Drow 'n' Smirr

Glensherup Round

April 27, 2013

7.9 miles 3h 43m ascent 539m

Innerdownie-Whitewisp Hill-Tarmangie Hill-Cairnmorris Hill-Ben Shee

This was a straightforward route starting from the reservoir; through the forest to Innerdownie; along the ridge to Whitewisp Hill and Tarmangie Hill; across the shallow col to Cairnmorris Hill; along the ridge to Ben Shee then back down to the reservoir.

Glensherup reservoir: a snow-tinged Tarmangie just visible

This is a walk for early birds. The car park at Glensherup Reservoir was almost full when I arrived at 9am and there were already several people fishing in boats on the reservoir. Mine was the last parking space I think. I started by walking across the dam and then up a short steep bank through the trees to reach a forestry track. Previous walkers had left steps in the bank and I can see this section being a slapstick area if it was muddy. At the top of the bank is a signpost for the various reservoir walks. At the top of the bank I met an old chap who looked quite startled to see me and remarked that I must have started out really early. (PS my wife reminds me that other people will think of me as an old chap). I’m not sure where he thought I had come from. Unless he actually knew me and realised I’d driven over a hundred miles to get there? I’ll Have to wait and see if any acquaintances complain grumpily that I just walked by them near Glensherup.

The forestry track climbed gently through the trees around Gled’s Nose (a wonderful name for a hill), the sun beating down and the air filled with birdsong. I do wish I could recognise different birdsongs. Perhaps I should try listening to recordings of the five most common, then listen out for them when walking. The rocks by the track were also unusual. The banks by the track had been quarried, presumably to get rocks for the track itself, and didn’t look the the rocks I’m used to seeing. The closest description I could come up with was that they were the shape, but much larger than, pieces of crumble (as in an apple crumble). The unquarried rock face looked much the same and I could not make out any definite layering. I looked as though it might be volcanic rather than sedimentary. I’ll have to look up the geology I suppose.

I had been in two minds as to how I might get up to the ridge NE of Innerdownie. There were two forest breaks from Lamb Hill on the map, the first being longer and steeper, so I had thought the second would be the better choice. The trees on the OS map and on Google Earth images have been felled and I regard felled forest as “avoid at all costs” terrain, but where the first forest break would have been, by a small burn, there was a faint track of trampled grass heading up that looked inviting. I did wonder if if might turn out to be trap to lead me into a morass of ditches and felled trees, but what the hell.

View down Lamb Hill

The hillside had newly planted spruce, the saplings about knee to thigh high. The track had some sections too boggy to walk across and was occasionally obstructed with the remnants of earlier felling, but the ground was mostly firm and it proved to be an easy climb. I imagine it will become a more difficult route once the trees have grown.

For once, the tree lined horizon ahead of me was actually the ridge and not a false horizon. Some of the trees left at the apex of the ridge looked to be prostrate forms, having presumably been blown over in some past maelstrom. As I approached the trees I could spy a deer fence just beyond them and beyond the trees was a ladder stile, so presumably my route is in regular use. I had climbed in bright sunshine in a tee-shirt but once on the ridge a cold wind soon had me in jacket, hat and gloves. It was a north wind so I’m surprised I hadn’t felt it on the climb through the baby trees.

Ladder on Glenquey Hill, below Innerdownie

The ridge to Innerdownie had a well worn track which followed the stone dyke, so the remainder of the climb was easy, though I was fooled a false summit. There was another ladder over the deer fence further up but I didn’t investigate whether there was a track down beyond the trees there.

Innerdownie summit cairn

Innerdownie’s summit has a large cairn and extensive views both north, to the crystal clear snow-capped munros, and south in haze to the Forth. Just beyond Innerdownie there was a rock outcrop with a wall built to shelter the open face. A good place to shelter but it was still a bit early for a break so I pressed on.

Shelter below Innerdownie

From Innerdownie the track continued over Bentie Knowe, a small rise, then climbed gently up Whitewisp Hill. This was easy walking, with just a few sections of bogginess to avoid, so there was plenty of time to gaze at the views, though the view west was still obstructed by Whitewisp Hill.

The fence, which had separated from the dyke below Bentie Knowe, ended where it met another fence, and another ladder stile, just below the top of Whitewisp Hill. My plan was to continue in a line extrapolated from the fence, and indeed, the track I was on continued on that line up to the summit of Whitewisp Hill. The summit had a broad flat cairn, more a foundation than a cairn, really. I headed over to the SE end of the summit to have a look down from there, and found a couple of rocks at what I presume was the 642m spot height.

Whitewisp Hill summit cairn

Tarmangie was then only a short walk along the ridge. I could see a number of people milling about at the summit of Tarmangie but they had gone by the time I got there. As I plodded along the ridge in my hat, gloves, and jacket I passed a couple of lads walking along in shirts and shorts, their exposed skin bright red. Fell runners exhibiting their rare walking behaviour on a flat section. Tarmangie, a little like Innerdownie had a brief steeper climb to its top. Its cairn was a little lower than the true summit. There is a stile here which I commandeered as a seat to have my elevenses, taking care not to put my rucksack down in the patches of snow.

Tarmangie summit ridge

Glensherip from Tarmangie

My next port of call was Cairnmorris Hill. The track led down to the col between Tarmangie and Cairnmorris, where the deer fence had a gate. The track there split right and left, but I continued straight on for the summit of Cairnmorris Hill. This was pathless wild tussocks initially but I headed for a pole on a wee knoll from where I spotted a faint trace to follow. This led all the way to the summit, becoming more definite as it rose. At the summit I joined the more substantial path shown on the OS. Had I turned right at the split in the track at the col I would have joined this same path lower down but I wanted to come up Cairnmorris Hill to have a look north from there.

Tarmangie from the slopes of Cairnmorris Hill

By Cairnmorris it was time for lunch but I had run out of anywhere to sit, the ground being mostly grass or boggy. But in the distance, perhaps 1km away, I spied an erratic and decided it would be my seat for lunch. Once I reached it, however, I found it defended by a moat. There was no way to get onto it with dry feet. Luckily, just a little further along I found a dry spot sheltered by the shoulder on which the erratic stood, and was able to enjoy my sandwiches while looking down on the reservoirs.

Erratic on Scad Hill

The descent over Scad Hill and Mailers Knowe had been a pleasant easy stroll on the track, if a little boggy in places. I had originally intended heading back down to the reservoir along the wall by Darn Stripe, but Ben Shee ahead of me was to prove too inviting.

Ben Shee

Below Ben Shee there was a constructed path and even a sign “Ben Shee summit 0.5km 100m climb”. The path bypassed the summit but it was obvious were walkers had headed up and I followed their footsteps up the grassy slopes.

Glendevon Reservoirs from Ben Shee

From Ben Shee a track led NE to rejoin the constructed path. I followed a track until I was down the steeper section, but rather than joining the path, I left the track and headed down towards the reservoir. This section was through shoulder high deciduous saplings, and like the earlier section of the walk, will likely be less easy after a few years growth. The terrain was poorly drained tussocks with water filled holes, but some drainage ditches had been dug and by staying near these I avoided the worse of the bogginess.

Glensherup Reservoir from Ben Shee

Once on the lower slopes the ground was much drier, gravity presumably aiding the drainage, but the track along the reservoir, once I got there, was so boggy in places that I had to climb back onto the slope to avoid wading through mud. Just before the car park there was a rather complex combination of a stile and kissing gate in a deer fence, the first kissing gate I’ve seen with a latch.

Well, this was a much easier walk than last week’s outing in the Ochils, being only about half the distance and half the ascent, and it was nice to have a walk that started and ended close to where the car was parked.

88/89

That’s my 87th and 88th of 89 Donalds (or 84th and 85th of 86 of the originals).

