Cauld blaws the wind frae east tae west,
The drift is driving sairly,
-------------------------
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure it’s winter fairly.
R. Burns
The drift is driving sairly,
-------------------------
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure it’s winter fairly.
R. Burns
A great debate ensued when we met at Jimmy’s house in Cumnock: some were for the Lowther hills as planned and some were for an easier local Cumnock walk. The Lowthers contingent kept reminding us that the forecast was good and we should get great views and some snow today. The locals were wary of snow on the road on the climb to Wanlockhead and were for staying low. Rex had the deciding vote when he arrived for we were tied at four votes each. Unsurprisingly, the Lowthers it was to be.
We travelled to Wanlockhead with anticipation or trepidation depending on your viewpoint and encountered the first snow on the climb out of the Mennock valley. The road was clear but snow lay all around us. The lower hills that we could see were white and we knew that snow lay on the higher summits we were heading for. When we reached the village, snow lay deep and ploughed into ridges at the side of the road. All the car parks had snow too deep to allow entry so we were reduced to parking at the side of the road.
Even before we had left the cars, we picked up a companion in the shape of a champagne coloured poodle-type canine who took a fancy to Holly. He was to stay with us for the entire walk and was to give Holly plenty of exercise loupin’ sheughs and sklimmin’ hillocks in the snow - ‘Twa Dogs that were na thrang at hame’ enjoying each other’s company. Perhaps he thought he was into the squirrel dance but Holly was for none of it so they just ran through the snowdrifts together.
The cloud hung over the hills we were for but we knew the forecast was for brighter weather so were undeterred by this. We started walking. When we left the road, we came into the snow immediately. This was ankle deep to start with but deepened as we climbed. And as we climbed, we came into the fog. When we left the hard surface to come onto a path designated Southern Uplands Way, we were into a world of deep snow and thick fog. And a breeze began to stir. This was not a day for sunbathing.
The path was now fairly steep and was made to feel even steeper by the underfoot conditions. The climb was strenuous. And we tackled the climb smartly to build up a heat against the cold conditions. The effort and the speed were too much for the inexperienced Allan and he felt ill. While we agreed to slow the speed and encouraged him with the news that the service road for the ‘football’ was only some two hundred metres away, Allan decided he didn’t want to hold us back and decided to return. Johnny went with him. (We await a report on the walk they did at the lower level.)
Reduced to seven now, we continued to follow the Southern Uplands Way, each taking turn to break the path through the drifts. Red grouse whirred away into the greyness, telling us who invader their white world to ‘G’back, g’back, g’back’. With the snow deepening and the wind strengthening, we should have listened to them and gone straight back down to the pub. This was also Peter’s opinion and he persisted in frequently telling us how the sun was shining in Cumnock. But we ignored both birds and Peter and trudged on, heads tilted into the wind.
Jimmy led us into the cleugh through two foot of snow. We knew there was a burn to cross and nervousness started to grow in some. But there was no need to worry for this is an official long distance way and there is a wooden bridge over the burn, albeit with a covering of two or three inches of snow today. Jimmy, going before like a latter-day Moses, led us boldly over to the other side. Then came the problem. The drift on this side was deep - three feet at least - and Jimmy’s wee legs just disappeared into it. He was up to the a*** in snow. Yet, like a hero, he ploughed on before, breaking a way for us to follow. (Would you just stop boasting and get on with the narrative!) Once the drift was cleared, we were onto firmer footing with heather poking up through the four inches of white. And the posts marking the route of the road appeared out of the fog some twenty metres in front. Jimmy took a beeline for the nearest post and we found some relief from the deep snow.
Relief from the deep snow it may have been but it was hardly easy going yet. The road had been ploughed, throwing ridges of frozen stuff to the sides and leaving two or three inches of brown sugar on the surface. Every step involved some sort of slip back. It was energy sapping to trudge upward through this stuff. Then the snow hit - tiny pellets of snow, driven on the wind and stinging into every bit of exposed flesh. What should have been a pleasant walk was turning into an endurance test. Yet the Cumnock proposers said nothing. We trudged upward with only the banter to relieve the effort and counting the bends in the road to see how far we had to go for shelter.
