Drow 'n' Smirr

10.3 miles 5h ascent 127m

Annandale Way pt 3: Eden to Lochmaben

The third section of the AW on a warm day with occasional showers and no off-route wanderings. The route heads mostly south, has more descent than climb, and includes a variety of walking, with forestry tracks, bracken encroached woods, footpaths sylvan, peaty and sandy, meadows knee deep with wildflowers and wet grasses, fields of barley, pastures of sheep and cows, cattle-churned muddy quagmire, minor roads, tree lined avenues and the bonus of a footbridge where previously the AW required the fording of a burn. It is journey through forest plantations and then across a patchwork of fields. A “variety density” more than most walks and not one that easily lends itself to recalling every field.  It is six years since I last walked this route and some parts I recalled clearly while others I didn’t.

Our start was a lay by on the A701, where we spotted a television set peeping at us through the trees. One rarely sees feral TVs in the woods and I was careful not to get too close in case it attacked me with a scene from Big Brother. I was however able to approach close enough to recognise it as an old-fashioned CRT type Philips TV. It was just a short walk up the road to rejoin the AW which crosses the A701 from the Raehills estate, which hosts the Eden Festival, and climbs into the Hazelbank Plantation on a forest track. Raehills House came into view across the valley as we climbed leaving the noise of traffic behind us.

An AW signpost directed us off the track and up a narrow grassy path which in 2010 had trees on both sides, but now has only bracken on the right. It is short cut I think since it rejoins the track a little higher up.

The grassy path

Walking along here we stopped to look across to Queensberry, and admire the varieties of green in the trees below us. I thought if I ever took up watercolours this would be a good place to experiment with the colour green. As I mused and Audrey photographed, a chap drove by and stopped to say there was a hut further along the track and we were welcome to go inside for a drink as long as we shut the door after us. Feeling a little like Hansel and Gretel invited into the house in forest, we thanked him, and then started walking again.

We eventually reached some huts, but with no sign of the inviting chap or his car. There were several drum-like constructions each with a small fence surrounding it. I presumed from inspecting them that these were feeders and once back at home I found photos from six years earlier showing young grouse running along the track here.

Harebells

After a couple more kilometres walking by trees or felled forest, a gate and a minor road signalled the end of Hazelbank Plantation. We turned right and walked past twin cottages with a rather industrial look to them. The AW then left the road at Blackburn, which is no doubt named for the nearby Black Burn, a minor tributary of the River Annan. The first section here is along a track between two fences, so there was no way to get lost, though we have managed it before. The track then reached a quadrangle overgrown with fireweed and a dilapidated sheep pen. We walked on but in stopping to take a photo I noticed an AW plaque on a gate at the NW corner of the wee quadrangle. So we walked back around only to find that it took us around to where we would have been had we just carried on.

Another AW gate took us through the hedgerow and an arrow pointed straight ahead, west, but that didn’t look likely to be correct since it headed across a filed with a dense wood on the far side. So we turned left (south) walking through knee-deep wet grass, with butterflies fluttering by and wildflowers scattered everywhere. Large old trees stood in the hedgerows and gave us shelter from our first shower of the day.

Which Way?

After passing a plantation on our left we came to another gate, an arrow pointing a little left of straight ahead and no evidence that anyone had walked across the meadow in front of us. I had taken a photo here the last time and titled it “Which Way?” and the feeling was the same this time. The arrow’s direction was correct and once in the middle of the meadow we could see the gate on the far side. The meadow was scattered with lilac tinged meadow foxtail among the sea of grass. The next field was barley, swaying its fronds in the gentle wind, and took us to the minor road at Greenbeck. What looked from afar to be a crow flew by but its call was not that of a crow, and since I had binoculars to hand I was able to get a better look at the Sparrowhawk as it flew around.

Meadow Foxtail

Across the road we turned along a farm track fenced in between fields. The hedgerows were full with woundworts, marsh and heath, hemp nettle, and burdock as well as the usual suspects. We weathered a second rain shower under a tree. I was growing impatient waiting but the rain stopped as soon as I took off my rucksack to reach for my jacket. How easy it is to assume causation even when one knows better. Well, back on the move, jackets still packed away, we skirted the edges of more fields of barley, then paused when we reached a gate into a quagmire of cattle-churned mud.  The cattle were elsewhere so we could choose our own route and picked our way through with surprisingly little mud to show for it.

Barley

In the olden days we had had to ford the Black Burn on the far side of this field, but a new wooden footbridge spared us a wetting. The far side was another field of barley hemmed by a broad avenue of scentless mayweed and redshanks. The minor roads we crossed were our markers of progress and we crossed another here at Heathfield. This took us into a long sloping field with cows scattered about. They were mostly lying about but got up when we got near and one young lady gave us a good braying so we gave her a wide berth.