[osmap gpx=”http://www.screel.co.uk/walks/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/RK_gpx-_2013-04-27_0909.gpx”]

Posted in Far away | Tagged Donalds, Spring | Comments Off

The Western Ochil Donalds

April 21, 2013

15.6 miles 6h 30m ascent 1093m

Blairdenon hill-Greenforet Hill-Blairdenon Hill-Ben Buck-Ben Cleuch-Andrewgannel Hill-King’s Seat Hill

An early breakfast, then up the road. I parked, as before, in the Ochil Hills Woodland Park, near Alva. A red banded way-marker shows the beginning of a gently climbing woodland path that gradually warmed me up. A small wooden bridge crossed the Silver Burn just before the end of the woods and then a little more effort was required.

Path through the woods

Here I joined the zig-zag path leading up to the straighter path up the Silver Glen. I had chosen this route up to the hills proper since it offered a relatively steady climb of 550m over 5km on a good track. The going was certainly easier than it had been last month when the hills were still in their Winter plumage.

There is a dog-leg in the track at about 360m by some sheep pens, where several tracks meet. One path heads up the Nebit, and another onto Ben Ever, but I stayed with the main track up the Glenwinnel Glen. The start of the path up Ben Ever, which had seemed quite steep in the March snow, now looked to be a gentle climb.

Looking back to The Nebit

The track continued to climb, except for a short section of gentle descent which is not captured on the OS map. It begins high above the Glenwinnel Burn but the two grow gradually closer. The hills either side of the glen still had their tops hidden in cloud, but by the time I had reached the end of the track the sun had does its work and burned these away.

The map has a ford at about 475m which proved to be quite substantial requiring care in using submerged stepping stones. Benbuck Burn is the second higher ford on the map. This burn runs in a gully and must want to be a glacier when it grows up. There was snow extending from the gully blocking the road. On the photo it looks as if I could have walked around it but the apex of the snow extended over the edge, so I had to climb over the snow. Luckily it was soft enough to make steps.

Snow blocked track at Benbuck Burn

The track then climbed out of the valley and onto Alva Moss. A faint muddy track then turned south. I had been hoping there would be a beaten track to follow across Alva Moss but I couldn’t see one, so I set off in the direction of the 550m ring contour.

Top of the track at Alva Moss, Bengengie Hill in the distance

Alva Moss has a 0.75km section of unpleasantness; a combination of peat hags, bog (less than boot-top deep), deep bog (deeper than tops of boots), and pools. In my first crossing I was able to walk on the first two, but on the return journey I experienced the first three. If I was a glass half-full type of guy I would be rejoicing that I hadn’t fallen in a pool (but I’m not). I don’t know if it always like this or if the recent snow melt had made it wetter.

Beyond the 550m ring contour there was a dip. I think there is a small burn here but could not tell since it was covered by snow. Emerging from the other side was an ATV track that led me to Blairdenon Hill, via the gate near the 556m spot height and the 617m spot height. The track was boggy in a few places but mostly walkable.

Memorial between Blairdenon and Greenforet Hills

Blairdenon Hill gave some good views of the walk to come: Ben Buck and Ben Cleuch; and also the more distant snow topped Munros to the north. I headed down to the memorial, a metal cross and remains of a DH82A Tiger Moth (G-AKCH), that crashed on the 29th August 1957, killing the pilot, A. J Cuthbertson.

Glen Artney Hills, Stuc a’ Chroin, Ben Vorlich

I then headed up to Greenforet Hill before returning to Blairdenon Hill where I had intended having my (slightly early) elevenses. Unfortunately the wind had picked up such that my refreshments had to delayed until I could find a more sheltered spot.

Ben Buck, Ben Cleuch and BenEver across Alva Moss

I set off back along the ATV track and was pleased to see it continued onto Alva Moss beyond where I had joined it. The track climbed a bank steep enough to suggest that the ATV riders were emulating Evel Knievel. Unfortunately the track then turned south and began to descend. For all I know it might have curved back around skirting the worst of the moss but I lost confidence in it and struck out across the unpleasantness heading for the knoll at 644m on Ben Buck. As I mentioned earlier, during this passage of Alva Moss I stepped into a leg swallowing section of bog. There was then no question: my left boot, sock and trouser leg were undoubtedly wet rather than damp. Within a few paces, despite extra care, the right leg was the same.

I squelched across the remaining bog, now giving little care to merely damp areas and avoiding only the deeper sections and pools until I was on the drier slopes of Ben Buck and another broad ATV track. In the lee of the knoll at 644m I found somewhere to sit for my delayed elevenses and put on some dry socks. Even with wet boots, dry socks do feel better.

Blairdenon from Ben Buck, across Alva Moss

The rest of the walk was on tracks and though there were still some muddy sections these were all easily crossed. Walking across from Ben Buck to Ben Cleuch I passed a couple who told me it was really windy up on top. They were quite right.

Ben Cleuch has a trig pillar, an information pillar and a small stone shelter. I had hoped to have lunch there but the walls didn’t seem to be sheltering me particularly well. I had tried to take a self portrait but the camera was moved by the wind giving me one picture with my head cut off at the mouth and one where I was motion blurred. Lunch was deferred.

Ben Cleuch summit

Next I set off for the place where the fences from Ben Cleuch, Andrew Gannel Hill and The Law met. I had planned to make my final decision regarding the route there. The walk had been planned with various alternative endings: 1. Head down over The Law; 2. there and back Andrew Gannel Hill and down via The Law; 3. There and back to The Law, back via Andrew Gannel Hill and Gannel Glen; 4. The Law there and back, Andrew Gannel Hill, King’s Seat Hill and down to Tillicoultry. I was making good time so option 4 it was.

The Law summit

The top of The Law was windy enough to make me a little worried as I stood at the summit cairn which is perched at the edge (though you cannot sense that from the photo). Thankfully for my groaning stomach, there was a sheltered section just below The Law. There was nowhere dry to sit, so I squatted leaning against a fence-post for my lunch.

Heading back from The Law a track led off towards Andrew Gannel Hill, joining the fence at its lowest point. Climbing Andrew Gannel Hill from the west rather than the east is certainly less effort. The summit was rather unimpressive though there was a good view to the north, the visibility having improved as the day progressed. I decided to visit the south top which is lower by 1m on the map. It was certainly worth the detour for the view. I was a little concerned that I couldn’t see a path up King’s Seat Hill but there was one once I got there.

The track headed down the eastern ridge from Andrew Gannel Hill and crossed a small flat area above where the Gannel Burn begins before climbing across the slopes of King’s Seat Hill. It gradually climbed to reach the fence line at a gate and stile. From there I had a trudge up over several false summit horizons to the flat top of King’s Seat Hill. There was a flat-ish cairn about a metre across by the track but this is clearly not the summit. There are several candidates for summit status, and one marked with half a dozen stones looked the most likely to me.

King’s Seat Hill cairn

I then set off for the large cairn at the southern end of the summit plateau. I suspect the top of the large cairn here might be the highest point, though the ground it sits upon is obviously not. The neighbouring rock shelter was more use than that on Ben Cleuch and allowed me to have my remaining coffee without being blown about. I was five hours into the walk but at least the remainder should be downhill.

Walking the Donalds, I usually see very few other people. Sometimes I don’t see another soul on the hills, but with this walk I have beaten all my previous records since I saw two dozen other walkers, and passed close enough to speak to almost half of them.

Cairn below King’s Seat Hill

Once back at the fence with the stile I rejoined the track heading down the SW ridge of King’s Seat Hill. I say down, though there was a short uphill section. The track passed a cairn which I presume is the one marked on the OS at 480m. There was a small cross in the cairn marked “in remembrance”.

Path up The Law, from the King’s Seat Hill path

The track eventually came to the steep sided Mill Glen and traversed its eastern wall. There were good views of the glen and the track up The Law which looked to be quite an aerobic workout where it starts. Though the sides of Mill Glen are steep, the path isn’t particularly worrying. It reminded of the path up Grey Mare’s Tail. There were some muddy sections which ensured I arrived back at the car with mud covered footwear.

