A walk unlike our usual hikes. We assembled at an unusual meeting place, the cafe of DGone, where we found David babysitting a young lady from Finland. Elaine and Lynn, bedecked in dancescottishforpudsey.org were spirited into the inner sanctum to look after the injured bear. So we three guys were left to make lady Finn feel welcome (I didn’t catch her name) while watching for Pudsey to walk past. While waiting we met various people, David’s in-laws dropped by, and a woman who told us she had a group of two year olds dancing and they were frightened of bears. She introduced herself by looking at me and saying in a rather accusatory tone “I know you”. Well she does (non-biblically), and “hello” would have been more appropriate. And how the hell do you teach scottish country dancing to two year olds. Won’t they keep falling over? David got it right when he said it would be like trying to herd cats. They looked older than two years old to me.
Eventually the cafe began to empty with shouts suggesting Pudsey was outside. He had sneaked by without us noticing. Turns out he used a back door. Obviously he has some experience of this showbiz stuff. Anyway that was our cue to go backstage. Oh the joy of flashing a backstage pass.
We found our room, slipped into our gear and waited for Pudsey to return. He had certainly warmed up quite a bit and we needed to play the fan upon his head several times throughout the afternoon to cool him down. He warmed up very quickly once on stage and he was a little clumsy, presumably because the loss of binocular vision impaired his visio-spatial sense. I understand now why he needs his helpers to guide him about. He also has syndactyly with only three fingers on each hand, which made me feel quite unexpectedly uncomfortable.
Happily no outsiders were there to see David’s medley of dirty dancing moves. They brought tears (of laughter) to my eyes but I thought video would have been inappropriate. I regret that decision now.
It was strange that Pudsey varied quite a bit in his dancing ability at different times. I can only presume he liked some music more than others. I had hoped we could have had a picture with all of us with Pudsey, but there always seemed to be one of our party missing. One very curious thing was that whenever Andy was missing, Pudsey walked like Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch. Strange.
We weren’t allowed to feed Pudsey during his appearance, but I felt sorry for him even though he did seem a bit portly. I left some snacks lying about in the back room and some did disappear. I’m pleased he didn’t need to use the toilet. I don’t know much about bears but I do know that they have to s**t in the woods. God knows how we would have got him out to Mabie.
The dancers costumes were very good, at least those I saw. More than £1500 was raised so I heard.
I look forward to the youtube videos. You can see some more pictures of Pudsey below.
Well, what can I say? We met, fed, bursting with energy, wagging tails (those that had them), and ready for a day forecast with sunshine, to feast our eyes on the views from the Rhinns of Kells.
Three options faced us, circular from Forrest Lodge or linear from Forrest to the Green Well of Scotland. Well, horseshoe rather than linear but topologically speaking it’s the same thing.
On the drive out to Carsphairn we spotted plenty of birds of prey, many grouse and even a red squirrel, but the hills were to prove less well stocked. No goats on Meikle Lump for example, despite others reporting them always present.
So, having dropped off one car on the old road at Bridgend, we crowded into Joanna’s car and set off for Forrest Lodge, driving past the Energy building with a turfed roof. The sign at the parking area warned there was No Parking after 8 pm. But what was that to us at 9.30 am?
I had chosen this nice easy walk to break in my new boots for the halloween outing.
The roads in the estate are all named after Olsens or people I presume connected to them, and we set off along Prof. Hans Heiberg Road. I’m not entirely sure who the professor was. There are several Hans Heibergs, but the most likely I think is Hans Herman Hjortdahl Heiberg (1904-2000) a Norwegian forester and botanist.
The Fred. Olsen company, which began as a shipping concern also now has interests in renewable energy which might explain the turf roofed building. More on the history of Fred Olsen.
As I mentioned we set off along the eponymous track, overtaken at one point by a farmer on a quad bike with a spaniel sitting behind him. The path has a gentle rise at first but then rising to a level sufficient to warm the muscles. Oscar was exploring the woods but returned after something made him yelp. Probably a sting from a wild haggis.
A little way after Kristin Olsen Road we passed a green observation tower which looked as if it ought to be guarding some far off frontier, perhaps that between Galloway and civilisation. And a little beyond this there is a post marking the path to Meikle Lump. Now path it may be, defined as a stretch of ground that is not completely impassable, but it was very boggy and at one point blocked by a fallen tree. It led us to a stile and gate and the hills proper. Here the gradient increased significantly to red face level.