The Black Burn ran along at the bottom of the field and we followed what I presume is the route the cows take when walking along the field. This took us behind a house before rising up to a gate onto the B7020. A small plaque told us we were in Applegirth Estate/Crown Estates, so we were careful not to give any impression that we were poaching the Queen’s deer. A cottage by the road had an overgrown but very colourful garden.

A tree lined avenue took us down to Lochbrow. The trees here must be very old, some had been felled and the stumps were massive. I can’t help but think that this must once have been a more important thoroughfare. There were two plastic chairs beneath a grand old oak with a visitors book in a wee niche beside them. I was tempted to stop there for such but we pressed on, I forget why. They were a bit muddy.

Seats to ponder the views

At Lochbrow we turned right onto another minor road which took us past farm buildings at Archwwood, with swallows chattering as they flitted through the air. The River Annan, grown since we last saw it, drew alongside us adding the sound of running water to our footfalls. When the road turns from the river there is a woodland and can AW signpost directed us into it. This is Spedlins Flow, a woodland but with the epithet “flow” giving some idea as to the land.

Spedlin’s Tower is visible along an overgrown track. The original building dates from the 15th century, and is supposed to be haunted. Here is the tale from Mysterious Britain and Ireland:

The story goes that a miller named Dunty Porteas was locked away in the tower dungeon for some petty reason after he had fell out of favour with Sir Alexander Jardine. Sir Alexander went on an errand to Edinburgh forgetting that the dungeon keys were in his pocket. The poor Miller slowly starved to death, and when the door was opened it was discovered that in his desperation and hunger he had gnawed the flesh from his arms and hands. For years afterwards the ghost of the miller tormented the family with tortuous screams of hunger and pain.

The Jardines in desperation hired an important minister, who carried out an exorcism and finally managed to confine the spirit to the dungeon. The binding was carried out with the aid of a bible that was left near the dungeon and acted as a barrier for Dunty’s restless spirit. The bible was sent to be rebound in Edinburgh in 1710, allowing the millers spirit to roam free and wreak havoc once again, until the bible was returned to its rightful place. Folklore to this day says that of you poke a stick into the dungeon of Spedlins Tower it will come back half-chewed.

I think Dunty might have relocated to my house because if we leave things lying about, they can be found chewed the next day, especially shoes.

Bench in Spedlins

Opposite the track to the Tower is one of the minimalist Annandale Way benches, beside an AW information board. Sitting in the shade of trees would have been a pleasant place for lunch but the “flow” part of Spedlins meant there were enough insects about to make eating sandwiches there a poor choice, so on we went.

There was then a junction with no marker post, though the direction is clear on the OS map, even though I had taken a map which did not have the AW marked on it, it being so old. Judging by the close up pictures of Spedlins Tower I took in 2010, we must have taken the wrong turn here back then. We took the correct turn this time and walked on with mixed woodland on our right and farmland with a combine harvester to our left.

The way into Corncockle Plantation

We paused for coffee sitting on a Ha-Ha, watching the combine harvester and another sparrowhawk. The heather around us was in various stages of flowering, some clumps in full flower, others yet to make an effort.

After this minor road we climbed back into woodland, initially through bracken and then along narrow footpaths through Corncockle Woodland. Much of the walking was on peaty ground but with other stretches on more sandy ground.

Marsh woundwort

The woodland ended at the Templand-Millhouse bridge Road where the AW splits into the route via Lockerbie and which we took, via Lochmaben. As before we only spent a short time on the road itself and then turned off the road along the edge of fields with sheep and cattle. The route runs between a drystone wall and a wire fence, and looks to have been mown.

The final section of the walk is along minor roads into Lochmaben, crossing Kinnel Water. On of the farms here has the strange name Kinnelhook which presumably describes the curve of the river here.

On the outskirts of Lochmaben we found some common blue sow thistle, which isn’t that common in my opinion. Given its position I presume it to be a garden escapee.

After Mill Loch we passed the various Vendace avenues, roads, crescents. The Vendace is a rare fish the which by the 20th century was present only in the Lochmaben Lochs, the last being netted in Mill Loch in 1966.
[osmap gpx=”http://www.screel.co.uk/walks/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/RK_gpx-_2016-07-30_0951.gpx”]

14.2 miles  6h 42m  579m ascent

Annandale Way 1: the Moffat circular

This, the first section of the Annandale Way, starts and ends as Riverside walk, beneath trees and with a wildflowers all around. There were mallards walking in the car park and pied wagtails darting about.

