Paul allowed us to go to the Campsies today; the weather was set fair so he allowed us to go. Unfortunately, due to holidays and other commitments, only five intrepid souls - Allan, Davie, Ian, Jimmy & Paul - made the journey northward to Kilsyth. In Kilsyth, the Tak-ma-doon road took us up, up to a viewpoint high on the flank of the hill.
The rain of Monday and the showers of Tuesday had cleansed the atmosphere and a light northerly air-stream this morning gave us a day of clear air and long visibility and already the view was outstanding, southward and eastward. Over Cumbernauld and Lanarkshire to Tinto and the Culter Hills and over West Lothian to the Forth bridges, Arthur's Seat and the Pentlands the view was superb.
But we weren’t at the viewpoint for the view; we had a walk to do. As this was to be a linear rather than a circular walk we left a car here and motored on to Carron Reservoir in the other. We started walking around eleven.
The first part of the walk was through the Carron plantation on a forest road so the views were restricted. But the sun hit us and the day was August warm and we were in spirits to match the day. We wandered up that road setting the world to rights, Paul directing us when we met a bifurcation. At one point the trees cleared sufficiently for us to have a view northward to a mountainous landscape. It was just a small vignette bordered by spruce trees but it was one that whetted the appetite for a better, broader vista from the summit of the Meikle Bin, our destination.
Paul instructed the leading twosome to look out for a path through the trees on the left. We found it, a wet muddy slope obviously tramped that way by the passage of many feet. We slither our way up twenty metres of goo to find more solid grassy ground at the top. But the footprints ran out here. So did the gap in the trees. This was not our path. We slithered our way back down the goo. Davie, trying to avoid the goo by clinging to the trees, had a closer encounter with one than he would have wished for. This arboreal embrace left him with a grazed throat oozing blood and a pin-prick on the point of his nose fairly dripping the stuff. Were we sympathetic? Course we were and we showed it in the usual way.
Back on our forest road again, we continued the search for the path on the left. This time we found it, marked by a small cairn of stones. But this was in no better state than the last and required just as much attention. Feet placed injudiciously saw the owner slide half a metres or so back down the slope with what we took to be whoops of joy but were more likely screams of terror in case the perpetrator landed on his behind in the wet goo. Davie was careful to avoid too much contact with the trees this time though the branches were an assist to us as we held on to swing round and over the deepest of the ooze. And the muck lasted until we cleared the trees some hundred metres later.
Though the slope was still steepish, we were on firmer, drier ground now and could stride out a bit. But the progress wasn’t too fast and as we climbed and the view northward opened out, many were the ‘view stops’ called. And what a view it was. Beyond the low ground of the Forth and Endrick valleys rose the southern highlands, mountain upon mountain. Peaks were identified and re-identified as we climbed and more familiar summits appeared. And all of them were bathed in sunshine as we were, and all of them were sharp and distinct in the clear air, and all of them looked close and inviting. It took us – well four of us for Davie was away up in front again - some time to climb the last few hundred feet to the summit of the Meikle Bin.
For such a low eminence, a little over 1750ft/570m, Meikle Bin provides one of the most remarkable panoramas in Scotland, especially on a day as clear as this. The landmarks we could identify in our three-sixty degree compass took in, from the east in a clockwise direction, The Bass Rock (94Km/59miles*), Arthur’s Seat (65Km/41miles), The Pentland Hills, The Moffat and Culter Hills, Tinto (56Km/35miles), Cairnsmore of Carsphairn (86Km/53.5miles), Merrick (102Km/64miles), Brown Carrick above Ayr (76Km/48miles), Ailsa Craig (105Km/66Miles), The Arran Peaks (Coich-na-hoich and the Cock being the only two visible for the rest had cloud touching their tops), The Cobbler (48Km/30miles) and the Arrochar group, Ben Lomond (35Km/22miles), Ben Lui (58Km/36miles), Ben More (48Km/30miles) and Stob Binien, Ben Venue (32Km/19miles), The Braes o’ Balquidder, The Ochil Hills and The Lomond Hills. Others that we should have identified but didn’t were Ben Ledi, Ben A’an and BenVorlich in Strathyre (38Km/24miles). Man-made landmarks included Alloa, The Forth Bridges, Edinburgh, the Falkirk Wheel and Cumbernauld. This must rate highly on the McMeekin scale of fabulosity, second only to the Cobbler this year.
