The wimps were outvoted. In the light of the rain just past and the hill fog hanging down to well under a thousand feet, they suggested an alternative to the hill. And with the weather forecast predicting rain they thought this would be preferable. They were outvoted and the proposed climb of Merrick was on.
We left Bruce’s Stone in Glen Trool around ten thirty. Robert set the pace. He had heard the forecasters say that rain would arrive in the early afternoon and he wanted to get back before he got wet (we think he might turn into a gremlin if he gets wet) so he set a fast pace. Two kept up and the rest lagged behind. Up beside the Buchan Burn, we went. The view backward was dismal with the fog flat-capping the surrounding hills and the lowering sky turning the landscape grey. And the view didn’t improve as we climbed higher for we were now into the trees and the gloom of the forest made the day seem more depressing. Only the company cheered the progress for we are basically a cheery bunch despite outward appearance. Then we were out of the trees and approaching the old shepherd’s cottage of Culsharg. We halted at Culsharg for it was a long time since breakfast and hunger came calling and the worst of the climb was still to come. ‘We don’t do enough of this sitting about’, said Davie and we all agreed.
We would all like some of what Davie has in his peece. After the break it was he who set the pace. And an remorseless pace he set. Up to the forest road, up through the trees, up into the fog on the open hillside. Some managed to keep up. Many struggled. Johnny was ill. He thinks it might have been something he ate the previous night that disagreed with his alcohol system. A summit was called and Johnny decided to return. Peter decided to return with him. ‘We won’t be able to see anything from the top anyway’, was the gist of what he said though these might not have been his exact words. The pair returned.
So six of us proceeded with Davie and Rex leading. Up to the drystane dyke and the first patches of snow where it had drifted deep and thawed slow. Up beside the dyke to the top of Benyellary with shouts form the rear for breathers for the pace of the leading two was unrelenting. A brief halt on Benyellary gave some respite. Then it was off again. Still, the worst part of the climb was over and the remaining mile distance and five hundred feet of altitude was a casual stroll. Or so we thought.
The fit pair continued to set a blistering pace. Then came Alan and Jimmy. Paul and Robert brought up the rear. The fog never lifted as we crossed the ridge and climbed the short-grassed flank of the hill. Needless to say it was the fit pair who reached the summit cairn first. Then Alan and Jimmy. Then Paul. Robert wasn’t best pleased with us for walking on and leaving him struggling. We sympathised and tucked into the peece. No wonder he struggled for it was only twelve forty-five, two and a quarter hours since leaving Bruce’s Stone. ‘One hour fifty of walking time’, said Rex consulting his GPS and sounding quite proud.
The last time we were here (7/3/2007) the fog broke up as we sat at the cairn. Hopes were raised today as a brightening of the fog came with a slight warming of the air. But it was false hope for the fog remained. Davie’s assertion that you can see twenty-seven lochs from here could not be challenged today as much as
some would have liked. But Jimmy did point out where Loch Doon would have been if we could have seen it.
It was decided to return by the same route as we had come. And who set the pace this time? The bold Robert! Speed walking and running at times, he was determined not to be at the rear this time. But the rest kept up. Down over Merrick‘ broad flank, along the ridge, up over Benyellary and down the drystane dyke. The pace was fast with the lead changing as terrain changed. ‘Scenery’, shouted Jimmy as, at last, there was a slight break in the fog and we could see westward to Loch Ochiltree. And Davie could be heard muttering, ‘Twenty six, twenty seven’, as more and more scenery was revealed and more lochs were seen. And the sun had the cheek to show itself now. The day was turning pleasant and the fog was burning off the hills.
On the descent towards the trees Robert ran past the leading group with a shout of, ‘That’ll save you having to turn round to see where I am’, and hurtled on downward. We caught up with him as he ran out of steam at the tree line. It then became Jimmy and Rex’s turn to set the pace down to Culsharg bridge where they had to wait for the rest. A short drinks break here was accompanied by Davie saying ‘We don’t do enough of this sitting about‘. We all agreed. But we still continued the rapid descent to the bothy and down Buchan to Bruce’s Stone. An hour and a half after leaving the summit of Merrick we met the returned pair at Bruce’s stone. We await their report as an addendum to this.
This was a fast walk - two and a bit hours up, one and a half hours down - and is probably a testament to how fit we are all becoming now. But we don’t do enough sitting about. Agreed? And, it’s the last time we are going to listen to a weather forecast.
