4 February Coran of Portmark and Meaul

‘Saw ye ever anything to beat that?’
‘Man, look at the sun glintin’ on Luce Bay, and loch Dee lying like a silver tray on a purple table-cloth. Was there ever a bonnier view?’
‘Ey,’ answered Colin.
‘Where?’
‘Frae the Coran o’ Portmark,’ It was said so quietly, but so decisively, that all eyes turned towards him as he pointed towards that mountain.
Andrew McCormick, Galloway

The weather gods who had deserted us in January blessed us today with a day of still, frosty air, snow at higher levels and, for a change, bright, and at times warm, sunshine. Nine of us gathered at Green Well just north of Carsphairn for a walk on the north end of the Rhinns of Kells. Rex was in warmer, but hardly sunnier, climes and Alan was enjoying snowbound Northumberland but we were joined in their stead by new recruit Ronnie Thompson.
We walked towards the hills, along the Garryhorn road. Somebody asked the date on the bridge but for the life of us, we couldn’t remember the exact date carved on the parapet. Davie was closest with 1936. The date carved was 1935. We should have known this for it was probably built at the time of the Ken/Dee Hydro-electric scheme. We will remember for the future. Maybe!
The road continued through Garryhorn and we continued with it, avoiding the frozen puddles, some nearly coming to grief on the icier patches. But without real mishap, we came to the abandoned lead mining village of Woodhead. Here we encountered our first snow, fine and powdery but barely two inches deep. And here, a mile and a half and half an hour after leaving the cars, we stopped at the remains of the old school for coffee.
Here Ronnie was introduced to the foibles of the different Ooters - Davie’s propensity to stray in the fog, Robert’s sartorial elegance, Ian’s lunchbox and so on.

‘Wad some pow’r the giftie gie us,

Tae see ourselves as ithers see us’

We were prepared to spend some time here but the cold was seeping into old bones so we moved on.
The snow got deeper as we started the climb but not unduly so. Yet, it was enough to hinder progress and make what should be an easy climb, just that wee bit more tiring. ‘View stops’ were called frequently. And the views were worth stopping for, ever changing as we rose higher. First Cairnsmore of Carsphairn took all the attention, gleaming white under its coating of snow: then the New Cumnock hills with the ‘windmills’ on Windy Standard barely moving in the still air: then the lower hills of the Glenkens with Loch Kenn just visible in the south.
The view remained in the east and south for the height of the ridge lay to the north-west and obstructed any distance in that direction. But the eastern views were only a prelude to those we had when we gained the ridge on Coran of Portmark summit.
We reached the summit in a staggered group. Some were staggered by the wintry aspect, some were staggered by the brilliance of the day and some just staggered. But we all made it to the top and, once there, and once the breath was recovered, we took in the new landscape. Loch Doon lay below us, immediately to the north-west, its entire seven mile length visible from our viewpoint: on the western skyline, the snow-capped Awful Hand ran south to terminate in the magnificence of Merrick: in front of this, Hoodens Hill and Mulwharchar dropped their rocky flanks into the olive-green forest of the Gala Valley: and the broad ridge of the Rhinns of Kells stretched away southward. All of this under a clear, blue sky. Yet north-westward the distance was becoming obscured as the threatened weather front headed in our direction
It was southward along the Rhinns, that we turned our steps now. Peter led us down from Coran summit to rise onto Meaul. Old snow, frozen to pavement hardness, was occasionally found and provided firm footing and some relief from the energy sapping powder that covered the ridge and the ascent onto Meaul. The day and the hillscape before us also helped to ease our way to the top. Lunch had been suggested by the starving (No, it wasn’t Ian this time) on the Coran top but the well-breakfasted preferred to keep up the momentum until Meaul summit. Now, on that top, came lunch. And not before time said some. (It was noted that Peter, who suggested lunch on Coran, was first to the top of Meaul)
We might have stayed longer at the peece stop for the sun was warm and the air still but the cold seeped into the bones from below, from the snow and frozen ground. We moved on. This was much to Peter’s displeasure for he was eating still. We moved on anyway.
We came down a slope, which under normal conditions would be easy, but today, with icy snow, proved anything but. Care had to be taken. Each took his own degree of care and we were staggered once more down the slope. We came together on a col between Meaul and Cairnsgarroch. Under different conditions we might have spotted the King’s Well but the snow blotted out small landscape features so we missed it. Not that we would have stopped anyway for the momentum of the down-slope was used for the upslope onto Cairnsgarroch.
By now, we had lost both the westward view and the sight of the lead mines. With the loss of this reference point navigation might have been difficult but with the instinct of homing pigeons, Robert and Jimmy led us across the top to the steep descent of the end of the ridge. Again care was taken on the rough, snow-covered terrain. As we dropped the snow gave way but the ground became more tussocky and more difficult. Jimmy had noticed the quad tracks beside the fence earlier in the day and so made for the easier ground.
The quad tracks took us down to a ford in the burn. The water was running only ankle deep but it looked icy cold and probably was for it ran off the snow on the hill. The ford was approached with trepidation by most and abject horror by some. But there was no mishap to record and everybody was across the water safely and we now found ourselves climbing gently back to the ruins of Woodhead. An afternoon drinks stop was called. We sat by a ruined wall and reflected on the snowy ridge we had been on and magnificent views we had enjoyed barely an hour before.
The walk down the road, though having its own charm, was something of an anticlimax after the high snow. Johnny was heard to enquire if they had somehow added a mile or so onto the road since this morning. It certainly felt like it. However, we arrived back at the Greenwell in plenty of time for fluid replacement therapy in Dalmellington.
This was a longer walk than many envisaged (17 Km, according to the 3D cartographer) and, given the soft snow we walked through, there will be a few stiff legs tomorrow. But it was a day not to be missed and ranks among the best of the Ooter’s outings.

Distance 17.0 Km


photos and map by Paul