We took coffee on Meikle Bin and spent time there relaxing in the sun and taking in the phenomenal view from Ailsa to the Bass (182Km/114miles) and from Merrick to Ben More (140.8Km/88miles). Paul got all the plaudits for choosing the destination and the day to do it in. We might let him choose again some other day.
Eventually we dragged ourselves away from the summit of Meikle Bin. We followed a path of sorts across the top in a southerly direction. ‘It’s all downhill from here’ said Paul, ‘except for the wee uppy bits’. And downhill it was, down into the trees again and down into the peaty goo again. All views were lost to us as we picked our way carefully down the bog. A four foot wide, four foot deep sheugh cut across the ‘path’. This was also on the gooey side. Many and varied were the antics of five auld codgers trying to drop into this wet, peaty trench and back out without unexpected seats in the slimy, black wetness. It’s slightly disappointing for your scribe to report that we all made it without mishap.
Then came one of Paul’s ‘wee uppy bits’, a sixty degree slope of grassy tussocks with green bogs waiting on flatter sections to catch the unwary. Paul was now being called all manner of unflattering things for leading us into this. But it was only a wee uppy bit and didn’t last too long and we topped out at the edge of the trees beside a fence on Black Hill ‘Follow the fence’ said Paul and we did. And on the relatively flat section, Davie set the pace, Davie’s pace.
The path beside the fence brought us to the top of Garrel Hill where we could look back at Meikle Bin. Though most of the northern view had gone, hidden behind the Bin, there were still glimpses of highland hills rising one behind the other. And the Wallace monument on abbey Craig at Stirling showed itself now though the town still hid behind the Carron hills. Most of the view was on the south, across the Central Lowlands to the Southern Upland hills and we admired this for a wee while before moving on. And Davie still set the pace.
Paul said, casually ‘We’re coming to a wet bit now’. A wet bit! We thought we had already come to wet bits so why did he think to mention this now? We feared the worst. And we got the worst.
We dropped off the top of Garrel Hill still following the pad beside the fence. Down into a shallow col between hills we came and all our views disappeared. Not that we could have looked at the views anyway for we were now in Paul’s ‘wet bit’ and spent the time watching where we put our feet. Burns that didn’t yet know that they were burns oozed from the sphagnum and wet peat at every step covering the uppers of the boots and splashing legs and gaiters with black muck, and feet had to be placed cautiously to avoid even deeper immersions. Where the ooze wasn’t too deep, reeds and rushes were pressed into service as ‘steppies’ but detours were needed to avoid the deepest of the quagmires. Paul’s ears were abused again. And again. And again.
And Davie set the pace.
By the time we had negotiated the wet and started the rise on the drier (only drier by comparison) ground to the top of Tomtain it was closing on lunch time and Ian was complaining of starvation. Paul sought a place dry enough to sit on for a bite. But Jimmy and Davie had ‘better’ ideas. They saw the remains of a drystane dyke on the horizon and thought this would be ideal. So we followed them up the hill to its summit where we sat on the remains of a drystane dyke and ate.
What a place we chose to take lunch. Though the northwest views had gone, hidden behind the Bin, we could still look south and east and north-east. Oh how fickle are the Ooter’s memories. How quickly we forget. Paul, who, only twenty minutes ago, was being abused for leading us into the wet, now received plaudits for bringing us to another splendid hill on such a splendid day. Well done Paul.
Such was the clearness of the day, the magnificence of the view and the warmth of the afternoon sun that we thought to spend a bit of time over lunch. But the itchy feet lot had other ideas. Even before Ian had finished eating – well, we didn’t have all day – they had packed up and were ready for the off. Why this should be, we are not quite sure for we had just to walk down the hill to the car, but ready for the off they were. Poor Ian hurriedly scoffed down his third roll, packed up and followed meekly.
Less than a mile of downward progress brought us to the car parked at the Tak-ma-doon viewpoint.
This was a day when the enjoyment of the views and the warmth of the sun far outweighed the nuisance of underfoot conditions. Our thanks go to Paul for
1- Putting us off from going in the rain a fortnight ago. ‘It would have been miserable’ said Davie, ‘We would have seen nothing and got soaking forbye’.
2- Allowing us to go on such a splendidly clear day. We will let him lead some other day.
Those who missed today missed a very good walk. But it’s one we will do it again for it is well worth the doing.
