Drow 'n' Smirr

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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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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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

Beyond yon hills where Stinsiar flows

April 4, 2015

4.8 miles 3h 48m ascent 222m

Peden’s Hut-Shiel Hill-Cornish Loch-Cornish Hill

Beyond yon hills where Stinsiar* flows, ‘mang muirs and mosses many…

By Girvan’s fairy-haunted stream, The birdies flit on wanton wing; While bank and brae are clothed in green, And scattered cowslips sweetly spring…

Our walk was to take us across the Waters of Stinchar and Girvan, and as Burns described we did indeed find moor, moss and flitting birdies. He didn’t mention the ankle twisting tussocks, rocks and bogs, though perhaps they are captured, for the experienced, in the term “muirs”.

I have read two derivations for the name, Stinchar, the more poetic is ‘Staing Aos Ath Irr‘ meaning ‘The River of the Sacred place of the Druids”; the other “abounding in pools”, without much explanation of how that becomes Stinchar. I can’t say that I am convinced by either. The first is certainly the more poetic, whereas the second is a realistic description.

Our walk started at Stinchar Bridge or, more prosaically, the car park there which was surprisingly full. The Stinchar here flows through a series of small waterfalls and pools, but rather than crossing the river immediately we turned left to walk along the forest drive towards the bridge across the Water of Girvan. The forest drive was easy walking and slightly downhill. Beside us the forest of conifers was edged with lichen laden deciduous trees but there had been some felling allowing us to see the top of Cornish hill with Shalloch on Minnoch, Ayrshires only Corbett, in the distance.

Fairy haunted Girvan Water

I had imagined the crossing at the Girvan as a footbridge, though with a little thought I should have realised it would have to be wide enough for vehicles using the forest drive. (A photograph I had seen had been taken from such an angle that the bridge appeared narrower.) We met a walker here who was on the return leg from his walk up Cornish Hill. I was to think of him later in the walk when I wondered if it would be easy to cross the Girvan where it leaves Cornish Loch.

After crossing the Girvan we took a footpath up towards the rocky knoll called Peden’s Hut. This took us up perhaps 40m and then forked. The right fork heads up to Cornish Loch but we took the left path which continued only a little further. Here we had our first views of Lochs Bradan and Skelloch, and of the rough ground ahead of us. As we climbed higher the full extent of Loch Bradan came into view, including the western section which includes the submerged Loch Lure, Loch Bradan having spilled over it when dammed in 1912. Bradan I believe takes its name from the salmon, whereas Skelloch is a rock. But with so many other Shallochs nearby, and Linnshalloch the hill beside the loch, one does wonder if the name refers to hunting instead. The lost Loch Lure has a more ominous root, lobhair, leper.

Tough going by Peden’s Hut

We climbed our way up Peden’s Hut, enjoyed the views while getting our breath back then looked down at the dip separating us from the rest of Shiel Hill. I don’t think the OS map fully captured the lie of the land here and it would perhaps have been better to skirt around Peden’s Hut. But now we have climbed it. There was a group of walkers behind us as we came along the footpath but they must have been heading elsewhere since we didn’t see them once we were over Peden’s Hut. This strangely named rocky hillock is said to be named for Alexander Peden (1626-1686), “Prophet Peden” a covenanter from the killing times, who is thought to have hidden thereabouts while evading capture by government troops.

After a brief descent from the Hut, we climbed the first of many rocky knolls and eventually found ourselves looking across a shallow corrie with Rowantree crags to the left and the summit of Shiel Hill ahead. The ground in between was deep heather and tussocks with a small lochan emerging from the bog in the centre.

Craigmasheenie and the hills of the Awful Hand from Shiel Hill

Craigmasheenie and the hills of the Awful Hand from the corrie on Shiel Hill

Sweep took the left hand side of the lochan whereas the rest of us took the right. He noticed this and became a little uneasy, looking this way and that. I tried to indicate that he could continue on that side but he took the plunge and swam across to us. The swim seemed easy enough though getting out was a bit of a struggle for him. I was so worried that I’d have to plunge in myself to rescue the old dog that I didn’t get a photo of his swim.

