We came from different airts this morning. The Killie boys met at Davie’s and those from the south met at Jimmy’s. Coffee was on offer so the proposed meeting time in Muirkirk was pushed back. We gathered at the Walkers car park at Kaimes at 9:45. The rain had gone and touches of blue could be seen in the sky and the forecast was for a brighter afternoon (Here we go believing weather forecasts again) so the signs were good for a first-class outing.
Johnny was skiing somewhere in France and Robert was missing with a sare leg (genuine this time not gaiter induced) but we were joined by a guest in Davie Cluny, a guest in this group because Davie is still tied to the chalk face. Keep up the good work, Davie, our pensions need the likes of you.
The intention was to walk along the old Sanquhar road to the Deil’s Back Door and return over Wardlaw. Davie Mc suggested the reverse because we would then be going down over the hard stuff at the back of Wardlaw. His suggestion was adopted unanimously. So we set of along the old road as far Grievehill where we turned westward for Tibbie’s Brig. Peter, whose interest in geology is legendary in the group, was pointed in the direction of the fossil bearing strata downstream of the brig. A further visit to the area was in order as far as Peter was concerned.
The River Ayr Way was left beyond Tibbie’s and a track was followed taking us across the moor toward the base of Ward Law. Then it began to rise up the hill itself. The fit pair of Davie and Rex set the pace and, as is their wont, made this fast. Calls from the rear elicited the response of, ‘We’ll stop just up here’. Mutterings and mumblings and downright mutiny saw the speedy pair well up the hill with the rest stopped to admire the view. And now the sun shone on Muirkirk and the hills to the north. Perhaps that was Ben Lomond seen through the gap.
The group was re-united as the track ran out into the moor. The moor around Muirkirk is grassy and wet. It doesn’t help when quad tracks churn up the underlying soil and turn it into liquid peat. And this was the stuff we had to find our way through. This was where Davie C regretted wearing walking trainers as the oose overflowed his shoe-tops. Eventually the wet gave out to drier, heathery slopes as the hill steepened. And it was easy walking now and the top of the hill was gained quicker than we e
xpected. Elevenses were take by the summit cairn.
Sunshine and cloud chased each other across the landscape and the prospect was much more extensive now. Cairn Table blocked the view to the east but the Lowthers in the south held snow wreaths, as did the Galloways to the south-west, Arran in the west and the Arrochar Alps in the north. The Ayrshire plain was a mix of sunlight and shadows. Jimmy reckoned he could pick out his own house and rest agreed for they said, ‘Aye, right!’. But good things must come to an end and it was time for us to move on.
The grasses grew thicker and more tussocky the further down the hill we came and we found the going getting tougher - but at least it was downward as Davie suggested. It continued a lot longer than we expected and the group was split, three at the front and the rest bringing up the rear some hundred metres behind. It was the rear group who spotted the mountain hare still with its winter white for the advanced group had their heads down ploughing through the rank grass. The hare and ‘the disc’ lightened what was a hard section of the day and it was a relieved bunch that gathered at the shearing pens at Glenmuirshaw for a breather. Another hare was spotted here. And was missed by those who had missed the first one.
We made the dog-leg round the head of Gass Water to Glenmuirshaw to find the rickety wooden bridge that would take us across the Glenmuir water to the mouth of the Connor Gorge. We were now to follow the burn through the gorge, crossing and re-crossing the water, to the foot of the waterfall called the Deil’s Back Door. The usual comments were made about Paul’s swimming ability but it was Jimmy who showed him how to fall into the burn with a degree of class. Then Davie C really regretted wearing trainers for he too found himself unexpectedly paddling. At the foot of the falls we had lunch while Davie wrung out his socks and muttered things to himself.
We opted for the short walk out from the falls. This entailed climbing the wall of the gorge beside the scree fall. Not to Peter’s liking, this. Not to anybody’s liking today as the steep slope took it toll on already tiring legs after the slog from Wardlaw to Glenmuirshaw. Then we crested the lip of the gorge and breathed slightly easier. But the travail was not finished yet. The flank of Connor Hill held rank grass and this was nearly as hard going as Wardlaw. The sun shone on the pale, winter dead grass and we had to screw eyes against the glare. But we were still able to spot the deer, at least the first group did for we were split again. Roe Deer they were, three of them bounding effortlessly across the hillside. We wished we could move as easily.
The group gathered again at the sheep rees on the old Sanquhar Turnpike road. We were to follow this old road back to Muirkirk. Last time we were here this section of the road was a fine dry grass track. Now it has been cut up by quad-bike tyres and is a combination of dry track and peaty glaur. Avoiding the worst of these quagmires we came to the Range Cleugh. How the road crossed this was conjectured at as we climbed down into the cleugh and out the other side without halt. The other side of the cleugh is where we found the wettest part of the old road. And Davie C had wet feet again. (So had Davie Mc for his boots were leaking.) At the top of the pass where the road should have been better, we found the same quad damage as earlier and the same precautions were taken to keep clean feet. But the road did improve and we walked casually down to the Sanquhar Brig.
