18 June Muirkirk to Sanquhar

‘Though the way be long, let your heart be strong,’

Harry Lauder

Nine thirty at Kaimes car park and Davie arrived dead on time. The other three had arrived bare two minutes earlier. The morning was overcast but the forecast was for sunshine and showers and our weather man said this was accurate so we looked forward to a long but pleasant walk. The intention was to walk the seventeen miles of the old turnpike road from Muirkirk to Sanquhar. A little before twenty to ten we started walking.
As was to be expected, the Sanquhar road was taken. Paul noticed the remains of Springhill for the first time and was informed of its history though we tried hard not to get Jimmy started on his history lessons. This is one of his ‘roads’. Rex had to turn back after a few hundred yards to look for a fallen lens cap. A hint of the way the day was to progress came then for the rest walked on and Rex found himself well off the pace. This was to be a fast walk for we had to keep to train schedules. However Rex was back in the company before we reached McAdam’s Cairn.
We walked on briskly to the Sanquhar bridge. This was where Jimmy dropped off the pace. It was not because it was a particularly fast pace but because Jimmy was taking pictures for his ‘roads’. There was a wind blowing but the day wasn’t especially cold and the climb to the head of the pass fairly warmed us up. The road was once maintained as a shooter’s road up to the pass but this hasn’t been done for many years now and it is becoming torn up by the use of quad bikes. Near the fence was a morass of peat where these bikes have ripped away the road surface and the surrounding moss. At least the peat was dry today and didn’t impede our progress. We waited for Jimmy at the gate at the top of the pass. Three miles gone. Now came the wet bit.
According to he who knows these things, the old road rises and falls barely four metres in the next two kilometres and it crosses an area of sphaggy bog. The road has been closed as such for nearly two hundred years and, though it hasn’t yet obscured the line, the moss is attempting to reclaim it. Plenty of scope for wet feet then. But the weather has been good to us over the last six weeks and today the moss was comparatively dry. Only the occasional soggy bit had to be negotiated and this was done easily enough with only one foot sinking too deep. This dry ‘wet section’ brought us to the Range Cleuch where coffee was taken. Four and a half miles gone.
Davie set the agenda for today for he was the one with the train timetable. And it would seem that halts were to be brief for, even as Jimmy was in mid swallow, the rucksacks were shouldered and we were for the off again. ‘Off’ meant folowing the road behind the sheep buchts of Glenmuirshaw. Here again the quad bike damage was noted for what was once a smooth grass track was, in parts, peaty quagmire. Still, it was dry today and we were across it in no time. Davie suggested a detour round the Deil’s Back Door but we thought this might be tongue in cheek and his suggestion was ignored. We stuck to the old turnpike, striding out on the grass road round the flank of Pepper Hill towards the trees of Penbreck forest. Here we crossed the March Burn and entered Dumfriesshire. Six miles gone.
We thought the wet bit was behind us but we didn’t reckon on vehicle damage churning the forest floor into peaty glaur. And the trees have begun to close the gap of the old road shutting out any drying sunshine. The muck was wet, cloying and deep. Paul sunk his stick to a depth of two feet and didn’t reach bottom. So to avoid it we took to the trees. Others must have had the same problem for a rudimentary path is being formed through the trees and we held to this until the muck was passed. Then we found the forest road and a signpost saying ‘Sanquhar seven miles’.
Davie recalled the time he came this way and got lost. Rex wondered how anybody could get lost for all you had to do was follow the forest road. Some miles later we came to a fork in the road. The well surfaced road with the lorry tracks veered left. An older, poorly surfaced road left it on the right. It would be easy to follow the more used road. Ours was the road less travelled. Rex could see how it might be easy to get lost. But there was now a signpost saying ‘Sanquhar seven miles’. Eh?
The rain came and we waterproofed. Even Jimmy. But it lasted no length of time at all and that was the last we were to see of it for the day. We cleared the forest and came down to Black Gannoch conventicle site which Davie pointed out. We de-waterproofed. Then downward still to Fingland where we found tarmac and a sign said ‘Sanquhar six miles’ Eleven miles gone and lunch was taken. Like our previous halt this was briefer than of late and we were on the road again. Upward now, still on tarmac. Jimmy pointed out to Paul where the path to St Connel’s Kirk left the road. Then it was upward yet to the shoulder of Todholes Hill. Thirteen miles gone
We could see Sanquhar lying below us for the last four miles but it never seemed to get any closer. The way was downward and the tarmac was heating the feet. Davie had to stop to treat blisters. Paul felt toes squashed against boot fronts. Jimmy felt knees aching and Rex had overheated feet. Did we complain? Not much. Fifteen miles gone and Sanquhar stayed in the distance. Aches and pains spread to other places as the tarmac took its toll. Sanquhar stayed in the distance. Sixteen miles gone. Sanquhar came a little closer. We were for the 15:25 train We crossed the railway as the 14:15 train passed under us. Sanquhar was reached at 14:40. Seventeen miles in a little over five hours. Not bad for old blokes.
We had intended to take a pint in the Crown but feet and joints said, ‘find the nearest pub’. This was the Nithsdale Hotel.
A good day and we feel confident that the aches and pains will fade away in time.