This was the first day of a two day outing to Arran, taking in some guided walks in the Arran mountain festival. Day one was to be a journey to the Barren Hill, the Yellow Summit, The Speckled Hill, the Brown Hill and the Fair Loch. The week running up to this had been marred by inclement weather, and even as we sailed from Ardrossan the rain was still falling. Still the fish and chips were nice on the boat.
By the Saturday morning, though, the rain had cleared and the weather forecast suggested it would stay away. Unfortunately breakfast started a little too late to allow a leisurely meal and we hadn’t managed to negotiate an earlier breakfast. So it was a speedy breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, potato scone and toast, without time to relax before we had to set off for our rendezvous in Brodick. There we signed up and met our guide for the day, Corrina.
Above Pirnmill
The walk was to begin at Pirnmill, once a centre of bobbin making, I believe, so the first stage was a minibus ride across the island, during which the driver, Charlie, I think, gave us his views on the various conservation and ecology initiatives taking place on the island. I suspect these differed somewhat from those presently held by conservationists, and tended to hark back to a bygone age when jolly schoolchildren would guide the bus driver into reversing onto the beach ( out of a sense of fun, rather than badness); poachers pitted their skills against gamekeepers; twenty families would farm land now tended by just one farmer; deer numbers were kept down, sparing many drivers from collisions; and land wasted by set-aside was in productive use.
The walk itself began at Pirnmill, where our other guide, Andy, joined us. We strapped on our kit and headed up past some houses, onto grassy slopes and then through some relatively young woodland. Luckily our only episode of straying off course was in the first five minutes, and was rapidly corrected with the help of a local lady who came into her garden to point us the right way.
Falls on Allt Gobhlach
Our route took us along the north bank and then across the Allt Gobhlach (the forked burn) and as we came out of the woodland, the two spurs from Beinn Bharrain, enclosing the Coire Rionn, were there before us. We were to head up the western spur, the eastern one being steeper and sharper. Along here we walked under the watchful eye of a raven and later passed its nest. Allt Gobhlach runs in a steep sided gully with some small waterfalls, but higher up the slope there was a easy crossing that led us onto a short stretch of boggy ground. I did initially rue my decision to forego gaiters but it proved easy enough to pick our way across this without submerging our boots. The terrain remained a little wet even onto the slopes but soon enough we were on firmer ground with scattered rocks. This was to be the terrain for most of the day.
Col between Beinn Bharrain and Mullach Buidhe
It was a bit of a slog up the spur to Beinn Bharrain and as we climbed the sun came out. But comfort improved as clothing was shed, and both the views and visibility improved. Jura’s mountains were clearly visible beyond Kintyre and the rocks of the Corrie Roinn just beside us began to catch the sunlight, taking on the colours I associate with the Dungeon Hills.
From Beinn Bharrain our route was along the ridge joining it to Mullach Buidhe (the yellow summit): a pleasant route over easy ground with gentle gradients and great views over Lochs Tanna and Dubh to the mountainous tops over by Goatfell. Initially the distant hills were topped with cloud but this lifted and as the sunlight changed throughout the day we were able to see them change with the subtly different illumination.
Mullach Buidhe summit
We stopped for lunch on the southern slopes of Mullach Buidhe, sitting on smooth granite boulders and looking down into the Glas Choirein (green corrie?). I enjoyed my lunch, basking in the sunshine, but later in the day I was to realise, somewhat red-faced, that the sunshine was stronger than I had thought. But despite the beautiful views and warm sun, my walking companion was somewhat disgruntled. His banana, chosen by me in the co-op, apparently had the taste and consistency of a turnip. What a drama queen! To be fair the banana was a little firm, but that meant it had less chance of becoming squashed in his rucksack, and in my opinion the consistency was more like that of an unripe mango.
Lochs Tanna and Dubh
After lunch we continued our stroll along the ridge to the summit of Beinn Bhreag (the speckled hill) where we had views over Bute, Kintyre, Jura, and possibly even Ireland. While standing here Corrina spotted a golden eagle and passed her binoculars around so we could all have a better look at the bird.
On Beinn Bhreac
The descent to the col between Meall Donn and Meall Bhig did not feel as steep as the contours suggested, but still gave our knees something to groan about. We soon found ourselves in a rather boggy area overlooking the Coire Fhionn Lochan. This is a pretty stretch of water with white sandy beaches and great place to sit while enjoying the view.
From here it was a short walk back down to the main road at Mid Thundergay. The path follows the burn, Uisge Soluis Mhoir, by its waterfalls, so the walk is accompanied by the sound of running water, a powerful diuretic, judging by its action on several of the group.
Coire Fhionn Lochan
On the way down we heard a cuckoo, spotted a pair of hen harriers and a pair of moths, the latter engaging in a private moment. The walk ended at Mid Thunderguy where with the sun twinkling on Kilbrannan Sound we had a few minutes well earned rest waiting for our ride back to Brodick. Time to contemplate the delights of a cold beer once we got back.
Walking down by Uisge Soluis Mhoir
A very pleasant walk. Great company. Greta views. My first outing in Arran’s Hills and feel worth the journey.
PS Later that evening, after the pre-contemplated cold beer and a rather lavish dinner, we we decided to have a stroll through Corrie. In the churchyard, no more than 50m from us was a stag. Sadly the only camera with me was my phone and it couldn’t cope with the low light.
Cullendoch-Door of Cairnsmore-Knee of Cairnsmore-Cairnsmore of Fleet-Meikle Mulltaggart-Craigronald-Loch Garroch
Cairnsmore of Fleet’s Donald tops, the Knee of Cairnsmore and Meikle Mulltaggart were my main targets for the day. They could be had via the tourist route from Palnure but that would include a there-and-back to Mulltaggart, so I decided to head in from Dromore. The next question was: clockwise or anticlockwise? I’d read reports of anti-clockwise but decided to go clockwise since I thought this would leave the easier sections for the end, when I would be tired. Good reasoning but a false premise. With the benefit of hindsight I would now recommend taking this anticlockwise.
