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”]

 

 

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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”]

 

 

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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.

 

 

 

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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.

 

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

 

 

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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”]

 

 

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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.

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The Glenrath Hills: all four Donalds

February 16, 2013

13.2 miles  6h 58m  ascent 926m

Windy Neese-Dun Rig-Birkscairn Hill-Glenrath Heights-Stob Law

Last week I abandoned my expedition to these hills at Stob Law. If at first you don’t succeed….  try it anticlockwise.

Track to Glenrathope

The Manor Glen at Glenrath looked the same as it had previous week, though it was definitely less windy. I parked at the same spot (NT207342) and opened the car door to screeching as a small dog made short shrift of a bird nearby. An omen? Did this mean I would vanquish these hills? There were so many pheasants around that last week I had thought this should be called Pheasant Farm. I doubt a wee dog could catch one of those, so perhaps it was something else.

Windy Neese…give us a K

The first half hour was spent warming up along the track to Glenrathope. Back Burn was full to brimming with melt water from the previous week’s snow so the bridge at Glenrathope was a welcome finding. I skirted the farm buildings, where there is a large solar panel, and headed up the stony zig-zag on Windy Neese, the firm footing making the climb easier.

The views back down Glenrath glen were good and it was interesting to see the many different lines that burns had previously taken across this flat valley.  I thought there was a path continuing south along Glenrathope Glen but couldn’t see how far it went. It isn’t visible on Google earth but the images are from 2007.

Glenrath from Windy Neese

Once the gradient on Windy Neese eased the track became straighter, and swapped stone for bogginess, but the terrain and conditions became distinctly more unpleasant above 550m. By then I had climbed into mist; the track, which had become gradually fainter, ended at a line of grouse butts having led me into trackless deep heather interspersed with broad snow covered areas. Early on I had come across one of these snow covered areas with a hole revealing water beneath it, so I stuck to tramping through the heather where I could. I walked on for what seemed an eternity guided by my trusty compass.  Time itself slowed down (my watch suggested half an hour had passed but it seemed much longer) and I might as well have been walking on a treadmill, since no matter how far I walked everything looked the same. Eventually after a very long half hour, a fence line appeared ahead out of the mist, the fence junction only a few metres away.

Windy Neese about 600m

I had expected to find a track running along by the fence but if there is one it was lost beneath the snow. There was more bogginess but once I was on the rising slopes of Dun Rig the ground changed for the better. The deep heather and bog was replaced by firm ground covered in short mosses with numerous sprigs of cowberry. Amongst this mist covered white, green and brown was a single patch of orange, a scarlet cup lichen?

Dun Rig Summit, the trig is there in the centre

This was certainly a more pleasant walking experience than the deep heather, but all good things must come to an end. As the ascent ended I realised I had reached the top of Dun Rig. There, at what felt to be the highest point, was a stake driven into the ground. But there was supposed to be a trig pillar, where was it? Was I on a minor shoulder, the real summit hidden in mist? I decided to get the GPS out to check where I was but as I unslung the rucksack the swirling mists briefly thinned to reveal the trig pillar a few metres away, definitely lower than where I was standing. I have subsequently looked more carefully at the OS map and I see that the trig is not the top. The trig pillar has a small plaque with a phone number to ring if you find the pillar damaged. I don’t recall seeing one of these before.

Dun Rig trig

My plan was to decide whether to include Birkscairn Hill once I got to Dun Rig. So I had a wee snack, a cup of coffee and consulted my watch. Since I was bang on time, a Birkscairn Hill there-and-back seemed reasonable. As it turned out, the section between Dun Rig and Birkscairn proved to be the most difficult, and set my timings back a bit.

The fence descending from Dun Rig takes a turn to the left, which the unwary might mistakenly follow in poor visibility, but a line of rotting fence posts continues on towards Stake Law. These led through a coven of peat hags where the hollows were filled with snow. The snow had those special characteristics, such that with care one could stand on it but lifting one foot to take a step caused the snow beneath the other to collapse. I met a couple of walkers coming the opposite way just as I tumbled having sunk to my thigh in a snow drift. I lost my dignity but I then had their footprints to warn me of deeper sections.

Crossing the Drove Road

By Stake Law, the fence was reconstituted, the hags gave way to boggy heath and there were even boggy tracks to follow. In the middle of this wilderness (made more wild by the limited visibility of the mist) it was strange to see a sign post where the drove road crosses the Stake Law-Birkscairn Hill col. There was a stile there, and amidst the miles of bog this was a tempting seat for lunch (it could seat two).  As it was, I had lunch sat on Birkscairn Hill’s large cairn. As I sat there looking about, in the mist, it seemed to me that the highest point was a little way NW of the cairn, so sandwich in hand I wandered across there. My phone, nestling in the rucksack recording the GPS log, didn’t capture this.

