Bring Autumn's pleasant weather;
The moorcock springs on whirring wings
Amang the blooming heatherRobert Burns
Seven Ooters (Davie, Paul, Rex, Johnnie, Robert, Ronnie and Alan (back after a long absence)) gathered at Davie’s for coffee and home-made pancakes. Thanks Davie and Kay!
The weather forecast had been reasonable with nothing more than an isolated shower predicted, and Paul’s check of the rainfall radar revealed no rain around …. so it came as a surprise to see the rain falling outside Davie’s hoose. Nevertheless, we decided to keep to our plan of heading for deepest Lanarkshire where Davie was to lead a walk ‘somewhere near Culter Fell’. The rain accompanied us for most of the journey but on arrival to Culter Allers Farm, just after 10 am, the weather was considerably brighter and the tops were well clear of cloud.
Davie had reconnoitred the chosen route the previous week, and we were all heartened to learn that Holly had accompanied him, feeling confident that at least one of the party would be familiar with the route. The walk had been published in The Herald, but from where we had parked our cars, it started a mile further along the road we were about to walk. Davie reasoned the extra mile would give us a chance to warm up before we started the first of several ascents.
Having passed a substantial farm in Birthwood and a remote house at Windgate we came to the parking area for the walk. Holly had indeed remembered the way and led us across a wooden bridge into fields which rose very steeply towards the top of the first of many hills today, Ward Law. There were several stops to admire the views, which included one of three joggers making their way along the road we had just left. Ronnie’s incessant jokes helped to take our minds off the climbing, but even he started to flag and as we neared the top. He resorted to providing the punchlines for which we had to supply the rest of the joke.
As the last few dozen feet of the hill rose even more steeply, it was decided that we would give the summit a miss, rationalising this decision by observing there were plenty more summits on the way and one more wouldn’t make any difference to our enjoyment of the walk.
The view was indeed spectacular, as we looked across to Culter Fell, and then over the Lanarkshire plain to the Pentland Hills in the distance and then further round towards Tinto Hill. (Later in the day your scribe thought he could see Arthur’s Seat. But having pointed out the Lake District hills from one of the Galloway hills ….until they were observed to be floating across the sky …. he chose not to mention it.)
The inevitable ascent followed our descent from not-quite-the-top-of-Ward Law and soon we were heading up Woodycleugh Dod. But the summit would have to wait until we had partaken of morning coffee. The wind was strong enough for us to opt for leaving the path and settling in a sheltered spot 20 yards away. Ere long, light rain started to fall, but it was enough to encourage those not already wearing rain gear to don waterproof trousers and jackets. This traditional ritual worked, because the rain soon stopped. This would be the pattern for much of the day as the occasional light shower passed over.
Woodycleugh Dod was conquered and in the distance the next summit came into view.
“We’re not going up there are we?” asked Robert rhetorically. It was Hudderstone, and yes we were.
Holly flushed a couple of grouse out of the heather. Paul reminded the ensemble that it was “the Glorious Twelfth”, whereupon Davie did a very fine impression of James Galway. He was reminded the month was August, not July.
We passed by a few grouse butts during the walk but all day there was neither sight nor sound of humans trying to fill wee harmless birds full of lead …. although it has to be said Alan looked distinctly twitchy at the sight of the odd grouse rising from the heather.
At 626 metres, Hudderstone was the highest point of the walk, so it was downhill all way from there. Or it would have been had it not been for all the hills that stood in our way.
Windgate Bank loomed into view.
“We’re not going up there are we?” asked Robert.
Yes we were, and we hadn’t yet spotted (although Davie had forewarned us) the steep descent and steep ascent which lay in our way. We went down the slope very gingerly indeed. We’d found an ideal spot for lunch though, with the gulley between the two slopes being well protected from the wind. According to the guide we were at Kygill Slop. A route straight down into the valley, which would have had us back at the cars in no time, was pointed out by Robert.
Climbing out of the Slop, our next objective came into view. Whitelaw Brae.
“We’re not going up there are we?” asked Robert. His remaining comments have to be paraphrased but they were along the lines of “it appears to be a considerable distance away”. Davie and Paul suggested it was just an optical illusion and it really wasn’t all that far.
And after a mile and half’s walking we were there – with Rex seated in the lee of the trig point waiting for the rest of us.
Our next objective was Hardrigg Head. We could see the cairn well over to the left, but since our destination was well over to the right this was questioned. Davie assured us that it was the quickest way. Our resident physicist, Ian, wasn’t with us, nor was Jimmy who knows everything, so we weren’t in a position to challenge our guide.
It was a fair old pull up to Hardrigg Head but the summit cairn and that Aussie bloke again, were waiting to welcome us.
There followed a pleasant, gently descending stretch. Conditions underfoot had been good throughout, with a well-defined path, and even walking off-piste was fine since a lot of the cover was young soft heather and blae/blue/whinberries. We were heading north now and the views ahead of us and around us were terrific; and below was the Cowgill Upper Reservoir and the oddly-named Big Smagill feeding into it.