I missed the turning out of Gatehouse of Fleet, as I had last time, since the sign only seems visible from one direction. It looked as if this would be a good day and as I drove towards Dromore, the Clints were bathed in sunlight and Cairnsmore of Fleet could be seen peeking beyond them. I drove past the visitor centre at Dromore then headed to park a little way past the viaduct.
Door of Cairnmore from the end of the forest track
I did this walk in non-stealth mode, coughing loudly throughout. The first couple of miles were along forestry tracks with a gentle climb heading past a number of small quarries, parallel to and about half a mile north of the Clints of Dromore. After about a mile there was a large area of newly harvested forest, the wood stacks adding a fresh pine smell to the air. This opening gave me my first view of the complete Cairnsmore ridge from the Knee to Craigronald.
The forestry track ended with some rather impressively high gates, which are presumably to deter deer, and a National Nature Reserve sign. From here it was perhaps half a mile to the lower slopes of the hill at the Door of Cairnsmore. The flat section was grassland which was mostly dry and easy going but looked as if it has the capacity to be wet at times.
The Cardoun Burn was just too wide to jump but there where plenty of rocks to cross even if it were much fuller. Once on the steeper slopes the ground was firmer but the gradient was a bit of a slog psychologically. A recurring feature of this walk was that the summits couldn’t be seen while climbing, making it hard to assess progress. I found myself heading for features on the horizon which I thought were the tops of ridges only to find when I reached them that they were just another rock on the slope. I had to gauge progress up the slopes by looking across to distant hills and cols.
I met my first goats of the day on these slopes. Once on the flatter section of the Knee of Cairnsmore the summit cairn was close by. A welcome place to sit for a rest. Visibility was very good, as predicted by the weather forecasters, with the Isle of Man clear on the southern horizon.
Once on the flatter tops of the whaleback hills the going was much easier. There was a faint track heading up towards Cairnsmore of Fleet but this often faded away, especially in the wetter sections such as the Nick of Clashneach, where there are several lochans.
Cairnsmore of Fleet Summit
Cairnsmore of Fleet’s summit is a wide flat expanse with several features: a large cairn; a trig pillar; a shelter; and a memorial to airmen killed on the hill.
The last time I was here there was ankle deep snow and very limited visibility, so I was impressed by the views which included the Minnigaff hills nearby, the Galloway hills behind them and the Rhinns of Kells.
Memorial to Airmen killed on Cairnsmore of Fleet
The memorial to lost airmen lists the names of 25 British, American, Canadian, New Zealand and German airmen killed when their various aircraft crashed on this hill. Details of the crashes and names of those killed or injured can be found at Air Crash Sites in Scotland and make sad reading, all those killed being so young.
Troll’s Head
Since Meikle Mulltaggart isn’t visible from the summit plateau I headed off a little south of NE and once the hill was visible corrected my route. In bad weather a line of fence posts could be followed but these are a quarter of a mile from the summit. On the way up Meikle Mulltaggart I passed a boulder that looks like troll’s head.
So far so good. But all good things must come to an end. Craigronald was the end of the good things. The ground became waterlogged, tussock strewn and littered with rocks and hidden holes. This made the going tough but in addition, Craigronald looks as though some ancient giant has taken his hammer and smashed the hill into a concertina of rocky ridges. I decided to start a gradual descent of the hill along its southern flank rather than climb over these ridges. The final section was quite a steep descent in places but the section between the hill and the forest track was a nightmare.
First glimpse of Loch Garroch
The ground here was tussocks and waterlogged mush, leading to at least one fall, and somewhere along here I lost the lens cap from my camera. The going was so hard, and I was so tired, that I couldn’t face retracing my steps to look for the lost lens cap. Hopefully, being non-biodegradable, it will make a future archeologist happy.
Here I made an error. I confess so that others may be spared. I had read, in the anti-clockwise report, that the way up Craigronald was to head from the lodge through the trees onto the hill. So I headed for the trees where I thought I could see the lodge. There is a wall. Before the wall the ground was very wet, uneven and unstable. Over the wall it was much, much worse. The first trees all looked dead, perhaps they had drowned? A little further in is an impenetrable wall of bushes and trees. I was forced to climb back out of the walled hell and make directly for the track at the head of Loch Garroch. Perhaps it is easier to find a way going in the opposite direction.
Zombie trees at Loch Garroch
Back on the forest track from Loch Garroch I had wet feet but couldn’t be bothered changing my socks. The light had changed leaving the loch un-photogenic, and I had lost my sense of humour. The track climbed away from the loch past a small memorial to Maggie, who I believe was a pony, then through the Clough of Eglon. Even in my unhappy state it looked pretty. There were a great many bright yellow dandelions on the path and if I had been in a better mood I would have taken the time to photograph them.
Instead I remembered the sign I had seen at the beginning of the walk, “Loch Garroch 2.5 miles”. I strode out, but this 2.5 miles took much longer than I had thought it would, just under an hour. Leading me to stop a couple of times to check I was going the right way. The sign was, at the least, economical with the truth. The distance as the crow flies is 2.5 miles, but the track was 3.5 miles.
Memorial to Maggie (pony)
At Meikle Cullendoch, the ruins have been incorporated into a garden, which produces an impressive rockery. Further along at Little Cullendoch the ruins are worth a visit since they hide a small sculpted face.
As I walked the last couple of hundred metres, the Big Water of Fleet viaduct came into sight, lifting my spirits, but my car didn’t seem to be there. Surely it hadn’t been stolen from here? Had I broken some terrible forestry by-law (parked on a wildflower, blocked a natterjack toad crossing) and had it towed away? Would my mobile work out here to summon help? 100 meters of worry, then relief. The car was hidden behind a small bank of earth.
I don’t think I’ll be taking this route again. The mile or so from Craigronald to Loch Garroch, and especially the section from the bottom of the hill to Loch Garroch, spoiled the enjoyment. It would perhaps be better done anticlockwise. It might be easier to find a way up Craigronald in that direction and the climb would be done while still sprightly. There would also be the option of returning over the Clints of Dromore if energy levels and sense of humour permitted.
