Nine of us gathered today, the biggest gathering of Ooters for any walk so far. Only Peter was missing. Not only had we the biggest gathering of Ooters, but this outing was to make Ness Glen our most walked route. Arran should have been the destination but a foul weather forecast and a day of rain yesterday caused a change of mind and Ness Glen was chosen as a suitable wet weather alternative. Yet, when we gathered at the dam at Loch Doon, the sun was shining and it would shine for most of the walk. A continuing theme for the day was that it would be an excellent day for Arran but we were now set for Ness Glen
Alan and Paul led the way towards the gorge for they had been here before and knew the way. However, when they came to the split in the path, they deferred to those who knew better. Jimmy pointed them along the lower path through the gorge. We were glad he did for, following the recent rains, the river ran full and the gorge was at its most impressive today. The water rushed down its channel, sometimes comparatively quiet, sometimes roaring through narrower parts making conversation difficult. And mini cataracts tumbled down what are usually dry clefts in the rock walls, adding to the din. This is the first time we have seen this. Only Johnny could be heard above the noise of the water for he was in fine form today.
There came a point where one of these mini-torrents had washed away one of the path footbridges which lay intact on the bed of the river. The burn had to be crossed. There was no alternative. The rock walls of the gorge rose vertically and the river was running full and fast so the wee burn had to be crossed. This caused some consternation for some for the rock looked wet and greasy and it was a good, wide step on to the safer ground of the path. Trepidation was the order of the day as feet searched for grip on the wet stone for each preferred the evidence of his own eyes rather than the guidance of his fellow Ooters. However, the gap was crossed without wet feet or other incident and the rest of the gorge could be enjoyed.
Our usual path under Bellsbank was taken this morning despite suggestions that we should do the walk in the reverse. And our usual coffee spot was to be our first halt. Johnny was in fine fettle on this section as he set the world to rights once again. Even the advanced group of Davie, Paul, Jimmy and Robert who were hundred metres in front, heard him. The speedy (some would suggest the selfish) four had upped the pace for they knew that there was only room for four on the seat at the coffee stop. And they were for a seat. We took coffee with four seated on the bench and the rest, with the exception of Johnny who carries his own seat, standing round making comments. The seated ignored these.
We continued on our usual route after coffee. We had hoped the new path would have been constructed beside the Straiton road but no work has been done since we were last here (07/11/07). Holly had to be leashed for this road is narrow and busy. No work has been carried out on the footpath to the new bridge either. The bridge spans the Doon in splendid isolation with no path to or from either end. Still, we had to cross it, path or no path. The river was full and overflowed its banks in places. One of these places was the south end of our bridge. Brown water lapped the end of the bridge and stretched for ten feet in front of us. How deep it was couldn’t be said for it was brown and opaque. Johnny tested it and found it to be over ankle deep. He had gaiters on and made a plunge through the water; the rest turned tail and came back to the road bridge. We met him on the Dalcairnie road.
Lunch was called at Dalcairnie Linn.
Spectacular is the only word to describe the linn today. The rains of yesterday had swollen the burn. Brown, peaty water rushed under the bridge to the lip of the cauldron, threw itself into space and dropped in a solid sheet for thirty feet only to be dashed into a white spray on the rocks at the bottom. Magnificent. Thirty yards away on the edge of the gorge we could feel this spray and, at times blinks of sun lit it making it visible to us. The same blinks of sun filtered through the autumn foliage of the beeches spotlighting the already fallen leaves on the slope on which we sat and ate. Altogether, this was an idyllic spot for lunch. Though the photographers were in action, photos can’t do justice to a scene that will live long in the memory.
We would have sat longer but the first spots of rain hit. We waterproofed and moved on but the rain came to nothing. We followed our usual route. When we reached Barbeth, we halted. The newcomers couldn’t believe we were this high above Bogton Loch for we didn’t appear to climb that high. We allowed them to take in the view before we moved on again, crossed the moor and came down to Craigengillan.
The rain came seriously when we reached the tarmac of the Craigengillan estate road. We stopped under a huge beech for some shelter. This is a route that Holly has covered as often as the rest of us but when we looked round there was no Holly. Even with many shouts, ‘coooooo-ees’ and whistles, there was no Holly. Davie went into the rain to retrace our steps. Five minutes late Holly was found. She had taken a liking to the man who passed us going in the opposite direction and had followed him back the way we had come. We can always tell when Holly is in disgrace. Gone is the carefree, bouncy demeanour. Her tail is dropped and her head hung. She makes ‘sookin-in’ gestures to Davie until she thinks she has made enough. And she felt she had enough made by the time we got back to the bottom of the gorge.
Davie was for back through the gorge but the consensus was for the high road. This is the way we went. Tracy’s bench is gone. The pillars are still there but the seat is gone. We suspect that Tracy has it as a testimonial to her prowess. Alan suggests she might even have it as a headboard. Wherever it is, it will be missed for it was situated near the top of the slope and provided a bit of a rest for weary legs. Disappointed with the loss of the bench, we continued upward.
We arrived at Loch Doon around two-fifteen. A good four hour walk. A good pint was taken in the Loch Doon Hotel in Dalmellington.