Peter had heard of the Caul’ Water Spoot and went in search of it. The rest, with the exception of Jimmy, walked on. We were in two groups again as we walked back to the Kaimes car park in warming afternoon sunshine. A super day.
Thirst was quenched in the Coach House Inn in Muirkirk.
Johnny was skiing somewhere in France and Robert was missing with a sare leg (genuine this time not gaiter induced) but we were joined by a guest in Davie Cluny, a guest in this group because Davie is still tied to the chalk face. Keep up the good work, Davie, our pensions need the likes of you.
The intention was to walk along the old Sanquhar road to the Deil’s Back Door and return over Wardlaw. Davie Mc suggested the reverse because we would then be going down over the hard stuff at the back of Wardlaw. His suggestion was adopted unanimously. So we set of along the old road as far Grievehill where we turned westward for Tibbie’s Brig. Peter, whose interest in geology is legendary in the group, was pointed in the direction of the fossil bearing strata downstream of the brig. A further visit to the area was in order as far as Peter was concerned.
The River Ayr Way was left beyond Tibbie’s and a track was followed taking us across the moor toward the base of Ward Law. Then it began to rise up the hill itself. The fit pair of Davie and Rex set the pace and, as is their wont, made this fast. Calls from the rear elicited the response of, ‘We’ll stop just up here’. Mutterings and mumblings and downright mutiny saw the speedy pair well up the hill with the rest stopped to admire the view. And now the sun shone on Muirkirk and the hills to the north. Perhaps that was Ben Lomond seen through the gap.
The group was re-united as the track ran out into the moor. The moor around Muirkirk is grassy and wet. It doesn’t help when quad tracks churn up the underlying soil and turn it into liquid peat. And this was the stuff we had to find our way through. This was where Davie C regretted wearing walking trainers as the oose overflowed his shoe-tops. Eventually the wet gave out to drier, heathery slopes as the hill steepened. And it was easy walking now and the top of the hill was gained quicker than we e
xpected. Elevenses were take by the summit cairn.Sunshine and cloud chased each other across the landscape and the prospect was much more extensive now. Cairn Table blocked the view to the east but the Lowthers in the south held snow wreaths, as did the Galloways to the south-west, Arran in the west and the Arrochar Alps in the north. The Ayrshire plain was a mix of sunlight and shadows. Jimmy reckoned he could pick out his own house and rest agreed for they said, ‘Aye, right!’. But good things must come to an end and it was time for us to move on.
The grasses grew thicker and more tussocky the further down the hill we came and we found the going getting tougher - but at least it was downward as Davie suggested. It continued a lot longer than we expected and the group was split, three at the front and the rest bringing up the rear some hundred metres behind. It was the rear group who spotted the mountain hare still with its winter white for the advanced group had their heads down ploughing through the rank grass. The hare and ‘the disc’ lightened what was a hard section of the day and it was a relieved bunch that gathered at the shearing pens at Glenmuirshaw for a breather. Another hare was spotted here. And was missed by those who had missed the first one.
We made the dog-leg round the head of Gass Water to Glenmuirshaw to find the rickety wooden bridge that would take us across the Glenmuir water to the mouth of the Connor Gorge. We were now to follow the burn through the gorge, crossing and re-crossing the water, to the foot of the waterfall called the Deil’s Back Door. The usual comments were made about Paul’s swimming ability but it was Jimmy who showed him how to fall into the burn with a degree of class. Then Davie C really regretted wearing trainers for he too found himself unexpectedly paddling. At the foot of the falls we had lunch while Davie wrung out his socks and muttered things to himself.
We opted for the short walk out from the falls. This entailed climbing the wall of the gorge beside the scree fall. Not to Peter’s liking, this. Not to anybody’s liking today as the steep slope took it toll on already tiring legs after the slog from Wardlaw to Glenmuirshaw. Then we crested the lip of the gorge and breathed slightly easier. But the travail was not finished yet. The flank of Connor Hill held rank grass and this was nearly as hard going as Wardlaw. The sun shone on the pale, winter dead grass and we had to screw eyes against the glare. But we were still able to spot the deer, at least the first group did for we were split again. Roe Deer they were, three of them bounding effortlessly across the hillside. We wished we could move as easily.
The group gathered again at the sheep rees on the old Sanquhar Turnpike road. We were to follow this old road back to Muirkirk. Last time we were here this section of the road was a fine dry grass track. Now it has been cut up by quad-bike tyres and is a combination of dry track and peaty glaur. Avoiding the worst of these quagmires we came to the Range Cleugh. How the road crossed this was conjectured at as we climbed down into the cleugh and out the other side without halt. The other side of the cleugh is where we found the wettest part of the old road. And Davie C had wet feet again. (So had Davie Mc for his boots were leaking.) At the top of the pass where the road should have been better, we found the same quad damage as earlier and the same precautions were taken to keep clean feet. But the road did improve and we walked casually down to the Sanquhar Brig.
Peter had heard of the Caul’ Water Spoot and went in search of it. The rest, with the exception of Jimmy, walked on. We were in two groups again as we walked back to the Kaimes car park in warming afternoon sunshine. A super day.
Thirst was quenched in the Coach House Inn in Muirkirk.
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