Loch Doon-Coran of Portmark-Bow-Knockower-Black Craig-Loch Doon
The primary aim of this walk was to climb Coran of Portmark, since previous visits to the Rhinns of Kells had come off over Cairnsgarroch, leaving Bow, the Coran and Black Craig unclimbed.
The most described route would head in past Garryhorn, take all these hills in a sweep and return over Cairnsgarroch. So why didn’t I go that way? The descent of Cairnsgarroch, or more specifically the terrain, a couple of years ago had left a lasting impression with me, and not a pleasant one. The whole area is covered with angry Dougals nestling in a hidden concoction of bog, rocks and holes, the kind of terrain that would in ages past have halted an advancing army. So I wouldn’t be going that way.
I could of course avoid Cairnsgarroch’s slopes by doing a 180 on Bow and retracing my steps. For some reason I disliked the shape of such a walk. Not rounded enough. Aesthetically unpleasing.
I looked at walking in from Drumjohn or Lamach but dismissed these for the same reasons.
Then I turned my mind to approaches from Loch Doon. Forest bars a direct assault from Loch Head to the Rhinns but there is a single dotted line on the OS map along the Loch to the slopes of the col between Black Craig and Coran of Portmark. A path? An old right of way? There is also double dotted line through the forest parallel to this about 300 metres in the forest but it stops just over a kilometre short. Would it actually continue, or would it lead me into impenetrable forest?
While musing on the options I noticed Portmark on the shore of Loch Doon. Ruined buildings. It would be nice to see them wouldn’t it? This thought was like a barbed arrow. I couldn’t shake it off. Whichever way I went, this would have to be included.
Then a second barbed arrow. I found a description of this part of the route in which the writer described the terrain here as the worst he had ever experienced in Scotland. Having tramped through tussock infested bogs and slipped in my fair share of mud, I was intrigued. More research suggested said author was well walked, and not one to moan over trifles. It couldn’t be that bad, surely? Another definite place for the walk.
This would still leave me with a route exhibiting too high a circumference:area ratio. Not round enough. I turned my mind back to a traverse of the forest from Loch Head to the foot of either Meaul or Bow. There were several forest breaks on the OS and these were discernible on Google earth’s 2010 imagery.
Forest breaks, in my limited experience, are not ideal paths. Better than quicksand or dense forest, I’ll admit, but all the same best kept to a minimum. I found the route that required the minimum distance on the breaks (just 0.75 km). It would need a final push through forest at the end, but only 100m I reckoned.
It is interesting to analyse the planning process since it offers me insights into the workings of my mind. I clearly have weaknesses. That’s the introduction over. Now on to reality.
Craiglee and Loch Doon
The forecast was occasional heavy persistent showers and hail but the drive in was in glorious sunshine. I had hoped to be able to leave the car at Starr. Indeed secretly I was hoping to be able to drive all the way to Loch Head. Sadly the gated bridge over Carrick Lane was locked so I had a mile and half to walk to Loch Head. At Carrick Lane there were a number of tents, vans, dirt bikes and hardy looking chaps drinking (tea?) from battered mugs. I smiled benignly at them and offered a good natured “morning”. Well, what do you expect, I was setting out on walk, well fed, and the sun was shining. I gave the dirt bikes little thought. Arrrgh!
There was a slight climb up to the old cottage at Starr. The place looks abandoned but has obviously had a new driveway built recently so perhaps there are plans for it. From Starr to Gala Lane the road descends which I dislike since it means ascent on the way back. At this time the Rhinns of Kells were bathed in sunlight and the Loch’s waters still, reflecting the sky and hills. Paradise must be like this.
Gala Waterfall
Gala Lane is relatively narrow where the bridge crosses it and has a pleasant small waterfall just by the bridge. This belies its power which has at times washed away bridges upstream of here. The road then turns up the eastern side of Loch Doon, past the sheepfold, one possible route into the forest and over a small bridge at Loch Head Burn, another possible route. I had decided to use the loch-side path for my return route, climbing back into the forest to find the forest track if the terrain was really that bad.
My way through the forest was to initially follow the Small Burn, which is the one after Loch Head Burn. The plan being to take the first forest break on the right ( about 100m), then the next on the left (another 100m). This would take me to a long straight forest break heading just south of east which would climb to the foot of the hills between Meaul and Bow. The option then would be to go directly through the forest which was only a short distance, 50 metres at most, or turn right along another break which was a longer route but likely to be easier.
Dougals in the forest break
The going was relatively easy initially over moss covered rocks later giving way to the expected tussocks and boggy ground. Sadly my planning was to be upset and I was not destined to walk as I had planned. The smaller forest breaks can be difficult to spot close up and, without realising, I had missed the first right turn but stuck with the “first right first left” plan and found myself as expected on a wide straight break along which I made excellent time. There seemed no reason to check a compass bearing and within the forest all the landmarks were hidden. Eventually I came to the T junction where I would either head straight through the trees or take a turn for a little more forest break.
I chose the direct route but the forest was impassible, the trees’ branches interlocking right down to knee level. I don’t think a machete could have managed it. An elephant perhaps, but I hadn’t brought one.
This then was a good time to stop, rest, have drink of water, some carbohydrate and chose an alternative path. The pre-decided way was to turn right but I wondered if left might be better. Not much to choose between them on the map but the right turn did get the whole way in forest breaks. Then the first moment of consternation. These forest breaks weren’t going in the right direction. Perhaps the compass wasn’t working properly. I should check it before setting off, but I rarely do. Perhaps I was stood near some compass-confusing metal object. A buried alien spacecraft, secret cache of spears and shields?
I dug out the phone (GPS enabled and tracking the route for posterity) from its waterproof bag in the rucksack and looked on stunned as it displayed my position. Nooooooooo! Suddenly it all fell into place. The forest break hadn’t been climbing as much as it should. In fact it had hardly climbed at all. Having missed my first correct turn, the forests breaks had with each turn led me further off course. The last half mile had been heading nearly north rather than east, hugging the contour and making no headway across the forest.
I couldn’t face backtracking to where I had gone astray and I had been gradually putting more forest between myself and the hill. If I turned left the break would lead me to the forest track in 250m and I would take it from there.