There was a final steep descent into Tillicoultry but a zig-zag path sculpted into the hillside, with seats to rest weary legs, and steps where needed, took the strain off the knees.

Once in Tillicoultry I crossed the burn on a small metal bridge and followed the signs for the public pathway to Alva. This climbed (arrgh) across the slopes above the golf course, back to the woodland park, then descended (hmmm) to the car park.

Lonely gate, King’s Seat Hill (portal to an alternative universe?)

Posted in Far away | Tagged Donalds, Grahams, Spring | Comments Off

Wet and Dry: Scaw’d Law and Glenleith Fell

April 13, 2013

7.53 miles 3h 12m ascent 552m

Glenleith Fell-Scaw’d Law-Durisdeer Rig

With a forecast of upland gales, new walk specifications came into play: not too far from home; no walking across steep sections where being blown over would be dangerous; a significant portion of the walk below the plateau; easy to drop off the tops if the bad weather came earlier than forecast; includes an unclimbed hill or top.

My closest unclimbed Donald hill or top, was Glenleith Fell and it seemed to fulfil the other criteria. The sun was shining as I drove up to Durisdeer which set me wondering if the weather forecasters might have been wrong. They weren’t.

Having parked in Durisdeer I set off down towards the cemetary and turned left onto the road leading to Glenaggart. The remains of snow drifts were still a foot deep at the beginning of the road where they were sheltered by a roadside wall but I could see it was clear further on.

The path up Glenaggart, at Glengap Rig

The road became a dirt track but still gave good firm footing as it climbed up Glenaggart, staying 10-20m above the valley floor. A major track heads up Blackgrain Shoulder and several faint quad-bike tracks lead onto Glengap Rig. I had previously used the track up Blackgrain Shoulder when climbing Wedder Law and Scaw’d Law two years earlier.

After a steady climb the Glenaggart track reached a disused building just before Kettletonhead from where a fence runs up Glenleith Fell, offering the most direct route, indeed a route is shown up here on older maps. As I approached this I was tempted to follow the fence rather than following the track. I was expecting to reach Kettletonhead and find myself looking down onto Blackhill Moss but instead found myself looking across a moor filling the area between Glenleith Fell, Garroch Fell and Bellybought Hill, at about 320m.

Sheep pens on Blackhill Moss

So I decided to stick with the firm footing of the track. There was a collection of sheep pens and a ruined cottage where a track from Kettleton joins. I climbed a wee knoll here to look along Kettleton Glen, but couldn’t see the reservoir yet. The map has a couple of fords along this track but I didn’t notice them.

Kettleton Cleuch, from the wee knoll

There was another building, boarded up and locked but with a picnic table at the front about 500m beyond the sheep pens. The track forked there and I followed the branch heading behind the building. This track crossed Blackhill Moss then climbed across the steeper slopes of Glenleith Fell.

Blackhill Moss from Glenleith Fell

At this track’s hairpin bend, where it came closest to the fence, the track disappeared beneath a snowdrift and beyond that the track ran in a snow filled hollow. It looked as if the track would no longer offer any benefits and the contours were growing wider so I set off directly up over heather and moss. Some meandering was needed to avoid snow filled hollows and it was more effort stepping over the heather, but the hillside was surprisingly dry.

Glenleith Fell summit cairn, Scaw’d Law beyond

The grassy summit of Glenleith Fell is flatter than the contours would suggest, but there is a cairn which presumably is meant to mark the top. Standing at the cairn it looked as if there were higher sections so I wandered about a little, but whenever I walked to what appeared to be a higher area I found on looking back that the cairn seemed higher.

On Glenleith Fell, Wedder Law in the background

The wind had picked up a little but could not really be called anything more than a gentle breeze. I could still unfold and fold the map without difficulty. Scaw’d Law, Ballencleuch law and Rodger Law stood in a line to the north, free of snow but merging into mist, whereas Wedder Law, which is a similar height, had plenty of snow on its dark slopes, looking like a dalmatian in reverse.

I had intended to return down Glengap Rig back to the Glenaggart track but decided to head across Smuring Hags to the track down Blackgrain Shoulder. The Hags was black with heather, and looked as if it might be boggy but there seemed to be tracks across it though these turned out to be drainage ditches. The ditches looked too straight to be natural, but why anyone would dig drainage there is a mystery to me, and they didn’t seem to drain into anything.

Smuring Hags

The Hags was in fact easy to cross, the ground beneath the heather was firm and the many pools of stagnant water were easily avoided, and hares, still in white livery, darted across the dark heather. It took 10 minutes to walk from the summit of Glenleith Fell to the track beyond Smuring Hass. So an extra twenty minutes could have included Glenleith Fell in my Scaw’d Law-Wedder Law walk two years earlier, but I hadn’t discovered Donald Tops back then.

Once at the track, now just 60m below the summit of Scaw’d Law, I felt obliged to include that hill in the walk while the weather held out. The last time I was on Scaw’d Law the ground was squelchy, and I can still say the same, which was quite a surprise after the dry firm going on Glenleith Fell.

Scaw’d Law has two bumps vying for summit status. Both carry a 663m spot height but the southern one is the grid reference given in modern lists. I felt obliged to visit both bumps but I couldn’t decide which was higher. Donald himself described the top as a quarter of a mile north of the 2166 feet spot height, in other words the northern hump.

Little Scaw’d Law and Durisdeer Hill from Scaw’d Law

By then, having gone as far as the northern hump, I decided to press on over Little Scaw’d Law and back along Durisdeer Rig, rather than head down to the Blackgrain Shoulder track. It was a little more windy now (care required unfolding maps). The ground was squelchy but not truly boggy.

One of many hollows, shake holes?

I drifted down from the dyke hoping to get better views and a photo of Durisdeer Rig and found there were a great many hollows like bomb craters, 1-2m deep with rocky rather than peaty sides, some filled with snow. I presume these are shake holes.

Kirkgrain Hass

The southern flank of Kirkgrain Hass was covered in knee deep snow making the descent tricky. There was standing water, partially frozen over at the base but I was able to get across close to the fence, though some care was required to avoid reaching for the fence which was topped with rusting barbed wire.

Kirk Grain and Durisdeer Rig

The Durisdeer Rig side of the gully was free of snow and some quad-bike tracks led down. That side of the gully soon became too steep for vehicles and the tracks crossed back to the Little Scaw’d Law side disappearing beneath the snow covering its flank. I stayed on Durisdeer Rig but climbed up onto its flatter section where I came across a faint track which I followed down. The lower slopes of the rig were covered in heather but most of this looked to have been burned in the last season or two so even when the track faded away the going was easy enough. In the distance I could just make out snow covered hills which I think must be those over by Carsphairn.

The final steeper section off Durisdeer Rig has a track marked on the OS but I must have come down a little too far too the east and missed it. I did come across another track that led me back up to it and from there it was all downhill back to Durisdeer.

[osmap gpx=”http://www.screel.co.uk/walks/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/RK_gpx-_2013-04-13_0916.gpx”]

Posted in Dumfries & Galloway | Tagged Donalds, Spring | Comments Off

The Louther Hills

March 31, 2013

9.6 miles 4h 52m ascent 703m

Comb head-Cold Moss-Lowther-Green Lowther-Peden Head-Dungrain Law

SUW sign at Over Fingland

I like to look into the origins of the names of the places I visit but I haven’t been impressed by suggestions that Lowther takes its name from words meaning a bathing place, trough, basin or channel and related to the passes running through these hills. None of the passes are named Lowther.

Given my experiences on this walk I find this definition apposite:

To LOUTHER, v. n.
1. To be entangled in mire or snow.
2. To walk with difficulty.

An Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language, John Jamieson 1818

On the 1843-1882 series OS maps all the Lowthers are Louthers: Louther Hill, East Mount Louther, Short Louther, and Green Louther.

***

The worst of the weather was over, but since minor roads might still have been blocked, I didn’t want to go too far afield or too far from major roads. My previous visit to the Lowther Hills had been from Wanlockhead, so a visit from the A702 seemed a good choice.