Shiel Hill trig, a tad windy

A direct climb to the summit would have been very steep so we swung around to the right then followed the high ground around over the unmarked summit then along to the Trig pillar that sits on a rocky outcrop but is not the highest ground. Some stunted trees had tried to take a hold here but hadn’t got above thigh height.

Craiglee, Lochs Goosie and Ballochling

The trig point afforded excellent views of the nearby lochs, (Lochs Riecawr and Macaterick are behind me in the photo above, Bradan, Goosie, Ballochling are out of shot) and the surrounding hills (Awful Hand range, Rinns of Kells, Craiglee and Craigmasheenie). On some older maps Loch Goosie is shown as having the shape of a goose but its name is actually derived from loch giuthasach (geusagh), lake of the pine-wood.

From the summit we headed down towards the outflow of Cornish Loch, and despite being downhill this was quite a strenuous trek through deep heather with boggy tussocks nearer the loch. “Unpleasant Dougals” according to Audrey. There were also some steep short drops requiring course deviations. All that said, the loch grew gradually closer and we could clearly see the rocky path up Cornish Hill on the far side of the Loch, so we knew that easier walking lay ahead.

Swimming in Cornish Loch

Once at the loch side the dogs decided to go for a dip. I’d like to say that we humans computed the month, altitude, wind temperature, windspeed and lack of wetsuits before deciding against a swim, but in reality some reflex in our brains kicked in such that we didn’t even consider the possibility.

Crossing Girvan Water at the outflow of the loch had worried me a little but I reflected that the walker we met earlier in the day had not been wet. He could obviously have been drenched in crossing the water but changed his clothes before meeting us, but I set that possibility aside. The crossing turned out to be easy enough. In other words we didn’t fall in, well the humans didn’t but one dog did. If you find yourself here and the crossing is too difficult there is in fact a footbridge a couple of hundred metres downstream. We couldn’t see it until we were across and had gained a little more height.

Lunch was taken seated on a convenient boulder overlooking the loch where I could reflect and regret forgetting to pack my hollow chocolate bunnies. Cornish loch lies in a broad rocky hollow bounded by Cornish Hill, Shiel Hill and Craigmasheenie and is not named for Cornishmen, though Cornishmen did work the lead mines at Garryhorn eight miles to the east. Old maps render the name as Loch Cornish, more in keeping with the Gaelic word order, with the descriptor following the main word. The name is thought to be an anglification of Loch Coire an Eas, the lake of the corrie of the waterfall. Once “coire an eas” became Cornish, an apparently English word, English word order has been used, so we have Cornish Loch. The waterfall is on the outflow of the loch, the Water of Girvan as it is named on the OS map, though perhaps it should just be the Girvan, since its name is from garbh (garv) amhuinn (avon), rough river.

After lunch, as we enjoyed the view, a family walked past us with a labrador and set themselves down by the loch side. This brought about a behavioural change in Eddie. He switched from his usual “chasing birds” mode, which admittedly had been somewhat trying on the hill since many “wanton birdies were flitting about” just as described by Burns, into “barking at another dog while running away to a safe distance” mode. When chasing birds he comes back when called but is so excited that he continues running around at full speed until the adrenaline wears off. But he doesn’t bark. Beside the loch, the peace and tranquility of the wilderness was shattered. Though I suppose it was an organic noise. Unfortunately though, he set Sweep off. Sweep has an antipathy to pausing on a walk and will bark when one stops for a breather or to consult the map. He had forgotten to bark when we stopped for lunch, but the pup barking reminded him. So there was nothing for it but for us to pack our bags and get going again.