The forest track was in good repair and gave my legs some respite from the harder forest breaks. But all good things come to and end and so too did the track, but a good path led on from it. I could follow this to the edge of the forest then head up Coran of Portmark.
Now, do you remember those dirt bikes, caked in mud at the beginning of my walk. They were now forced back into my consciousness. One man’s enjoyable pastime can be another’s source of annoyance. There had obviously been some kind of dirt bike extravaganza here the previous day. Once off the metalled path the ground was well and truly churned up. I can only presume that the aim was to ensure no section was left passable for those with the temerity to proceed on foot. And the bikers obviously didn’t care how dirty they got ( private joke: a comment from my nephews when they were very young and watching a war/action film with soldiers covered in mud.)
Before the mud got bad
Had I been in a film the music would have changed at this point to emphasise the change in mood. Nature has its own music. The sun went for a coffee break and a few spots of rain started to fall. Not enough to require waterproofs, but enough to place them on the list of options.
A little heavier. I should probably put a jacket on but won’t need trousers. It wouldn’t hurt to put the rucksack cover on though. Heavier still. I wish there was somewhere I could sit to put the waterproof trousers on, but at present I’m stood in a motorcycle induced mud bath. OMFG heavy. Leans against a tree and manages to get over-trousers on without falling over.
I then picked my way along the muddied forest break. There was a tumbled down wall but the bikes had used both sides of it. Here’s a learning point for the unwary. Just because mud has a tyre track in it doesn’t mean it can support your weight. Indeed my experience now suggests that your leg could sink to the upper calf in it. This was almost a full mud bath but there is a reflex in newborns (the Moro reflex) where they fling out their arms if their head moves back and this must have remained enabled in me allowing me to instinctively grab the nearby wall and fall onto it rather than the ground.
This ground needed crampons. Soon though I emerged from the forest and began the climb up Coran of Portmark. The bikes had been here too but the ground was better drained and only a few sections had been churned to mud. The going underfoot was much easier but the gradient worked me into sweat.
The rain turned to hailstones for a while then slowly stopped to allow the sun to begin baking me in my foul weather kit. But like a cat toying with a mouse, the weather toyed with me, throwing some rain at me whenever I took off my jacket.
Hills of the Awful Hand
The walk then began to come into its own with beautiful views of Loch Doon and Loch Finlas beyond Craiglee, the Rhinns of Kells separated from the Dungeon hills by an apparent sea of trees, and beyond them the hills of the Awful Hand. Once onto the col the Carsphairn hills lay curled up like a dog in the sunshine. Heavy showers crossed these hills throughout the day sometimes leaving me dry, sometimes wet, but changing the appearance of the hills. I had hoped to capture something of the changing appearance but the old camera functions poorly in the low light of these wee storms.
Loch Doon
I’m not sure which is my favourite view of the Galloway hills, that from the Rhinns of Kells or that from Lamachan. It’s a close call.
After the slog up Coran of Portmark I enjoyed the views and pondered how un-local my snack was. Certainly not something the Gallovidians of yore would have had (coffee, banana, corned beef and Pickle).
It was then a short jaunt over to Bow and a look down to the forest where I had hoped to have emerged. The slopes of Bow would certainly have been no problem.
Rather than climb the Coran again I decided to contour around it just above the steeper western slopes and head for Knockower. The climb up this wee hill, and down it to the shoulder between it and Black Craig was hard going. I was tired and the ground was wild with heather, moss and bog taking an extra toll on my energies. At least the rain seemed now to have passed. That I even visited Knockower must mean I have a hill-bagging gene.
On the map there is little to chose between Black Craig and Knockower in height but the former seems much more imposing, probably because it is a more defined (steeper) hill. Its ascent and descent are wild and tiring. The views from its summit however are worth the effort. Loch Doon can be seen in all it’s glory and the sight of the Rhinns and Dungeon hills from here is a joy.
I looked down on the small rocky outcropping of Craigencolon to the north and tried to decide if it should be regarded as the last part of the Rhinns of Kells. I had intended including it in this walk if I was ahead of time, but sadly I was not. Perhaps one day I will walk the whole of the Rhinns of Kells in one walk, Darrou to Craigencolon, then I’ll have something to boast about.
I headed off Black Craig towards the forest break I had emerged from earlier but the going was difficult. Not especially so but I decided to make it easier for myself by heading for the path up Coran which would involve less wild walking. This would require care in poor visibility as I found myself looking over a steep gap in which the Polmeadow burn runs. I had to follow this down a way to below the waterfall to cross the burn. Then I was back on the track about 250m from the tree line. From Black Craig I could see the forest break I wanted to take down to the shore (along the dotted line on the OS map). I’m pleased I did this since once there the break was not easy to see. It begins just about one or two trees along the path I had come along earlier but heading SW.
This was the usual tussocks, but interspersed with tussock free zones made of deceptively slippy moss covered slick. One section of Dougals had small bushes of bracken that appeared dead, perhaps due to the bogginess, but could have still been in winter mode since the light here was markedly limited by the trees. I remember thinking how unpleasant this would be to walk through if the bracken grew larger. In retrospect, this was a little like one of those horror films where whatever you think about (your worst nightmare) is spun into reality by an evil being.
Dougals running for cover
The path, if you can call it that, eventually passed a long lost sheiling which now encircles mature trees rather than livestock. My photo of this looks as though the Dougals are rushing out ahead of me. I wonder if they do that, run about until I come by and then freeze in place? Perhaps the forest sprites were driving me crazy.
Eventually I came to the edge of the woods and was able to experience the devil’s terrain: bog, rocks, mud, tall tussocks AND mature bracken. This is what Sauron must use to guard Mordor. And to the writer of that previous report, I concur, it is the worst terrain I have walked as well. (Addendum: how easy it is to forget, this isn’t actually the worst terrain. I’d forgotten Cairnsmore of Dee, all of the above plus recent tree felling.)
The way into the forest break
How you would ever find this forest break if coming the other way, I do not know. It is two burns beyond Portmark and just short of a large boulder on the shore.