I had thought this would be a walk of three thirds: 5km up, 5km along, 5km down; one third of exertion, then two thirds enjoying the scenery. In different conditions that might have been the way of it. As it was, I was to spend much time louthering.

There is a place to park, big enough for a couple of cars, near the SUW sign where the SUW leaves the A702. There is a discernible track heading away from the SUW sign, but this is what is left of the Roman road rather than the SUW so I climbed up by a fence, through characteristic tussock-in-bog terrain, to the remains of a wall running along Laght Hill. I had been tempted by several snow enhanced tracks apparently running to my left towards Laght Hill, but my perseverance in heading for the wall was confirmed as correct by an SUW way-marker post. I was now out of bog and onto easier terrain, though any hollows were filled with snow.

On reaching the Laght Hill ridge I was greeting by the panorama in the first photograph, showing my entire route for the day. It was then a gentle climb up Laght Hill, following the fence and occasional way markers, but made more difficult by some deep snow drifts. These sometimes held my weight but I sank to my waist in one and found climbing out quite difficult. My reflex response was to push down with my hands as I would when climbing out of a hole, but of course my hands just sank into the snow.

Steep south slopes of Comb Head

I’ve seen this section of the SUW described as a roller coaster, and would have to agree. The first 5km included 160m of descent as well as the 530m of ascent. The first big dip is between Laght Hill and Comb Head. Someone else had come the same way so I followed the footprints. At first the descent was gentle but the convexity hid a steeper section. The snow there was soft enough to form steps easily but hand prints beside the foot prints in the snow suggested that my predecessor had the same experience. You can see my tracks in the photo below.

Laght Hill’s snow covered slopes

The first 100m up Comb Head was steep, requiring several pauses to look at the snow topped Durisdeer Hills, but then it eased a little. Once on Comb Head itself the views opened up to show white topped hills in all directions. Steygail, which remains on my to do list, looked particularly inviting though its steep sides are clearly not designed for icy conditions. Comb Head is obviously a minor hump on Cold Moss, though it sits within its own 2000 feet contour on older maps.

Deep snow on Comb Head

The wee dip between the Comb Head and Cold Moss was filled with snow and as you can see in the photograph above it was deep enough to cover the fence. I paused on Cold Moss to savour the feeling of a New Donald struck from the list, then turned my mind to the remaining dip of the roller coaster.

The dip into the col between Cold Moss and Lowther Hill was also hidden by the slope’s convexity. In poor visibility I would have followed the fence down but I spotted an SUW post over to my right. The SUW here diverts about 250m NE from where it is marked on the OS map and dips below the col into the upper reaches of Loch Burn. I couldn’t get a view of the col itself until I was on the slopes of Lowther Hill. I don’t think that steepness is the problem. The col was mostly filled with snow but I suspect the SUW diverts to avoid an area of badly eroded peat

Approaching Lowther Hill

In contrast, the climb up Lowther Hill was gentle and there was a more defined track that looked to have been used by vehicles. The snow was deeper in these tracks but they were a guide at least. As I climbed I looked to my left, and wondered at the naming of East Mount Lowther, the most western of the Lowthers.

SUW post in a snow drift on Lowther Hill

Just below the NATS buildings on Lowther Hill I came across the drift in the photo above. I’ve also shown a picture of myself next to the SUW post on Cold Moss for comparison to show how deeply the post is buried. I had hoped that the drift would be firm enough to hold my weight but not all hopes are realised and crossing this small drift proved to be a major calorie burning exercise. Beyond the snow drift the SUW reached its highest point and then began to lose height so I decided to leave the path to head directly up to the compound. This meant a little more slogging through the snow but I was at the NATS fence soon enough. Then rather than walk through snow drifts to the gate I climbed the fence and got onto ground with only a couple of centimetres of snow. Here I glimpsed the only other person I saw on the hills all day, a chap on walking skis.

Road to Green Lowther

A road goes from Lowther Hill, past the buildings at Green Trough, to Green Lowther, so at least the walking was easier, but the wind was now unpleasantly cold. Green Lowther at 732m was the highest point of this walk. Its buildings have a strange post-apocalyptic deserted look about them, though I presume they remain in use. The scaffolding-like structure, though permanent, looks like something for a temporary event like a concert. And amidst all the snow the trig pillar on Green Lowther, sheltered by the surrounding buildings, stood on a mound of green grass. I sheltered between the buildings for a coffee, but found it too cold to loiter for long.

Dungrain Law, Tinto in the distance to the left

Green Lowther is the end of the road but a faint track heading NE was visible over short stretches. I had previously climbed Lowther, Green Lowther and East Mount Lowther from Wanlockhead in snow with poor visibility, so it was good to be back in better visibility. The views were extensive and the gradient on the ridge easy enough to be ignored. I am sure that in summer weather the walking here would be very easy. I included Peden Head and Dungrain Law so that I had visited all the humps on the Lowther ridge. My original plan had been to then head back along Horsegrain Dod.

Craigs Grain

As I returned from Dungrain Law, however, I noticed a track heading from the col across onto Riccart Law Rig and decided to follow that rather than climbing back over Peden Head to Horsegrain Dod. The track contoured above Craigs Grain, which looked much steeper than it does in the photo. I actually climbed a little higher than the path at times to keep away from the edge.

I had seen hare tracks in the snow several times earlier in the walk and there were more tracks along this path. Indeed when I left the track I found that the hare prints were there as well. It eventually dawned on me that it would be quite a coincidence for that to happen. More likely there were lots of hare prints. Once I had reached Riccart Law Rig proper there were a great many mountain hares running about in their winter coats. Their prints criss-crossed the whole area and patches of snow were stained orange with their urine. Since all the urine spots were this colour I presume it is normal rather than a few sick hares.

Big animal prints

I had seen some small dog-like prints earlier in the day which I presumed were made by a fox since there were no human prints nearby. Then I came across the big prints above. They look like prints of a large dog but I presume they are fox. It must have been a big one.

Riccart Rig Law proved to be an unexpected challenge. Walking along the rig looking at paw prints I thought I was in the final easy third of the walk. The dip before Stowgill Dod was filled with peat hags, and the eroded areas filled with deep snow. I decided to cut the corner onto Shortcleuch Rig rather than follow the fence but found my way blocked by an un-named cleuch, which I will call Snowy Cleuch. (P.S. it is Black Grain on older maps)

Snowy Cleuch was uncrossable, the snow of the far bank had sheered leaving a near vertical wall of snow 2-3m high, so I had to climb back up above the start of the gully to cross to the other side. My plan was to get down into Riccart Cleuch but the snow on the convexity of the rig was pure white, no vegetation showing through. There was no way I could go across that, especially having seen the sheered snow wall in Snowy Cleuch.

What a predicament. My map showed a track on the other side of Snowy Cleuch and though I couldn’t see it, the slopes there looked safe, so I headed back up to cross Snowy Cleuch again. Luckily I found a section at about 450m where I could cross. From there my snow related problems were behind me. In retrospect I should have stayed to the NW of Snowy Cleuch.

Hidden bridge Riccart Cleuch

I had worried that Riccart Cleuch might be a boggy mess but despite the rushes it was not too wet. The burn itself was probably within my leaping limit but the banks were overhanging so I went upstream in search of a better crossing. There was a rotten log across the burn but nearby was a small hidden bridge. From there it was just a few metres up onto the lower slopes of Langcleuch Rig and along to the vehicle track.

Lowther in the distance

The vehicle track wound around giving impressive views of Cold Moss and Lowther Hill. Unfortunately the track crosses Potrenick Burn at a ford. I took the ford challenge and was defeated having applied insufficient correction for the refractive index of water. Had the burn been fuller I would have made my way further upstream to the farm buildings where there is (certainly used to be) a bridge.

