another pearl of knowledge discovered. Vocabulary = Vocabulary + 1.
Eyes up from the ground we could see a wind turbine ahead in the mist. I thought at first it would be the turbine close to the Source of the Nith but that proved to be a little further along.
Source of the Nith (as shown on the map)
The wind farm construction has included two roads on embankments crossing what would have been the fledgling Nith. There are drainage pipes but they were above ground and presumably only operate if there is flooding.
The source of the Nith, as marked on the OS map is in the marshy ground behind me in the pho above. The Prickeny Burn, which flows south to the Water of Deugh drains the land where there are still trees.
Actual source of the Nith
The source of the Nith has been moved north about 100m. Certainly that is the first recognisable channel.
Some kind soul had left a log in front of turbine H01 so we had somewhere to sit for our coffee.
A great walk. Autumn colours, good paths through woodland and moor, with views down to Loch Venachar, a disused railway through the farmland and marshes of Leny Meadows to end at wee mound of Tom ma Chisaig. And all on a dry day.
I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.
“There is no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing”
Alfred Wainwright
Wet ground, wet air, wet shoes, wet jacket, and wet hair. Constant rain, heavy to start with and then drizzle.
Rain. The shortest of our Great Trossach’s Path outings, this section took us from Trossachs Pier at Loch Katrine, through the Queen Elizabeth Forest Park, Gleann Riabhach, the banks of Loch Achray, the woods of Bad Biorach, Brig O’ Turk, and the wooden walkway into Lendrick Forest.
What would the world be, once bereft Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left, O let them be left, wildness and wet; Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
The Great Trossachs Path runs from Inversnaid on the banks of Loch Lomond, to Callander, of Dr Findlay’s Casebook fame. That’s thirty miles according to the official website but a tad longer according to my GPS tracker.
We decided to walk from Stronachlochar to Inversnaid and then retrace our steps. It proved to be quite a walk. The GTP crosses the hillside above Loch Arklet following the route of the old military road that served the Garrison at Upper Inversnaid, then climbs through the woodland above Loch Lomond before plunging past Inversnaid Falls to the Lochside.
Yonder are the heights of Arran towering from the glistening bay; nearer are the Heads of Ayr, and the old Castle of Greenan standing out on the verge of the wave.
A Adamson. Rambles through the land of Burns 1879.
This was to be our final section of Ayr’s Coastal Path since the aim was to plug the gap between our Galloway Coastal Walk and the River Ayr Way which we had done in 2023 and 2020 respectively. Autumn was upon us, the weather wetter, the winds more chill, so we decided to get on with the walk before things got worse. And it would be a day to remember. The day I used my bus-pass for the first time. We drove to Ayr, parked up then took the 361 to Dunure. Because of this we didn’t take the dogs with us.
Be ye Man – or Bairn – or Wumman, Be ye gaun – or be ye comin, For Scotland’s Pride – no Scotland’s shame, Gether yer litter – an tak it Hame!
The Ayrshire Coastal Path
Beaches, two castles, an archaic doocot and Victorian limekilns, a summerhouse, walled garden, alpacas, swans, a ringed plover and a willow kraken, standing stones, sunshine, a race with the tide, and no main roads. What a day.
Much of the 8.24-mile journey from Girvan Mains to Maidens is actual beach walking and offers ample time to soak in the beauty of the Ayrshire coast, with its dramatic cliffs, secluded coves, and vast stretches of sandy beach. Keep an eye out for Ailsa Craig, a volcanic island that rises majestically from the sea, and Turnberry Lighthouse, a historic landmark that has guided ships for centuries. Pause to reflect at the Turnberry War Memorial, a poignant reminder of the sacrifices made during wartime. And don’t miss the ancient Standing Stone on Bain’s Hill, a mysterious relic that whispers tales of the past.