From the Sheiling to Loch Head took me just shy of an hour. There is no path or track to follow, the ground is hard going and boggy with plenty of bracken, sometimes quite large growths barring the way. Since the loch’s waters were relatively low I walked some of the way on the rocky shore. This wasn’t ideal but did give my ankles and balance a good workout. Sometimes the shore was quite squidgy and care was needed to avoid losing footwear in mud.
The Beach
The lapping of the water was relaxing though and there were nice views of the loch and the distant hills. Every now and then I would glance up the shore and see what appeared to be a path. I would fight my way over rocks and through bracken only to find it was an illusion and almost always worse than where I had come from.
Portmark Ruins – no effort in photo
This went on and on. I had been walking a long time but seen no signs of Portmark. I presumed I had somehow missed it, but I was just making very slow progress. Eventually the ruins appeared. By now I really couldn’t be bothered climbing up the shore for better pictures and the light was poor. On the plus side there did seem to be a faint path but it didn’t last long.
Along here there were several concrete bridge structures over the burns. These were not useful to me since their approaches were often overgrown and they were mere skeletons, the widest sections being about 6 inches across. They look as if they may once have carried a railway. They look too modern to be contemporary with the lead mines and I can’t think why they would be there. There are no signs of tracks between them, but admittedly I wasn’t specifically looking for them.
Once back at Loch Head I was able to climb up onto a vehicle track lined with junior fir trees, the very small ones covered in small buds giving them the appearance of decorated Christmas trees. My penance was over and the remaining half hour was on good quality forest roads, retracing my steps past Starr to the car.
Carrick Lane waterfall – spot my car
The sun decided to shine again during this section, defrosting my soul. The dirt bike guys and their equipment were all gone but they had obviously considered future archeologists and left a selection of rubbish behind. It’s surprising how much rubbish there was on the far shore of the loch, mostly carried by the water I presume.
Most hill walks mature in the mind. The hardships and misfortunes metamorphose into jolly japes and proud achievements. The joy of completing the challenge and the wonderful views become fixed in the memory and linked strongly with positive feelings. As I trudged along Loch Doon’s shore I reckoned it would take a year for those changes to occur in my memory, but it is only two days since and I find it is already filed under “happy memories”.
If you feel inclined to take a similar route, I would recommend taking more care than I in navigating the forest breaks, taking a brief rest ( and some jelly babies) before climbing Knockower, avoiding the single dotted line and taking the forest track back to Loch Head. If you are as daft as me and decide you have to see the hidden sheiling and the ruins at Portmark, then grit your teeth and take your time, but from Portmark take one of the forests breaks up to the forest track, it’s only 300m.
A beautiful day so I set off for the Afton hills. I parked the car on the Afton road before Craigdarroch Farm and got kitted out under the watchful eyes of some rather shaggy looking calves.
Blackcraig was to be my first port of call and I had pondered whether to head up via Quintin Knowe (more track, gentler gradient, longer) or along Craig Glen and up by the Pollachie Burn on to the col (less track, steeper, shorter, possibly wetter). As it turned out I ascended, unplanned by the Black Craigs (no track, too steep, impossible).
Footbridge below Blackcraig
The original plan was to follow the farm track up the valley then head up on to the col. The first problem was that the track was not on the valley floor. It gradually climbed up the Craigbraneoch side of the glen and I didn’t fancy unnecessary ascent and descent (I am homozygous for the laziness gene). Better to cross Craig burn and walk along its eastern side heading for the col. And there before me was a footbridge. What’s more a little way past the bridge was a sign with a walker and an arrow pointing the way I was going.
Ascending Blackcraig
Here I committed an error of judgement, but with the best intentions. Why walk along the burn then start climbing after half a mile? I decided to begin a slow gentle climb as I went. Whenever my path was obstructed, by a rock for example, I would climb rather than descend. This had me gaining height more quickly than I had intended. A jutting outcrop had me climb even further, rather than drop below it. Before I knew it I was up amongst rocks and the best routes were up rather than across. So I climbed a good 500m short of the Pollachie Burn.
As the gradient eased, a chubby fox ran away from me but too quickly for the camera. I’ve never seen a chubby fox before. Those more rural than I have been pointed out that it was probably pregnant rather than fat.
Galloway Hills from Blackcraig
The summit of Blackcraigs has several substantial cairns and a small shelter to rest from the wind. The visibility and views were great. I could see the Galloway Hills, Arran, Kintyre (I think), Ailsa Craig, Screel, Criffel, the Lowthers, Tinto, Skiddaw, and distant snow covered peaks to the north. Closer were the craggy slopes of Craigbraneoch and the Carsphairn hills.
There is a faint track heading off along the fence towards Blacklorg, and another sign with a walker and arrow. It’s a straightforward walk, by the fence, across to Blacklorg. The terrain was easy going except in the col, where there was an expanse of waterlogged sphagnum moss, which tested the waterproofing of my boots. The right boot failed the test despite recent re-proofing.
“Pile of stones” Blacklorg summit
At Blacklorg another sign points across to Cannock Hill. Here I stopped for refuelling and considered my options. Follow the arrows over to Cannock? Continue on to Meikledodd and Alwhat? Both? Since the weather was so good I headed on towards Meikledodd, following the fence. The col here also had some watery moss. This section took me over Littledodd Hill which is really just a false summit of Meikledodd. Once at the unmarked summit, the Water of Ken could just be seen to the south.
Afton Hills from Alwhat
Next was Alwhat, again following the fence over the col. As I walked towards the summit, the Afton reservoir at last could be seen in its entirety and I was beginning to flag. I decided that I had used up all my metres of ascent, and from there it would have to be downhill.
Alwhat’s summit is of the minimalist type. No trig, no cairn, but some fence posts to lean on. While leaning, rehydrating, musing, and gazing at the views, I found my inner strength gradually returning. The options at this point were to head down to the reservoir (no more ascent) and back on the road, or over to Cannock Hill and Craigbraneoch.
I had decided earlier that if I arrived at Alwhat within four hours I would go for the extra hills. It was 3h 36m. My dislike of descent-reascent had led me to to consider contouring back round by Meikledodd. This now looked quite a long way and I suspected the terrain would be less easy on the lower slopes. The slopes up to the col between Blacklorg and Cannock hill didn’t look especially steep so I decided to take a direct approach.