I saw several brown rabbits amongst the undergrowth of Riccart Cleuch. Terry Marsh in On foot in Southern Scotland describes rabbits exploding from the heather here so I was not completely surprised when something erupted out of the grass beside me as I walked along the farm track. But it was another white coated hare that then ran up the northern slopes of Laght Hill.

This track leads back to Overfingland but passes a couple of “Private No Public Right of Way” signs, one of which was 400m from the buildings which didn’t really reflect the spirit of the Scottish Outdoor Access Code.

[osmap gpx=”http://www.screel.co.uk/walks/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/RK_gpx-_2013-03-31_0943.gpx”]

Posted in Dumfries & Galloway, Lanarkshire | Tagged Donalds, Grahams, Spring, SUW | Comments Off

Facing up to the wind on Ben Ever

March 22, 2013

4.71 miles 2h 42min ascent 553m (abandoned: strong winds)

Looks like I picked the wrong week for my two day Donald-bagging in the Ochils.

The planned walk for day 1 had been: Ochils Woodland Park-Silver Glen-Ben Ever-Blairdenon-Glenforet Hill-Ben Buck-Ben Cleuch, then back over The Law to Tillicoultry. I even thought about an extension to include Andrewgannell and King’s Seat Hills if energy and time allowed (I didn’t expect it would). As it was this turned into a Ben Ever there and back.

I parked in a small car park in Ochils Woodland Park, though reaching the car park proved more difficult than expected. Several construction vehicles were blocking the road and passing places, requiring complex manoeuvres to allow cars to pass. Sitting in the car I was able to consider how much more useful it would have been at school to have considered problems where three lorries/JCBs could be moved to allow cars to pass either way with passing places each large enough for just one vehicle, rather than the “if two men take four hours to dig a trench…”. Mustn’t moan too much though. They did actually make the effort to let me through, and the car park, being a picnic area had benches to sit on while tying laces etc.

Path from the car park

At the car park it was cold but not overly breezy, being amongst the trees. A good track, with a red way-marker starts by the car park. This led up through the trees, climbing steeply at times, to the Silver Glen, joining the large zig-zag track at about 200m.

The zig-zag track was warm-me-up steep and soon climbed from dry and brown to ice and snow covered. The forecast was easterly or ESE winds so I had assumed it would be sheltered in the glen. I hadn’t considered funnelling which somehow had the wind blowing in my face as I trudged onwards and upwards. It is strange how the wind blowing in your face can take your breath away. I’m sure this is more than just the extra effort, perhaps a Venturi effect actually stealing my breath away?

Approaching the sheep pens below Ben Ever

The trudging became increasingly arduous and as I walked up the Silver Glen’s track I decided that I would ditch the Blairdenon/Glenforet arm of the route. By the time I had reached the fences and gates at 360m the snow was deeper and collecting in small drifts.

Despite the snow, a track was still visible heading up Ben Ever. The snow was initially calf deep but soon reduced to a more manageable ankle deep though as ever the snow was deeper on the path than on the surrounding grass. The wind by then seemed to be blowing against my right cheek (face), and though it was not actually snowing, the air was filled with sharp ice crystals. Drifts were collecting beyond any obstruction, particularly larger tussocks, and should have alerted me to the actual wind direction.

As I climbed out of the glen, the wind strengthened and I began to wish I had chosen a smaller, svelte rucksack, rather than the sail I had on my back. By then it was difficult to stop for a breather without kneeling down, and the wind would occasionally have me stumbling to the side.

At the summit there were two cairns, a wee one right by the track and a larger one perhaps 10-15m to my right. To be honest, the small one looked a more likely summit candidate but I felt it would be prudent to visit the larger one.

Buffeted on Ben Ever’s summit

Here I experienced the wind fully for the first time. I turned towards the cairn and was immediately blown backwards. No matter how hard I tried I could make little headway towards the cairn. I found that I could only move forward if I crouched but subsequently found that getting on all fours worked best. I had hoped I could sit behind the cairn but the only way to avoid being blown over was to lie down. I wondered if this was the wind felt to its full extent for the first time as I emerged from the relative shelter of the lower slopes, or a particularly strong gusting episode, but on reflection I decided it hardly mattered.

This seemed an excellent opportunity to adjust my plans in light of the conditions. Tactical matters first: there was no way I could have a cup of coffee there. Indeed I suspected that if I took my rucksack off, either I or rucksack would fall below critical mass and be blown away. Then to strategic matters: There was no way I would be able to get over Ben Cleuch in wind of that strength. I can see why in similar conditions people might have to crawl into a survival bag and wait for it to pass. But I would be able to get off the summit relatively quickly in the direction of the wind and back into the milder winds of the lower slopes.

View of The Nebit on the descent

In coming off the hill I realised that my impression of the wind being in my face when climbing was mistaken. It was now blowing into my left eye. But as ever, the first law of hillwalking proved correct, and downhill was easier than uphill. On the way down I was accompanied by snowballs of various sizes rolling down beside me and, unexpectedly, a water vole, black against the snow, ran across my path. I hope it found its way home.

Back at the car I looked at the forecast for the next day “East or southeasterly, in the range 40 to 60mph; gusts on some higher summits and ridges may reach 80mph”. So my planned two days in the Ochils became just a half-day.

I’ll be back.

Posted in Far away | Tagged Spring, Wee Hills | Comments Off

The Glen Artney 2Ks

March 16, 2013

10.2 miles 6h 8min ascent 775m

Am Beannan-Meall Clachach-Uamh Bheag-Beinn Odhar-Beinn nan Eun

The Glen Artney Donalds. What? If Percy Donald didn’t include them, why should I accept them as Donalds. Mind you, we shouldn’t blame the hills themselves. It is not as though they have been arguing for their inclusion in the list. Clearly Mr Donald didn’t feel they were in the Scottish Lowland Uplands, but others have decided that the Highland Fault should be the boundary. Since my own geological training is at the I-spy book level I can’t argue on that point.

So as self-appointed arbiter on the matter, I thought of this as an aesthetic rather than geological choice. Much akin to regarding a tomato as a vegetable. Did these hills feel Highlands or Uplands? I stopped every now and then and asked myself which it felt like. I had presumed it would be an obvious distinction, but despite a prejudice towards agreeing with Percy Donald, it wasn’t as easy as I had thought.

Ruchill Water from the road

Well, back to the walk. After negotiating water filled potholes in the road, and some reversing back to passing places (perhaps I need to be more assertive?), I parked in the Glen Artney Church car park. This even has a rubbish bin to spare me transporting my banana skins all the way back to the lowlands.

I had wondered if it would be better to walk over Auchnashelloch Hill or take the road. My choice was the road to the bridge over Ruchill Water. The reasoning was that it would avoid an unnecessary climb and allow me to warm up on firm ground. I was somewhat annoyed therefore to find myself walking uphill yet significantly above Ruchill Water from which I inferred that I would soon be descending. I don’t like heading down only to climb up again. (That sentence had to be reworded to avoid unintended innuendo).

Track along Ruchill Water

At the bridge over Ruchill Water I had my first view of Am Beannan which helped me since I find walking is easier when I can see my target. There was a faint track over boggy ground along the east bank of the burn but it became more distinct further on. There are two steeper sections of bank and at the first the track was easy to follow though as it passed through some trees their branches caught my rucksack at times. I’m surprised that the track seemed so defined here, suggesting regular use, yet the tree branches encroached so much. Perhaps it’s used by animals. At the second steep section of bank, I could not see a defined track and the ground was covered in light snow making the grass slippery so I headed up 30m of bank to reach the flatter section above. This must be the beaten track since I soon picked up another track leading directly to the bridge over Allt Ollach at 280m. The photo at the top is the view heading for the bridge with Am Beannan in the distance.

Allt Ollach from the bridge at 280m

I’m pleased the bridge was here since I wouldn’t have fancied my chances on the moss and snow covered rocks of the burn. Looking at my map I had a moment of realisation, Allt Ollach rather than Ollach Burn. Linguistically I was in the highlands.