The last time I came along here I turned left and walked to the wall which I then followed up Meikle Lump and Millyea, But it had been very wet so I recommended an oblique direction to the wall. Unfortunately I was defeated by tussocks (may they rot) and went the boggy way instead.
Three things differed in this ascent compared to my last. I was with company which added a certain esprit de corps and buoyed me along a little faster. The weather was worse, though not terrible, it was dry but the cloud was low and we soon climbed into low visibility. But thirdly, it was a damn sight steeper this time.
By the time we reached Meikle Millyea and its sneaky summit 300m from the trig pillar, we were in cloud. I’ve put some of the photos from the last walk on a separate page so you can compare views from the same place.
Unfortunately the extensive views the Rhinns afford were denied to us and this changed the walk from the sight-seeing expedition I had hoped it would be, to more a heads down route march up and down a bunch of hills, all looking much as the last did.
We followed a tumbled down dyke from Meikle Millyea (Meikle=large (scots), Meall Liath =grey hill (gaelic)) over Milldown (brown hill) and onto to Millfire (wooded hill, or hill of ravens). Up on the ridge the wind had picked up considerably, though not to a level where it impeded our progress. I was pleased to find that my hood offered good protection to my cheeks. I had previously stopped on Millfire for lunch but the small cairn didn’t offer enough shelter for five. We sat down behind a small hillock, which took the edge off the wind and ate with little conversation. My coffee was the cool side of luke warm, which just about summed up my spirits too. Some of the views in better weather, from Millfire are on the photo page.
There is a descent of about 90m from Millfire to the col between it and Corserine, which was a easy descent with improving visibility as we came out of the clouds. There are some cairns here marking the point where the old shepherd’s track crosses over the Rhinns of Kells.
The 190m up to Corserine does not look particularly steep on the map, nor to the naked eye, but it certainly feels steep. The summit of Corserine, unfortunately was in cloud. No panoramic views and no visible points for navigation either.
Then it went pear shaped.
We could see the trig point on Corserine but only because we were standing next to it. Map, compass and discussion gave us our direction, and looking at the GPS track we did set off in the correct direction but gradually turned to the left without realising it. Consulting the magic device we were given a grid reference that seemed so unlikely that we dismissed it as incorrect, which in retrospect was a mistake.
When we reached the downhill section I didn’t recognise it. There was scree rather than rock and grass. The scree looked too dangerous so we headed back up and came across a faint path to follow. I do recall crossing a more defined track, which must have been that from Corserine to Carlin’s Cairn. We seemed to be following a ridge but were in fact contouring onto Meikle Craigtarson.
Eventually we descended far enough to come out of cloud and were faced by a descent onto a minor hill with a forest track at its edge and a large hill to our right, apparently running north with a loch visible in the distance. The bad news gradually sank in. We were 200m down the NW face of Corserine below the Fallincherrie Scar just above Meikle Craigtarson.
It looked like a long climb back up. It felt like a long climb. But the tussocks were not too bad and 20-30 minutes had us on the col between Carlin’s Cairn and Corserine. We had spent about an extra 75 minutes on the detour.
So we were faced with climbing back up Corserine and heading back to Forrest Lodge or pressing on to the second car at the Green Well. The latter was slightly longer but avoided the steep climb down Craigrine which I didn’t fancy doing in low visibility having already gone wrong once before.
We had done three Donalds so far, so on we went for another three. The climb to Carlin’s Cairn seemed relatively easy compared with what had gone before, but yet again we were back in cloud.
From a distance both Meaul and Cairnsgarroch look like minor humps on the ridge, and they don’t jump out as tall hills from the OS map. But up close they are impressive with some very steep sides. Both easily over-reach Criffel.
The 200m drop from Carlin’s Cairn took us back out of cloud and by the time we had climbed Meall we were in sunshine. And this wasn’t just any sunshine, it was the golden light seen in the last hour of daylight.
From Meaul we could look north to the mighty hulks of the Rhinns of Kells, still topped with cloud, and south to Bow and Coran of Portmark bathed in golden light. A wall heads down from Meaul and over Cairnsgarroch with an accompanying fence to climb along the way. A navigational aid when we didn’t need one.
