Drow 'n' Smirr

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.

Posted in Dumfries & Galloway | Tagged Ruins | Comments Off

“Always something there to remind me”

March 15, 2015

About 2.5 miles

“Galloway’s coral is at Borron Point, north of Southerness. You get to it (if the tide’s not too high) along a mile of rocky shore from the car park at Powillimount. On the way you pass the sea-arch of the Thirlstane, with its sandbank patterns of a river delta; also some shed-sized granite boulders dumped off by the glaciers. Then grey slabby limestone reaches down to the sea. Look around and you should spot several sorts of shells, little round bits like buttons that are fragments of crinoid or sea-lily, and two different kinds of coral.” Sea, sand and sequels, Ronald Turnbull.

Those growing long in the tooth might read the title and understand its relevance to the terrain, a sandy shore. Perhaps I should have walked bare-foot?

The Thirlstane

The Thirlstane is a natural arch in the rocks, and would originally have been called the Þyrel-stane, the pierced rock. The letter Þ (thorn) didn’t make it into our modern alphabet, though it has survived in Icelandic. Here it has been replaced with “Th” as it was in the original spelling of “the” (þe). This is why “the” is sometimes rendered as “ye” as in the anachronistic “ye olde tea shoppe”.

Powillimount

The last time I was here the Thirlstane was a sea arch but today with the tide out so we could walk through it. Unfortunately I didn’t find any coral this time but that’s an excuse to go back at low tide and explore a little further.

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Assembling on Pibble Hill

March 7, 2015

2.7 miles 1h 42m 230m ascent

Bad weather was forecast with very low cloud so I headed for Pibble Hill, a wee 383m Marilyn near the Clints of Dromore. Most descriptions of walks up this hill come from the Corse of Slakes to the south, but I decided to try it from the north, I’m not sure why.

The road that runs parallel to the old Wigtonshire railway has a parking place marked on the OS map about half a mile west of the old Gatehouse station, but keep your eyes peeled, I drove right past it and had to practice my multi-point turning on the single track road.

There is space for a couple of cars and a sign asking that care is taken not to obstruct the access to the Clints of Dromore Estate.

Forgotten logs

Across the road is a forestry track guarded by a closed gate. A rusting padlock and chain were affixed but not in such a way that the gate was locked and the fence by the gate has fallen down. The forest track beyond the gate looks as if it hasn’t been used in a while. Heather was growing across it and small conifers were sprouting at its edges here and there. A moss covered pile of logs stood by the track just to emphasise that we were on the track the forestry forgot.

The track crosses a small unnamed burn, at a bridge watched over by a raised viewing seat. I was tempted to climb up to find out what could be seen but even a cursory glance raised doubts about its structural integrity, and a small sign did advise that use was only appropriate for those with authorisation. I had no hard hat and no formal training in climbing rickety wooden structures so I doubted authorisation would have been granted. Beside the seat was a lichen covered tree. I smiled and breathed in deeply since this is a sign of good air quality/lack of pollution.

At the seat/bridge/lichenified tree I left the track and turned up the forest break made by the unnamed burn, making my way up through boggy tussocks. There did not appear to be any obvious track at first but close to the trees the tussocks were squashed by passing animals and though the ground was waterlogged the going was easier.

The dogs didn’t seem to care about the tussocks, running through them easily and unlike me never seeming to have their legs fall into holes.

The forest ends at a well constructed stone wall. And the burn ends as well. Getting the dogs over the wall was my next task. Eddie disappeared along the wall then reappeared on top of it and jumped back, but Sweep who can’t even jump into the car anymore wasn’t going to manage on his own.

Luckily there was a break in the wall not far away. Unluckily it was barred by a rusting gate which had been attached to the wall by several pieces of rope threaded into the wall and fastened by knots, which I can only presume, had been tied by Gordias himself. The knots were beyond me and I hadn’t brought a sword.

Anyway, while I marvelled at the intricacy of the knots, Eddie jumped the gate and Sweep squeezed between the bars. So I climbed over, the knots mocking me as I walked away.

Once out of the forest we were on a heather and tussock covered hillside. I had intended heading directly up the hill but there were sheep that way so we walked up along the edge of the forest to skirt around them. This involved a couple of short steep sections to ensure my knees were aware that they were in use.