The way from Alwhat to Cannock
I headed down into the Montraw glen heading for the end of the Blacklorg burn, and from there climbed just a little west of north to rejoin the fence on the col. The valley actually has a number of drainage ditches, so the ground wasn’t as wet as I had expected and the climb was easy going. Here I met another post indicating the way.
Cannock Hill is the first and largest of three prominences on a spur arising from Blacklorg, the other two making up Craigbraneoch. Cannock has a small cairn and great views. Another post nestles in the col between Cannock and Craigbraneoch and points towards the dam. Presumably there is a way down that way.
I continued on to the rocky summit of Craigbraneoch for a final sit down and to finish my coffee while enjoying the views.
Craigbraneoch and the path below it
Rather than head directly off the rocky north face of Craigbraneoch I decided to head back to the col and down from there. I had been able to see from Blackcraig that the path up the valley has been extended much further than that shown on google earth and I intended to get on to that.
I began heading down a little short of the col, certainly to the north of Horse Craig, which had me negotiating some stony sections but soon got me to the path. Unfortunately there was a deer fence to climb to get to it. From there it was as easy as following the path, then track, back to the farm.
I felt obliged to pause briefly at Afton Water which was indeed flowing gently. My final decision was how to cross it. There is a ford, a vehicle bridge and a footbridge. I chose the latter.
This was a pleasant walk, in beautiful weather, with excellent views. The hills themselves are a little monotonous, though the walk can be spiced up by using some of the rocky sections as I had done. If a shorter walk is needed it looks as though there is a way marked route taking in Blackcraig, Blacklorg, Cannock Hill, and Craigbraneoch.
Warm, negligible wind and scattered showers was somewhat off the mark. The weather man had badly misread the Veiled One’s mood. So our ambitious plan, hatched in the belief that the goddess of winter was slumbering, a linear walk from Mungrisdale to Blease Fell via Sharp Edge, had to be adjusted.
The new plan was to climb Blease Fell, walk the ridge and assess the feasibility of Sharp Edge, with Scales Fell as an alternative descent. I regarded the downgrading of the Sharp Edge route from “planned” to “possible” as a move in the right direction. We still hoped that the weather, especially the mist, might yet clear.
The road from Threlkeld to the Blencathra centre allowed us to warm up and shed a layer of insulation before the steeper climb over Blease Fell. The path has three sections. The first 200m is a wide grassy easily recognised path which gently crosses the close contours. Several other paths cross this. The next section crosses an area Wainwright calls a grassy plateau but has 150m of climb. The path here is narrower, less obvious at times but still easy to follow. The final section, the steepest, has a wide stony zig-zag path that cannot be missed. Unfortunately the hill remained clothed in mist so our only views were of grass, stones and occasional cairns.
Our vanguard, the brothers Wylie, having forged ahead, paused for the plodders to catch up and doled out morale boosters, both physical (sweets) and psychological (we were at about 760m). We expected to reach the ridge in another 50m or so but it seemed a lot further. The mist made assessing our position and distance difficult, but looking at the GPS track, quietly recording deep in my bag, the assessment was only 30m or so out.
View from Blencathra
Sadly the visibility on top was even worse, and the wind stronger. We were able to see the first few metres of the south facing cliffs, but nothing could be seen of the southern ridges. We made our way along Blencathra’s ridge over Gategill to the summit at Hallsfell, heads down, clothes rippling in the wind.
Lathered up
Brian by this time had begun to foam. He apparently had a bottle of shower gel in his rucksack and the top had come off allowing it to leak out down his back and legs. Elaine thought it was Lynx but I don’t think it could have been because we walked past a few female walkers and none of them ripped off their clothes or threw themselves at Brian. Perhaps the Lynx effect is reduced in cold rain.
At the summit we decided the weather ruled out the Sharp Edge route so we would head down the path over Scales Fell. I was keen to walk along to Sharp Edge to have a look at it before heading down. We followed the path but eventually came to a dead end. It seemed strange that such a well worn path would just end at a steep drop but end it did. I did wonder if there was a faint path lower down but with the mist it was difficult to see. We were in fact at the top of Sharp Edge.
almost down
The weather if anything was worsening and since we could not be certain where the various paths heading down would lead, we decided to apply David’s wisdom that the best route is the one you know and go back the way we came. So we headed down Blease Fell, the best descent of Blencathra according to Wainwright. The cloud base had risen a little to 500m or so, so on the way down we could see Derwent Water and Cat Bells.
Kirriereoch and Tarfessock had been on my to-do list for a while. Unfortunately my research suggested there was no easy way up these two hills. The walk from Slaethornrig looked to be the shorter option but would include some unpleasant tussocky terrain. I had experience of this from my Shalloch walk and didn’t fancy it unless I toughened up a bit or needed some penance. The alternative was to climb from the west, but I had read that the approaches were tough, crossing areas of felled forest and required a burn crossing that seemed quite wide on the OS map.
Since the weather was good, both sunny and dry, I thought the time had come to grasp the nettle and climb these hills.
Track to Tarfessock
I headed for Kirriereoch Farm off the Straiton Road. My plan was to park by the picnic area or Kirriereoch Loch and walk from there. But the forestry track looked in good nick so I drove on. And on. And on. Over the Pillow Burn then right towards the trees. Here I found a group of mobile toilets. Perhaps they are for forest workers, or just stored here? There was plenty of space to park a car and still leave room for other vehicles to turn.
My plan had been to head along a forest break heading east and then strike out for the slopes of Tarfessock. But there looked to be another way, following a line of fence posts onto the hill. There even seemed to be a track, with footprints, leading that way.
It was a good choice. The track continued up the slopes of Tarfessock all the way to the summit. The first 5 minutes or so is over what would have been muddy terrain, but this was mostly dried up. Once past the tree line the ground was dry. The track led up over a couple of false summits to the top of Tarfessock. A very pleasant walk with Shalloch-on-Minnoch and Kirriereoch to either side. Once on the summit, a rather flat rock strewn area, the views are extensive.