Eventually, the ‘football’ solidified out of the fog and we knew this would be the extent of our endeavour for the day even before it was spoken. We found shelter from the wind by a garage door and took an early lunch.
Most of us ate standing up but Ian had the perfect solution to the conditions. He produced a narrow, one person, orange bivi-bag and proceeded to wriggle his way into it. By his gyrations, we suspect the bag has shrunk since it was last used. It was a tight squeeze. After lunch, we were for leaving Ian inside his bag for he struggled unwrap himself from his orange sausage. Alan took pity on him though and helped pull him out.
We were just about to set off again when the garage door opened and a blast of heat hit us. Two workers stood inside. ‘You must be off your f***ing heads’ said one and promised a deterioration in the weather for the afternoon telling us that the weather changes quickly in the hills. Davie kept his own counsel but we knew that he knew these hills better than the speaker did and was well aware of the vagaries of the hill weather. However, we had already made the decision to return by the road.
The decision to abandon the walk at this point was a relief to us all for we didn’t fancy stumbling and slithering through the deep drift that we suspected lay further on. We stuck to the road. It was a lot easier going down the way and, forty minutes after leaving the summit, we were walking out of the fog into Wanlockhead.
Holly’s new friend deserted her here for it saw its own folk and made a joyful beeline to join them - without even a thank-you to us for taking it a walk.
Here we met the other two who had just returned from a lower level and sunnier walk than we had.
The B-team report.
We travelled to Wanlockhead with anticipation or trepidation depending on your viewpoint and encountered the first snow on the climb out of the Mennock valley. The road was clear but snow lay all around us. The lower hills that we could see were white and we knew that snow lay on the higher summits we were heading for. When we reached the village, snow lay deep and ploughed into ridges at the side of the road. All the car parks had snow too deep to allow entry so we were reduced to parking at the side of the road.
Even before we had left the cars, we picked up a companion in the shape of a champagne coloured poodle-type canine who took a fancy to Holly. He was to stay with us for the entire walk and was to give Holly plenty of exercise loupin’ sheughs and sklimmin’ hillocks in the snow - ‘Twa Dogs that were na thrang at hame’ enjoying each other’s company. Perhaps he thought he was into the squirrel dance but Holly was for none of it so they just ran through the snowdrifts together.
The cloud hung over the hills we were for but we knew the forecast was for brighter weather so were undeterred by this. We started walking. When we left the road, we came into the snow immediately. This was ankle deep to start with but deepened as we climbed. And as we climbed, we came into the fog. When we left the hard surface to come onto a path designated Southern Uplands Way, we were into a world of deep snow and thick fog. And a breeze began to stir. This was not a day for sunbathing.
The path was now fairly steep and was made to feel even steeper by the underfoot conditions. The climb was strenuous. And we tackled the climb smartly to build up a heat against the cold conditions. The effort and the speed were too much for the inexperienced Allan and he felt ill. While we agreed to slow the speed and encouraged him with the news that the service road for the ‘football’ was only some two hundred metres away, Allan decided he didn’t want to hold us back and decided to return. Johnny went with him. (We await a report on the walk they did at the lower level.)
Reduced to seven now, we continued to follow the Southern Uplands Way, each taking turn to break the path through the drifts. Red grouse whirred away into the greyness, telling us who invader their white world to ‘G’back, g’back, g’back’. With the snow deepening and the wind strengthening, we should have listened to them and gone straight back down to the pub. This was also Peter’s opinion and he persisted in frequently telling us how the sun was shining in Cumnock. But we ignored both birds and Peter and trudged on, heads tilted into the wind.