Lochan on Pibble Hill

Unfortunately, the cloud base fell and we soon climbed into mist making it difficult to find the best route. Pibble Hill’s top is made of numerous wee prominences and it was difficult to know which would be the summit. So we wandered about climbing up to what seemed to be a higher ground but finding no cairn on any.

We then came upon the wee Lochan which I knew was about 300m from the summit, so realised we still had quite a way to go. As we went on each prominence would appear to have a small cairn but when we got there it was just vegetation. Eventually the ground started to fall away and I realised we must have passed the summit, so I headed north with the aim of finding the wall marked on the OS map and using the wall junction to guide me to the summit.

So on I walked and soon spotted the wall. But when I got to it, it was not a wall but more vegetation masquerading as man-made artefact. Then as I stood mentally recreating Edvard Munch’s Scream, I saw higher ground and headed up to it.

Pibble Hill summit

A small cairn marked the summit. I had hoped to get a picture of me at the summit using the timer on the camera but it was so windy that was out of the question so I made do with a standard frowning selfie.

Pibble apparently takes its name from an old word meaning meeting, congregation or place of assembly. I presume this is being used in the sense that animals were collected in shielings thereabouts. I suppose the dogs and I assembled there today, even if Sweep did keep barking until we got moving again. He doesn’t like to stop, except when he wants to.

At this point the walk could have really gone pear shaped. After a bit of faffing around with my bag, and standing looking into the mist imagining the extensive views I might otherwise have had, I shrugged on my rucksack, called the dogs and was about to set off, when for some reason I decided to use the compass to check I was heading in the right direction. I wasn’t.

We then headed back the way we had come. I did find some ATV tracks to follow to the lochan, but they disappeared after that. I must have missed them on the way along to the summit. The return journey was mostly uneventful except for stepping into a couple of hidden holes, one baptising my right foot. The gate sealed with the Gordian knots proved less troublesome from this direction since I was able to lift up the bottom to allow the dogs through.

A short walk, another D&G Marilyn, and further experience in the mist.

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The Glen of the Wildcat

February 28, 2015

3.3 miles 2h 24m ascent 241m

Back Hill of Orchars-Altiwhat-Fell of Fleet

A burn, labelled Altiwhat on older OS maps, empties into northern apex of Loch Fleet, the Loch itself becoming the source of Little Water of Fleet. The burn is protected by steep rocky sides which open up at about 430m where the land broadens into a small hanging valley. This flatter area, lying between the higher ground of Fell of Fleet and Back Hill of Orchars is an upland bog with exposed granite slabs in places and some islands of more prominent granite blocks.

Maxwell’s Studies in the Topography of Galloway gives the derivation of Altiwhat as Allt na Chat, Glen of the Wildcat. And he goes on to explain… Allt itself is a word which has travelled very far from its original root-meaning. Connected originally with Latin altus (high), it signified a height or cliff, but the meaning slid thence to the vale or glen between the heights, and finally into the stream within the vale.

The maps clearly label the burn Altiwhat, but Maxwell in the 1880s might have had other information. I found it more romantic to think of myself crossing the glen of the wildcat rather than crossing the bog above the stream of the wildcat. Having said that I didn’t see any cats.

Fell of Fleet is another D&G Marilyn to add to my list; it is not a big ascent but tiring terrain and low cloud made this simple walk a little more challenging. Heather, tussock, moss, bog and sometimes granite slabs, with no tracks to follow, and when the cloud was low, direction finding by compass.

I started from the forestry track above Loch Grannoch. I chose a forest break between mature trees and a planting of young conifers about 3m tall. This was a little waterlogged in places but easy enough. Unfortunately the forest break was blocked by a further plantation of conifer and, higher up, deciduous trees. A large mature tree had fallen across my route and required some clambering. Sweep, old dog that he is, with his bad leg, couldn’t jump onto it and had to be manhandled over.

Amongst the browns and greens of the slope a single flash of red caught my eye which was fruiting lichen.

The new plantings were not particularly dense and it was possible to pick a way through. Above this was a rough forestry track not marked on the OS map. It looks quite temporary but offered a brief respite from the difficult terrain of newly planted forest on a background of felled forest. I only stayed on it a short distance and then headed straight up the ridge of Back Hill of Orchars, arriving very close to the summit cairn.

Summit, Back Hill of Orchars. Loch Grannoch in the background

There were views of Lochs Grannoch and Clatteringshaws from the summit and Loch Fleet could be seen from just a little way beyond the cairn. The surrounding hills however were lost in mist. Loch Fleet, having collected water from the Fell of Fleet is the source of the Little Water of Fleet, whereas the Big Water of Fleet arises from the slopes of the much larger Cairnsmore of Fleet.