Tarfessock panorama
There are the buildings at Slaethornrig and Tunskeen, the alternate start to these hills. Beyond them the lochs Riecawr and Macaterick. The Dungeon Hills, Loch Enoch, Merrick, Mullwharchar, and the Rhinns of Kells made up the rest of the panorama.
From Tarfessock, a track leads off towards the lochan strewn ridge leading to Kirriereoch. This ridge tops the Carmaddie Brae below which the area has numerous boulders. The boulder covered area looks as though it would be a pleasant walk (over to Tunskeen), but I know better.
The ridge has several small lochans and is made of hillocks. The track often leads to the top of a bluff. So either many people have done as I have done, walked to the edge then turned back to find another way, or they have climbed down. Despite leaving the track many times, my route would soon rejoin it. The main problem during this section is the view of Kirriereoch which appears to have very steep sides. I had hoped that some obvious, less steep, route up would appear but it did not.
Boulder slopes of Kirriereoch
I decided that following the track was the best hope of finding the way up. The climb is up boulder slopes interspersed with grass. No obvious path existed so I just picked my way up trying to keep on the grass where I could and occasionally scrambling up rocky parts. While climbing a worryingly steep section I heard an aircraft. I was expecting a search and rescue helicopter but it did not sound right. Once I felt safe enough to turn round I saw it was a fixed wing job, but not a light aircraft, an RAF Hercules in the usual grey camouflage. The impressive part of this was that it crossed the col lower than me, then dropped even lower to cross the Doon forests. I would have been at about 700m-750m and was looking down on it.
Kirriereoch eventually flattened out. At first I thought I could see the top of a cottage on the summit. It seemed strange that such a large structure would be built up here and that I had not heard of it. It was in fact a shelter but my mind was playing tricks regarding size and distance perception. Similar problems occurred in finding the actual summit. The shelter was clearly not the highest point and I was not convinced that either of two cairns were either. I spent some time walking to what looked to be the summit then spying somewhere that looked higher. During this wandering I often had the experience of walking towards a place that looked higher but with my other senses telling me I was walking downwards. I presume this is something akin to the gravity hill illusion which occurs when the true horizon cannot be seen.
The way off Kirriereoch is as easy as following a dyke. The terrain is easy, on close cropped grass, and a track suggests many others have walked this way. After a mile the dyke is replaced with fence posts and after a further half mile the posts take a right turn. This is to avoid the very steep Torrs of Kirriereoch. A boulder, the Carnirock Stone marks the change in direction.
Unfortunately once below about 350m the ground is water logged grassland. My main concern was whether I would be able to get over the Cross Burn. I had planned for the worse (wading then walking the rest of the way wet) and brought a full change of clothes in the car. There were several possible crossing points leading to the forest fire break.
Cross Burn and Kirriereoch
But. The track I was following continued on and would eventually join the fence line that I had started on, so I kept on it. The Cross Burn water was very low and it was actually easy to get across though the banks were pretty waterlogged and needed care. By this time I was only half a mile from the car and was spending my time thinking how much easier it had been than I had imagined.
A barbed wire topped fence was to my right and clearly I would need to cross it at some point. In one place it was sagging and it seemed a good place to get over. I placed a hand carefully on the wire and easily cocked my right leg over. Unfortunately the ground on the other side was boggy and my foot sank much lower than expected. My brain must have rapidly calculated that there was soon to be an intimate meeting of my wedding tackle and the barbed wire. Some reflex kicked in and threw my left leg up over the fence beginning a pirouette. This movement had both angular momentum (anticlockwise) and linear momentum ( sideways and downwards). Physics dictates conservation of momentum, so like a toppling spinning-top I continued rotating onto the waterlogged ground. It was only an inch or so of water once I was lying in it, but it’s amazing how quickly it can be absorbed into clothes. The camera somehow stayed dry. Surveying the damage, I had gouged both index fingers and wiped these with a handy-wipe. Antiseptic had to wait for the first aid kit at the car (ah the joy of stinging).
It was lucky I had brought the dry clothes really.
Particularly galling was the fact that the barbed fence fell apart about 50m further on and I could have just walked across it.
Overall this is a very good route. It would certainly be worth repeating but it is probably best to avoid it in wet weather. Had I headed back along the forest break as originally planned I would have crossed the burn at about 330m rather than 290m. This would have avoided the wetlands, but who knows what the forest break would be like? I’ll find out next time.
The Moffat hills are whalebacks, which from a distance look like drumlins that have grown into giants. This walk shows another terrain, the steep sided crags of the Blackhope and Carrifrans glens.
There is a parking spot large enough for a couple of cars near Blackshope cottage. If there was any question as to whether the walk was appropriate for dogs, some one had left a useful information sign addressing that very question.
Dog friendly?
Looking up Blackhope glen the long ridge running up to Saddle Yoke looks impressive, something like an elongated ziggurat. The walk starts following a farm track but at a sheep fold it is best to head off the track and up the hill. There is a stile over the fence, always a good sign that some route passes that way. The initial climb is steep but not uncomfortably so. As I climbed there were several tracks some of which seemed to gradually climb, which is unusual for animal tracks. I followed a couple of these, wondering if they might be part of a long zig zag path up, but didn’t see any switchbacks in the path so eventually just climbed straight up.
The first 45 minutes are a bit of a slog up the rises of the ziggurat, one false summit after another, but then the view opens up. A narrow path leads up to Saddle Yoke which stands between the steep sides of Swatte Fell and Carrifran Gans, each sporting 400m drops. There was even a little snow left in the shade of Hartfell Craig.
Saddle Yoke (panorama)
Once above 400m the walk was much more enjoyable with the path, and summit, ahead easily visible. There was now even a little breeze to cool the hot sun, but I suspected that sunscreen or longer sleeves might have been in order. Luckily I had brought my sunhat.
Saddle Yoke is the smaller of the Saddle Peaks, Under Saddle Yoke being 10m higher despite the name. From a distance the summit looks like an old-fashioned saddle, but up close you wouldn’t guess it. There is a small cairn just below the summit of Saddle Yoke, and I rested my rucksack on it while having a well earned snack and stowing my first water bottle, now empty. I have given up using a water bladder since I never know how much I have left and have a tendency to take sips from habit rather than need.