The plan from here was to head for the sheepfold at 310m and once there decide whether to head directly up Am Beannan or walk up to the Coire na Fionnarachd. The sheepfold was not visible from the bridge, hidden beyond a slight rise and the faint track leading from the bridge disappeared as the ground became boggier. Presumably people take a variety of lines across this wet area so no track forms.

The line up Am Beannan did not look as steep close up and its rocky terrain was more inviting than a boggy trudge up to the corrie. There is a prominent shoulder on the climb up Am Beannan and I headed directly up to this, with a little zig-zagging. Some sections were steep enough to allow hands to be used but overall I surprised how easy the climb proved to be given the slippery terrain.

On the shoulder I stopped for a breather and got the only glimpse I would have all day of Ben Vorlich. Then as I enjoyed a cup of coffee the first snow began to fall. By the time I reached the top of Am Beannan the hills to the north were becoming lost in cloud but Uamh Bheag and Beinn Odhar were still crystal clear. The stroll up to Meall Clachach was uneventful. The snow covered heather was relatively short and the peat hags either small or easily crossed. A fox must have come the same way along the ridge and I found it reassuring that we were taking a similar line. At one point the faint track disappeared and after walking across heather for a while I came back onto the snow to find the fox’s prints there as well.

Looking back to Am Beannan

The col below Meall Clachach had taller peat hags and it was much easier to walk in the snow-filled peat gullies where the snow was firm enough to support my weight. I soon learned that the snow would collapse where it lay on heather such as at the edge of the gully.

At the boulder 100m from Meall Clachach’s summit I was able to set the camera for a delayed timer shot but this was the last time that would be possible. From the Meall Clachaich summit I headed directly down to rejoin the fence halfway to the col, then followed the fence up Uamh Bheg. Within 20 minutes the area switched from clear in light snow to blizzard mode.

There was now way to set up the camera, so I was reduced to a hand-held self portrait with the wooden head, which turned out better than I had hoped given the buffeting from the wind.

Me with the Uamh Bheag head

My option to include Uamh Mhor was ditched and I headed along past the trig point and down towards the col. The visibility was now only a few metres but I had the fence as a guide. There was a steep craggy section which in the snow required a small detour. This left me on some snow sloping steeply down to the fence. Kicking steps in the snow didn’t work since the snow gave way to waist height, so I made my way over heather back to the fence. There was a stone man above this section and I suspect it marks a way which avoids this dip.

Stone man, slopes of Uamh Bheag

I find it interesting that the camera seems to have captured more than I could see. Further along the fence, the first wind turbine came into view, grey against a background of grey. As I stood looking at it, another became visible and then four more. I don’t think the visibility changed, so presumably my brain was gradually resolving these from my perception over a few seconds.

Beinn Odhar’s turbines from the better visibility of the col

There was smaller stone man (a stone dwarf?) above another small drop to the col. Below me a group of deer were making their way over the fence, the last small one seemingly unable to get across though after several attempts it found a way through the fence.

Deer below Uamh Bheag

In the photo above you can see the fence heading up Beinn Odhar. What isn’t visible is the deep gully cut by the headwater of the Garvald Burn. This burn was narrow enough to step over but the banks were steep and snow covered requiring a brief derriere slide.

The fence continues up Beinn Odhar to just above the highest wind turbine at 560m. The going along the fence was tough so I used the snow filled peat gullies where I could. Whereas a fox had walked before me on Am Beannan, a bird had done the same here. The prints were large and I had presumed it would be grouse or pheasant, but the four clawed print (NW, N, NE, S) is not a game bird according to my books at home.

Above the highest wind turbine the gradient eased considerably but the blizzard set in again. I was trying to follow a bearing with my snow covered compass but my glasses, though providing protection from the wind, were now hindering rather than enhancing vision. In the lee of a peat gully I had some more coffee and carbohydrate, and dug the snow kit out of my bag, swapping spectacles for goggles.

Blizzard kit

The peat gullies in this section were like a maze, and following a bearing was difficult, but taking a direct line in the heather, and climbing over gullies would have been very tiring for a grade 1 lazybones such as me. After wandering about atop Ben Odhar I chose a bearing for Ben nan Eun and headed off into the snow-filled mist. The easiest walking was in the peat gullies which weaved about and gradually seduced me off my chosen bearing and a little north of the col. It had been quite difficult to assess the gradient visually in the mist and snow but when it became steeper my non-visual senses were alert to the change, as I accelerated. At least the terrain here made it easy enough to contour around back to the col, then up to Beinn nan Eun. I wasn’t convinced the cairn/stick was the top so wandered about a little before returning to the cairn.

My way off would have been easy in good visibility, but now needed a little more care. I planned to head almost directly north for 400m, then turn in a direction to take me down the wide ridge between Allt Mor and Allt na Stainge. Winding peat gullies plus step counting plus on the fly corrections for that winding led me to overestimate the distance I covered, and turn 100m too soon. This error became obvious as I found an increasingly steep slope to my left, but was easily corrected by contouring until I was back on the ridge.

By now the wind and snow were easing off so I took off the googles to find that everything had become disconcertingly bright and blue. Thankfully by the time my glasses were back in place the brightness and dyschromopsia had resolved. A little further down, now in heather and tussock rather than peat hags, I emerged from the clouds to find a featureless valley spread beneath me. It looked as though a manufacturer of valleys had put the basic contours in place, coloured it all in shades of brown but had yet to add basic features like streams. I had hoped I would be able to see enough to identify a target but that would need more descent.

My plan had been to head for the junction of Findhuglen Water and Allt Mor, and the grouse butts marked on the OS map in the hope that I could pick up a path near them.

Descending to Finghuglen

While still in the mist I had found myself walking on a vehicle track, which gradually became more defined. Once out of the mist this track turned NE and I decided to stay with it rather than striking out across the moorland. In soon became clear that it was leading to Findhuglen. The valley floor there was very boggy, but squelchy rather than deep.

I had initially decided to head for the stream junctions downstream because I was sure there were bridges there, but I’m pleased to report that Finduglen is well stocked with bridges. The photo below is taken from one of those bridges and as you can see, Beinn nan Eun was already emerging from the clouds by the time I had got there. The rain (as it now was) had eased considerably but that was just a temporary lull and just a few minutes later when I considered taking a photo of the railway carriage amid the buildings at Findhuglen it was raining heavily enough that the camera remained stowed.

Beinn nan Eun above Findhuglen Water

As much as I like walking on hills it was good to have a firm farm track back to the car park. I was able to have a look at the burn junction I was originally aiming for and could see no sign of paths coming down to it, though the bridge and nearby grouse butts must have a path of sorts between them.

This walk was mostly in snow and mist but it wasn’t especially cold. The winds were strong enough to prevent me setting the camera on fence posts but not enough to interfere with walking. It’s a shame that I missed the views but there is something enjoyable about walking in the mist.

So should these hills be included in the Donalds? I don’t think so. I “feel” these are foothills of the highlands but exhibiting some southern upland features. So, I think these are not Scottish Lowland Upland Hills, but to be honest the case is “Not Proven”. Does it matter? Not really. Are they worthy of climbing? Yes, without a doubt.

[osmap gpx=”http://www.screel.co.uk/walks/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/RK_gpx-_2013-03-16_0909.gpx”]

Posted in Far away | Tagged Donalds, Grahams, Winter | Comments Off

Windlestraw winterland

March 9, 2013

9.48 miles 5h 37m ascent 838m

Glentress Rig-Windlestraw Law-Siller Road-Whitehope Law

A winter’s day. Snow fell as I got my kit on and it proved colder than I expected. My fingers were soon numb making rummaging in the rucksack difficult.