Alan and Paul led the way towards the gorge for they had been here before and knew the way. However, when they came to the split in the path, they deferred to those who knew better. Jimmy pointed them along the lower path through the gorge. We were glad he did for, following the recent rains, the river ran full and the gorge was at its most impressive today. The water rushed down its channel, sometimes comparatively quiet, sometimes roaring through narrower parts making conversation difficult. And mini cataracts tumbled down what are usually dry clefts in the rock walls, adding to the din. This is the first time we have seen this. Only Johnny could be heard above the noise of the water for he was in fine form today.
There came a point where one of these mini-torrents had washed away one of the path footbridges which lay intact on the bed of the river. The burn had to be crossed. There was no alternative. The rock walls of the gorge rose vertically and the river was running full and fast so the wee burn had to be crossed. This caused some consternation for some for the rock looked wet and greasy and it was a good, wide step on to the safer ground of the path. Trepidation was the order of the day as feet searched for grip on the wet stone for each preferred the evidence of his own eyes rather than the guidance of his fellow Ooters. However, the gap was crossed without wet feet or other incident and the rest of the gorge could be enjoyed.
Our usual path under Bellsbank was taken this morning despite suggestions that we should do the walk in the reverse. And our usual coffee spot was to be our first halt. Johnny was in fine fettle on this section as he set the world to rights once again. Even the advanced group of Davie, Paul, Jimmy and Robert who were hundred metres in front, heard him. The speedy (some would suggest the selfish) four had upped the pace for they knew that there was only room for four on the seat at the coffee stop. And they were for a seat. We took coffee with four seated on the bench and the rest, with the exception of Johnny who carries his own seat, standing round making comments. The seated ignored these.
We continued on our usual route after coffee. We had hoped the new path would have been constructed beside the Straiton road but no work has been done since we were last here (07/11/07). Holly had to be leashed for this road is narrow and busy. No work has been carried out on the footpath to the new bridge either. The bridge spans the Doon in splendid isolation with no path to or from either end. Still, we had to cross it, path or no path. The river was full and overflowed its banks in places. One of these places was the south end of our bridge. Brown water lapped the end of the bridge and stretched for ten feet in front of us. How deep it was couldn’t be said for it was brown and opaque. Johnny tested it and found it to be over ankle deep. He had gaiters on and made a plunge through the water; the rest turned tail and came back to the road bridge. We met him on the Dalcairnie road.
Lunch was called at Dalcairnie Linn.
Spectacular is the only word to describe the linn today. The rains of yesterday had swollen the burn. Brown, peaty water rushed under the bridge to the lip of the cauldron, threw itself into space and dropped in a solid sheet for thirty feet only to be dashed into a white spray on the rocks at the bottom. Magnificent. Thirty yards away on the edge of the gorge we could feel this spray and, at times blinks of sun lit it making it visible to us. The same blinks of sun filtered through the autumn foliage of the beeches spotlighting the already fallen leaves on the slope on which we sat and ate. Altogether, this was an idyllic spot for lunch. Though the photographers were in action, photos can’t do justice to a scene that will live long in the memory.
We would have sat longer but the first spots of rain hit. We waterproofed and moved on but the rain came to nothing. We followed our usual route. When we reached Barbeth, we halted. The newcomers couldn’t believe we were this high above Bogton Loch for we didn’t appear to climb that high. We allowed them to take in the view before we moved on again, crossed the moor and came down to Craigengillan.
The rain came seriously when we reached the tarmac of the Craigengillan estate road. We stopped under a huge beech for some shelter. This is a route that Holly has covered as often as the rest of us but when we looked round there was no Holly. Even with many shouts, ‘coooooo-ees’ and whistles, there was no Holly. Davie went into the rain to retrace our steps. Five minutes late Holly was found. She had taken a liking to the man who passed us going in the opposite direction and had followed him back the way we had come. We can always tell when Holly is in disgrace. Gone is the carefree, bouncy demeanour. Her tail is dropped and her head hung. She makes ‘sookin-in’ gestures to Davie until she thinks she has made enough. And she felt she had enough made by the time we got back to the bottom of the gorge.
Davie was for back through the gorge but the consensus was for the high road. This is the way we went. Tracy’s bench is gone. The pillars are still there but the seat is gone. We suspect that Tracy has it as a testimonial to her prowess. Alan suggests she might even have it as a headboard. Wherever it is, it will be missed for it was situated near the top of the slope and provided a bit of a rest for weary legs. Disappointed with the loss of the bench, we continued upward.
We arrived at Loch Doon around two-fifteen. A good four hour walk. A good pint was taken in the Loch Doon Hotel in Dalmellington.
Fashion note (to keep the wives interested): Johnny was dressed in his leg-vanishing gaiters today and Bob was in fetching black. The rest were gaiterless. Davie even had shorts (we think his regression to early childhood is nearly complete for he was babbling things at Holly when she disappeared). He and Jimmy wore short sleeves today, Jimmy in pale blue and Davie in a little black number over a smart pink and navy hoop. The others wore Gortex. Faither bunnets were worn by Alan, Paul, Ian and Davie while Johnny sported an olive safari hat with a floppy brim and Rex his second favourite blue cap. We look forward to next seasons combinations.
1 comment:
Bravo Jimmy! Re Tracey's bench -
I've heard of notches on the bedpost but the actual bench as headboard had me tittering! Kay
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