Jimmy led us into the cleugh through two foot of snow. We knew there was a burn to cross and nervousness started to grow in some. But there was no need to worry for this is an official long distance way and there is a wooden bridge over the burn, albeit with a covering of two or three inches of snow today. Jimmy, going before like a latter-day Moses, led us boldly over to the other side. Then came the problem. The drift on this side was deep - three feet at least - and Jimmy’s wee legs just disappeared into it. He was up to the a*** in snow. Yet, like a hero, he ploughed on before, breaking a way for us to follow. (Would you just stop boasting and get on with the narrative!) Once the drift was cleared, we were onto firmer footing with heather poking up through the four inches of white. And the posts marking the route of the road appeared out of the fog some twenty metres in front. Jimmy took a beeline for the nearest post and we found some relief from the deep snow.
Relief from the deep snow it may have been but it was hardly easy going yet. The road had been ploughed, throwing ridges of frozen stuff to the sides and leaving two or three inches of brown sugar on the surface. Every step involved some sort of slip back. It was energy sapping to trudge upward through this stuff. Then the snow hit - tiny pellets of snow, driven on the wind and stinging into every bit of exposed flesh. What should have been a pleasant walk was turning into an endurance test. Yet the Cumnock proposers said nothing. We trudged upward with only the banter to relieve the effort and counting the bends in the road to see how far we had to go for shelter.
Eventually, the ‘football’ solidified out of the fog and we knew this would be the extent of our endeavour for the day even before it was spoken. We found shelter from the wind by a garage door and took an early lunch.
Most of us ate standing up but Ian had the perfect solution to the conditions. He produced a narrow, one person, orange bivi-bag and proceeded to wriggle his way into it. By his gyrations, we suspect the bag has shrunk since it was last used. It was a tight squeeze. After lunch, we were for leaving Ian inside his bag for he struggled unwrap himself from his orange sausage. Alan took pity on him though and helped pull him out.
We were just about to set off again when the garage door opened and a blast of heat hit us. Two workers stood inside. ‘You must be off your f***ing heads’ said one and promised a deterioration in the weather for the afternoon telling us that the weather changes quickly in the hills. Davie kept his own counsel but we knew that he knew these hills better than the speaker did and was well aware of the vagaries of the hill weather. However, we had already made the decision to return by the road.
The decision to abandon the walk at this point was a relief to us all for we didn’t fancy stumbling and slithering through the deep drift that we suspected lay further on. We stuck to the road. It was a lot easier going down the way and, forty minutes after leaving the summit, we were walking out of the fog into Wanlockhead.
Holly’s new friend deserted her here for it saw its own folk and made a joyful beeline to join them - without even a thank-you to us for taking it a walk.
Here we met the other two who had just returned from a lower level and sunnier walk than we had.
The B-team report.
Wanlockhead – Cumnock? What a debate! People changing their minds! Paul! Sixty year olds behaving like six year olds – wanting to play in the snow. We B-teamers were certainly outvoted, and so it passed that democracy prevailed (there being no executive to make wise decisions for the time muddled drink befuddled masses) and so it was that we set off for the snowy heights of Wanlockhead. Allan made the attempt to keep apace with the whippets and testos
terone loaded but heart and mind did for him as his honed logic and advanced reasoning bid the question “ whit the f…. are we daing here?” So Allan and his faithful friend decided to seek an alternative to this heart stopping climb.
Leaving the Magnificent Seven to explore the cold misty snowy top, Allan and yours truly returned to the level that was Wanlockhead. This splinter cell, now recovered in spirit and body, decided to walk the railtrack to Leadhills station. This was not a walk in the park! A driving wind and foot deep
snow gave enough excitement to cheer us. On our return we made a circuit of the villag e of Wanlockhea d 
eed to debate right or wrong, good or bad decisions – all just glad to be able to be here to ‘decide’ next Wednesday’s outing.
snow gave enough excitement to cheer us. On our return we made a circuit of the 
eed to debate right or wrong, good or bad decisions – all just glad to be able to be here to ‘decide’ next Wednesday’s outing. 
No comments:
Post a Comment