St Valentine’s Summer arrived early this year, starting on the ninth of the month, but it continued at least until today. When six of us - Alan, Davie, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul and Rex - gathered at the Institute at Muirkirk the sun was already warming the air after the frost of the night. Despite this frost, Jimmy felt it necessary to don gaiters for he knew the way ahead to be boggy. Davie, on the other hand, knew the frost would have hardened the ground and dried it out. Jimmy was mocked. Incessantly.
We walked southward along the old S
anquhar road, into the spring-like sun. The frost had cleared and only a thin crust of ice lay in the puddles. So the way ahead would be mucky after all? The going was easy now, the crack was good - Alan recalled shooting the white hares here. No wonder there’s none left now - and the Sanquhar bridge was reached without effort. Then came the hard and mucky bit. The old road was left and the path through the heather to the west shoulder of Cairn Table was taken. Davie was right. The frost had dried the ground sufficiently and any squelchy bits were easily avoided. Jimmy was mocked.
The slope steepened and we climbed through increasingly stunted heather on the dry flank of the hill. Elevenses were called and we halted at a cairn somewhat more than half-way to the summit. The view had been increasing in compass as we climbed and at coffee it was checked out. It was mainly to the west, down the valley of the Ayr to the coast. The peaks of Arran just showed above a clag hanging over the sea - ‘Polution’, said someone. ‘Atmospheric fog’, said Paul, ‘caused by the cold air meeting the warm water’. (Paul knows things.) Snow still lay in stripes on the New Cumnock and Galloway hills to let us know that it was still February despite the unseasonal warming of the day. We were now on the dry shoulder of the hill, the thin, dry peat overlying porous sandstone. Jimmy was mocked.
The climb to the summit was easy. The spring near the top was examined and an attempt at repair was made for the pipe was loose. But this was less than successful and the pipe stayed loose. Some time was spent on the top of the hill for this was a day to tarry there. The view was extensive. From Ben More in the north, through Arran (showing more clearly as the sea fog burned off) in the west, the Galloway hills and the Lowthers in the south to the Culter hills and Tinto in the east it was limited only by the horizon. Cameras clicked constantly.
The descent was made on the east side of the hill for we could see the estate road that would take us to Glenbuck lying below us. At first the going was good, through the stunted heather. Some crystalline snow was found lying in dirty patches and Jimmy delighted in tramping through it - he had gaiters on. Then the short heather gave way to tussocks of rank grasses and the going got harder. Wet patches and sphagnum bogs were encountered. Jimmy took these in his stride - he had gaiters on - while some of the rest had to pick their way carefully. The group split into two, Jimmy and Rex and Paul (not forgetting Holly) forming the advanced group. The sluggards were waited for near the end of the estate road. Jimmy was not mocked again.
This road took us eastward yet. Lunch was taken where the road crossed the infant Douglas Water. The temperature rose. Davie, who is known for his short legged attire, regretted not wearing the shorts today. Jimmy stripped off his gaiters, unzipped the legs of his trousers and walked in shorts and T-shirt for the rest of the day. The road lead on. ‘Downward all the way’, said Davie. Alan would like it noted that there were at least two mountainous climbs on this downward journey. On the second of these climbs we disturbed an early butterfly but it was against the light and was difficult to identify. It might have been a small tortoiseshell. Eventually the road took us to Parish Holm Johnny, looking over the drystane dyke asked, ‘Is that the lake?’. As one, Jimmy and Paul (our token Englishman) exclaimed ‘LOCH!’. And Johnny’s an Irvine man. A great drift of snowdrops nodded in the spring-like sun at our passing from Parish Holm to Glenbuck Loch.
The east dam of the loch provided another rest in the sun while Holly swam and chased sticks in the water. A flock of oystercatcher sported above the loch and some golden eye floated on the water but, apart from a young mute swan, nothing else could be spotted as we walked round the loch to the bird hide. Again some rest was had for it was a day for such things. The River Ayr Way was picked up here and followed back towards Muirkirk. Davie commented on, criticised and condemned the block of zinc coloured metal purporting to be art that marks the start of the Way.
The long walk on the straight of the old railway was just that for this is a particularly uninteresting bit of countryside. Davie, Jimmy and Rex remembered this part from the last time we did this walk but, try as we might, we could not convince Johnny that he was part of the group that day. It must be his age. The overly dressed stopped to take on water and cool down. Jimmy was perfectly dressed for the conditions. Did he mock? No, he remembered the old proverb, ‘He who laughs last gets a smack in the mouth’, so kept his shut.
The pace was upped at Auldhouseburn road as the infantile jockeyed for position for the final sprint. It was good to note that no matter how fast Paul set the pace, the group stayed intact, a comment on the general fitness of us all now. Enough energy had been preserved for Paul, Jimmy and Johnny to attempt a run to the finish. Paul won. The *@***#!