River Annan in Moffat

Given my interest in wildflowers we made slow progress beside the river checking out the various flowers, which included yellow archangel, orange and yellow Welsh poppies and White Comfrey. The way passes under the A701 and a sign under the bridge told us we were on Dr Watties’ Walk, restored in 2008 and dedicated to the late Dr W J Gillies.

Eventually we left the riverside walk at a kissing gate near Adamsholme, and followed the AW sign to cross a field and join the minor road. If you reach the footbridge on the river you have missed this turn off.

Orphan gateposts

We stopped at the turn off to Gardenholme to check the map then continued on to fork left at an Annandale way sign crossing the river and heading for Meikleholmside. The track gradually climbs up the slope beside a wall, through fields full of ewes and their lambs, each numbered such that the lamb with 57 on its back was running alongside the ewe marked with the same number. we forded several small burns, then a more substantial one where the only good stepping stones were right on the edge of  drop, forcing us to choose between good stones where a slip would tumble you down a rocky gully for broken bones or submerged stepping stones where a slip would leave one sat in the stream. An easy call. After this ford the fields became less grass and more moorland, but with cuckooflowers growing in the boggier bits.

We had seen the clouds rising and falling, sometimes revealing the misnamed Chalk Ridge, but never deigning to show us the summit of Hart Fell. As we climbed towards the road though, the cloud descended and we walked into blowing wisps of mist. The precipitation that had been an occasional raindrop could now definitely be termed rain.

Ginger grass on Ericstane Hill

We crossed the A701 and continued a slow climb up Ericstane Hill with billowing mist blowing through the nearby trees. The route teased us with several false summits. “Almost there”, I would think, then a few steps on I would realise that I wasn’t there, but I was almost there, then realise that I wasn’t there, etc. We decided not to walk up to the actual summit of Ericstane Hill, though we might have done if the weather was going to offer better views. Another time perhaps.

The walk back down to the A701 was much boggier than the ascent. Grass was replaced by sphagnum moss and the trail was wet enough to allow several inches of submersion for footfalls, so we walked on the less boggy moss a little way off the trail.

At the Beeftub, in a lull in the rain

At the A701 we had a look down into the Devil’s Beef Tub, described by Scott as looking “as if four hills were laying their heads together, to shut out daylight from the dark hollow space between them. A damned deep, black, blackguard-looking abyss of a hole it is”.  We were wishing that the weather could have been better for our photos, but perhaps the cold and mist added to the atmosphere and might even have enhanced our experience?

I had thought we might have a break for coffee here but we decided instead to press on, get the climb up Annandale Hill under our belts, and then have a rest. So on we went. The lower section of the climb was very waterlogged requiring some minor detours until the gradient increased. The section beside the trees is the steeper so I was looking to the top of the tree line as a sign as to where the gradient would ease. The rain returned as we climbed but not enough to seriously need waterproof trousers.

Annandale Hill

The top of Annandale hill has an old trig pillar and a newer wooden bench inscribed with “Annandale Way Viewpoints”. The ground was less waterlogged here but as you can see from the picture, that doesn’t mean it was dry. Despite the rain we decided it was time for a break, so we got out our waterproof seats and sat in the rain, enjoying the views which were admittedly both limited by the weather but also annoying in that we could see sunshine in the valley we had walked up in rain, sunshine in the bowl of Tweed’s Well and sunshine on the wind turbines north of Daer.

We were now on upland moor and had left the profusion of wildflowers in the valley. But the Deer Grass was in flower on he ridge, cotton grass could be seen in the wetter sections and tormentil added a little colour. Small birds were flying along ahead of us, flashing a white bum then swooping into the grass, making a noise like an old modem, and usually too far away for definite identification But eventually a pair did stay close enough for a good look with the binoculars. Wheatears.

Looking west along Chalk Rig

After Annandale Hill we had a small climb over the northern slopes of Great Hill and then another over Chalk Rig Edge, which is the highest point of the walk at 500m. I had a slight navigational miscalculation and forgot the number of climbs before we would reach the cairn. Because of this I told Audrey that our climbs were all done once we had crossed Great Hill. I was expecting to see the cairn marking the source of the Annan, but we came down the hill and the cupboard was bare so to speak. No cairn… “this isn’t the droid col you’re looking for”.

