22 October Scaur Valley 2 - A fast sloe walk

'They don't hang about much, do they?'

Allan Sim, 2008

An off-the-cuff remark by Jimmy when we did the Killie to Darvel walk back in August was taken as a promise. He must learn to keep his mouth shut. What he innocently said, while passing a copse of blackthorn, was 'I haven't made sloe gin for while. I quite fancy making some again'. What was heard by the Ooters, who are fond of a small libation, was 'I'll make everybody sloe gin this year'. Throughout the autumn, Jimmy was constantly reminded of this 'promise' and the day would dawn when we would go in search of sloes for his brew. This was the chosen day. The Scaur Valley was the chosen place for Davie said this was great for the berries and, even if we didn’t get sloes, it was still a good area for autumn colour.
The morning was fair when nine of us gathered at Jimmy’s in Cumnock and the drive down Nithsdale was a delight with the autumn colour showing well on the trees. Yet, as we changed into walking gear in the car park of Penpont, the first spots of rain hit us and the sky turned ominously dark. It rained as we set off along the Moniaive road.
The route was to be the same as the last time we came this way (26/09/07), i.e. up the west side of the Scaur Valley, turning by Druidhall and coming down the Sanquhar to Penpont road, staying on tarmac for the day. At least Davie said we would be on tarmac for the day but less than half a mile up the Scaur road, he had us under a fence, over a wee sheuch running full of brown water and along a pad through the wet grass. He was for the gorge of the Scaur to see if salmon leapt the falls. We were glad of the diversion though, for he took us to a place where branches, bedecked in autumn leaves, overhung a river gushing in brown and white torrents through the gorge and over the falls. The camera boys attempted to capture the scene and we look forward to seeing the results. No salmon though.
Coming back through the wood to the road, Peter decided to cut hazel sticks for Holly. Everybody expected him to produce a pocket-knife. But this is Peter we are talking about. A mini hacksaw with a wood cutting blade was draw from his waterproof pocket and the hazels stood no chance. We suspect he might have a power drill and a bench saw hidden somewhere about that jacket.
The rain went when we found the road again. We stripped off the waterproofs and were not to need them for the rest of the day. The sun tried hard to break through and in some places succeeded, spotlighting the landscape ahead of us. The valley was filled with the hues of autumn: the yellows, reds and browns of the trees, the golden browns of the bracken, the pale yellows of the drying moor grasses and the deep purple of the heather on the hill. The walk up the valley was punctuated by photo-shoots.
The peece was taken on the wee bridge where we took it last time. Paul spotted the red squirrel. At first, he thought it was a bird moving in the saughs barely twenty feet away but it stopped and looked at us and presented us with a great view of itself. It came towards us and might have come even closer had it not spotted Holly. It returned to its saugh where it sat and watched us for a while. It was a great sighting, well done Paul.
We also heard the shooting as we sat. A Landrover pulling a morgue of dead pheasants had passed us further down the valley and we knew that the birds were coming under fire further up the road. We were to find out where sometime later. Yet, the shooting didn’t seem to disturb the squirrel that continued to watch us from the vantage point of its tree.
Peece finished, we took to the road again. Round the bend, we stopped again. There was a stand of blackthorn and on the blackthorn hung a few sloes. We picked these for that was the purpose of the day. Jimmy picked them for his brew, as did Davie and Peter. Alan and Johnny picked them for themselves for they also fancied a go at the sloe gin making. Therefore, sometime in the New Year, we are having a sloe gin tasting session.
Only fifteen minutes was wasted spent this way then we continued the walk. The shooters were found standing beside the road. Hooray-Henrys they were, tweeded to the eyeballs and enjoying their micro-sandwiches and pink champagne. ‘Having a good day?’ asked Jimmy as we passed. ‘Yes, thenk-yo’ was pleasant the reply. But they never offered to share the champers. Further along the road we spoke to a chap clearing up behind them. ‘Are they shooting much or just wasting ammo?’ we asked. ‘A waste o’ bluidy ammo’ said he. We had to agree for the pheasants were still flying around over the killing field and the spaniels didn’t seem to be picking up much.
Davie’s opinion of this activity is unprintable. Anyway, the author wouldn’t be able to spell half the words he used. We referred him to Alan Stewart.
The shoot must have finished for the shooters passed us at Druidhall in a convoy of four-by-fours. Despite the reputation of these Hoorray-Henrys, many gave us a cheery wave in the passing. This was not the only traffic on what is normally a very quiet road. More than once, we had to step aside for cars and even the occasional lorry, especially when they splashed through the water that flooded the road at one point.
Then the pace was increased for we were now on the homeward leg. Somehow Rex had gotten to the front and away he went, followed by the rest. Allan Sim was asked what he thought of walking with the Ooters. ‘They don’t hang about much, do they?’ was the answer. And we certainly didn’t hang about now. Davie pointed out the Lowther Hills on the far side of Nithsdale. Jimmy stopped to take a photo and found himself two hundred metres behind the bunch. It took him two miles to catch up. Not only did he catch up but he passed us saying, ‘You fellows didn’t wait for me so I’m not waiting for you’. These might not have been his exact words but this is what he meant. And he kept his speed going. Davie went with him claiming that Holly was pulling him. Johnny joined the speedy two after a while but failed to slow them up. Even shouts from the rear to entice Holly back failed to slow them. It was a fast march back down that road, all the way to the car park at Penpont. More than a few were relieved to be the finished the race.
This was another good walk but fast towards the end. The ale in the Crown in Sanquhar was most welcome.

PS. Far be it from Jimmy to be immodest but one of the helpers on the shoot was a former pupil of his. ‘The best teacher I ever had’, was his comment, ‘and my boy and lassie say the same thing’. We doubt whether we’ll ever get Jimmy’s head back to a reasonable size.