23 September - Four lochs and four adders

Distance: 22.6 km, (14.0 miles)


After last week’s adventures in the undergrowth, seven Ooters (Davie, Rex, Allan, Paul, Jimmy, Johnny and Robert) succeeded in following Davie's and Kay’s directions to a spot halfway along Loch Doon.

A snell wind, harbinger of the coming winter, greeted us as we stepped out of the cars and for the first time in several months a few of the Ooters felt the need to don woolly hats and gloves.

Davie wore shorts.

“You’ll soon warm up” said Davie, and he was right . As we climbed up through the forestry the exertion and the windbreak provided by the trees meant that before long we were stripping off.

Davie had recently reconnoitred the walk and this time had come equipped with binoculars to view more closely the castle in the middle of Loch Finlas, which he had spotted on his earlier visit. However, since his previous visit it had disappeared only to be replaced by a few nondescript rocks. Still, the view along the length of the loch was fine and afforded an excuse for a wee breather. Davie tested Jimmy over the whereabouts of Balloch Castle and after Jimmy admitted ignorance Davie set Jimmy the task of finding out for homework

Soon we were out of the forest and after a brief change of direction as we skirted the edge of the trees, we continued to head West/South West, still climbing, but this time over open terrain and on a poorer track used by mountainbikers. The view back over Lochs Finlas and Doon was admired.

Morning coffee was taken on a convenient rocky outcrop overlooking the third loch of the day, Bradan. Naturally, conversation turned to the path, or lack of, on the far side of the loch. In discussions alarmingly reminiscent of the previous week, some doubt was expressed about following the path below us which seemed to be going away from our destination. However, this time commonsense prevailed and we followed this track down the hill towards the loch. Here we met the path we had followed on our earlier never-to-be-repeated circumnavigation of Loch Bradan.

The wind was driving waves across the waters of Bradan, but the idyllic beauty of the location was disrupted by the roar of jet engines as one RAF fighter chased another at low level over the loch.

Further round the loch two fishermen were observed. Davie informed us that they had been there the last time he did the walk. Whether or not they had left the spot in between times must remain one of life’s little mysteries.

The walk along the lochside was brisk on a well-made path and Ballochbeatties soon came into view. On reaching the the Forest Drive we paused for a break and Johnny settled down on his rucksack-cum-armchair in the middle of the drive. However the sight of a 20 ton log transporter driving towards us soon had Johnny heading for the side of the road.

The driver was lost. He had a map but he was lost. We empathised with him. Now how unlucky was that - to be lost in a forest and of all the people you might meet, you encounter a group who the previous week had got lost in somebody’s overgrown garden? There was a touch of the blind leading the blind but we soon worked out that he had overshot the side track he wanted and that he would have to turn round. Forest Drive wasn’t designed to permit 20 ton lorries to do U-ies (I’ll check with Bluey for the correct spelling) and a good 10-15 minutes elapsed before he passed us further down the track.

Mention of “Ballochbeatties” had stirred a few brain cells amongst some of those who had listened to Davie’s earlier question and Jimmy was excused homework when it was declared that “Balloch Castle” must have been the old name for “Loch Doon Castle”

And to prove it, here’s one of the photos Davie took when he was a lad:




Walking through the forest, the group disintegrated into 3 sub-groups. The pay and display machine for motorists using Forest Drive was spotted and the general consensus was that the chances of Ooters paying the requested fee were akin to Fort William’s on their visit to Auchinleck at the weekend. Nevertheless we proposed stopping the next vehicle to check that a valid ticket was being displayed. Needless to say we didn’t carry this out when a car did approach us, but we were surprised to see that it carried a French registration plate.

Riecawr, the final loch of day, came into view and lunch was taken at a viewpoint, complete which picnic area and adventure playground. There was room for six at the table so it was as well Johnny had brought his own furniture with him. A chill wind blew off the loch and there was a smirr in the air, but we hunkered down and tucked in. Afterwards some of the kiddies went off to play in the adventure playground.

It has oft been remarked upon by Jimmy that there are those in the group who walk in order to get from A to B as quickly as possible and those who walk in order to take in the landscape. As the former raced off down the hill to the Doon that awaited them, the second group encountered an adder on the road – one missed completely by the sprinters. Charitably the wannabe Bolts were called back to view this rare sight. It was alive, but not very. Or perhaps it was just feeling the cold. Either way, all it did was raise its head slightly and tried to adopt an aggressive look. It made no attempt to slither away. With growing confidence, photos were taken from an increasingly close range.

Photo opportunity concluded, we continued our descent to Loch Doon, taking in Riecawr’s dam on the way. By the time we reached the loch more than one Ooter was complaining of sore feet. The hard track had taken its toll, and there were at least of couple miles of tarmac still to walk.

Afternoon refreshments were taken at the castle-formerly- known-as-Balloch. Or was it? Philosophical discussion ensued, about whether this was the ‘same’ castle that had once occupied the now-submerged island in the loch . The conclusion was, erm, inconclusive.

And off we went again; a little wearier by now. Amazingly we spotted another adder by the roadside. The adders were multiplying. Including Johnny and Allan that made it four in one day. This one was decidedly dead but it didn’t stop some of our number being a little edgy as it was lifted up on a walking pole. It might just have been pretending.

We trudged past Lambdoughty or Lamdoughty, depending on the side of the road you live on, and after a further mile during which we had time to contemplate the beauty of the area, we reached our departure point, where the morning’s chill wind was still blowing down the valley.

It was a great walk with plenty of variety. Well done again Davie.

Refreshments were consumed in Dalmellington, in a pub whose name escapes your scribe. However, you can’t miss it. It’s the one that isn’t boarded up.