Distances from
Meikle Bin to Ailsa Craig 104.8 km
Meikle Bin to Bass Rock 93.4 km
Ailsa Craig to Bass Rock 181.4 km
Report by Jimmy, Route & distance calculations by Paul, Photos by Allan
The rain of Monday and the showers of Tuesday had cleansed the atmosphere and a light northerly air-stream this morning gave us a day of clear air and long visibility and already the view was outstanding, southward and eastward. Over Cumbernauld and Lanarkshire to Tinto and the Culter Hills and over West Lothian to the Forth bridges, Arthur's Seat and the Pentlands the view was superb.
But we weren’t at the viewpoint for the view; we had a walk to do. As this was to be a linear rather than a circular walk we left a car here and motored on to Carron Reservoir in the other. We started walking around eleven.
The first part of the walk was through the Carron plantation on a forest road so the views were restricted. But the sun hit us and the day was August warm and we were in spirits to match the day. We wandered up that road setting the world to rights, Paul directing us when we met a bifurcation. At one point the trees cleared sufficiently for us to have a view northward to a mountainous landscape. It was just a small vignette bordered by spruce trees but it was one that whetted the appetite for a better, broader vista from the summit of the Meikle Bin, our destination.
Paul instructed the leading twosome to look out for a path through the trees on the left. We found it, a wet muddy slope obviously tramped that way by the passage of many feet. We slither our way up twenty metres of goo to find more solid grassy ground at the top. But the footprints ran out here. So did the gap in the trees. This was not our path. We slithered our way back down the goo. Davie, trying to avoid the goo by clinging to the trees, had a closer encounter with one than he would have wished for. This arboreal embrace left him with a grazed throat oozing blood and a pin-prick on the point of his nose fairly dripping the stuff. Were we sympathetic? Course we were and we showed it in the usual way.
Back on our forest road again, we continued the search for the path on the left. This time we found it, marked by a small cairn of stones. But this was in no better state than the last and required just as much attention. Feet placed injudiciously saw the owner slide half a metres or so back down the slope with what we took to be whoops of joy but were more likely screams of terror in case the perpetrator landed on his behind in the wet goo. Davie was careful to avoid too much contact with the trees this time though the branches were an assist to us as we held on to swing round and over the deepest of the ooze. And the muck lasted until we cleared the trees some hundred metres later.
Though the slope was still steepish, we were on firmer, drier ground now and could stride out a bit. But the progress wasn’t too fast and as we climbed and the view northward opened out, many were the ‘view stops’ called. And what a view it was. Beyond the low ground of the Forth and Endrick valleys rose the southern highlands, mountain upon mountain. Peaks were identified and re-identified as we climbed and more familiar summits appeared. And all of them were bathed in sunshine as we were, and all of them were sharp and distinct in the clear air, and all of them looked close and inviting. It took us – well four of us for Davie was away up in front again - some time to climb the last few hundred feet to the summit of the Meikle Bin.
For such a low eminence, a little over 1750ft/570m, Meikle Bin provides one of the most remarkable panoramas in Scotland, especially on a day as clear as this. The landmarks we could identify in our three-sixty degree compass took in, from the east in a clockwise direction, The Bass Rock (94Km/59miles*), Arthur’s Seat (65Km/41miles), The Pentland Hills, The Moffat and Culter Hills, Tinto (56Km/35miles), Cairnsmore of Carsphairn (86Km/53.5miles), Merrick (102Km/64miles), Brown Carrick above Ayr (76Km/48miles), Ailsa Craig (105Km/66Miles), The Arran Peaks (Coich-na-hoich and the Cock being the only two visible for the rest had cloud touching their tops), The Cobbler (48Km/30miles) and the Arrochar group, Ben Lomond (35Km/22miles), Ben Lui (58Km/36miles), Ben More (48Km/30miles) and Stob Binien, Ben Venue (32Km/19miles), The Braes o’ Balquidder, The Ochil Hills and The Lomond Hills. Others that we should have identified but didn’t were Ben Ledi, Ben A’an and BenVorlich in Strathyre (38Km/24miles). Man-made landmarks included Alloa, The Forth Bridges, Edinburgh, the Falkirk Wheel and Cumbernauld. This must rate highly on the McMeekin scale of fabulosity, second only to the Cobbler this year.We took coffee on Meikle Bin and spent time there relaxing in the sun and taking in the phenomenal view from Ailsa to the Bass (182Km/114miles) and from Merrick to Ben More (140.8Km/88miles). Paul got all the plaudits for choosing the destination and the day to do it in. We might let him choose again some other day.