I parked by the road between Glentress and Blackhopebyre and walked up the road to join the path climbing Glentress Rig. This proved to be muddy despite the temperature forcing me to walk on the heather rather than the path in some sections. Once on the flatter section of Glentress Rig the ground became boggier and the track even less usable, the passage of vehicles having frightened off the grass and heather, leaving semi-submerged sphagnum moss. I had also climbed into cloud in snow and a very cold wind. My camera was stowed in a waterproof bag and whenever I brought it out my fingers numbed within seconds. I can’t seem to work the buttons while wearing thick gloves.

Hillside Knowe from Glentress Rig

The path leads to a line of grouse butts on Wallet Knowe which would have been tempting spots for a break had I come across them later in the walk. I think the track ended here but it was difficult to tell in the snow. I am uncertain whether the track led me into a gap between peat hags or this gap was still the path.

Wallet knowe by the grouse butts

The weather had worked wonders here. There was ice, a little too tilted to walk on, which must presumably have frozen while running off the higher ground. A nearby fence had horizontal icicles and blobs of ice hanging from clubmoss on the fence posts. I was then rudely awoken from my nature induced wonder as the snow beneath my feet gave way leaving me in a thigh-deep hole. I cannot understand how an arch of snow had formed in this way and I trod somewhat more carefully after that. I was not the first to walk this way, however, there were paw prints (from a hare according to subsequent research) which gave me some warning of hidden holes further along.

Icy fence

The peat hags then gave way to heather, and a tiring walk in strong winds and poor visibility. I was guided by the frozen fence and a little after the gradient eased I met another fence and the trig pillar was visible perhaps 20m away. The wind here was too strong for self portraits but I treated myself to coffee and kit-kat sheltering behind the trig. Very welcome warmth without any of that melted chocolate mess one gets in the summertime.

Windlestraw Law trig

The fence icicles here were vertical and even the grass was covered in ice, a separate shard for each blade. These cracked beneath my feet as if a giant chandelier had shed its crystals on the hilltop. The fence guided me to the SW top (just 2m lower across a col at 628m). I suspect this is boggy at times but the ground had frozen firm. I spied a large thing in the mist just north of the fence and thought it might be a cairn, but it gradually resolved into a large boulder, the second-summit cairn being further along near a fence junction. This cairn was adorned with horizontal icicles.

Cairn on Windlestraw Law SW top – close up

My plan was to walk along Bareback Knowe to the col between it and Dod Hill, then cut across to Glentress cottage or take the Siller Road if the terrain looked especially unpleasant. So perhaps now is the time to introduce the concept of quantum navigation. Much as in quantum theory, in quantum theory it is possible to exist in many locations, with varying probabilities, but certain actions can cause the quantum probabilities to collapse into a single reality.

I set off from the SW top, following the fence, on a heading for Bareback Knowe but contrived in the mist, to turn right about 200m too late. There were many reasons for this, but for the sake of brevity let’s just call it ineptness. I was in two places at the same time: where I thought I was and where I actually was. Both continued to exist as separate places while the corroborating evidence supported both.

As height was lost visibility improved. On the ridge of Bareback Knowe I would have expected the ground either side of me to be lower (the first law of ridges) but I found I was in a depression (geographically). The quantum possibilities collapsed. Could I be approaching the Glentress burn or the Hope burn. Direction of travel would have supported either but my fervent hope that it was the former was dashed when I checked the time. I couldn’t have covered that much ground in the time.

Standing stone on slopes of Bareback Knowe

I was in the upper reaches of Hope Burn’s valley. The valley floor was carpeted in reed type grass, the southern slopes steep, so I headed down the northern slopes. The vegetation was tussock grass, not the easiest terrain, and it and the snow hid some holes that kept my balance mechanisms on full alert. I spied a rock and headed for it hoping it would be a cairn marking a track of some kind but it wasn’t. Then I saw a wooden feeder and thought that a farmer would need to reach it somehow, so it was my next target. I can only presume that it is filled by helicopter or teleportation. Next port of call was a sheep fold at about 400m, beyond which the burn ran through a narrow cleuch, but the ground was now emerging from the snow.

Sheep pen in Hope glen

A short climb up a steep slippery section after crossing the burn had me on a flatter shelf where I found a faint track. This crossed the burn a couple of times but led me easily to another sheep fold at 300m where I joined the grassy track of Siller Road. I presume in better weather the ridges would offer better views but I doubt the going would be any easier.

Approaching Siller Road

There are the remains of Colquhar Tower where Siller Road joins the B709, but it a sorry ruin. If it had any lingering soul, it was probably exorcised when the telegraph pole was erected amongst the ruins. Or perhaps I just wasn’t in the mood to experience a ruin.

Colquhar Tower

Having come down Siller Road I had a few minutes walk up the road to Whitehope. Since I had come this way I intended to take the farm track onto Windside Hill, whereas had I come down via Glentress cottage I would have taken a direct route up. The Leithen Valley was merely cold rather than freezing so I could take off my now soaking gloves and have a look around. In that short time I saw a couple of birds of prey, a smaller one with a ginger tinge, a red kite perhaps, and a larger one silhouetted so hiding its colouring.

There were a few boulders by the bridge over Leithen Water so I had a riverside lunch. My latest piece of equipment is shown in the photo, a banana protector. (A gift rather than a personal purchase). But what do you get for the man who has everything?

Banana protector

Replenished and rested I set off past Whitehope farm. I was met by a terrier pup working hard to earn his guard-dog badge. I gave him some feedback: need to lose the cuteness, and wagging your tail gives away your real intentions. I doubt he listened, they never do at his age.

The farm had quite a collection of birdlife: chickens, some white, some brown some mixed; a variety of geese and a huge muscovy duck. I wish I’d had my bird book with me for the geese.

The farm track crosses and then follows the Whitehope burn. I followed it to about 330m then took a fainter path up Windside Hill. This path gradually faded and before long I was back on featureless moorland in poor visibility, freezing winds and snow. This proved to be a very trying ascent, I was making slow progress and uncertain of how far I had left to climb. The heather was often deep and my energy and spirits were ebbing despite having stopped for lunch about an hour earlier.

I decided that the hillwalking equivalent of a hamlet cigar was in order so I found the edge of a heather covered hag to sit on, had a drink (the water was nicely chilled) and a bite to eat, then dug out the GPS to get a grid reference. I was almost there, further along than I had thought, about 400m from (and 100m below) the summit.

Whitehope Law summit

Whitehope Law’s summit cairn was small enough to have been passed through the alimentary tract of a large mammal. The views were breathtaking mostly because the wind took my breath away, visibility being only a few metres. But I must be honest and say there is something special about being on a hill in these conditions.

For descent I took a bearing for Blackhopebyre and set off over the heather, compass in hand. It was easier to follow grass filled tussocks between the heather where they existed and I was making excellent time but then stepped into a heather covered hole. My ballast (rucksack) proved not to be a securely fixed as I had thought, and shifted, forcing my balance mechanisms into slapstick mode. My face was planted then hammered home a fraction of a second later by my rucksack. Hilarious to observe (personal experience), embarrassing to experience (personal experience). Mind you, who can really claim to have conquered a hill if they have not rolled in its heather?

I emerged from the clouds heading directly for Blackhopebyre and soon found a track to follow. I was pleased to see a bridge over the burn, but then noticed it was enclosed within the garden of the buildings. there was a two trunk crossing but I dismissed that as likely to be dangerously slippery. The burn itself was not particularly high and I surprised myself when after turning away having decided one section was just too wide, another part of my brain decided to over-ride the decision. The words “sod it” escaped my mouth, I turned back, ran at the burn and leapt across.

By now my car was almost within a stone’s throw. I just need to cross a small fence and a boggy field. I leant on a large fence post, the top of which disintegrated at a vital moment pitching me into the sodden field on the other side. At least I missed the sheep droppings.

Icy grass

Most of the Donalds lie in a broad swathe below the southern upland fault with some outliers further north below the highland fault line and a couple to the south on the Iapetus suture line. Windlestraw Law and Whitehope Law (my 80th and 81st Donalds) complete my southern upland fault Donalds. It is appropriate that they were walked in drow ‘n smirr.