Cairnsgarroch was a place for another breather. It was the last summit but not the last hurdle. Heading down was initially slightly tussocky but we made good progress. The end was in sight, but still quite far away. I worried that the last few metres would have to be steep because we were still quite high up.
Steep it was, and the tussocks were larger, but with zig-zags my knees just whimpered rather than screamed. My left ankle though was burning. David, as ever, exhibited his disdain for the terrain by forging on at an inhumanly fast speed.
He appeared to be making for a gate to the SE of Craighit. As I approached it I was thinking that a gate meant a track and a gate that big meant a vehicle track. Sadly the gate was an optical illusion made by the junction of three fences. No track there but we made for one one winding around the north of Craighit.
We followed the quad track through wet grassland until it led us to the footbridge as marked on the OS map. The bridge was an ex-bridge. All that remained was a single rusting spar. From a distance it looked as if this might be crossable while holding onto nearby trees, but close up this was obviously not possible.
Further along the burn looked to be fordable but we decided to look for a better crossing. David managed to cross on a metal pipe using walking poles as stabilisers. I knew I would not manage that. We all eventually got across on stepping stones. Then we were just seconds away from the path which increased in quality as we followed it.
The path was like water for a thirsty man. Ahead were the Carsphairn Hills and to either side wet grasslands bathed in evening light. We crossed Carphairn lane on a stone bridge, then over the Water of Deugh on the A713 and back to the car at last.
We were back at Forrest Lodge well before the 8pm deadline.
A challenging walk in poor visibility. The pathless sections coming off Cairnsgarroch were unpleasant but the ridge itself is easy walking. It was a shame we were denied the scenery.
6 Donalds (including one Corbett) and one Donald Top in a day.
Not a walk, but my first fun run. 5K around the roads and woods of Yorkshire.
My intention had been to walk the course, but that proved impossible since it was not a well defined route so I had to jog with the crowd to know where to go.
Rather worryingly we began by running downhill for 10 minutes. We climbed over walls, through fences, ran along forest tracks, muddy and rocky, then got lost in a park but I didn’t have much spare concentration to admire my surroundings. I reckoned every 5 minutes was one eighth of the run done and spent too much time concentrating on my watch.
You might wonder how I got lost when in a group who know the area? Well after 20 minutes the group paused for the stragglers (#1 and #6 in picture above) to catch up. Even as we approached the waiting athletes, us still jogging, it was clear to me that a discussion had taken place, and there were now two groups, them and us.
We were to split into the 5K and the serious runners. The 5K team (#1 and #6) were given directions, which I must say were accurate but incomplete. Luckily a passing local sent us in the right direction.
Well, I suppose it’s an achievement, but why will it be my last run? Let W H Davies speak for me.
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Walking gives more time for this sort of thing.
As a Lancashire lad, it pains me to say it, but Yorkshire did look quite nice.
It was excellent walking weather; dry, cool, blue sky and occasional clouds. Indeed the sunshine was more than we expected judging by our red faces by the afternoon.
We set off along the tourist route, which started off as a gentle climb up a rocky path with the Buchan Burn to our right and then became more gentle still when it entered the forest and led us to the bothy at Culsharg. The valley here between Benyellary and Buchan Hill looks like something out of a western, but there were no herds of bison as far as I could see.
From Culsharg there was only a little more forest track and then the open hillside of Benyellary, the hill of the eagle, which looks like a gentle easy slope but is deceptive. I hadn’t seen Elaine sweat perspire glisten before, but given her transformation back to terminator form after a snack, I’m coming to believe that she is some form of popeye-like being but banana rather than spinach fuelled. The group certainly drifted apart as we climbed the slope.
Once we reached Benyellary’s summit the views were extensive with Ireland, Ailsa Craig and Arran to the west; the lochs of the Ice cauldron, the Dungeon hills and the Rhinns of Kells to the east and Clatteringshaws to the south. We could even see the aerial on Benniguinea and Cairnsmore of Dee, that David and I had fought our way up previously. I’m with Poe’s raven on that hill….Nevermore.
The ridge to Merrick, the Neive of the spit, has a dyke to follow leading to the top of the Rig of the Gloon and Merrick’s grassy summit with its scattered white boulders. From here we could see along the ridge of the Awful Hand with Shalloch on Minnoch at its far end. Standing here Cairnsmore of Carphairn, was visible beyond Corserine. So standing on one of Galloway’s Corbetts, we could see the other three.
