The dry, sunny weather that has characterised May this year lingered on but today there was a cool easterly wind to take the edge off the late spring sun. Still, the sun was shining hazily from early morning and we anticipated a good walk. But, when we got out of the car at the Grey Mare’s Tale car park in the Moffat valley, the sun had gone and the easterly was cold. Though shorts were worn, jackets or jerseys remained on. And we moved quickly to warm the blood.
We took the well constructed path towards Loch Skein, climbing high on the east side of the burn. This path was steep and the climb caught the breath and tested legs still stiff from the car journey. But it did warm us up and get us height quickly. And it afforded some superb views of the main valley and the waterfall from the hanging valley in front of us. Woodland flowers - primroses, dog violets, woodrush and stunted bluebells - showed how the area was once wooded, part of the ancient Forest of Selkirk. Now these woodland plants flower in the open for the area is treeless, dry heather moorland. And our path climbed through this. Then the fall was below us as the path continued to climb. But the walking became easy once the sharp climb was over and we had gained the level of the hanging valley of Loch Skein.
We never made Loch skein. Near the drumlins we crossed the burn and found a path - a pad really, tramped by feet rather than properly constructed - up beside a drystane dyke. This dyke was to be our guide for the rest of the day. ‘Cloudberry!’, exclaimed Jimmy, almost excitedly, as he found a cluster of these Arctic brambles, a relic of the ice age, growing beside the path. We were to find more as the day and our walk progressed. But just at that time hunger called and we found a grassy knoll in sight of the loch on which to have elevenses.
The slope steepened considerably again as we started the climb of White Coomb proper. As is usual after coffee, Davie took off at a fair old lick. Robert threatened to do something anatomical to him if he didn’t slow his pace and Davie complied. We could see metaphorical tears come to his eyes at the very thought of what was threatened. So the pace was slowed. And the views were enjoyed for we stopped frequently. A pair of wheatear hedge-hopped the drystane dyke in front of us and when Davie explained the derivation of the name, the others became more interested to see their white rumps. Maybe we’re all becoming twitchers despite ourselves. And, as we crested the summit of White Coomb, the sun came out to add to a very pleasant part of the walk.
He sun brought with it clearer air, at least to the north for the southward prospect still held the haze and visibility was restricted in that direction. But to the north the view was extensive, from the closer hills of Talla and those around Culter, to Tinto and the Lowthers and the Galloways in the distance. Just across a deep cleugh Blackhope Scaur looked tempting and a suggestion was made for a future excursion here. But the wind still blew and it was too cool to hang around for long.
The walking on the tops was easy, on a sward of sheep cropped grasses. And we followed our drystane dyke down from the top and along the broad grassy ridge surrounding Loch Skein. We were not alone. Four or five hundred metres in front of us were three men. We caught up with them when they stopped and sat behind the dyke for a break. They were from Cumbria, come up to Moffat for the peace and quiet for the Lake District was getting too busy. We left them to their peace and quiet and walked on. They were the only folk we saw on the hill though many made the climb to the loch.
Jimmy wanted to look down on the loch so we left the dyke and paralleled it some fifty metres to the south. We certainly got to look down on the loch for the slope here was steep. And in the shelter of the rocks of a boulder field, over looking Loch Skein, we sat down for lunch, a leisurely lunch for we were sheltered from the wind, the sun was warm and it was a day for leisurely lunches.
After lunch Davie took off again. (We are convinced he has more than coffee in his flask.) The rest climbed casually through the boulder field to find the bold David waiting on the top of Lochcraighead. Robert didn’t threaten this time. He didn’t need to for we were now on the downward slope and Davie is slower on the downward. The views were now northward and eastward over Talla. And they were to stay with us for a while on the gentle descent of the hill. But the slope steepened and the view disappeared and we dropped quickly to the level of the loch.
This is where we thanked the weather god* for this fine spell for the path at this level lay through peat hags and sphaggy bogs and could have been much wetter. As it was it was mainly dry and any wet bits were easily avoided. Robert and Alan spotted great patches of cloudberry in full flower on this stretch and identified it correctly. There’s hope for them yet.
Holly was first to reach the loch. Well, in it really for the stick chasing swimming game was on. Davie and Alan threw the stick while Holly did the swimming and Bob and Jimmy did the watching. Had it not been for the cool wind, we might all have done the swimming for the afternoon sun was hot. And it got hotter as we walked through the drumlins, down the side of the burn and dropped steeply down beside the Grey Mare’s Tail to the car park in the Moffat valley.
A great day in superb country.
