The amendment to the amendment to the amendment to today’s outing saw seven of us - Alan, Davie, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Rex & Robert (and Holly) - gather at the waterworks in Glen Afton. Even here an amendment to the plan was made. Blackcraig was to be the destination but, in the light of the forecasted weather and the present conditions of hill fog and lying snow and the wet snow just starting to fall, an amendment was made. Now Steyamara was to be our first objective with the intention of seeing what conditions were like higher up and then deciding where we should go from there.
As usual, Holly led the way from the fisher’s car park running up the road towards the face of the dam. Here was another example of our uncaring public bodies. What was, under Ayr County Council, once a pleasant tarmaced road with short-clipped grass verges is now a pot-holed remnant with mosses and rank moor grasses encroaching. And the fountain at the foot of the dam is a disgrace with crumbling concrete and slimy overgrowth. Even the cast iron Edwardian/GeorgeV gateposts have been uprooted to be replaced by galvanised steel. Another two feet of hardcore has been laid over the road resulting in the fountain wall being nearly buried. If the old councillors could see the neglect of the place by Strathclyde Region and West of Scotland Water, they would hang their heads in embarrassment. Still, enough of the rant. Let’s get on with the walk.
Once the height of the dam was gained we could feel the south-easterly stirring. It wasn’t cold but it was damp and threatened rain. And we turned our back to this and started the slant up Steyamara. The grass was coarse and without paths and the upward progress proved less than easy. Then we encountered the snow, soft and wet with long deep drifts where we sank up to the knee. Energy sapping stuff this. It was a relieved group that sat for a breather in the shelter of the crag on the top. And a breather was all that we got then for the view was limited. Fog hung on the higher hills, breaking only to show dirty white fangs of snow. And the view down the glen became obscured as minute pellets of snow were blown on the wind.
It was into this spindrift-like snow that we turned, heading for Cannock Hill. Down off Steyamara then, through snow drifts and rank grass, trying to follow the ‘path’. Bob’s mountaineering instincts prevailed here - he only lost the path once - and took us to the foot of the climb to Cannock Hill. We stopped for elevenses in the shelter of a small crag just off the summit of Cannock. The dull grey water of the reservoir looked bitterly cold and the drifts of snow made the day look arctic no matter what the thermometer said. Yet we were snug enough in our shelter.
Two minutes after leaving the shelter of our rock we were on the summit of Cannock. We were also into the light fog. This was enough to obscure the trees in the valley below and it was these trees that would be our guide on the descent for we had enough of the hill for the day. Davie took the high route for the top corner of the forest but Jimmy spotted the short-cut where the forest had been cleared and there was a direct gap through to the road below. The silly followed Jimmy. Davie was forced to follow the silly. The forest had been cleared right enough but the brashings had been left. And branches. And logs. And they were now well hidden by the tussocky grass and slimy moss. We stumbled and tripped, slithered and slipped, grumbled and mumbled and outright swore. Jimmy led from the front. Well in the front. Well out of earshot. Just as well for he was being called all sorts of things. But he did get us to the forest road.
We were to stay on this road through the trees for the next mile or two towards the starting point. Here we found frog spawn for Davie who claimed to not having seen any this year yet. The, now obligatory buzzard was spotted by the advanced five but was totally missed by the tardy pair who, for all we know, were still miscalling Jimmy for the short-cut. Where the road split near the dam Jimmy suggested a deviation (Well he would, wouldn’t he?). This brought us out of the trees high above the glen to Castle William. Here we had lunch. Davie asked Jimmy the derivation of the name knowing full well that the latter would rise to the bait. He did. Castle William is named after William Wallace who had a winter camp here in thirteen something-or-other. This was a great place for a look-out for Wallace and, for us, a great view down the glen. At least as far as atmospheric conditions allowed.
After lunch it was a short hundred metres to the finishing point giving us a much shorter walk than usual - only 6.7 Km - but enough given the conditions.
As usual, Holly led the way from the fisher’s car park running up the road towards the face of the dam. Here was another example of our uncaring public bodies. What was, under Ayr County Council, once a pleasant tarmaced road with short-clipped grass verges is now a pot-holed remnant with mosses and rank moor grasses encroaching. And the fountain at the foot of the dam is a disgrace with crumbling concrete and slimy overgrowth. Even the cast iron Edwardian/GeorgeV gateposts have been uprooted to be replaced by galvanised steel. Another two feet of hardcore has been laid over the road resulting in the fountain wall being nearly buried. If the old councillors could see the neglect of the place by Strathclyde Region and West of Scotland Water, they would hang their heads in embarrassment. Still, enough of the rant. Let’s get on with the walk.
Once the height of the dam was gained we could feel the south-easterly stirring. It wasn’t cold but it was damp and threatened rain. And we turned our back to this and started the slant up Steyamara. The grass was coarse and without paths and the upward progress proved less than easy. Then we encountered the snow, soft and wet with long deep drifts where we sank up to the knee. Energy sapping stuff this. It was a relieved group that sat for a breather in the shelter of the crag on the top. And a breather was all that we got then for the view was limited. Fog hung on the higher hills, breaking only to show dirty white fangs of snow. And the view down the glen became obscured as minute pellets of snow were blown on the wind.
It was into this spindrift-like snow that we turned, heading for Cannock Hill. Down off Steyamara then, through snow drifts and rank grass, trying to follow the ‘path’. Bob’s mountaineering instincts prevailed here - he only lost the path once - and took us to the foot of the climb to Cannock Hill. We stopped for elevenses in the shelter of a small crag just off the summit of Cannock. The dull grey water of the reservoir looked bitterly cold and the drifts of snow made the day look arctic no matter what the thermometer said. Yet we were snug enough in our shelter.
Two minutes after leaving the shelter of our rock we were on the summit of Cannock. We were also into the light fog. This was enough to obscure the trees in the valley below and it was these trees that would be our guide on the descent for we had enough of the hill for the day. Davie took the high route for the top corner of the forest but Jimmy spotted the short-cut where the forest had been cleared and there was a direct gap through to the road below. The silly followed Jimmy. Davie was forced to follow the silly. The forest had been cleared right enough but the brashings had been left. And branches. And logs. And they were now well hidden by the tussocky grass and slimy moss. We stumbled and tripped, slithered and slipped, grumbled and mumbled and outright swore. Jimmy led from the front. Well in the front. Well out of earshot. Just as well for he was being called all sorts of things. But he did get us to the forest road.
We were to stay on this road through the trees for the next mile or two towards the starting point. Here we found frog spawn for Davie who claimed to not having seen any this year yet. The, now obligatory buzzard was spotted by the advanced five but was totally missed by the tardy pair who, for all we know, were still miscalling Jimmy for the short-cut. Where the road split near the dam Jimmy suggested a deviation (Well he would, wouldn’t he?). This brought us out of the trees high above the glen to Castle William. Here we had lunch. Davie asked Jimmy the derivation of the name knowing full well that the latter would rise to the bait. He did. Castle William is named after William Wallace who had a winter camp here in thirteen something-or-other. This was a great place for a look-out for Wallace and, for us, a great view down the glen. At least as far as atmospheric conditions allowed.
After lunch it was a short hundred metres to the finishing point giving us a much shorter walk than usual - only 6.7 Km - but enough given the conditions.
We returned to the Sun in Cumnock for our happy hour. Somehow we seem to visit the Sun only after a day of poor weather. Ironic or what?
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