Coltsfoot

After a brief detour downstream to have a view of the (unimpressive) waterfalls we followed the rocky path zig-zagging up Cornish Hill. Beside the path we spotted a small patch of yellow flowers standing out against the greys and browns of the surroundings, coltsfoot I think. This was used in past as a decoction for colds or smoked to help bronchitis. Its official name Tussilago even means cough away. Herbal medicine websites highlight that it has been used for thousands of years, but reading pharmacognosy sites the phrase that caught my eye was “hepatotoxic alkaloid”. I suppose the dead don’t cough.

Cornish Loch from one of the cairns on Cornish Hill

On Cornish Hill there are several cairns, some of which are built of rocks that look newly quarried (i.e. not weathered), and I suppose each cairn offers different views. The summit of the hill is off to the west of the rocky path so visiting it requires a little more walking in heather and tussock. We wound our way on the path, across the hill and then down into the trees of Carrick forest.

The forest floor, tree trunks and old logs here were covered with bright green moss giving it an almost unnatural look. If I had just seen a photograph I would have thought that it had been photoshopped. But it was real. The forest path itself was covered in old pine needles giving just the right balance of firmness and give, a joy to walk on.

Craiglour Lodge Memorial

We came upon a memorial for Craiglour Lodge and informing us that Catherine Lawson was born there on 11th November 1940. It is five years since I was last here and I tried to find out more about Catherine Lawson then without any success. I’ve tried again with the same outcome. I had presumed that the Though this place is now next to a well walked forestry footpath, but it must once have been quite remote place.

Nearby there looks to have been attempts at building shelters (or bonfires) by leaning branches up against the mature trees. Either way the effort has left something to be desired: the wood looked too green to burn and there wasn’t much space if it was a shelter. Perhaps there is another explanation, just tidying up?

Rosnes Benches in Carrick Forest

Our next finds were the Rosnes Benches close to the footbridge over the Water of Stinchar. These two benches are different colours. Presumably they get different amounts of sunlight and the far bench has faded more quickly. We lay on the benches, as has become our custom, and enjoyed the moment, “becoming part of the immediate context surrounding us.” Having become one with nature, I rose from the bench, stripped and plunged into the invigorating waters of the Druid’s sacred river…just kidding, I didn’t become one with nature.

Unlike the other Rosnes benches we had visited that had offered wide vistas, while sitting on these two we were forced to consider our more immediate surroundings, the trees, grasses, river and sky. On a warmer day I might have lay there longer.

A few more relaxing minutes walking through the forest and we met the river again at Stinchar Bridge. A picnic table here overlooks the waterfalls and pools and gave us our last photo opportunity of the walk.

[osmap gpx=”http://www.screel.co.uk/walks/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/RK_gpx-_2015-04-04_1023.gpx”]

*PS Burns changed Stinsiar to Lugar in the final lyrics to improve the line.

Posted in Ayrshire | Tagged Rosnes Benches | Comments Off

The Glen of the Yews

March 19, 2015

5.8 miles 3h 10m ascent 285m

“I was born on Sunday, the 22d of October 1775, (I ascertained these points in 1805,— I did not exactly know my age in 1794) and baptized a fortnight after, on Tuesday 7th November — stated in the register of baptisms to be the 27th, but the old style is understood, (in the register.) The place where my father then lived is called Dunkitterick, or commonly Kitterick; in Earse, Dun-cheatharaiach, — the know of the cattle. It is on the burn of Palneur, on the south side, about a quarter of a mile from the burn, and on a rivulet that flows from the high hills above on the south. The hills of Craigneildar, Milfore, and others, quite overshadow the spot, and hide it from the sun for three of the winter and spring months. The cottage has been in ruins for more than twenty years, as the farm is herded from the house of Tenotrie, the tenant of which holds both Tenotrie and Kitterick. This place, now laid open by a road, was, when my father lived there, in a completely wild glen, which was traversed by no strangers but smugglers.” Alexander Murray, Manse of Urr, July 20, 1812.