We took the well constructed path towards Loch Skein, climbing high on the east side of the burn. This path was steep and the climb caught the breath and tested legs still stiff from the car journey. But it did warm us up and get us height quickly. And it afforded some superb views of the main valley and the waterfall from the hanging valley in front of us. Woodland flowers - primroses, dog violets, woodrush and stunted bluebells - showed how the area was once wooded, part of the ancient Forest of Selkirk. Now these woodland plants flower in the open for the area is treeless, dry heather moorland. And our path climbed through this. Then the fall was below us as the path continued to climb. But the walking became easy once the sharp climb was over and we had gained the level of the hanging valley of Loch Skein.
We never made Loch skein. Near the drumlins we crossed the burn and found a path - a pad really, tramped by feet rather than properly constructed - up beside a drystane dyke. This dyke was to be our guide for the rest of the day. ‘Cloudberry!’, exclaimed Jimmy, almost excitedly, as he found a cluster of these Arctic brambles, a relic of the ice age, growing beside the path. We were to find more as the day and our walk progressed. But just at that time hunger called and we found a grassy knoll in sight of the loch on which to have elevenses.
The slope steepened considerably again as we started the climb of White Coomb proper. As is usual after coffee, Davie took off at a fair old lick. Robert threatened to do something anatomical to him if he didn’t slow his pace and Davie complied. We could see metaphorical tears come to his eyes at the very thought of what was threatened. So the pace was slowed. And the views were enjoyed for we stopped frequently. A pair of wheatear hedge-hopped the drystane dyke in front of us and when Davie explained the derivation of the name, the others became more interested to see their white rumps. Maybe we’re all becoming twitchers despite ourselves. And, as we crested the summit of White Coomb, the sun came out to add to a very pleasant part of the walk.
He sun brought with it clearer air, at least to the north for the southward prospect still held the haze and visibility was restricted in that direction. But to the north the view was extensive, from the closer hills of Talla and those around Culter, to Tinto and the Lowthers and the Galloways in the distance. Just across a deep cleugh Blackhope Scaur looked tempting and a suggestion was made for a future excursion here. But the wind still blew and it was too cool to hang around for long.
The walking on the tops was easy, on a sward of sheep cropped grasses. And we followed our drystane dyke down from the top and along the broad grassy ridge surrounding Loch Skein. We were not alone. Four or five hundred metres in front of us were three men. We caught up with them when they stopped and sat behind the dyke for a break. They were from Cumbria, come up to Moffat for the peace and quiet for the Lake District was getting too busy. We left them to their peace and quiet and walked on. They were the only folk we saw on the hill though many made the climb to the loch.
Jimmy wanted to look down on the loch so we left the dyke and paralleled it some fifty metres to the south. We certainly got to look down on the loch for the slope here was steep. And in the shelter of the rocks of a boulder field, over looking Loch Skein, we sat down for lunch, a leisurely lunch for we were sheltered from the wind, the sun was warm and it was a day for leisurely lunches.
After lunch Davie took off again. (We are convinced he has more than coffee in his flask.) The rest climbed casually through the boulder field to find the bold David waiting on the top of Lochcraighead. Robert didn’t threaten this time. He didn’t need to for we were now on the downward slope and Davie is slower on the downward. The views were now northward and eastward over Talla. And they were to stay with us for a while on the gentle descent of the hill. But the slope steepened and the view disappeared and we dropped quickly to the level of the loch.
This is where we thanked the weather god* for this fine spell for the path at this level lay through peat hags and sphaggy bogs and could have been much wetter. As it was it was mainly dry and any wet bits were easily avoided. Robert and Alan spotted great patches of cloudberry in full flower on this stretch and identified it correctly. There’s hope for them yet.
Holly was first to reach the loch. Well, in it really for the stick chasing swimming game was on. Davie and Alan threw the stick while Holly did the swimming and Bob and Jimmy did the watching. Had it not been for the cool wind, we might all have done the swimming for the afternoon sun was hot. And it got hotter as we walked through the drumlins, down the side of the burn and dropped steeply down beside the Grey Mare’s Tail to the car park in the Moffat valley.
A great day in superb country.
* It should be noted that this deity is not Paul. Paul is just an Apostle.
We took refreshment in the black Bull in Moffat. This was much to Jimmy’s delight for it is an ancient establishment with Burns and other historic connections.
PS. This was the day of the EUFA cup final in Manchester and the motorway was busy with Rangers supporters travelling to the game, vehicles decked out in team colours. From above the road must have looked like a river of red, white and blue.
No comments:
Post a Comment