Andy,
Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Peter, Rex & Robert
Muirkirk in the eastern extremity of
Ayrshire is a fascinating place; geologically, historically and archaeologically
fascinating. Today we would explore some of these fascinating aspects of
Muirkirk. (For an introduction to Muirkirk see Stuart Thomson’s webpage at www.freespace.virgin.net/stuart.thomson1/stpages/muirkirk)
The town and parish of Muirkirk date
back to the twelfth century when the monks of Melrose founded an outreach at
Mauchline. They built a chapel of ease on the moors of that part of Ayrshire
known as Kyle. This came to be known as the Muir Kirk of Kyle (Moor Church of
Kyle) hence the name of the township that grew up round it. But we were not to
explore this part of the parish today instead we would turn our attention to
the southern part and to the top known as Cairn Table.
Rex was late, mistaking the time of
departure, but we waited patiently – well as patiently as we wait for anyone – at
the walkers' car park at the ironworks institute at Kames for him coming before
setting off along behind the institute to take the road signed for Sanquhar. The
ironworks institute is all that remains now of the once thriving industrial
centre that was eighteenth and nineteenth century Muirkirk, having been built as
a recreation centre for the workers in the ironworks here. These Ironworks were
established in the late eighteenth century and continued through the nineteenth
and into the early twentieth. Nothing now remains of the works themselves only
the institute and the place names - Ironworks Row and Furnace Road – to remind
us.
The
tarmac gave out after a few hundred metres but the old road continues as what
was once a shooters road. This marks the old turnpike road that was built in
the late eighteenth century as a short route from Glasgow to England and to
take the produce of Muirkirk Ironworks to the centres where it was needed. Only
the section of the turnpike north of Muirkirk is maintained as the public road
to Stra’ven, the southern end having been abandoned early in the nineteenth
century. It was along this southern section that we walked, waiting for Rex to
catch up.
The
reason we didn’t stop altogether and wait was the bitter east wind biting into
exposed flesh and chilling even through layers of outdoor clothing. We wandered
on slowly. We did stop eventually, in the lea of McAdam’s Cairn. This cairn
marks the site of the British Tar Company’s works. The tar works was
established here by the Earl of Dundonald to exploit the abundance of surface
level coal around the town – coal that was suitable for tar extraction. The
works were managed by, and eventually owned by, one John Loudoun McAdam who
later made his name in England as a civil engineer and road builder. McAdam was
a Trustee in the Cambuslang and Muirkirk Turnpike Trust that had the Sanquhar
road built. He must have learnt his road building technique from James
Finlayson, the engineer on the old road, a technique he was to refine in England
and patent under the name macadamisation. There is nothing left of the Tarwork to
remind us of its existence now only some bumps in the ground and this modern
cairn.
Rex
caught us up at McAdam’s cairn and we walked on. Evidence of early coal
workings is dotted all over the moor here. The self-same monks who established
the Muir Kirk of Kyle found coal easy to extract on this moor, the seams running
close to the surface. The remains of medieval bell pits can be seen even from
the old road as strange circular hollows in the ground where the old pit has collapsed
and formed these weird-looking depressions. We noted some in the passing as we
walked on round the Whisky Knowe – a conical mound by the side of the road in
which, as legend supposes, casks of smuggled whisky are buried – and on to the
Sanquhar Brig.
The
old brig as no more, having been washed away on a flood of the late twentieth
century but a modern footbridge takes its place and allows the pedestrian to
continue the walk to Sanquhar. Our self-appointed guide for the day, Jimmy,
pointed out the Minister’s Well on the other side of the burn, a green patch on
the otherwise brown heather-slope and told us we could find other springs all
around here, a result of some weird geology. We would be told more later.
We
didn’t continue along the road to Sanquhar. We left the turnpike here and took
to a path on the left-hand side to start our climb of Cairn table. Not so very
far above the old road we crossed an artificial cut in the ground. This,
explained our knowledgeable one, is the lade used to carry water to the tar
works and the ironworks in the eighteenth century. And as our attention was drawn
we could see the scar of it running across the hillside just above the track we
had come along. But it wasn’t day to hang about and we set of again, upwards
through the heather. Now we found the strength of the wind as well as its
temperature. We kept moving.
We
saw our first deer of the year as we walked above the cut and started on the
hill proper. Allan hasn’t been feeling too well recently and this showed as he
struggled upward. Eventually he had to call a halt and retreat. Johnny and Peter
offered to keep him company and left us to climb on while they went for a lower
level walk. We await a report.
The
wind was chilling so the progress upward was constant. No time for hanging
about getting cold. Davie Mc in his usual manner was well to the front and by
the time we were half way up, he was nearly at the top. Still we plodded upwards
in his wake. Near the top of Cairn Table the old red sandstone of the Devonian
era outcrops. Trickling from this is another of Muirkirk’s springs. At around
the 1900ft contour, it is higher than the surrounding hills. ‘An artesian
spring’ announced our self-appointed guide ‘The water apparently has the same chemical
constituents as Loch Katrine in the southern highlands.’ Whether it is the same
water which by some freakish geology makes its way from there to here, he wasn’t
convinced but this is the story that’s told about it. The spring does run at
the same temperature summer and winter indicating a deep source but where the
source is nobody is quite sure. Ian sampled the water and pronounced it tasting
like - water! An excellent recommendation for your dram.