This outing began as an ascent of Craignelder from McMoab but a taste of the terrain we would need to cross in getting onto the hill drained my enthusiasm and it was decided that Craignelder would be better approached from Cairnsmore of Fleet as a linear walk, on another day.

I had read there was parking off the forestry track before the bridge near McMoab, but on arrival we found that Mr Forestry had been hard at work stacking logs there. So we drove back to the wee car park on the A712 where the western path from Murray’s Monument emerges then re-traced our steps with the dogs on leads until we were away from the road.

The McMoab slabs are used by mountain bikers and the skull and cross bones warning signs give some indication of the difficulty I presume. There are tyre marks at head height on the steepest parts of the rock and I wondered if they might instead be geological. Back home I have had a look on google and they are tyre tracks. See here.

Craignelder from McMoab

Our first challenge was to find the Rosnes Benches at McMoab. We walked up over the granite slabs using the height to look for the benches, but they were no where near so we came down and explored the rough ground opposite the McMoab slabs, again in vain. I had read the benches were about 100 yards away so we walked along the forestry track, climbed onto higher ground for a better view but still could not find them. I had looked up the OS grid reference the previous evening but could only recall the first 2 digits (of 8) and regretted not writing them down.

On McMoab: note the logs in the car parking space

Eventually we gave up our search for the benches and indeed I began to wonder if they were described on the web-site but not yet actually installed. So we gave up on the benches and headed south along a forestry track looking for a way up the slopes to a wall which would take us to the top of the tree line. The ground, however, looked uninviting to put it mildly. This was a sore blow for the Craignelder route. We then headed back to McMoab and along the track that heads towards (but does not reach) Dunkitterick. This gave the possibility of following another wall that crosses the track and leads to the tree line. The terrain there was equally uninviting (and I did give it a go). The Craignelder walk was set aside with a half hearted proviso that we could resurrect it if there was a way up across Sleekit Knowe. Once we could see the rough ground and felled forest of the inappropriately named smooth (sleekit) slope, Craignelder was finally set aside for another day, and an alternative route.

On the positive side though we did find the paired Rosnes Benches quite a bit further than the stated 100 yards away from McMoab. This gave us a chance to lie down/sit down/take photos/enjoy the views. The views included Murray’s Monument on Big Doon, the Glen of Palnure (poll n-iubhar, stream of the yews), Craigdews (creag dubh, black crag), and Craignelder (creag na eilte, hind’s crag).

McMoab Rosnes Benches

If you look at the photograph above you will see Murray’s Monument on the hillock called Big Doon. To the right is a tree covered hill, Garmel (Gar Meall, near hill), whose jungle-like steep slopes we would be crossing later in the day.

I spent a little time on the benches during which I tried to “experience existing in the moment, not thinking forward or looking back, but fully part of and immersed in the complex and multi faceted relationships we have with nature and the vibrant ecology we are a vital part off” as suggested by the bench’s creators, but Sweep knew which pocket I had the dog treats in.

Every walk needs an achievement, and finding the benches ticked that box. Rested and filled with achievement we continued along the forestry track through Sleekit Knowes. As I mentioned there was no obvious way up the slopes, though I was tempted by what may once have been forestry access but it was now over grown with young trees and Audrey’s facial expression told me that I was mistaken in thinking of it as a forestry break.

Dunkitterick

The track ends a hundred metres shy of the Dunkitterick ruins and we were faced with 100m of forest or skirting the trees through boggy tussocks. I gave the forest a go but fallen trees made it impassable without a chainsaw, and neither of us had brought one, so we skirted the edge of the trees and crossed a unnamed burn to reach the ruins.

The last time I was here the burn was much fuller and more difficult to cross (indeed one of the group had a dunking). Now it was much lower and easily crossed. The ruins here are the birthplace of Alexander Murray, a shepherd’s son who became Professor of Oriental Languages at Edinburgh University and the 80 foot granite obelisk built on Big Doon, a mile a way, is a memorial to him. You will see from his description at the beginning of this post that the place was referred to as Kitterick by his father, and is so named on older OS maps (and on the map of Galloway on the wall at home.