Eventually we dragged ourselves away from the summit of Meikle Bin. We followed a path of sorts across the top in a southerly direction. ‘It’s all downhill from here’ said Paul, ‘except for the wee uppy bits’. And downhill it was, down into the trees again and down into the peaty goo again. All views were lost to us as we picked our way carefully down the bog. A four foot wide, four foot deep sheugh cut across the ‘path’. This was also on the gooey side. Many and varied were the antics of five auld codgers trying to drop into this wet, peaty trench and back out without unexpected seats in the slimy, black wetness. It’s slightly disappointing for your scribe to report that we all made it without mishap.
Then came one of Paul’s ‘wee uppy bits’, a sixty degree slope of grassy tussocks with green bogs waiting on flatter sections to catch the unwary. Paul was now being called all manner of unflattering things for leading us into this. But it was only a wee uppy bit and didn’t last too long and we topped out at the edge of the trees beside a fence on Black Hill ‘Follow the fence’ said Paul and we did. And on the relatively flat section, Davie set the pace, Davie’s pace.
The path beside the fence brought us to the top of Garrel Hill where we could look back at Meikle Bin. Though most of the northern view had gone, hidden behind the Bin, there were still glimpses of highland hills rising one behind the other. And the Wallace monument on abbey Craig at Stirling showed itself now though the town still hid behind the Carron hills. Most of the view was on the south, across the Central Lowlands to the Southern Upland hills and we admired this for a wee while before moving on. And Davie still set the pace.
Paul said, casually ‘We’re coming to a wet bit now’. A wet bit! We thought we had already come to wet bits so why did he think to mention this now? We feared the worst. And we got the worst.
We dropped off the top of Garrel Hill still following the pad beside the fence. Down into a shallow col between hills we came and all our views disappeared. Not that we could have looked at the views anyway for we were now in Paul’s ‘wet bit’ and spent the time watching where we put our feet. Burns that didn’t yet know that they were burns oozed from the sphagnum and wet peat at every step covering the uppers of the boots and splashing legs and gaiters with black muck, and feet had to be placed cautiously to avoid even deeper immersions. Where the ooze wasn’t too deep, reeds and rushes were pressed into service as ‘steppies’ but detours were needed to avoid the deepest of the quagmires. Paul’s ears were abused again. And again. And again.
And Davie set the pace.
By the time we had negotiated the wet and started the rise on the drier (only drier by comparison) ground to the top of Tomtain it was closing on lunch time and Ian was complaining of starvation. Paul sought a place dry enough to sit on for a bite. But Jimmy and Davie had ‘better’ ideas. They saw the remains of a drystane dyke on the horizon and thought this would be ideal. So we followed them up the hill to its summit where we sat on the remains of a drystane dyke and ate.
What a place we chose to take lunch. Though the northwest views had gone, hidden behind the Bin, we could still look south and east and north-east. Oh how fickle are the Ooter’s memories. How quickly we forget. Paul, who, only twenty minutes ago, was being abused for leading us into the wet, now received plaudits for bringing us to another splendid hill on such a splendid day. Well done Paul.
Such was the clearness of the day, the magnificence of the view and the warmth of the afternoon sun that we thought to spend a bit of time over lunch. But the itchy feet lot had other ideas. Even before Ian had finished eating – well, we didn’t have all day – they had packed up and were ready for the off. Why this should be, we are not quite sure for we had just to walk down the hill to the car, but ready for the off they were. Poor Ian hurriedly scoffed down his third roll, packed up and followed meekly.
Less than a mile of downward progress brought us to the car parked at the Tak-ma-doon viewpoint.
This was a day when the enjoyment of the views and the warmth of the sun far outweighed the nuisance of underfoot conditions. Our thanks go to Paul for
1- Putting us off from going in the rain a fortnight ago. ‘It would have been miserable’ said Davie, ‘We would have seen nothing and got soaking forbye’.
2- Allowing us to go on such a splendidly clear day. We will let him lead some other day.
Those who missed today missed a very good walk. But it’s one we will do it again for it is well worth the doing.
Distances from
Meikle Bin to Ailsa Craig 104.8 km
Meikle Bin to Bass Rock 93.4 km
Ailsa Craig to Bass Rock 181.4 km
Report by Jimmy, Route & distance calculations by Paul, Photos by Allan
