17 February - Coran of Portmark circuit

The drifts lay deep on the grizzly Rhynns, 
An' the deep-scarr'd rugged Meaul ; 

An dim through the haze, the stately Bow 
Loom'd ghostly, grim, an' tall. 

Eight Ooters (Alan, Allan, Davie, Paul, Rex, Robert, Ian and Johnny) gathered outside the Dalmellington Inn at 9.30 am, not to await opening time, but to proceed to the Green Well of Scotland from where they would repeat last February's (February 4th to be exact) Coran of Portmark circuit.

Last year, this had been Ronnie's first ooting with the Ooters and it had left such a lasting impression upon him that he was missing at roll call. This had been a spectacular walk on ice and snow so it was pleasing (to the majority) to see, as we headed towards Carsphairn, that a fresh fall of snow was lying on the tops.

Leaving the cars on the abandoned bit of road to the west of the main road (more of this anon), we took the old miners' road to the ruins of Woodhead lead mines. We approached the bridge, and even in Jimmy's absence, the question was put:

"When was this bridge built?"

Robert reckoned the 1830s, Paul reckoned 1936. Both were wrong. It was 1935. Robert commented it was hard enough remembering his name, let alone when some bridge in the middle of nowhere was built.

Garryhorn Farm was reached. The walled garden by the farm was a blanket of white from the countless snowdrops. Meanwhile, the dogs we met on our previous visit were cooped up, but we could hear them barking as we passed. There was no farmer around for Robert to insult this time.

As we approached the Woodhead mine buildings no discussion was necessary as telepathically we headed for the ruins of the old school to take our morning coffee.

We were now into the wet snow as we climbed a stile, left the stony path and headed up the hill. The wet snow soon gave way to the real thing and we paused more than once to observe the view, the peace being disturbed only by a couple of RAF jet planes.

The top of Coran of Portmark (623 m) afforded fine views, especially to the north where Troon and Irvine could be made out and to the west over Loch Doon towards Lochs Riecawr and Macaterick.

Looking south towards Meaul something/someone was spotted on the track ahead. A walker? A quad bike? Some of us could see it moving, others weren't sure.

Off we set again. Davie and Robert took the path over Bow (613 m). The rest took another path which skirted the hill. They were advised by Robert that he and Davie were on the right path. We kept to the wrong path which seamlessly rejoined the right path a little further on. Here, on the col between the Garryhorn valley and Loch Doon, the snow was deep and the barbed wire fences were coated in ice. There were some threatening clouds around which looked as if they might bring more snow but the day remained dry.

The walker/quad bike some of us had seen moving down the hill earlier turned out to be a bale of barbed wire. It certainly wasn't moving as we passed it.

Now began the steep ascent of Meaul. Last year this had been an icy stretch but today the fresh snow covered the ice below and gave a relatively firm footing. The length of Rex's strides in the snow were remarked upon and discussion naturally turned to inner leg measurements. After more stops to admire the view, the trig point on Meaul (695 m, 2280 ft in old money) was reached and the view to the south opened up to reveal the Solway, the snow covered Lake District hills and possibly the northern tip of the Isle of Man. And unlike the last time Davie and Paul 'spotted' the hills of the Lake District (from Byne Hill?) they didn't drift across the sky.

At this point Allan was asked where he would like his lunch (with Davie suggesting Carlin's Cairn, in the distance). Allan replied by suggesting he would have liked his lunch at the foot of the hill he had just climbed! Touché.

Because of the cold breeze on the summit we decided to have lunch in the lee of the wall just below the summit. It wasn't the most comfortable spot, with the choice of seating being a cold snowy rock or cold snowy snow. Johnny, of course, had brought his own seat with him.

After lunch we followed the wall down the steep side of Meaul, with snow, deep in places and more underlying ice. Then up to Cairnsgarroch and the Shepherd's Cairn at 659 m for the last climb of the day.

Last year we had cut across the top of Cairnsgarroch as we headed back to Woodhead mines, but the descent was found to be steep and rocky. This time we skirted round the eastern edge of the hill, but it was no better. Instead of rocks we had dougals and walking laterally along the slope was tiring and sore on the feet (of some of us). The snow gave way to slush and then to bog. Robert slipped twice prompting Alan to suggest he needed a zimmer. All in all this short stretch was a bit unpleasant. We vowed that next time we'd find a better way down.

The Garryhorn Burn still had to be negotiated and 8 Ooters appeared to find 8 different ways across. Some crossed by jumping part the way across and getting a wet boot, others crossed using poles and fencing which had been built over the burn whilst Davie disappeared into the distance only to re-appear at our meeting point by a mine shaft with a beautiful stone wall around it. How he got there, no one knows.

And so we set off back down the miners' track to the cars.

'Concatenation' had been the word of the day and quite late in the day Davie announced that the word was derived from the Latin 'concatenare' - to link together, which in turn came from 'catena' - a chain. He added for good measure that the Italian football defensive tactics 'catenaccio' came from the same root.

Was that impressive, or was that impressive? Had he been saving this erudite exposition until late in the day or had he just remembered?

And he still had one trick left. As we approached the farm buildings near the foot of the road he announced that he would offer the kitty (or was it just a bit of the kitty?) to anyone who knew the name of this farm. Of course the kitty was safe, so he proudly announced that it was called Holm of Daltallochan. And to prove it he went to show us the sign bearing the name ....except it was no longer there. Did we believe him? Of course not.

After our 6 hour excursion we were back at the cars, to be met with a large trailer which had been deliberately placed across the exit from where the cars were parked.

"I've had words with this farmer before" said Davie, "he's a miserable old ....".

Ten minutes later a tractor drew up and a youngish friendlyish driver got out .... his mood perhaps tempered by the sight of 8 Ooters awaiting him. No harsh words were exchanged although he pointed out we had blocked an area he needed for turning his tractor and trailer. That was all, and off he went with his trailer. It had the potential for another Dollar incident but it was averted.

And for the second successive week we found ourselves in the Dalmellington Inn.

A great walk repeated in similar conditions to last year. We must make it an annual event!


Computer problems have prevented me from mapping the walk but based on last year's walk I reckon it was approx 17.5 km.