Palnure Burn

Once out of the walled area there is a firm path which must have been surfaced since the last visit when I remember us walking through very boggy ground by the Palnure Burn. The black rocks of Craigdews were living up to their name and the broad slow burn was very pretty in the sunshine.

Eddie below Craigdews

There is a footbridge across the burn and a small waterfall a little way upstream. On a warmer day it would have been nice to sit on the rocks and dangle our feet in the water.

There is a small parking space by the footbridge and we passed through that then along the road in front of the wild goat park of Craigdews, crossing the Tonderghie Burn on the A712 and again on the forestry track up to the Black Loch. Tonderghie, (pronounced Tonnergee with a hard g), takes its name from Ton re gaeith, which means the backside of the wind. As strange as this name seems, it is usually applied to low lying land, such as where cattle stand in storms with their tails to the wind.

The Eye

The track led us up to the Black Loch, passing a sign warning us to Beware of Bees, under which someone had written “Bees?”. Well we were warned but didn’t see a bee all day.

The track here, which was once the old Edinburgh Road is covered with fragments of sea shell. At the far end of the loch is the Eye, a 7m conical terracotta-covered structure by Colin Rose, commissioned in 1997 to mark the 50th anniversary of Galloway Forest Park. There is a hollow section running through it but I don’t know if this is part of the “art” of the piece or something more mundane such as the means by which it was held prior to being placed here. I looked through the hole both ways but there was nothing specific to see.

Near The Eye

I recalled a tale involving the Black Loch involving the Laird of Cardoness, a robber baron and violent man, who was exasperated with his wife who had provided nine daughters but not the son and heir he desired. When she became pregnant again he threatened to drown her and all her daughters if she failed to produce a son. Much to the relief of all concerned a son was born and the delighted Laird arranged a midwinter feast on the thick ice of the Black Loch. Unfortunately the ice gave way and the whole family, save one daughter were drowned. And the Cardoness estates passed to the McCullochs by her marriage. Audrey, ever a sceptic, thought the Black Loch was a long way to come from Cardoness and I had to admit that the story was likely to be less than 1% truth.

Quorum

Further along the “old road”, at the bridge over the Grey Mare’s Tail Burn are a maze-like group of sheep pens. Among the stones are several carved faces, the Quorum installation by Matt Baker. Some logs by the burn looked like a perfect place for lunch but it was a bit nippy in the wind and rather than stop in the cold, we put lunch on hold.

Murray’s Monument

Our next port of call was to be Murray’s Monument on Big Doon. Rather than follow the burn down to the road and climb back up to the obelisk, we decided to stay on the old road and find a way down fourth on. The seed of a navigation error was sown in hat moment.

The map shows a path about 250m beyond the bridge and another more 500m beyond that. There was no sign of the first path as we walked and when we could see along the track I couldn’t see the other. The OS shows a break in the forest at about 500m from the bridge. The area had long been felled but the tussocks of the old forest break stood out from the rest of the ground. My eyes played a trick on me here and I perceived the land beyond the break as a loch of brown water until we were closer.

This route took us up to the top of Garmel and back into forest. We then made our way through the forest which in places was quite steep. I had expected to come out above the monument but had miscalculated and found we were actually descending towards the car park at the Grey Mare’s tail bridge. A problem here was that we could not see through the trees and I went on a couple of short recces to higher ground to see if the monument could be seen. It couldn’t. Though downhill this was still quite tiring and poor Sweep needed help getting over some of the tree trunks. As well as clambering over fallen trees and coping with fallen logs we had to cross a newly felled section with the trunks and branches still lying randomly. Once we could see the path to the monument it was obvious that we could maintain height by crossing the difficult felled section, or give up height but at least find an easier way.