The small col in the Saddle is about a 35m drop and 45m climb. The path is narrow but not dangerous. All the same I wouldn’t recommend this part of the walk in strong winds. In that case it might be safer to cross the col on the right of the path. If you were to fall that way, a fence below might prevent you going all the way down.
Goats on Saddle Yoke
Once over Under Saddle Yoke I was surprised how much more ascent there was ahead of me, another 200m up HartFell Rig. I followed the fence down, and had intended following it until it met the fence heading up Hart Fell. Some mountain goats stopped their grazing to watch the strange creature in a sunhat wander past. A pair of hares also stood watching me but scarpered when I got the camera out. Once I was at Priest Crag I decided that following the fence up another 100m only to come back down was a waste of energy. I couldn’t see the fence on Hart Fell Rig at first, but spotted it from Priest Crag. I headed straight across to the fence.
This may have been a false economy in effort. The terrain would in normal circumstances have been a mixture of water meadow (higher up) and peat bog (lower down). Because we had had a few dry days it was merely waterlogged (sodden footwear grade) and needed some care to avoid the standing water (partially hidden by grass). For all I know, following the fence could be just as bad, but next time I’ll try sticking with the fence.
The 200m up Hartfell Rig and onto Hart Fell itself is on firm ground. It is about a mile and a half up to the summit of Hart Fell, but most of the climb is in the first half mile. The views to the south, looking down Blackhope glen are of the Ettrick hills, and to the north, Talla reservoir and its surrounding hills. The haze, unfortunately, meant the photos were poor. I had hoped that the haze might have added atmosphere to the photos, but it merely spoiled them.
Whirly Gill and Saddle Yoke
The last time I was on Hart Fell, it was covered in snow and so cold that my face was numb. This time I was warm enough in a t-shirt and had sunburn. As I arrived at the trig point, another walker was leaving, heading west, the only other person I saw on the hills. The trig point’s shelter provided a welcome seat while I checked my route on the map.
There is a well trodden route heading southwest along with the fence. This heads into a col then up onto Falcon Craig. There were no birds of prey to be seen here but one was circling on the other side of the valley over Saddle Yoke. The path is close enough to the edge to give very good views of Saddle Yoke, Redgill Craigs, Saddle Craig and Whirly Gill.
Swatte Fell (not the summit)
The next hill is Swatte Fell, one of those flat topped hills with no obvious summit. I had followed the track as it peeled away from the fence but soon realised that I was missing the summit. After some backtracking and wandering about I found a small cairn with a pole stuck in it. Unfortunately, this and another one like it seem to have been built by a practical joker since neither seem to be the actual summit.
The fence continues on over then down from Nether Coomb Craig, eventually crossing the Hang Burn. I had read that it was important to stay south of the burn so I climbed the fence and continued down the hill eventually joining a faint vehicle track leading to a gate.
From here the going was easy. A footpath leaves the vehicle track taking a slightly steeper route down than the vehicle track, though they merge again a little further down the hill. This section gives some views of Hanging Gill and the steep hill beside it. Getting down that would certainly be a challenge.
As I walked off the hill I had my only mishap, slipping in a pool of slurry. Luckily some slapstick moves with sliding and windmilling of the arms prevented me falling flat on my back. Strange how the mind works though. This event must have lasted only a second but I had time to wonder how I would drive home covered in excrement. I could have worn my waterproofs I suppose.
A short low level walk to escape the snow showers that had been forecast. As it was, we had rain, hail, biting cold winds and warm sunshine, all in a couple of hours.
The walk starts at the Dundrennan Abbey car park then heads briefly, about 200m, along the A711 before turning down a smaller road heading towards Port Mary. This road follows the Abbey Burn for a mile or so and then crosses it at Port Mary Bridge.
The road has a further junction about a quarter of a mile further along. The smaller track continues on, through a red gate (padlocked open) with various signs warning the unwary not to touch military debris. This reaches the coast at Burnfoot bridge and would have been my chosen route but the track was flooded up ahead so we turned right, towards Port Mary. A hundred metres or so along here there is a signpost pointing north which has the helpful word “footpath” on it.
So the footpath it was, with the initial agreement of, but later chagrin, of Mrs Drow n Smirr. This path rises towards Fagra farm and has good views of the Solway, England, and the Isle of Man. The cliffs at Port Mary can be glimpsed as can the Solway wind farm and Sellafield. There is a large establishment across at Girdstingwood which is, I presume, a barracks.
Dundrennan Abbey
Here, unfortunately, the weather changed. Cold, wind and rain was added to the slightly muddy ground. The rain, at least, was short-lived. Once the rain had passed we could see the shower moving over the solway, while sun bathed distant Bengairn producing a small rainbow.
As we approached Fagra the footpath took a dog-leg adding a little to the distance but now had a more substantial surface and quickly led us back to the road. Fagra Farm was the highest point on the walk but still about 40m short of Fagra Hill’s top, a third of a mile away.
The road then meanders down towards Dundrennan giving excellent views of the Abbey ruins across the Abbey Burn.
Dundrennan Abbey
Dundrennan Abbey, founded in 1142 by Fergus of Galloway, is now ruined, but nicely kept if you know what I mean. It was the first of three Cistercian Abbeys in Galloway, the other two being at Glenluce and New Abbey. The sun was considerate enough to show itself for the photos.
Lord of Galloway?
I was able to find the Knight’s grave which some think could be the resting place of Alan of Galloway, the last “king” of Galloway and one of the 16 signatories of Magna Carta. His daughter Devorguilla is the source of the phrase “Queen of the South”. It was she who endowed Sweetheart Abbey which was called New Abbey differentiating it from the old Abbey at Dundrennan.
On 15th May 1568, Mary Queen of Scots spent her last night in Scotland at Dundrennan Abbey, before escaping to England, where she would subsequently be imprisoned and executed. I presume Mary Port takes its name from that event.
Wickerman
On the way home we passed some standing stones, by the aptly named Standingstones Burn, and a large wicker man which must be a remnant of the Wickerman music festival.
7.8 miles. 947m ascent. 6h 55m