So I had to explain that when I had said “it’s all downhill from here” what I had actually meant was “it’s all downhill once we’re over that hill there”. On we climbed and eventually we walked down into the valley between Chalk Rig Edge and Whitehope Heights, the cairn below us and streams draining into both the Tweed and the Annan rivers visible in the same view. Then the rain came, in such a way as to disabuse us of the view that it had “rained” earlier. The deluge was so sudden and heavy that we were totally soaked within a minute or two. I looked down at my sodden trousers and realised that donning waterproof trousers was useless.

As we approached the cairn, through the boggy ground that fed the headwaters of the Annan River, I felt my feet becoming wet, presumably from water entering the top of my boots. By the cairn, my wetness increased as capillary action carried water up from my wet thighs, to my nether regions. Eventually I was left with just a tabard shaped area of dryness on my torso.

With the rain there was flowing water beside the cairn, which I would have to regard as the source of the Annan river, so I stood in it. When I was last here the cairn had an inscribed stone which wasn’t legible now. I don’t know if this was due to my rain covered glasses or because the inscription is fading beneath the lichen.

The weather wasn’t exactly conducive to hanging about, so we headed off down the valley. This is part of the Corehead native woodlands project and the hillsides were covered with newly planted saplings. Apparently 230,000 oak, ash, aspen, juniper, rowan, alder, willow, birch and cherry saplings have been planted here. Alder seemed to predominate in the valley, and I presume that the unusual evergreen saplings are juniper. Despite having a waterproof camera for this outing, photos were still limited by raindrops on the lens.

Saplings in the Tweedhope valley

One of the new Sikorsky S-92 search and rescue helicopters flew overhead, the first I’ve seen since bristols took over the SAR from the RN. Hopefully it was on a training exercise.

Embankment at Broad Tae

On the path, with no nearby junctions, or indeed any alternative ways one might walk, we came upon one of those why-did-they-put-that-there, unnecessary Annandale Way signposts. Whereas, close by is a section which deserves better waymarking. There is a long embankment, which might be the remains of an older wall, and way waymarkers point along it then off across a nearby field without any definite track to follow, nor any obvious target such as a gate. Following the general direction of the sign, however, does lead to other way markers in the field, including one on a pair of gateposts standing alone like the remains of Ozymandias’ statue. So if you are not sure which way to go, look out for these orphan gateposts.

There is a gate, though a normal field-gate rather than one of the fancy Annandale Way metal jobs. The route then crosses a small footbridge and travels beside a wood before eventually reaching a farm track and crossing the River Annan on a vehicle bridge. An information board here titled Voice of the River reads:

Have you seen my secret start?Ten thousand years after ice I’m still making marsh up there. Five valleys open like the fingers of a hand to bring my waters tumbling down the hills, tickling silt from the rocks. I gather as one here.

There are good views from this section into the Beeftub itself, and pleasantly contrasting variations of green in the trees.

Auchencat Burn, close to where it joins the River Annan

The farm track took us through the farmyard of Ericstane and then onto the minor road which we followed back to the junction where we had left the road heading for Meikleholmside. We stopped for a late lunch sitting on the steps of the community hall beside the Auchencat Burn.

Bird cherry

We were now back amongst the wildflowers of the hedgerows, and a variety of trees, the bird cherry blossom was at its best so its many trees stood out. Bluebells were past there best in the woods but still putting on a good show on banks here and there. It was the wild garlic though that was having its day. Following the rain there was a heavy scent of garlic where the damsons were flowering.

Wild garlic

As we walked on, we crossed several burns giving us the impression of winding across the River Annan, whereas in fact we were crossing its tributaries. A swallow swooped by giving me an opportunity to remind Audrey that “one swallow does not a summer make”, just before the next one flew by. We then wondered if it had been the same one and looked about to see if we could see the two at the same time. At that point four flew by.

Having been completely soaked through on the hill, the wind on the return leg of the walk managed to dry out my trousers though I may have looked slightly unusual walking along with my pockets turned inside out.

We had an impressive show of wildflowers on the walk: dandelion, daisy, buttercup, celandine, red campion, bluebell, solomon’s seal, yellow archangel, double anemone, wild garlic, garlic mustard, pignut, cow parsley, golden saxifrage, forgetmenot, speedwell, woodruff, violet, lady’s mantle, Welsh poppy, wintercress, pink purslane, common comfrey, common sorrel, wood sorrel, wood avens, ribwort plantain, pheasant’s eye, yellow rattle, pyrenean valerian, herb robert, greater stitchwort, butterwort, cuckooflower, primrose, daffodil, blaeberry, gorse, bugle, and a couple we couldn’t identify, which are probably garden escapees.
[osmap gpx=”http://www.screel.co.uk/walks/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/RK_gpx-_2016-05-21_0951.gpx”]