As we skirted round the side of Broad Hill the terrain became much boggier. It might have been the only bog we encountered all day, but it didn’t stop Davie from getting pelters. As Ronne observed “Who’d be a leader?”
A break was taken above Cowgill Lower Reservoir. You know it’s a proper walk when you have an afternoon halt.
Discussion turned to sartorial elegance – especially headgear. Johnny is rightly proud of his recent purchase which is both elegant and functional (all he needs now is an elephant whip). He poured scorn on Rex’s headgear of choice which (as far as your scribe could ascertain) remains in his house. It’s clearly more decorative than functional and as Johnny observed, it’s made from rabbit feathers. This may not be true.
But enough of the light-hearted banter. It was still a few miles to the car, Biggar had to be visited, there was a long drive home and most of the party wanted to be home whilst Scotland still had 11 men on the pitch and were within two goals of salvaging a draw.
A steep slope took us down to the road at Cowgill and we had to zig-zag our way through bracken, heather and blaeberries (Or was it zag-zig? Cue Ronnie joke.) .
On the road, the party soon split, with Davie, Robert and Johnnie leaving the stragglers behind. For once Holly remained with the stragglers. Perhaps the responsibility of co-leading the walk had been too much for her.
We passed the spot where our cars would have been if we hadn’t needed the extra exercise and passing the house with the satellite dish at Windgill the stragglers spotted a sheep entangled in fence wire. They discussed whether or not they should help rescue it, for this would entail backtracking and finding a river crossing. Holly was all for getting in with the sheep straight away and eventually the remaining stragglers chose to do the righteous thing too. While Paul looked after a perfectly behaved Holly, the others released the panic-stricken ovine. No photographic evidence of this episode remains which is perhaps as well, since other pictures of similar adventures with sheep have at times been misinterpreted.
Back at the cars, the vanguard was in conversation with a fellow walker when the stragglers arrived. After a quick change we were all aboard for the Crown in Biggar.
The Crown gets a high rating. As well as being fairly busy it possesses the EO’s chief requirement – a pleasant barmaid - as the photographic evidence confirms. We were even given a free pint which had been mistakenly poured for another customer. In your scribe’s opinion, we have a new favourite for the annual awards. We will be back (again).
So off home we headed for the Scotland match. I can only hope there were long delays en route.
It was a good day out. A high level walk, generally easy underfoot and with some fine views. Well done Davie and Holly!
The weather forecast had been reasonable with nothing more than an isolated shower predicted, and Paul’s check of the rainfall radar revealed no rain around …. so it came as a surprise to see the rain falling outside Davie’s hoose. Nevertheless, we decided to keep to our plan of heading for deepest Lanarkshire where Davie was to lead a walk ‘somewhere near Culter Fell’. The rain accompanied us for most of the journey but on arrival to Culter Allers Farm, just after 10 am, the weather was considerably brighter and the tops were well clear of cloud.
Davie had reconnoitred the chosen route the previous week, and we were all heartened to learn that Holly had accompanied him, feeling confident that at least one of the party would be familiar with the route. The walk had been published in The Herald, but from where we had parked our cars, it started a mile further along the road we were about to walk. Davie reasoned the extra mile would give us a chance to warm up before we started the first of several ascents.
Having passed a substantial farm in Birthwood and a remote house at Windgate we came to the parking area for the walk. Holly had indeed remembered the way and led us across a wooden bridge into fields which rose very steeply towards the top of the first of many hills today, Ward Law. There were several stops to admire the views, which included one of three joggers making their way along the road we had just left. Ronnie’s incessant jokes helped to take our minds off the climbing, but even he started to flag and as we neared the top. He resorted to providing the punchlines for which we had to supply the rest of the joke.
As the last few dozen feet of the hill rose even more steeply, it was decided that we would give the summit a miss, rationalising this decision by observing there were plenty more summits on the way and one more wouldn’t make any difference to our enjoyment of the walk.
The view was indeed spectacular, as we looked across to Culter Fell, and then over the Lanarkshire plain to the Pentland Hills in the distance and then further round towards Tinto Hill. (Later in the day your scribe thought he could see Arthur’s Seat. But having pointed out the Lake District hills from one of the Galloway hills ….until they were observed to be floating across the sky …. he chose not to mention it.)
The inevitable ascent followed our descent from not-quite-the-top-of-Ward Law and soon we were heading up Woodycleugh Dod. But the summit would have to wait until we had partaken of morning coffee. The wind was strong enough for us to opt for leaving the path and settling in a sheltered spot 20 yards away. Ere long, light rain started to fall, but it was enough to encourage those not already wearing rain gear to don waterproof trousers and jackets. This traditional ritual worked, because the rain soon stopped. This would be the pattern for much of the day as the occasional light shower passed over.