Loch Fleet

I had hoped that the way across to the Fell of Fleet would be obvious but the summit was hidden in cloud and I could not see any obvious route. Between Back Hill of Orchars and Fell of Fleet is the shallow valley, Altiwhat, the Glen of the Wildcat, a granite strewn bog with areas of standing water to avoid.

Altiwhat

I decided to skirt around to the north to avoid too much descent and re-ascent but still found myself in boggy ground. A castle of granite slabs looked like a good staging post but turned out to have a boggy moat. The standing water was sometimes deep enough that the dogs swam across pools, so I trod carefully.

Altiwhat, looking down to Loch Fleet

Once on the higher slopes there were granite slabs in places to make the going easier.

Fell of Fleet

Once on the Fell of Fleet I was in low cloud that would briefly clear allowing some views but quickly descend again. I came across a cairn, which it turns out is the summit, but while standing there the cloud thinned showing me what appeared to be higher ground to the NE. So off I went searching for the higher point.

Summit, Fell of Fleet

Having waked along Fell of Fleet’s summit ridge, to the possible higher ground, the mist lifted again and I could look back to see that the cairn was higher. This seems to be quite a common phenomenon, for me at least.

Lochan on Fell of Fleet

So, comfortable that I had visited the summit I turned to head home, crossing the boggy glen a second time and heading directly over the ridge of Back Hill of Orchars. This took me down through some felled and replanted forest and on to the rough track which I followed for about 100m to a forest break that I hoped would carry me back to the main forestry road.

Back Hill of Orchars

I was quite pleased with this forest break which had quite firm footing, but it wasn’t to last. The ground became more boggy and then the forest break was blocked by a densely planted forest. Luckily it was possible to find a way through with a bit of clambering over fallen trees and detours to get around water.

Back Hill of Orchars

I suspect the views from Fell of Fleet could be quite extensive, but I’ll have to wait for another day to find out.

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Temptations below the Clints of Dromore

February 21, 2015

4.1 miles 2h 10m 260m ascent

The Clints of Dromore are a section of steep south facing cliffs at the southern margin of the Cairnsmore of Fleet granite intrusion. The surrounding peat bogs are said to have 10m of peat in places, representing 7,000 years of accumulation. Where the peat has eroded and granite slabs are now exposed the effects of the long melted glaciers can be seen and the melting glaciers have left a drumlin field stretching out below the Clints.

The last time I came here I was picking my way through the heather of the clifftop in mist, looking in vain for the “Hush” sculpture. This time I set off from home under blue skies hoping for better luck. As I drove along the A75, however, the clouds rolled in from the south and settled on to the hilltops. Ho hum.

I passed the visitor centre, which looked to be closed up, and parked instead at the small parking spot below the viaduct, giving little thought to the “Beware Falling Masonry” sign. Both Sweep and Eddie were with me and there were sheep between us and the Big Water of Fleet so we didn’t go down to see the sculpture on the rocks down there.

Our first stop was the ruins of Little Cullendoch, described by RCAHMS as a township of seven buildings including a farmstead. Among the stones of the walls is “Heart” a sculpture, including heads, chained in place, one with a knife buried to its hilt in the neck.

From the ruins we walked up to the path on the disused railway track. Once on the track we had our first view of the drumlin field and Pibble Hill and Stey Hill in a dusting of snow beyond it. My enjoyment of the view was somewhat tempered by feeling the first drops of rain on my face. It was soon heavy enough to force jacket deployment. At my last visit I had gone directly up onto the Clints but this time I decided to take the easier route. This is now waymarked as the Mountain End Route.

This route leaves the railway track at a wooden bench. Where once there was just a ladder over the wall, a gate now allows access to the hill and the boggy section by the wall is crossed by a short walkway. The manmade stuff soon ends however and there is a short steep climb. It was slightly annoying and hot to climb wearing a jacket, and by the time I was past the steep section the sky had cleared and I could shed the outer layer. The dogs raced up the hill ahead of me then realised I was coming up in first gear and came back down to see what was keeping me.

Rosnes Bench, Clints of Dromore

I wasn’t thinking about the Rosnes Benches as I walked along so was please to notice them. These benches are placed to “slow us down, create stillness, change our viewpoint and help us to remain in the moment and be part off the immediate context that surrounds us“, and I think they achieved this. The benches are on a small shoulder a little way below the top of the cliffs and I suspect I would have just kept on to the top if they had not been there. As it was I spent some time there experiencing my surroundings.