[osmap gpx=”http://www.screel.co.uk/walks/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/RK_gpx-_2013-03-09_0848.gpx”]

Posted in Borders | Tagged Donalds, Grahams, Winter | Comments Off

Moorfoot’s: enchanted giants, secret cables and frozen land

February 23, 2013

11.4 miles 5h 3min ascent 569m

Blackhope Scar-Bowbeat Hill-Dundreich-Jeffries Corse

It was a crisp cold morning with a forecast for snow flurries and summit temperatures of -4° C. Wondering what a flurry might be I had researched this prior to the walk and found the following explanations: “Snow: This refers to the white, cold, flakey stuff itself. It does not describe any particular manifestation thereof. Snow Flurry: Light, intermittent snowfall without any significant accumulation of snow on the ground.” Now I know.

Gladhouse Reservoir early in the morning

I parked at the southern tip of Gladhouse Reservoir, just short of the “No parking beyond this point” sign, where there is space for half a dozen cars. From here I followed the road to Moorfoot farm and then along the farm track to Gladhouse cottage, the sheep filled fields reminding me of the flat well drained swards of my youth, in places like Tatton Park, quite unlike the boggy irregularity of my adoptive home in D&G.

Three ridges from Jeffries Corse

I could see the three ridges descending north from Jeffries Corse, one of which would be my route off the the hills. The easternmost two had definite vehicle tracks, the western a dyke, but from here no obvious track. At this point I had thought Long Shank, the most eastern ridge, would be the best choice for descent, but would later change my mind.

Shed at Clinty Cleuch, South Esk valley

After Gladhouse Cottage the vehicle track crosses a small bridge over the River South Esk. The track then throws off a branch towards the ruins of Hirendean Castle. I must say that this wasn’t a very impressive castle and looked more like a house to me but perhaps an Englishman lived there? There is a track up the ridge from the ruins to Hirendean Hill but I chose to continue on the track along the valley since I was a little concerned that the steep section might be icy. The track I was on was certainly iced in places.

Rocky path up Clinty Cleuch

At Clinty Cleuch there is a sheep fold and a shed. Here I turned left along the rocky path up the cleuch. Clinty Cleuch is a Y shaped valley and ideally I would have liked to head along the right arm of the Y but the track leads up the left arm. This section was get-warm-steep (no swearing required), whereas a direct attack over to the right arm would be sweat-buckets-steep (swearing likely).

Path up Clinty Cleuch

At about 500m the path begins a zig-zag. I left at the first zig, but with hindsight the second zig would be a better choice. There was a snow coated gully leading up but I chose instead to cross the gully to what appeared to be a track beside it. Though free of heather it proved to be a water course filled with sphagnum moss. In warm weather this wouldn’t be a good route but the moss was semi-frozen so it was dry. Once on the plateau, though, I was faced with trackless heather and moss which was hard going for five minutes until I came upon a track which I think came from the second zig. This soon had me at the fence which would guide me to the summit.

It was a slow climb to Blackhope Scar across moorland scarred by eroded peat hags. The hollows were filled with snow which was firm enough to take my weight and where there was standing water not covered in snow the ice was weight bearing. I imagine that in warmer weather this route should be reserved for those who don’t care how wet and muddy they get.

Frozen moorland on Blackhope Scar

As height was gained I passed a lonely grouse butt and paused to look back down the South Esk Valley to Gladhouse reservoir with Edinburgh beyond it, then it was back to tramping up the increasingly windy moorland. The summit of Blackhope Scar has a trig pillar which allowed me some shelter from the wind for a quick cup of coffee, but by now it was becoming much colder so I decided not to hang about. Over the fence and onward over the frozen mud.

Blackhope Scar summit

The Bowbeat wind turbines where my next target. I followed the fence along Long Edge where the terrain was similar but with fewer peat hollows. There was initially a very faint track which became more distinct when it was joined after a few hundred metres by a vehicle track from the south. Two further tracks joined later converting it gradually into a substantial track of frozen churned mud.

Long Edge heading for Bowbeat

The section between Long Edge and Emily Bank has more of a dip than I had expected from the map and from the bottom a substantial road heads off SW. I got my map out to see if I should go along it and found I had committed the school-boy error of planning the walk on a 1:25k and walking it with a 1:50k. The windfarm roads aren’t marked on my 1:50k. One of my previous “things I have learned” had been that if you don’t take a map you will regret it. I recalled that I intended to use a road through the wind farm, but this one was heading down so I ignored it and headed directly for the nearest turbine.

Five minutes climbing up here where the heather was deep and neither the ground nor the sphagnum moss was frozen, warmed me up nicely. I suppose if I was a real wild-man I would have eschewed the road, but, (hanging head in shame), I treated myself to a couple of miles of road walking. When I entered the wind farm, at the sign warning me of the danger of death, the turbines were just starting to move, but by the time I left they had picked up the revs considerably and the temperature had dropped further. The tall gently whooshing turbines had a bewitching quality akin to the sirens. One’s eyes are drawn skyward, one’s attention wanders. Luckily, potholes in the road can rapidly dispel this enchantment. So take care, don’t break your leg gawping at a wind turbine.

Wind turbine, you can’t help looking up

I left the road at its highest point to visit Bowbeat Hill’s summit. The OS map suggests the summit is at a change in direction of the fence but the highest point is definitely before that. Perhaps the fence has been altered?

Chilly times on Bowbeat Rig

Back on the road I walked over Bowbeat rig and along to the most northerly turbine which has a house sized building next to it, the site office. From this last turbine I planned to head up onto the high ground heading NW then between the 590m contours at the headwaters of Leithen Water and Hawkster Gill Burn. This is barren moorland with a ridge at 590m hiding any obvious visual target.

Looking out from the turbine there was a relatively new gate in the fence about 100m away. I had hoped it would lead to a track of some kind but it didn’t. Having said that, as I walked across the moor I would occasionally see what looked to be a track and would follow it for a while. It would fade away then I would find another one a few metres away.

RIP

I passed 6, perhaps 7 (I lost count), concrete stones shaped like mile stones and marked “electric cables” so I presume I was following the line of the cable and coming across tracks left by the vehicles used to lay them. The frozen ground made this section easier than it might have been, but frozen ground does still have holes so care is needed. The ambience of wilderness was made complete with flurries of snow blowing horizontally across the heather.

Don’t step on the ice

The ground between the two headwaters is, as might be expected, boggy. I passed a small fenced off area which looked just the same as the surrounding ground but must presumably have swallowed farm animals in its time, unless it guards some rare lichen. This area was wet despite the temperature and my feet sank into the deep sodden moss despite the top layers being frozen.

From this bog the ground rose into the peat hags between Jeffries Corse and Dundreich. Gaining the ridge I was greeted with a view of the Pentlands bathed in sunlight. It was about 400m to Dundreich’s summit though the trig was not visible until it was much closer.

Dundreich Summit

The views from Dundreich were excellent, the only down side being that I could see heavy rain, or perhaps snow, approaching rapidly from the NE. The cairn didn’t offer much shelter from the now icy wind so I hunkered down behind the trig pillar for lunch. This must be what makes it all worth while: lukewarm coffee, freezing cold water, and a slightly dry sandwich, sitting on snow covered ground in an icy wind, the views disappearing in mist and rain approaching. But my boots were dry inside, I was on the home straight and there were just 10 more Donalds to go.

Gladhouse Reservoir from Cotley Hill

As it turned out the rain passed just to the north and the descent was mostly in golden sunshine. I was at Jeffries Corse in no time and had at last to decide which ridge to take for the descent. I had intended using Long Shank, the ridge closest to the South Esk valley, but had seen that I would need to cross the burn at its foot. The burn looked to have plenty of rocks for crossing but given the iciness I thought it best to avoid this, so I left the fence and headed north towards Cotly Hill following a faint track, then followed the dyke down to Gladhouse Cottage.

Hirendean Castle

From the cottage I rejoined the farm track and road back to the reservoir.