We pinted that day in the eighteenth century Coach-house Inn in Muirkirk.
PS These jottings are a personal recollection of the day. If there are any anecdotes that you would like included plese tell me.
We walked southward along the old S
anquhar road, into the spring-like sun. The frost had cleared and only a thin crust of ice lay in the puddles. So the way ahead would be mucky after all? The going was easy now, the crack was good - Alan recalled shooting the white hares here. No wonder there’s none left now - and the Sanquhar bridge was reached without effort. Then came the hard and mucky bit. The old road was left and the path through the heather to the west shoulder of Cairn Table was taken. Davie was right. The frost had dried the ground sufficiently and any squelchy bits were easily avoided. Jimmy was mocked.The slope steepened and we climbed through increasingly stunted heather on the dry flank of the hill. Elevenses were called and we halted at a cairn somewhat more than half-way to the summit. The view had been increasing in compass as we climbed and at coffee it was checked out. It was mainly to the west, down the valley of the Ayr to the coast. The peaks of Arran just showed above a clag hanging over the sea - ‘Polution’, said someone. ‘Atmospheric fog’, said Paul, ‘caused by the cold air meeting the warm water’. (Paul knows things.) Snow still lay in stripes on the New Cumnock and Galloway hills to let us know that it was still February despite the unseasonal warming of the day. We were now on the dry shoulder of the hill, the thin, dry peat overlying porous sandstone. Jimmy was mocked.
The climb to the summit was easy. The spring near the top was examined and an attempt at repair was made for the pipe was loose. But this was less than successful and the pipe stayed loose. Some time was spent on the top of the hill for this was a day to tarry there. The view was extensive. From Ben More in the north, through Arran (showing more clearly as the sea fog burned off) in the west, the Galloway hills and the Lowthers in the south to the Culter hills and Tinto in the east it was limited only by the horizon. Cameras clicked constantly.
The descent was made on the east side of the hill for we could see the estate road that would take us to Glenbuck lying below us. At first the going was good, through the stunted heather. Some crystalline snow was found lying in dirty patches and Jimmy delighted in tramping through it - he had gaiters on. Then the short heather gave way to tussocks of rank grasses and the going got harder. Wet patches and sphagnum bogs were encountered. Jimmy took these in his stride - he had gaiters on - while some of the rest had to pick their way carefully. The group split into two, Jimmy and Rex and Paul (not forgetting Holly) forming the advanced group. The sluggards were waited for near the end of the estate road. Jimmy was not mocked again.
This road took us eastward yet. Lunch was taken where the road crossed the infant Douglas Water. The temperature rose. Davie, who is known for his short legged attire, regretted not wearing the shorts today. Jimmy stripped off his gaiters, unzipped the legs of his trousers and walked in shorts and T-shirt for the rest of the day. The road lead on. ‘Downward all the way’, said Davie. Alan would like it noted that there were at least two mountainous climbs on this downward journey. On the second of these climbs we disturbed an early butterfly but it was against the light and was difficult to identify. It might have been a small tortoiseshell. Eventually the road took us to Parish Holm Johnny, looking over the drystane dyke asked, ‘Is that the lake?’. As one, Jimmy and Paul (our token Englishman) exclaimed ‘LOCH!’. And Johnny’s an Irvine man. A great drift of snowdrops nodded in the spring-like sun at our passing from Parish Holm to Glenbuck Loch.
The east dam of the loch provided another rest in the sun while Holly swam and chased sticks in the water. A flock of oystercatcher sported above the loch and some golden eye floated on the water but, apart from a young mute swan, nothing else could be spotted as we walked round the loch to the bird hide. Again some rest was had for it was a day for such things. The River Ayr Way was picked up here and followed back towards Muirkirk. Davie commented on, criticised and condemned the block of zinc coloured metal purporting to be art that marks the start of the Way.
The long walk on the straight of the old railway was just that for this is a particularly uninteresting bit of countryside. Davie, Jimmy and Rex remembered this part from the last time we did this walk but, try as we might, we could not convince Johnny that he was part of the group that day. It must be his age. The overly dressed stopped to take on water and cool down. Jimmy was perfectly dressed for the conditions. Did he mock? No, he remembered the old proverb, ‘He who laughs last gets a smack in the mouth’, so kept his shut.
The pace was upped at Auldhouseburn road as the infantile jockeyed for position for the final sprint. It was good to note that no matter how fast Paul set the pace, the group stayed intact, a comment on the general fitness of us all now. Enough energy had been preserved for Paul, Jimmy and Johnny to attempt a run to the finish. Paul won. The *@***#!
We pinted that day in the eighteenth century Coach-house Inn in Muirkirk.
PS These jottings are a personal recollection of the day. If there are any anecdotes that you would like included plese tell me.
1 comment:
A 110 mile stretch of straight flat railway line walk into Muirkirk.????!!! forgotten!!!
Age does plays its tricks.
Great report Jimmy.
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