Woodycleugh Dod was conquered and in the distance the next summit came into view.
“We’re not going up there are we?” asked Robert rhetorically. It was Hudderstone, and yes we were.
Holly flushed a couple of grouse out of the heather. Paul reminded the ensemble that it was “the Glorious Twelfth”, whereupon Davie did a very fine impression of James Galway. He was reminded the month was August, not July.
We passed by a few grouse butts during the walk but all day there was neither sight nor sound of humans trying to fill wee harmless birds full of lead …. although it has to be said Alan looked distinctly twitchy at the sight of the odd grouse rising from the heather.
At 626 metres, Hudderstone was the highest point of the walk, so it was downhill all way from there. Or it would have been had it not been for all the hills that stood in our way.
Windgate Bank loomed into view.
“We’re not going up there are we?” asked Robert.
Yes we were, and we hadn’t yet spotted (although Davie had forewarned us) the steep descent and steep ascent which lay in our way. We went down the slope very gingerly indeed. We’d found an ideal spot for lunch though, with the gulley between the two slopes being well protected from the wind. According to the guide we were at Kygill Slop. A route straight down into the valley, which would have had us back at the cars in no time, was pointed out by Robert.
Climbing out of the Slop, our next objective came into view. Whitelaw Brae.
“We’re not going up there are we?” asked Robert. His remaining comments have to be paraphrased but they were along the lines of “it appears to be a considerable distance away”. Davie and Paul suggested it was just an optical illusion and it really wasn’t all that far.
And after a mile and half’s walking we were there – with Rex seated in the lee of the trig point waiting for the rest of us.
Our next objective was Hardrigg Head. We could see the cairn well over to the left, but since our destination was well over to the right this was questioned. Davie assured us that it was the quickest way. Our resident physicist, Ian, wasn’t with us, nor was Jimmy who knows everything, so we weren’t in a position to challenge our guide.
It was a fair old pull up to Hardrigg Head but the summit cairn and that Aussie bloke again, were waiting to welcome us.
There followed a pleasant, gently descending stretch. Conditions underfoot had been good throughout, with a well-defined path, and even walking off-piste was fine since a lot of the cover was young soft heather and blae/blue/whinberries. We were heading north now and the views ahead of us and around us were terrific; and below was the Cowgill Upper Reservoir and the oddly-named Big Smagill feeding into it.
As we skirted round the side of Broad Hill the terrain became much boggier. It might have been the only bog we encountered all day, but it didn’t stop Davie from getting pelters. As Ronne observed “Who’d be a leader?”
A break was taken above Cowgill Lower Reservoir. You know it’s a proper walk when you have an afternoon halt.
Discussion turned to sartorial elegance – especially headgear. Johnny is rightly proud of his recent purchase which is both elegant and functional (all he needs now is an elephant whip). He poured scorn on Rex’s headgear of choice which (as far as your scribe could ascertain) remains in his house. It’s clearly more decorative than functional and as Johnny observed, it’s made from rabbit feathers. This may not be true.
But enough of the light-hearted banter. It was still a few miles to the car, Biggar had to be visited, there was a long drive home and most of the party wanted to be home whilst Scotland still had 11 men on the pitch and were within two goals of salvaging a draw.
A steep slope took us down to the road at Cowgill and we had to zig-zag our way through bracken, heather and blaeberries (Or was it zag-zig? Cue Ronnie joke.) .
On the road, the party soon split, with Davie, Robert and Johnnie leaving the stragglers behind. For once Holly remained with the stragglers. Perhaps the responsibility of co-leading the walk had been too much for her.
We passed the spot where our cars would have been if we hadn’t needed the extra exercise and passing the house with the satellite dish at Windgill the stragglers spotted a sheep entangled in fence wire. They discussed whether or not they should help rescue it, for this would entail backtracking and finding a river crossing. Holly was all for getting in with the sheep straight away and eventually the remaining stragglers chose to do the righteous thing too. While Paul looked after a perfectly behaved Holly, the others released the panic-stricken ovine. No photographic evidence of this episode remains which is perhaps as well, since other pictures of similar adventures with sheep have at times been misinterpreted.
Back at the cars, the vanguard was in conversation with a fellow walker when the stragglers arrived. After a quick change we were all aboard for the Crown in Biggar.
The Crown gets a high rating. As well as being fairly busy it possesses the EO’s chief requirement – a pleasant barmaid - as the photographic evidence confirms. We were even given a free pint which had been mistakenly poured for another customer. In your scribe’s opinion, we have a new favourite for the annual awards. We will be back (again).
So off home we headed for the Scotland match. I can only hope there were long delays en route.
It was a good day out. A high level walk, generally easy underfoot and with some fine views. Well done Davie and Holly!
3 comments:
Excellent report, Paul.
David is now racking his brains to remember the zig zag joke.
Mention "tobogganist" to him.
Ok he's remembered it now.
Wish he hadn't!
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