I had wondered what route we should take on our challenge next Spring. I had thought we would go via Backhill of Bush but from Merrick it looks as though we should head by Mullwharchar and up Meikle Craigtarson.
As we rested and fed on Merrick, I don’t think we were aware that the downhill section of this walk was to be the harder part.
Redstone Rig is 300m of descent in a mile. Not too bad but we did have something to warn us if a steep part was coming. If Andy has his hands out of his pockets, beware…you need to take care. A hare ran across our path as we got closer to Loch Enoch and met the boggy/muddy ground characteristic of the area. The silver sand of Loch Enoch was only visible on the far side, that on our side being submerged.
It is here that I must admit that my desire to see the Grey Man of Merrick led us off course, though from memory the other path would have been similar terrain. The GPS tracking went pear shaped in this area but was working fine up to the point where I headed off to check the rock formations for faces. This shows that I led you up the wrong valley, it should have been along the fence that we climbed over. Ah well, next time.
So it was back to tussocks, tumbles, and hidden holes in the ground. How does David manage to move so quickly through that terrain? He lent me a walking pole to help me down a steep section but I found it hindered me in the tussocks. I think that the evil spirits of this area manifest as midges when the weather suits them but turn into tussocks at other times.
The tussocks gave way to boot-swallowing mud once we got to Loch Neldricken and a discernible path, leading past Loch Valley, the Rig of the Jarkness and down by the Gairland Burn. I took several tumbles of increasing embarrassment while walking this path. The first was a mere genuflection, the second a fall onto dry grass, the third a classic slapstick flat-on-back in the mud affair. Following this I developed greater, but misplaced, confidence and happily stepped into mud until a mud puddle swallowed my right boot and seeped over the top.
Eventually the path grew rocky again and then once we passed through a gate it became a good quality path. He can manage tussocks and mud but the good path was too much for David who bowled over here. Perhaps the spell that allowed him to speed upright through the difficult path had worn off.
Andy spotted a snake, and we wondered if it was a grass snake or slow worm. I’ve googled it and think the latter more likely from the appearance.
Then we were back on the Loch Trool road, for a brief walk across the Buchan bridge and up to the car. Luckily I had foreseen the eventuality of my mishap and had a change of clothes.
Overall a good walk up the hill, a character building, muscle strengthening and balance testing downhill section, good views of Galloway’s Ice Cauldron and the Galloway Corbetts, all in fine weather.
An alternative walk to that planned, due to illness and forecast low cloud. The illness wasn’t mine but once on the hills I joined the club and foreshortened the walk. The plan had been to head for Gana Hill via Wee Queensberry, Queensberry, and Earncraig but I bailed out after Queensberry.
I parked at Mitchellslacks (see picture above) which was once the home of James Harkness, a covenanter who ambushed a party of dragoons in 1684. I believe the “CT” on the sign means Covenanters Trail. It’s over 400 years since those Killing Times and the area seems very placid now.
The weather was forecast as drizzle and the forecasters were on the mark, so I set off, and remained, in waterproofs, which means I was uncomfortable all day.
There is a farm track leading away from Mitchellslacks through sheep and grouse filled fields up towards a wee hill called The Law. The view therefore could be said to be Law and Ordure. The paths here had their fair share of deep puddles and it wasn’t long before I had a wet right foot. Damn you, refractive index.
I wondered what the strange upside down bins were for, until I saw the grouse around them. I also saw a sheep shake itself like a dog. I’m sure this isn’t particularly strange but I’ve never seen it before, and it was a black sheep.
I took the path to the east of the Law (the right side of the law!) which winds up and around before dropping down to a complex of dry-stone sheep pens. Here I forded the stream following which I had the unmistakeable squelch in my right boot.
From here I climbed up onto High Church and entered low cloud. The path ended, or I lost it and there was no hill visible to aim for so the going was slow, stopping to get my position from the magic electronic device and heading off in directions dictated by the magnetic device. And this while struggling over rough vegetation, placing feet in hidden water filled holes and overheating in technical textiles.