So I will have to admit that this “short-cut” did not deliver reduced effort, reduced distance or reduced time and indeed we could not easily maintain the height we had gained and ended up descending to join the monument path quite low down, it did not deliver reduced ascent either. At least the climb up to the monument was on a good path, but the obelisk is much larger than one would expect, and therefore further away than it seems.

Murray’s Monument

Murray’s Monument did at least offer a seat to rest our weary legs. From there we had views back to the Rosnes benches which could not be seen (by my) naked eye but are there on photos when zoomed in.

When the monument was erected in 1835 but did not have an inscription added until 40 years later. The granite slab with the inscription weighed 16 cwt and newspapers at the time reported “not a little difficulty was experianced in getting it to the summit of the hill. The satisfactory completion of the monument will be a source of gratifiication to every Gallovidian.”

The inscription reads:

“Alexander Murray D.D. Minister of Urr – 1806 – 1813. Professor of Oriental Languages in the University of Edinburgh – 1812 – 1813. Born at Dunkitterick, 22nd Oct 1775. Died at Edinburgh, 15th April, 1813 Reared a Shepherd Boy on these hill sides. Erected by his countrymen in 1835 mainly through the exertions and skill of James Stewart Esquire of Cairnsmore on whose property it stands”

The Wikipedia entry for Alexander Murray is here.

Wee Doon beneath us was , newly devoid of trees, with a forestry harvester parked on its summit, somewhat spoiling the wild views but along the Palnure glen and the surrounding hills.

Our descent was along the alternative path heading west then south which returned us to the car.

[osmap gpx=”http://www.screel.co.uk/walks/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/RK_gpx-_2015-03-19_1005.gpx”]

Posted in Dumfries & Galloway | Tagged Ruins | Comments Off

Bainloch Hill

March 17, 2015

2.2 miles 1h 48m ascent 219m (Bainloch Hill 287m)

Bainloch Hill is said to take its name from bàin loch, white loch, but I don’t find that convincing. There is a White Loch a couple of miles away below Barcloy Hill, but I don’t think Bainloch hill would be visible from there, and the word order ought to have been loch bàin. There is a place named Back Bainloch below the hill, to the north, but it has no lochs near it. So the origin of Bainloch’s name is probably lost in the mists of time. But I wondered given that Kirkbean (Circ Beain, Bean’s Church) is just up the road, and a ridge of Bainloch Hill is named Laggan Hill, if the Bain is from Beain and the Loch from Lag (a hollow). Or more prosaically, since older maps have the spelling Boynloch for the places below the hill, perhaps this is boine-lag, the cow’s hollow? There are still cows kept in that hollow today.

But from etymology to practical matters. I decided to approach the hill from the ruins of Southwick Church. I took the dogs with me so needed to avoid the Deer Farm that takes up the southern slopes and the cow filled fields if approaching from Bow Hill. I imagine each route has its pros and cons and my own route wasn’t too bad.

Southwick church is a ruin but the graveyard surrounding it is well maintained and possibly still in use. It is well worth a visit but does not have any gates to allow easy access to the fields leading to the hill. We did find a way over the wall on the way out but on our return we came through the field to the north which has a gate onto the road.

Southwick Church

Between the churchyard and Back Burn the fields were marshy with tufts of grass standing in water like small islands in the sea. My heart sank as my feet did and after negotiating a way through with dry(ish) feet I found the Back Burn too wide to jump and deep enough to have submerged any stepping stones. So I made my way upstream, climbing through a gap in the wall to the next field. The burn did pass beneath a wall which offered a chance to climb across, but dogs wouldn’t have been able to follow that way.

I little further on we crossed the wall separating the fields from the trees and after crossing more boggy ground found the burn much reduced and easily jumped. There was a barbed wire fence blocking our way but it was dilapidated and I found a section where some of the posts had rotted and the fence had fallen enough that I could hold it down while the dogs jumped.