We tried the House of the Hill for refreshment but it was shut so it was all the way back to Minishant with our tongues hanging out before we could get a pint.
We left Bruce’s Stone in Glen Trool around ten thirty. Robert set the pace. He had heard the forecasters say that rain would arrive in the early afternoon and he wanted to get back before he got wet (we think he might turn into a gremlin if he gets wet) so he set a fast pace. Two kept up and the rest lagged behind. Up beside the Buchan Burn, we went. The view backward was dismal with the fog flat-capping the surrounding hills and the lowering sky turning the landscape grey. And the view didn’t improve as we climbed higher for we were now into the trees and the gloom of the forest made the day seem more depressing. Only the company cheered the progress for we are basically a cheery bunch despite outward appearance. Then we were out of the trees and approaching the old shepherd’s cottage of Culsharg. We halted at Culsharg for it was a long time since breakfast and hunger came calling and the worst of the climb was still to come. ‘We don’t do enough of this sitting about’, said Davie and we all agreed.
We would all like some of what Davie has in his peece. After the break it was he who set the pace. And an remorseless pace he set. Up to the forest road, up through the trees, up into the fog on the open hillside. Some managed to keep up. Many struggled. Johnny was ill. He thinks it might have been something he ate the previous night that disagreed with his alcohol system. A summit was called and Johnny decided to return. Peter decided to return with him. ‘We won’t be able to see anything from the top anyway’, was the gist of what he said though these might not have been his exact words. The pair returned.
So six of us proceeded with Davie and Rex leading. Up to the drystane dyke and the first patches of snow where it had drifted deep and thawed slow. Up beside the dyke to the top of Benyellary with shouts form the rear for breathers for the pace of the leading two was unrelenting. A brief halt on Benyellary gave some respite. Then it was off again. Still, the worst part of the climb was over and the remaining mile distance and five hundred feet of altitude was a casual stroll. Or so we thought.
The fit pair continued to set a blistering pace. Then came Alan and Jimmy. Paul and Robert brought up the rear. The fog never lifted as we crossed the ridge and climbed the short-grassed flank of the hill. Needless to say it was the fit pair who reached the summit cairn first. Then Alan and Jimmy. Then Paul. Robert wasn’t best pleased with us for walking on and leaving him struggling. We sympathised and tucked into the peece. No wonder he struggled for it was only twelve forty-five, two and a quarter hours since leaving Bruce’s Stone. ‘One hour fifty of walking time’, said Rex consulting his GPS and sounding quite proud.
The last time we were here (7/3/2007) the fog broke up as we sat at the cairn. Hopes were raised today as a brightening of the fog came with a slight warming of the air. But it was false hope for the fog remained. Davie’s assertion that you can see twenty-seven lochs from here could not be challenged today as much as
some would have liked. But Jimmy did point out where Loch Doon would have been if we could have seen it.It was decided to return by the same route as we had come. And who set the pace this time? The bold Robert! Speed walking and running at times, he was determined not to be at the rear this time. But the rest kept up. Down over Merrick‘ broad flank, along the ridge, up over Benyellary and down the drystane dyke. The pace was fast with the lead changing as terrain changed. ‘Scenery’, shouted Jimmy as, at last, there was a slight break in the fog and we could see westward to Loch Ochiltree. And Davie could be heard muttering, ‘Twenty six, twenty seven’, as more and more scenery was revealed and more lochs were seen. And the sun had the cheek to show itself now. The day was turning pleasant and the fog was burning off the hills.
On the descent towards the trees Robert ran past the leading group with a shout of, ‘That’ll save you having to turn round to see where I am’, and hurtled on downward. We caught up with him as he ran out of steam at the tree line. It then became Jimmy and Rex’s turn to set the pace down to Culsharg bridge where they had to wait for the rest. A short drinks break here was accompanied by Davie saying ‘We don’t do enough of this sitting about‘. We all agreed. But we still continued the rapid descent to the bothy and down Buchan to Bruce’s Stone. An hour and a half after leaving the summit of Merrick we met the returned pair at Bruce’s stone. We await their report as an addendum to this.
This was a fast walk - two and a bit hours up, one and a half hours down - and is probably a testament to how fit we are all becoming now. But we don’t do enough sitting about. Agreed? And, it’s the last time we are going to listen to a weather forecast.
We tried the House of the Hill for refreshment but it was shut so it was all the way back to Minishant with our tongues hanging out before we could get a pint.
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