I found a cairn on the way up High Church which I interpreted as meaning I was going the right way. The cloud briefly cleared to reveal a hill with two tops which I presumed was Wee Queensberry and so I picked up the pace. Once on top I got out the camera, and as I did the cloud cleared a little more to reveal Wee Queensberry still ahead of me. So down into a valley and back up to climb Wee Queensberry (another 20 minutes). This hill has two tops one with a trig pillar and the other a cairn. The visibility was reasonable when I got there, you will see there is some blue sky on the picture of me on the hill. Unfortunately the cloud came down again and it was back to GPS and compass.
There are quad bike tracks on Wee Queensberry and I thought these might lead me up Queensberry but that was not to be. Between Big and Wee Q there is a boggy region without obvious paths. There are a few scattered trees and I wondered if this was where lonesome pines are reared.
Once the ground started to rise I presumed I couldn’t really go wrong and despite the lack of paths I came across several cairns which I took to meaning I was going the right way.
Once on top of Queenberry I found myself on a relatively flat hill without any obvious clue as to where the summit would be, and visibility was again poor in cloud.
More compass work got me to the summit, but the GPS records how I wandered about (lonely, in a cloud).
It was about now that I began to feel less well and decided to head straight down towards the farm track by Capel Burn. More wandering as I located the track to follow and set off. I obviously don’t have inherent directional ability because as I followed the track it veered such that I thought I was going in the wrong direction. So much did I believe that I was headed in the wrong direction that when the compass suggested it was the correct direction, I thought the compass wasn’t working. Perhaps there was an iron laden alien spacecraft beneath the ground interfering with the compass? I moved about a little but the compass still lied. Then I got out my iphone to use its compass, and since it works by GPS the spacecraft should not interfere. Turns out the compass was working correctly.
Once I was about 100m down Big Q the cloud started to lift and I could clearly see a track heading down, so my navigational problems were over. The path was clear, if muddy and in places quite steep. I think this is the tourist route.
Once down to the farm track, near some abandoned houses the way back was clear, though walking on pebbles and through deep puddles was a bit of a bind.
Congratulations to all on completing the Annandale way.
Tags for this walk: Bulls, quicksand, meadows, riverbanks, bridges, heiland coos, Criffel, Skiddaw, cairns, Nessie, signs where not needed, none when required, herons, totems, cornfields, graveyards, three trees, golf courses, rugby posts, boiler works, flotsam, shingle.
The forecast earlier in the week had been for rain, but the meteorologist’s inaccuracy was our gain, a warm dry day.
Having dropped off a car at the end of the walk we headed for Hoddom castle to start out on the final leg of our Annandale Way walk. We walked down to the footbridge at Mainholm, where we had left the Way last time. There was a tree devoid of branches on the other side which none of us recalled seeing before. I’ve looked at the photos from that walk but none were taken in that direction. Perhaps Vivienne will remember?
I unfortunately was hobbling along for the first few minutes and didn’t get into my stride until I had re-tied (loosened) my laces. Perhaps I’m allergic to golf courses.
We crossed our first bridge at Hoddom and turned right following the eastern bank of Annan water. After about 300m we passed an old graveyard, which is on the site of a monastery built in the sixth century by St Mungo. Eagle-eyed David spotted a heron in a tree and was our spotter for hidden Annandale way signs later in the walk. I wonder if he’s got one of those Steve Austin eyes.
We left the riverside only once to walk along Mein Water, passing cornfields, a ditch with algal bloom, a mare with her foal and even Nessie (see the pictures). Then over our second bridge and back along Mein water to the Annan.
Let me just say that I do enjoy learning new things and my enjoyment in this regard today was learning that my rule of thumb for identifying cows is wrong. As we walked into a field filled with beasts, we mused and joked about our meeting with the bull guarding the Roman road near Moffat. I shared my view that we were safe because bulls are usually alone and since this field had a dozen beasts they must be cows. The beasts’ and our paths were set to intersect and as we drew closer it became obvious that we were walking towards a dozen bulls. I think this was the only time I have heard Elaine use the word she did. The discretion:valour ratio directed us to give the beasts a wide berth and our pace did pick up according to the GPS.
This excitement was followed by a mellowing stroll through riverside meadows filled with pink and white flowers, before arriving in Brydekirk, crossing our third bridge and seeing another heron. Brydekirk seemed quite a sizeable place, or at least the church seemed quite a way from the bridge. We were now on the west bank of the Annan and headed south along the riverbank past Mount Annan watching the river grow as we walked.
