Five of the hardiest and fittest
Ooters gathered in Davie MC’s place in Darvel for today’s outing. Well, when I
say the fittest, that is a point for debate for when Jimmy arrived having
recovered from his bout of shingles and we started comparing medications, it
was found that only the drugs were holding us together. So it was five of the
hardiest and chemically supported Ooters that made their way from Ayrshire to
the south of Lanarkshire for today’s outing.
The day was bright and sunny when we
left Ayrshire but as we travelled into Lanarkshire the sky clouded over, not
sufficiently to foretell rain, just enough to obscure the sun. It would to stay
that way for the day and the met office forecasted rain never appeared. In the
village of Crawford we turned left on Camps Road, came over the Clyde by a narrow,
ancient bridge, over the railway by a much more modern one and parked the cars
in a layby near Crawford Castle.
Davie Mc had threatened us with at least
two lung-bursting climbs but the walk started off easily enough. We turned left
on a wee narrow tarmacked road parallel to the railway, a road that still held
the red whin that used to give Lanarkshire its distinctive red roads. But we
were only on this for a few hundred yards before came our first ‘lung-bursting’
climb of the day from the floor of the Clyde valley to the top of Castle Hill. You
might expect that this slope would cause us old fellows some problems but we
took it casually and slowly enough having many stops to admire the view. One
such stop saw us looking down on an ancient earthwork which we decided was a
Roman camp but which on later researching proved to be another Iron Age
settlement. (This area is littered with such monuments) Another stop saw us
looking westward to the high tops of the Lowthers capped with cloud. And each
and every one saw us look out over the upper Clyde Valley to watch both river
and motorway run south to north. When we eventually reached the top of Castle
Hill, we turned our steps eastward for Raggengill top.
We never quite made the summit of Raggengill
Hill. A hundred yards or so from the crest Davie Mc suggested we ignore this
top and head for the Iron Age hill fort on Arbory Hill top, ‘Just to let Jimmy
see it’ This necessitated a drop from our present height to a col between two
tops and a steep cleugh down the grassy slope of Tewsgill Hill. A path of sorts,
no more than a sheep pad really, then skirted Tewsgill and brought us to the
rise to the fort on top of Arbory. Here, in the remains of an Iron Age house,
we settled down for coffee. (For a description of Arbory Fort see http://www.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=24276)
‘There’s a path all the way now’,
said our knowledgeable one. If there ever was, we have yet to find it. Oh,
there was one to start with and we
followed it away from Arbory Hill towards the top of Tewsgill. Then, either we
lost the path or it sort of petered out for we found ourselves climbing the
slope of Tewsgill through bent grass and soft, springy moss. Tiring stuff for
most but especially for the not yet fully recovered Jimmy who struggled to make
the top. But make it he did, along with the rest of us. Bob’s record picture
was taken from the trig point on this hill for it was to be our highest point of the day, much to Jimmy’s relief it should
be added.
Wind turbines are springing up all
over our southern hills. This area is no exception and Hawkwood Hill and Rome
hill are just as polluted with them as any. But one thing about these turbines
is that they need service roads, service roads that would lead us back into the
valley. So it was towards Hawkwood top that we now turned our steps. As we
approached the first of the whirling, whooshing turbines Davie C was heard to
be singing not so quietly to himself. And the song? What else but ‘♫ Oh Power
of Scotland ♪’
The wind had been freshening as we
climbed towards Arbory and now it was a full gale. And it was time for lunch.
So, coorying into what shelter was made by the column of a wind turbine, we sat
down to eat. Our view while we ate was towards the east. Tinto had been with us
for some time but was now joined by Culter Fell and is surrounds and to the south
the Moffat hills around the Devil’s Beeftub. And away in the east was the faint
outline of the Pentlands. A pleasant spot for lunch. That was until the strong wind
began to chill. Then we set off down the service road and the short climb to
the top of Rome Hill.
A few shortcuts down the heathery
slops between loops of the road took us down out of the wind to the bridge on
the Camps Water where another break was called. We had dropped out of the wind
completely now and, despite the overcast sky, the air was warm. We need that
break. Now our way lay down the tarmacked service road of Camps Reservior. This
was taken casually, coming down past Crawford Castle and back to our transport.
(For a short history of the Crawford Castle see www.castleuk.net/castle_lists_scotland/72/crawford.html)
A cracking day in new territory for
most and our thanks must go to Davie Mc for finding the walk for us.
We drove back into Ayrshire for FRT
in the Black Bull in Darvel where we were made most welcome.
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