24 June Dumgoyne Hill

The Mediterranean weather returned this week producing blue skies, bright sunshine and temperatures touching the eighties. When we gathered at Ian’s in Kilmarnock at nine o’clock this morning, it was already into the high sixties and the forecast was for another hot day.

The target for the day was an easy ascent of the volcanic plug of Dumgoyne at the northwest end of the Campsie Fells. We looked forward to a warm climb and excellent views in the clear summer air. Yet, when we arrived in Blanefield, we must have driven into the only place in Scotland to be overcast. Fog hug on the top of the Campsies and a general haze restricted the viewing to a few miles. But it was still hot and shorts and liberal lashings of sunscreen were the order of the day.

Ian led us today for he had been here once, and he had read a book. (Education is a wonderful thing.) It’s maybe a good thing he did, for none of us would have thought of walking the private road up which he directed us. He chose Blanefield as a starting point in preference to the traditional one from the distillery for, he suggested, this would give us a gentler climb and super views down Strathblane and Strathendrick to Loch Lomond as we climbed. We thought he was just lost but we started walking anyway.
Robert had to be reigned in right from the start. In the absence of Davie and Rex, we were to have a relaxed walk at an easy pace. When Robert got to the front, he was told unambiguously that we were not racing today. But it was OK. Robert was just getting to the front to slow everybody up. So he said, and we believe him, don’t we?
So, at our new relaxed pace, we came to the end of the tarmac and found a continuation of this as a track – The Water Road, Ian called it. This track undulated slightly but mainly held the contour and Ian was congratulated on finding an easy route.
But this all changed when we left the track and took to a grassy path climbing the side of the hill. Though the path wasn’t too steep by mountain standards, it raised the breathing and tested the legs. ‘Coffee!’ was called from the rear. But Ian knew the perfect place for coffee some five more minutes up the hill so we continued the climb, some with tongues hanging out in desperate need of caffienation.
Coffee was taken on a group of outcrop rocks beside a wee glen and looking back through the haze to Blanefield. In the overcast, humid conditions, it didn’t take the midgies long to find us. Johnny sat above us in a slight breeze. ‘There’s no midgies up here’ he gloated. Jimmy moved up beside Johnny. Robert followed Jimmy. The midgies followed Robert. Needless to say, we didn’t spend too long over coffee.
The path continued to rise steeply for a while yet. Then it eased to slant gently up the flank of the hill toward our destination. And the zephyr we felt at coffee freshened into a breeze in the tail. We hoped this breeze would disperse the clag on the hill and drive away the miasma from the valley. But it didn’t, yet. It drove away the midgies but the haze remained.
We walked easily, in Indian file, as the narrowing path lifted us gently up the hill. Well, most of us walked easily. Allan tried hard to add to his bruises of last week by twice stumbling on the narrower parts of the path. We think he is playing for the sympathy vote now but he came to no harm this time. (On the subject of Allan’s fall last week, a grazed forearm and an almighty yellowy-purple bruise from elbow to wrist was the trophy he showed us. He has another on his ar posterior but we declined the offer to view this. He received the usual Ooters sympathy.)
Despite Allan’s efforts to injure himself again, this was a pleasant part of the day and might have proved even more so had we been able to see a view. As it was, the haze limited the viewing but The Kilpatrick Hills and Mugdock Loch could be seen in the west and Loch Lomond could just about be imagined in the north-west. But was that the sun making an appearance over the Campsies? Was the fog clearing from the hill? We had hopes for our breeze. Yet the haze remained in the valley.
Then our path joined the main drag and steepened. Minds were turned away from the view and to the climb ahead. Steep it might have been, but it wasn’t too long a climb and we found ourselves on the rounded top of Dumgoyne almost before we knew it. Lunch was called here. It was to be a lengthy, lazy lunch today for it was a day for taking it easy. The sun shone now and the breeze kept the midgies away. And we hoped that if we hung about long enough the haze would also be blown away. We live in hope.
As we sat, a head appeared over the lip of the rise. A body followed this and a woman joined us on the top. Two men followed her. Then more, both women and men, appeared. Then more. Before they were finished, there were around twenty of them gathered on the top, all chattering noisily. Johnny was volunteered to take the group picture for them and Jimmy, ever the shy one, made enquiries. They were a group from Glasgow Metropolitan College, Catering Section out on a team building day before breaking up for the summer. And they could supply us with a chocolate biscuit if we wanted. We didn’t refuse. It was suggested that the Ooters might try one of these team-building days but, for the life of us, we couldn’t remember what a team was, far less how to build one. And who would supply the chocolate biscuits? Nah, we’ll just guddle awa’ the way we are.
The ‘Team’ left the top before we did. We lay still and enjoyed the quiet. But, ‘Nae man can tether time nor tide, The hour approaches......’ and we were force to move on.
The hour that approached was the hour of the tour of the distillery at the foot of the hill. We had talked each other into a free tour and free dram so we set off downward. Jimmy led the way and made a line for the path we had come up, a path that would take us to the main one to the distillery. Ian, the local expert, took a steeper more direct line and waited for the rest further down the path. He was to continue his steep descent and Johnny went with him. The rest were for the path on the gentler down-slope. This path gave out on the same grassy slope that Ian was on but further north and not quite so steep. Robert was the one who started the jog. Jimmy went with him. Though Robert had the sense to stop after a while, Jimmy jogged on. The silly auld bugger has learnt nothing from his escapade on the Luss Hills and jogged on. We suspect it was the thought of the free dram that motivated him. Eventually he ran out of steam and waited for the rest of us where the path crossed a fence and a wee burn. Half an hour after leaving the top, we were all gathered at the same spot.
Now the slope eased and an easy stroll brought us down a grassy path and through a wood to find the road some hundred metres to the north of the distillery.

The distillery was a disappointment. Contrary to our thoughts of freebies, the tour was to cost £3.50 and, being meanies (stingy auld b******s, say some), we reneged. We use their facilities though, partly because we had to and partly because they contain original Crapper toilets. Robert was so taken on with these that he had to photograph them, and show us the photos. Toilet jokes should be e-mailed to Robert, not inflicted on the rest of us. The best one could appear on this blog beside his photos.

But we left the toilets, left the distillery and, relieved but disappointed, we moved on.
Our route took us back up through the wood to find the Water Road again and this was followed back to Blanefield. The breeze had now done its work and the haze was gone. Not that this was of great interest to us now, for we were far too low for distant views but the strength of the summer sun could be felt and it was turning a pleasantly hot afternoon.
Halfway along the Water Road Ian was discovered missing. We waited for him to catch up, suspecting a comfort break. But he didn’t appear. Paul volunteered to go in search of him. Allan offered to hold himself in reserve in case Paul disappeared as well but he wasn’t needed. Five minutes after Paul went out, he returned with the missing Ian. Ian had stopped to replace the energy he had used up on the steep descent and now appeared devouring what must have been his tenth roll of the day. Like the Prodigal Son, he was welcomed back amongst us and, if we had a fatted calf, we feel sure he would have devoured this as well. Not that we are saying anything about Ian’s appetite but you should see the size of his lunchbox.

The Water Road brought us back to the cars around two o’clock having had a good, easy day on a hill that was new to most of us.
Note to Messrs Porter and McMeekin: This is what walking should be like on a day like this, easy paced and with plenty of time to lounge about.

We returned to The King’s Arms in Fenwick for FRT.

Since Robert will be missing for the next few weeks, we take this opportunity to wish him well and a speedy recovery from his operation.