The A75 bridge eventually came into sight and we passed under it before crossing the Annan on a footbridge (our fourth bridge). The pathway led us through a park, with rugby posts, and more importantly for us some benches to let us rest our weary feet and take on some food. What a psychological effect this can have. After eating a roll, banana and cereal bar, and putting a banana skin in the bin my rucksack felt dramatically lighter.
I had thought the walk would be along a street in Annan and was pleasantly surprised to find that the riverside walk in Annan was a well maintained and picturesque path with good views of bridges and wildlife (ducks).
We crossed the Sustrans bridge (fifth bridge) and circled right to head left. There was a National Cycleway millennium milepost (designed by Andrew Rowe) here which is said to reflect industrial and nautical motifs.
From here the path continued along the west bank of the Annan, through flatter wetland with the large industrial complex at Newbie coming in to view. We crossed our sixth and final bridge in the Milnfield Merse.
Once past Newbie the Anthorn radio masts with Skiddaw in the distance were directly ahead. To either side were fields with heiland coos and lowland cows. We eventually reached a shingle beach and walked along it for a few minutes with Criffel directly ahead. It was only on returning from the beach to the path that we found a sign warning us about the quicksand.
And then there was the cairn marking the end of the Annandale Way.
I wasn’t sure where to walk this weekend. I had originally planned to visit Loch Enoch and Craignaw, but didn’t fancy doing it in the rain, so Plan B was Hart Fell (shorter option). Somewhere in the planning stage, though, I switched to White Coomb. I didn’t fancy a long walk since the weather forecast was uncertain…different sites, different forecasts.
As it turned out most of the day was sunny, but with quite strong wind, particularly on the ridge. At one point I saw a sparrow flying backwards in the wind.
So I set off for the Grey Mare’s Tail (Moffat version), parked carefully, wondered at the relative lack of other cars, adjusted my rucksack belt to hold up my trousers, fired up the camera and headed for the path. I was careful not to look down, since I’m a scaredy cat with heights, but it only takes a few minutes to get up to the top of the waterfall then the path has only a mild gradient and there is no gaping valley to slip down. My reading had advised checking the burn where it meets a dyke coming down from Tarnberry, since I would be crossing it on the way back. It didn’t look too bad but I would be wary after heavy rain.
It took about 40 minutes to reach the south bank of Loch Skeen and I took some time (and pictures) while deciding which set of stones to use in crossing the Tail Burn. Two walkers had caught up with me by now and must have been amused by my wimpish approach to this crossing. I seem to lack the necessary “just go for it” attitude and tend to faff about carefully studying each rock.
From the Loch a faint path leads up towards Mid Craig, which is itself quite a commanding piece of rock. The path is waterlogged in places but dries out once it becomes steeper, and it does get steep, occasioning the use of hands in places, as it zig-zags up Mid Craig. Here I took my first starburst, an orange one. The pair who watched me dancing across the burn seemed to be following the same path. I was expecting them to overtake me but once I got to the ridge and looked back they had disappeared.
From the top of Mid Craig to the dyke between Firthybrig Head and Donald’s Cleuch Head there was no clear path but the ground was easy enough though full of tussocks (may the almighty damn them), and the usual hidden holes. There were several meandering paths, presumably made by sheep but most were heading in the wrong direction. Those going in the right direction usually veered off after a minute or two.
The walk was then just following the dyke. (Though that sounds somewhat inappropriate.) And follow the dyke I did, as it deteriorated from a waist high affair to an ankle high tumble of rocks. Either the wind up here can be pretty strong or the vandals are to be commended on their diligence. I must admit to being impressed that so much granite had been carted up so high to build the wall in the first place.
By the time I reached White Coomb, which had taken just under two hours, the wind had really picked up. My attempts to snap myself with the delayed shutter on the camera were mostly ineffective, the camera blowing over most of the time. The cairn on the summit of White Coombe was a rather pancake like affair, but I suppose if dry stone dykes blow over it would be wasteful to build something taller. It was however a neat affair and even seemed to have its own moat (or trench since it wasn’t full of water.)
The views from the summit were excellent: Hart Fell, The Lowther hills, Broad Law, some hills I don’t know to the south and even the Eildon Hills.