The benches were wet so I didn’t lie down on them but experiencing the surroundings is the aim I think.

Once on the exposed top of the escarpment the wind was just a little on the cold side of cooling, but not strong enough to impede movement. Just right. There is no defined track across the heather. In places people or sheep have chosen the same route and left a defined way but in others you have to find your own path. The Mountain End path way markers are useful targets to head for, but don’t always define the easiest way.

Big Water of Fleet Viaduct (telephoto)

The Clints of Dromore do not have a flat top but are cut by several dips, the deepest being named on the OS as the Deep Nick of Dromore. What this means is that the Clints seem to be made of several fingers or promontories. By sticking to the waymarked route one would lose the views to the south, so it’s worth drifting across a little.

There were sheep on the steep slopes of the dips but the dogs just looked on from a distance. More temptation was to meet us later. The visibility was good and to the north, Loch Grannoch could be seen between Craigwhinnie (and Fell of Fleet) and Craigronald, with Meikle Millyea in the distance.

Loch Grannoch and Meikle Millyea from the Clints of Dromore

I mentioned earlier that on my last visit here I had been looking for the Hush sculpture but couldn’t find it. I hoped for better luck this time but my first foray towards the edge of the Clints wasn’t successful. Looking west from this promontory however I could see what looked like a small cairn on the two promontories away. I headed for it and was rewarded.

Though as you can see the dogs beat me to it. I set up the camera with a timer to commemorate my visit but had to set it up quite a way off, but close enough for a ten second dash. So I readied myself, pushed the button, ran back to the rocks, turned and struck a pose. But the camera wasn’t on the rocks anymore, one of the dogs having knocked it over. It had fallen a metre but onto snow covered heather. I wiped it clean and tried again. Unfortunately I did not realise, until home, that the lens was a little smeared so I am blurred out. So here is a close up of Hush instead.

Hush

I was tempted to put a dog treat into the mouths and photograph the dogs apparently kissing the mouths but I suspected I would not have the speed to step back, point and shoot before the treats were eaten.

The path takes quite a turn to the north to avoid the very steep sides of the Deep Nick. This took us as far as what was the treelike the last time I was here but has now been felled allowing better views, well of the hills anyway, the forest looking a mess. We had a little more light rain which gave us a rainbow looking north and there were great views of the Cairnsmore of Fleet hills from Knee of Cairnsmore to Craigronald all topped with cloud.

Cairnsmore of Fleet

After the Deep Nick of Dromore the ground was a little boggier and in places there was standing water so it was easier to climb back onto higher ground. The mountain end signposts led eventually to a promontory and pointed onwards. I couldn’t see a definite way down so backtracked a little and found another way down. Looking back from below however I think it would have been OK to continue along the promontory. Next time.

It was between the top of Mountain End and below the Deep Nick that we were thrice tempted. Now before you get too excited, this doesn’t involve me meeting three naked sirens. It was the dogs who were tempted.

Mountain End had a flock of sheep standing in our path. They moved off as we approached, and the dogs stayed with me until they were gone. Then on the way down the slope four deer crossed our path before heading up Craig Hill. The dogs froze in concentrated attention but stayed with me still. Wild goats were the last temptation. I saw them ahead of us so slowed down and kept the dogs with me until they had passed, but some stragglers from the group crossed our path only a few metres away. I was worried that they could do the dogs some damage with their horns but the dogs kept with me when called. I was very impressed.

Below the clints there is a narrow track, probably an animal track which offers better walking than a wider boggy track lower down. There are some well placed wooden bridges to help you across waterways though these all looked to be easily stepped across anyway.

We eventually rejoined the disused railway and followed that back to the start. This was an easy stroll. My only concern was when what can only be described as a massive bird of prey swooped along the track ahead of us, initially silhouetted against the sky. Its wingspan was greater than my arm span and given its size I worried it might be able to take the younger dog. Indeed I was too worried for the dogs to get the camera up, but happily it just wheeled away. From the size I think this was an eagle. I have read that white tailed eagles have been seen here but this did not have a white tail so presumably was a golden eagle.

When driving home I passed a buzzard on a post by the road, perhaps 3 miles away, and he bird I had seen on the railway was much larger.
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