My plan had been to backtrack along the burn until I found the forest break with its wall and burn heading up the hill but the way was obstructed by trees so I turned uphill through the trees heading for the light of the break.

I had read a report warning against walking in the forest and strongly advising walkers to stick with the forest ride, so I made for the light. The forest break however was hard going, sometimes boggy, sometimes obstructed by branches of living trees or trunks of fallen trees and I found that I spent most of the time walking in the forest with the wall visible to my left. The dogs found this very easy since they ran below branches but I had to zig-zag about to find a way without obstructing branches. I advise wearing glasses to avoid twigs poking the eye.

A little before the treeline I came out into the forest break and walked by the wall. A goat stood on the crags above us watching us like a sentry but we didn’t see any deer. The deer fence surrounding the southern part of the hill was on the far side of the wall so at least we didn’t need to cross that.

My plan was to follow the wall until a left hand bend at which point I would continue along the original direction of the wall onto the higher ground then turn towards the summit.

Unfortunately I mistook an earlier bend in the wall for my cue and struck off about 150m too soon and climbed up the deep heather of steep slopes up to the promontory with a 269m spot height. Once here I could see the bend in the wall I should have been waiting for. So the summit was further away than I had thought.

Bainloch’s heather

I decided to head across the high ground to the summit which meant climbing over four small knolls each covered in deep heather with no easy route through. Despite this being a short walk it has been quite a workout for my legs. The dogs of course just jumped along like springboks, though poor Sweep is limping now.

Bainloch Hill summit, Maidenpap in the background

Eventually we reached the summit cairn and the dogs found some puddles to lap while I had a swig of water. I looked around for other cairns that might have given this hill its alternative name “three cairns” but couldn’t see any. I did wonder if some rocks a few metres away were the real summit but once there the cairn looked to mark the highest point.

Unfortunately it was a hazy day so the views were a little muted.

For the descent I decided I couldn’t face much more deep heather walking so I made for the wall and stayed close to that until I was back at the trees. This was marginally easier undergrowth but a bit more up and down. I had thought that the forest break on the far side of the wall looked easier, but the wall was too high to manhandle the dogs over and I suspected I was experiencing “grass is greener” syndrome anyway. So I went back down the same way, spending much of the time in the forest where the ground was firmer.

Once the trees thinned out

I wondered where I would come out in relation to the churchyard but found I was back to the same place with the fallen barbed wire fence and we got back over the wall into the boggy field, this time using the gate on to the road.

So, all in all, a short outing but no paths, no tracks, and tiring walking when in the deep heather of the summit, but I think it would be even more difficult once the bracken grows.
[osmap gpx=”http://www.screel.co.uk/walks/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/RK_gpx-_2015-03-17_0953.gpx”]

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

Barrs Hill Fort

March 16, 2015

3.7 miles 1h 38m ascent 165m (Barrs Hill 218m)

Barrs Hill is one of the many “twice named” hills. Barr generally means the summit of a hill, but in SW Scotland tends just to mean “hill”, so it is Hills hill.

This was a walk with DW to explore the Roman Fort on Barrs Hill. We took a straightforward route from near Lanegate along minor roads to Barshill Farm, then up on to the hill following the line of trees. Our route crossed what remains of the Dumfries, Lochmaben and Lockerbie railway line which would be easy to miss were it not for the bridge we crossed.

The fort when we reached it was quite a bit more imposing than I had expected from google satellite views. I had thought we would be wandering about looking for slight irregularities in the ground marking its position, but the ramparts are still much taller than a man on the southern side.

I hadn’t taken along a camera so all I have is a picture taken with my phone, looking towards Hightown Hill. i am stood at the top of the rampart but the image doesn’t do it justice.

A report from 1920 describes a hedge crossing the site, but this is now a line of tall mature trees. The report can be found here, with pages 198-199 being those related to this fort.

Unfortunately I haven’t been able to find any information about the history of the fort.