I had intended eating my sandwich at White Coomb, but the wind would probably have whipped it from my hand so I decided to delay until a more sheltered spot presented itself. (I eventually ate it at home.) So back to following the dyke.
The descent was steep in places and muddy as well. Not a good mix with strong winds but I only fell once.
I had seen distant rain which drew closer as the walk wore on. Eventually the darkness closed in and the first fine drops of rain began to fall, followed quickly with heavier spots. Once I had the full wet weather gear on (never a straightforward task for me, especially in strong wind) the sun came out again. Some occasional gusts of rain did fall every few minutes. Not enough for waterproofs, but enough to convince me to stay covered (and hot).
Rough Craigs was a trial. This is a steep rocky section on the way down and reminded me of the scrambling on our Lake District jaunt. On a couple of occasions rocks I placed my weight on slipped away. I’m sure it’s worse climbing down these sections. The winds made it more unpleasant.
The route follows the dyke all the way back to the tail burn which I managed to cross without a swim. I had an audience for the crossing, a family of three generations, so decided it was time to cross with style. I found the best rocks and decided the crossing would have to be fluent. None of this stopping to regain composure on rocks in the middle. Next time I’ll manage it, but I did manage to get across without falling in, without putting boots in above their top and without flapping my arms like a falling trapeze artist.
Then back down the tiled way, me in full waterproofs and everyone else coming up in tee-shirts. One elderly lady asked if I had “come over the top”. I did wonder what this meant as I walked on. My brain was in monosyllabic mode, though, so I just said “yes”.
Back at the now full car park, the National Trust had a sign about “The Roaring Linn”, the Grey Mare’s Tail, hence the title of this entry.
I think she chatters rather than roars.
PS I woke up this morning with quadriceps that are complaining they have had unaccustomed use. I obviously need more practice on hills.
Waiting at Lochthorn the weather was beautiful, blue sky and distinct shadows. But as we headed north in convoy the sky became greyer and looked like rain. I began to think I would be doing this leg in waterproofs again, but as it turned out we were treated to perfect walking weather.
Past St Anns we chose the layby nearer the walk this time (lopping half a mile off the distance) then headed off to Moffat. I obviously haven’t grasped which car to put my clean shoes in yet. Must remember: leave my clean shoes in the car that will be at the end of the walk.
Our walk started from Moffat’s station car park (the station closed in 1954 so there was plenty of space). A brief stroll along the A701 allowed us to get our pace up except for having to stop to give directions to a couple heading for the Galloway Country Fair. The way then took us along a lane to Dyke farm before joining the route of an old roman road which was guarded by a bull. This beast lay across our path and we mistook it for a cow at first. Misgivings began as we noticed it was the only “cow” in the field. Perhaps it had been naughty? Andy felt it had a female face. Well he can tell it to its face if he wants because as we got closer it stood up…definitely a bull. Luckily docile today.
Then under the M74, alongside the river Annan and along the tree shaded avenue to the disused hotel near Beattock. From there, over the railway and up the Crooked Road. Three quarters of a mile of gradual zig-zagging climb. Not especially hard going and with views of the Moffat hills, suckling calves and cartwheeling children. The way then heads off the road up an old drove road that gradually gives up any pretence of being a recognisable path, though it is marked on the OS map.
I was pleased to revisit Stanshielrig in better weather and snap another picture of the lone Rowan tree (see above).
Walking over Weatherlaw Knowe there were no waymarkers, nor any path for that matter. The only clue was an arrow at a gate. The fallen marker post I had seen with David was no longer visible. It was only by chance that we spotted a marker post in the distance and when we got to it the signs had faded away.
Stidriggs Hill which was ahead of us at this point apparently has a ruined fort. I hadn’t seen it when I was here in the rain, but couldn’t see it in the sunshine either. Perhaps you need to go to the top of the hill.
We crossed Kinnel water twice (on bridges) then entered
Edwardsrig Plantation. here the path forked twice without any indication which fork we should choose. We headed right each time. At the end of the path was an Annandale way signpost so as it turned out we had chosen correctly. Walking along we could hear gunshots and dogs barking from the country fair.
There were more cows to navigate around at Kinnelholm rig but then we were on the home stretch, with the country fair visible as well as audible.
Cafe Ariete, Moffat for coffee and cakes. (Plus chocolate milkshake for Mike).
0.2 miles 5 hours