Another
forty feet of climbing brought us to the frost-shattered boulders and native old
red sandstone outcrops of the summit. The county boundary between Ayrshire and
Lanarkshire crosses the summit with the highest point, a bronze-age burial
cairn, being on the Lanarkshire side. Not to be outdone, the striking miners of
1926 erected a huge war memorial on the Ayrshire side. This is the cairn that
can be seen from the town. Rising some twenty-odd feet above the natural level,
it is now the highest point on the summit. To build it to such an excellent
standard needed skilled men and equipment. These were brought to the summit in
a lorry driven by a local man. How he managed this we can only guess but it was
some feat of driving not one that we would relish.
On
the summit we hunkered down in whatever shelter from the cold wind we could get
and had a bite to eat.
After
coffee we crossed into Lanarkshire, crossed the burial cairn and started our descent
toward the young Douglas Water. It was on the descent that we encountered our
first snow, hard as concrete and great to walk on. It wasn’t until Robert found
the softer stuff and sunk up to his knees that we left the snow patches and
took to a quad-bike track alongside the fence. Then, much to the irritation of
some of our number Davie Mc took us along another set of tracks that he said
was a better way. We all trust Davie Mc, don’t we? So we followed. And to
everybody’s surprise these tracks brought us to the end of the shooters' road
in the Douglas valley.
We
kept to this for a while now, stopping only once for a lunch break at the
bridge over the burn. As the road climbed away from the Douglas, we met a four
by four pick-up bouncing down the rough track towards us. In it was a young
man, a keeper on the Douglas Estate. He warned us to keep an eye out for Holly
for he had just set some fox traps by the side of the road bated with choice
leg of hare. We kept an eye on Holly for the duration. Good job as well for
when she caught smell of the hare leg she was nearly in the trap after it. We
caught her in time.
Then
we crossed over from the valley of the Douglas to the valley of the infant
River Ayr. The
snowdrops were not quite into full flower on the high ground around Parishholm
farm but there was enough there to suggest a superb show later in the spring.
Then we crossed the road, climbed a fence and came to the shores of Glenbuck
Loch.
Glenbuck
Loch is totally man-made as can be noted from the dams at each end. It was
created in the late eighteenth century to provide a constant head of water for
the mills at Catrine amongst other things. Dams were constructed in the valley
and the natural springs and runnels filled it up. It is now part of Glenbuck
estate and is managed by Muirkirk Angling Club as a trout fishery. By its
nature and situation it attracts wildlife and a hide has been built overlooking
the fishery. It was in the hide that we chose to stop for another cuppa.
Glenbuck
village no longer exists, the opencast mining of the area seeing to this, but a
memorial to one of its greatest sons sits by the side of the road. This was of
course Bill Shankly of football fame and something of a latter day saint to
Liverpool supporters. It was at the instigation of the Liverpool Supporters Association
with money from the opencast fund that this memorial was built. Some of our
number can remember meeting with Liverpool supporters at the monument when we
did this walk before. They had made a pilgrimage to Glenbuck just to see where
Shankly was born and we can well remember the reverence with which they spoke
about him.
‘Football is not a matter of life and death –
it’s more important than that.’- Bill Shankly
We
would now follow the River Ayr Way back to Muirkirk. Leaving Glenbuck, we came
to the old railway – Ayr to Edinburgh – at the platform of Glenbuck Halt. Only
some rotting sleepers holding back a bank that used to be the platform remind
us that these ‘halts’ were once a common feature of country railways. But now
even the railways that served these outlying communities have gone only to remain
as level tracks across the open country. And the ‘halts’ are no more than
grassy banks beside the track.
Not
that we were in particularly ‘open’ country. No, for the first two or three
miles we were in the valley of the infant Ayr, a burn that ran through the moss
beside our track. There is not too much to be seen in the first two or three
miles of the Way, only old railway tracks coming from long forgotten mines and
quarries. The blethers of fellow Ooters were the only thing that provided
amusement on this section. Then we came to the Muirkirk Canal.
In
the early nineteenth century a better, more efficient way of transporting the
produce of Muirkirk’s works to the customer was sought. Taking a leaf from the
midlands of England, the works owners decided that if a canal could be made to
the harbour at Ayr, much more could be exported at a greatly reduced cost. So
began Muirkirk’s canal. It was never finished. No sooner had they started to
dig than the railways arrived and the scheme was abandoned. No more than half a
mile or so remains of the Muirkirk’s canal, no more than a waterlogged ditch
beside the railway track.
We
continued to follow the railway track back through the site of the ironworks to
Kames and the waiting cars. This must be the longest walk of the year so far –
around twelve miles and a hill taken in as well. Not too bad for old blokes.
Muirkirk
is a fascinating place and we had just explored half of it. We look forward to
exploring the northern part of the parish some other day.
FRT
was taken in our usual Muirkirk howf, The Coachhouse where an enjoyable hour or
so was spent.