Birkscairn Hill

Heading back towards Dun Rig, the mist started to lift giving me my first views of Glensax valley and closer, a hare with a blue tinged white coat. I was now able to see the three cairns above Stake Law, which are set amongst a field of stones south of the fence (other possible seats).

Snow filled peat hollows

Dun Rig was still in cloud but it was certainly good to get back on the firmer ground of its western slopes. From the col between Dun Rig and the unnamed 713m spot height I decided that following the fence further up just to head back down was foolish. I would cut the corner and rejoin the fence lower down. In doing this I made the mistake of trying to cut too directly for the col. Coming out of the mist I could see a cleuch blocking my direct line and had to pick my way between hags along the 700m contour line.

Small cairn, Glenrath Heights

50m down and 80m up through boggy heather and occasional snow had me on the firm ground of a mist free Glenrath Heights, with views over to the Tweedmuir hills. I then followed the fence over the 600m col to Stob Law.

Stob Law from Glenrath Heights

On Stob Law I found the cairn I had visited last week and confirmed to myself that it was not the highest point. I realise now that I was right to abandon last week’s walk here. Stob Law is covered in a thin firm carpet of heather and moss that presumably has been burned off previously. Walking here had been tiring enough last week in the snow but had I carried on to Glenrath Heights, and the deeper heather of Windy Neese I’m sure it would have been very unpleasant.

Summit Stob Law

Coming off Stob Law this time I headed directly for Glenrath Farm, walking down by Hanging Cleuch burn. Closer to the farm I picked up a track that skirted the final field and retuned me to the Glenrathope track.

Heading off Glenrath hill towards Glenrath Farm

 

 

[osmap gpx=”http://www.screel.co.uk/walks/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/RK_gpx-_2013-02-16_0927.gpx”]

 

 

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The Glenrath hills: bailing after Stob Law

February 10, 2013

4.3 miles 3h 2min  ascent 446m

Stob Law

Mrs Drow ‘n’ Smirr had gathered her brows like a gathering storm. Her view being that the weather forecast and my plans for the Dun Rig Donalds were incompatible. I was not to be easily dissuaded, however. The Met Office, BBC and MWIS forecasts predicted the Borders would escape snow until evening, and would indeed be dry.

The plan was to start from Glenrath Farm in the Manor Glen, head up Stob Law then on over the other Donalds and back down to Glenrathope. If the weather turned nasty I would would turn back after Glenrath Heights, leaving Dun Rig and Birkscairn Hill for another day.

I parked just off the Manor Glen Road (NX207342). I could have driven further but felt parking near the farm would be like someone parking in my driveway. The angry farmer from a couple of years back still makes me anxious, and I was walking on a public right of way then.

Out of the car, and into the drizzle, protected by SOAC and waterproofs I headed past Glenrath Farm along the track, past several pheasants, towards Glenrathope. The hills had a dusting of snow and the visible lower tops (600m) were free of cloud.

Scots pines and cairn above them at about 350m

I left the track a little way past a cattle grid and headed up towards a stand of trees, passing through the remains of walls and scattered Scots pines at about 350m.

Looking back at the pines

From there I could see a small cairn a little further up and headed towards it. There was a faint track but it was soon lost in the snow. At this stage I was in the lee of the ridge leading to Glenrath Hill but once I reached the ridge the wind picked up significantly. The wind was strong enough to blow me off route, the snow biting into my face, requiring deployment of the balaclava.

I stopped by some rocks on the flatter section at about 500m to rethink the walk. The wind was my main concern. I was making much slower progress than planned so decided  on the shorter walk. I would to turn back if the weather worsened or the snow became deeper.

There were some white sections amongst the mixed dark and white of the snow covered heather, which I presumed were tracks. The snow tended to be deeper in these so I walked beside them where they existed. The heather was shallow suggesting it might have been burnt within the last few seasons. The possible track I was following eventually started to fall off down the slope so I switched to the “up the maximum slope” navigation method.

The view near the summit

Out of the mist and snow came a fence that was not marked on my map. It clearly wasn’t running along the top. I walked along the fence while it was climbing but soon enough it was descending again. Unfortunately visibility had worsened, and the wind was both stronger and colder, making me wish I had brought goggles. Looking along the fence it was easy enough to see it for 30m or so but elsewhere everything was white.

The time had come to turn back.

I thought it would be an idea to dig out the electronics and check where I was by GPS and found I was inside the 670m contour. Since the summit is at 676m so I would head there then bail out. The up the slope method proved difficult here since the summit is relatively flat and without GPS it would have been impossible to find it. There was a small cairn of half a dozen rocks but I suspect it was not at the actual top.

Visibility returns

Visibility was still limited but at least the wind was now behind me. I headed west and eventually came upon one of those white gaps in the heather that might have had a track beneath it, and followed it down. I came out of the clouds looking down the Hanging Cleuch towards Glenrath, but rather than heading down into the flooded fields near the farm I  walked across to the pine plantation and back down to the Glenrathope track.

 

 

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