The day promised much. The overnight frost meant a bright and sunny start to the morning and the destination was an interesting and scenic part of the country so, when we gathered at Davie’s place, spirits were high. And six of us - Davie, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Peter & Rex - travelled eastward towards Biggar and the valley of the Culter. Yet, as we came towards the hills, it was obvious that the promise of the morning would not be fulfilled for these were the hills making the clouds that now trailed the sky and the tops were clothed in thick, grey mist. Even in the valley of the Culter the raw wind was felt and we knew it was blowing over unseen snow on the tops. And it was into this wind that we started our walk.
The first 300m (325 yards for the old folk) was on tarmac and the pace was kept high to warm the blood. Then tarmac was left and the grass path was found that would take us to the sharp climb onto the shoulder of Culter Fell. Peter, whose first outing this was since before Christmas, found the climb and the pace testing today. At this point Davie would like it minuted that it was not he who was setting the pace today, it was Mr Porter! Peter’s discomfort was not eased by the strength and temperature of the wind that blew constantly on our right sides as we climbed. So a halt was called to admire the view. Not much in the close view for the clag still hung on the hills but the sun still shon
e in the Clyde valley and lit up the high flats of Motherwell. Then it was upward again. The path took us up beside a line of shooting butts and it was suggested that coffee should be taken here as these would provide some shelter from the arctic wind and there would be none on the top. Three stopped in one butt while three made for another higher up.
After coffee, the climb was continued steeply but eased as the shoulder of the hill was gained. By then, though, we were into the freezing fog and a dusting of snow. The ground was frozen just sufficiently to bear the foot until weight was put on it when it gave way with a crunch and provided slightly less than easy walking. But the top was won easily enough given the conditions. The bitter wind and freezing fog combined to grow horizontal icicles from the trig point and fence and Rex got busy capturing this with the camera. But these were not conditions in which to linger and we were soon making the descent.
The initial descent was through the frost rimed grass and powdery snow into the teeth of the wind. But conditions improved as we came out of the mist into the shelter of the hill and it was a lighter-hearted group the came down the heathery slopes to find a shooter’s road. And Rex continued to set the pace. The group split into two - the fit and the sensible - four to the front and two in the rear. The four stopped for lunch at the reservoir dam and waited for the two. And waited for the two. And waited. Holly’s bark attracted the attention of the two who had somehow lost the shooter’s road and had taken to the heather again. They appeared out of the trees above and to the right of the diners, thanking Holly for attracting their attention. Navigation lessons needed here. Or at least lessons on how to tell a road from a heathery slope.
The way was now down the service road. Estimated were made of the time it would take to complete the trip and these ranged from 15 minutes to three-quarters of an hour. The fifteen minute guessers set the pace, the three-quarters of an hour boys took their time. It took thirty-five minutes. Well done Davie.
Another good outing despite the cold wind.
We chose The Crown in Biggar for our post walk refreshment.
The first 300m (325 yards for the old folk) was on tarmac and the pace was kept high to warm the blood. Then tarmac was left and the grass path was found that would take us to the sharp climb onto the shoulder of Culter Fell. Peter, whose first outing this was since before Christmas, found the climb and the pace testing today. At this point Davie would like it minuted that it was not he who was setting the pace today, it was Mr Porter! Peter’s discomfort was not eased by the strength and temperature of the wind that blew constantly on our right sides as we climbed. So a halt was called to admire the view. Not much in the close view for the clag still hung on the hills but the sun still shon
e in the Clyde valley and lit up the high flats of Motherwell. Then it was upward again. The path took us up beside a line of shooting butts and it was suggested that coffee should be taken here as these would provide some shelter from the arctic wind and there would be none on the top. Three stopped in one butt while three made for another higher up.After coffee, the climb was continued steeply but eased as the shoulder of the hill was gained. By then, though, we were into the freezing fog and a dusting of snow. The ground was frozen just sufficiently to bear the foot until weight was put on it when it gave way with a crunch and provided slightly less than easy walking. But the top was won easily enough given the conditions. The bitter wind and freezing fog combined to grow horizontal icicles from the trig point and fence and Rex got busy capturing this with the camera. But these were not conditions in which to linger and we were soon making the descent.
The initial descent was through the frost rimed grass and powdery snow into the teeth of the wind. But conditions improved as we came out of the mist into the shelter of the hill and it was a lighter-hearted group the came down the heathery slopes to find a shooter’s road. And Rex continued to set the pace. The group split into two - the fit and the sensible - four to the front and two in the rear. The four stopped for lunch at the reservoir dam and waited for the two. And waited for the two. And waited. Holly’s bark attracted the attention of the two who had somehow lost the shooter’s road and had taken to the heather again. They appeared out of the trees above and to the right of the diners, thanking Holly for attracting their attention. Navigation lessons needed here. Or at least lessons on how to tell a road from a heathery slope.
The way was now down the service road. Estimated were made of the time it would take to complete the trip and these ranged from 15 minutes to three-quarters of an hour. The fifteen minute guessers set the pace, the three-quarters of an hour boys took their time. It took thirty-five minutes. Well done Davie.
Another good outing despite the cold wind.
We chose The Crown in Biggar for our post walk refreshment.
1 comment:
Great report Jimmy. Forget the lessons - I'll bring a ball of string
Johnny
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