27 October So This Is Windy Standard Then

Distance 13.8 km (or 14.2 km if you believe Ian's GPS)



Allan, Davie, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Rex & Robert

Some would argue that the air of confusion that hangs over a meeting of the Ooters would indicate a complete disorganisation within the group or perhaps the early onset of senility. Others would see it as an ability to think on the hoof, re-evaluate the situation and act accordingly. Whichever your viewpoint this was another morning of confused chatter when we gathered at Ian’s place in Kilmarnock in the dark of a late October morning
In the convivial surrounds of the Crown in Sanquhar last week we hatched a plan. The intention was to travel to Loch Katrine, take the steamer to Stronachlachar and walk back; this would be our last chance for the year for the boats stopped sailing on Halloween. It also explains why we gathered in Ian’s somewhere before dawn. But, when the day arrived, so did the weather. A depression centred off Iceland was throwing rain bearing fronts in our direction and the area round Loch Katrine was to be subjected to some heavy rain. While one or two were still keen to make the trip north, there were those who, given the rain of yesterday and the forecast, preferred not to go so far for a soaking. And when our weather-man said ‘No’, we were inclined to take his word and cancel our Trossachs sojourn. The boat trip will need to wait till next year.
The foul weather alternative was to walk along the old railway from Kilmarnock to Irvine. Now, we have done this walk before and it is just that – a slog along an old railway through not particularly interesting territory (The scrappies yard at Knockentiber notwithstanding). A change of mind was creeping in. When the weather-man said it might be drier and brighter further south, we sought alternatives in that direction. Ayrshire coast? Loch Doon area? Ness Glen? We eventually settled on an old favourite - Windy Standard from Glen Afton.
The sun shone as dawn broke but cloud still hung on the hills as we drove towards New Cumnock and it looked for a bit like this was going to be another ‘Windy Standard day’ (see 31/01/2007 & 11/03/2009) But there was blue sky above this and as we drove up the single track road of Glen Afton we could see the clag break up in the sunshine. We might be lucky after all. The only fly in the ointment of the morning was the cool westerly we experience when we left the cars at the waterworks. (The fishers' car park was closed due to ‘Dangerous trees’ so we were forced to find a spare piece of ground by the waterworks)
The route taken was the same as previously – up to the dam, find the forest road and walk westward on this toward the base of the hill. The pace was brisk on this upward section, brisk enough to raise the pulse and keep us warm against the westerly blowing in our faces. What made today different from other times we have come this way though, was that today there was a view. Near the top of the rise we stopped to take in that view and recover some breath. Behind us lay the deep blue waters of the Afton Reservoir and beyond this the winter yellow hills of Davie’s ‘Four Tops’ walk. To our left the ‘windmills’ on Windy Standard turned on the fresh westerly. And to our right the rubbish dump of generations of Glen Afton farmers – tangles of wire and fence posts, old fridges and cookers, tyres and wheels, and drums of unidentifiable liquids. ‘It’s the view that makes it all worthwhile’ said Rex. But we didn’t spend too long admiring it, even if the old wardrobe looked interesting, for the wind was chilly and sweat was turning cold. We moved on.
We thought that when we entered the forest plantation we would be sheltered from the wind. Not at first though, for the road ran directly into the wind and the trees acted like a funnel for it. But as the road turned and veered and dropped toward the Deugh, the strength of the wind was lost and the walking was a bit more pleasant. At the bridge over the infant Deugh Water, where we always stop for coffee, we stopped for coffee.
After coffee, Robert made a quick check to make sure nothing was left at the bridge – yes, Jimmy had his specs – and we moved on.
No more than a quarter of a mile along the road we came to the base of our hill, left the road and took to a steep fire break that would raise us to the heights of Jedburgh Knees. That this is Allan’s favourite part of the world became obvious as he again took his time savouring every upward step through the dripping grass and soggy peat mosses while the indifferent rushed on to the top. Only Johnny waited (eventually) to share Allan’s pleasure in the climb. When the two cleared the trees and came on to the open hill they saw the speedsters waiting for then on the crown of the ridge barely fifty metres away beside one of the many wind turbines that occupy this top.
Windy Standard is well named. Even on its lower subsidiary top of Jedburgh Knees we felt the strength of the westerly. We suppose that is why they planted wind turbines here. One advantage of having the wind-farm here (‘There are advantages?’ asks Jimmy) is that there is a service road right along this ridge and on to the top of the hill. We followed this upward towards the summit, taking in the view as we did so. To the east were the hills of Glen Afton – Black Craig, Black Lorg, Alwhat and Alhang with the lower rocky peak of Steyamara looking down the glen – and behind rose the Lowthers with the ‘golf ball gleaming white in the sun. To the north Glen Afton ran out onto the plains of central Ayrshire, Cumnock and Auchinleck being the most obvious settlements. To the west Cairnsmore of Carphairn looked very close much to the surprise of some of the group whose spacial awareness wasn’t to the fore today. But beyond this the Rhinns of Kells and the high Galloways still hid in clag and the sky in that direction was greying. We could only hope that this wasn’t the start of the forecasted rain coming in our direction.

'So this is what the view from Windy Standard looks like', said Paul taking it all in as we walked.
But we didn’t stop to take in the view for the wind was fresh and cooling, and we pushed on for the top. Well, one of us pushed on to the top. Davie left the road and took a path directly for the summit trig point while the rest of us stuck to the road. Davie would like it recorded that he was the only one who reached the summit today for the road swung round the top and missed it by fifty yards and some thirty feet of height. Did we care? Did we heck! We’ve been there before – we think!
‘It’s all downhill from here’, said Davie when he rejoined us, ‘Follow me. I know the way down’. No offence meant to Davie but on a clear day such as this, the way down was obvious to us all. So down we set. Now that we were on the lea side of the hill, a suitable place to eat was sought. Robert, Rex and Johnny found a spot on a dry, well dryish, mound sheltered from the breeze. But Davie had a better place ‘just down here’ so we walked on. ‘Just down here’ turned out to be down beside a fence* for quarter of a mile, over the fence and up the side of another slope, Millaneoch, and down through a boggy area toward the Afton Water. Half an hour after we left the original lunch stop, we stopped for lunch on a boulder some hundred feet or so above the floor of the valley.
The car park at the waterworks was barely an hour away from or peece-stop. We came down through the bog to a wee cleuch (gorge, Rex) on the Afton. The burn had to be crossed; there was no other way to find the track that would take us to the forest road round the reservoir. A place was found near a sheep fank and the burn crossed without mishap, though not without consternation in some quarters. The quad track was found easily enough and took us down past the old fruiterer’s van now serving as some sort of storage shed for the shepherd, a fruiterers van which, for some reason or other, always causes amusement in our ranks. Rex stopped to photograph it while the rest walked on. The track took us down the side of the Afton Water to the forest road where we waited for David Baillie to catch us up.
Now it was just a half hour saunter round the reservoir to the dam and back to the cars. And still the sun shone on us.
This was a good day, better than the forecast suggested and easily the best of our outings to Windy Standard. ‘Just over 14 Km at just over 5Km/h’, said Ian consulting his sat-nav. We were happy enough with this.
Another instance of our trying new things came when we went to the Craighead in Cumnock for FRT

* Holly found out the hard way that this was an electric fence and was live. Some of you in New Cumnock might have heard her squeals as she retreated sharply from the offending object.