Alan, Allan, Davie, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Peter, Rex & Robert
Just before Christmas Robert mentioned how easily traditions become established. It seems there is now an Ooters tradition of having stovies in the Mercat in Cumnock after doing the Four Tops walk in Glen Afton. This was the case today and stovies had been booked for 3 o’clock. It was felt by some that we might be pushed for time to get back to Cumnock for three and that might go some way to explaining what happened today.
All seemed right with the world when we gathered in Jimmy’s in Cumnock for an early start. The forecast was favourable and the time for departure was set early enough. But it might have been an indication of things to come when the Kilmarnock contingent arrived to say that Alan had slept in and would be a few minutes late. We delayed departure to wait for Allan. (See us! See compassion!)
The time was approaching quarter to ten when we left the waterworks car park, taking the road we had just driven up for we were to do the walk in the traditional Ooters direction, i.e. clockwise. (‘The best and easiest direction’ say those who know these things.) So we set off back down the road we had come. Conscious of time, Jimmy pressed the pace from the start taking Johnny and Paul with him and leaving the bulk of us trailing on behind. Down beside the river we marched, down onto the floor of the glen we marched, down to the Blackcraig Farm road we marched, and still no let up from those in front. On to the farm road we turned, across the river we came, up to the farm we marched, and at last came a halt for a well earned breather.
Now we were set to tackle the upward slope on the old pony track, a track that would lift us high on Quinten Knowe, on the shoulder of Blackcraig Hill and the pace could be eased - or could it? We strode on upward, Jimmy setting the pace again and stringing the group out down the track. Allan struggled on the upslope but those in front were oblivious to his pain and kept the pace high. The glen might have opened up for us then and given us some superb views – it has done in the past from here – but there was no time to take in the views as the front men pushed on.
Thank heavens for tradition. At our usual coffee stop by the sheep fank, we halted for coffee, the struggling Allan arriving at the coo’s tail. Coffee was taken and we waited only long enough for Allan to distribute his Allsorts. Then we were off again.
The slope steepened but did the pace slacken? No! The front bunch pushed on leaving the rest panting upward in their wake. We were strung out on that track, Jimmy and company shooting on in front and the struggling Allan bringing up the rear. His only consolation as he watched the backs of the rest of us disappear into the distance, was that he had his Irvine companion for company for Johnny also found the pace too brisk on the climb.
The sky had been breaking up ever since we left the waterworks and now the winter sun shone in its full glory. As we neared the cairn on Quinten Knowe, we came into its full glare. With the speed of the walk, the steepness of the slope and the now warming sun, it was a sweaty bunch of speedsters who stopped at the cairn to wait for the strugglers.
We were to stay in the sun for the rest of the walk; well, nearly for the rest of the walk but I will come to that in due course. For the moment we were in full sun and the day was pleasant. Not that it was too pleasant for some of us though, for Allan and Johnny continued to struggle and now came the steepest part of the day. We left the old track at the county boundary fence – well, who wants to walk in Dumfriesshire anyway – and took to the open hill on the flank of Blackcraig itself. That’s where we encountered the first snow, icy snow, solid snow but snow that only lay in patches now that the thaw had worked for a fortnight. The snow was easily avoided. Jimmy did make an attempt to cross one patch but could make no impression on the concrete-like surface. Muttering something about discretion and valour, he joined the rest of us in climbing the steep grass slope to the broad level summit of Blackcraig Hill.
The views on the way up had been mainly to the east across Nithsdale but now, as we walked across the summit plateau to the trig point they turned more to the westward, to Windy Standard and Cairnsmore of Carsphairn. A blanket of fog draped the tops of these hills, shining white in the sun and looking to be rolling in our direction. Sure enough when we stopped at the trig point for a bite, the fog rolled in and we were enclosed in a world of our own on the flat top of Blackcraig Hill. Was our good day gone? It certainly seemed that way for when we were ready to move on after lunch, the clag was still with us. But it was a thin layer of fog that covered our hill blue sky showing through it some twenty feet above us, and it looked as though the sun would burn it off again fairly quickly. And it did. We walked off southward into the fog, south towards Black Lorg, dropping down the steep grass slope. Barely had we dropped off the summit when the sun made its reappearance and stayed for the rest of the day.
Thank heavens for quad bikes. The southern slope of Blackcraig is covered in deep, course hill grass, grass that clings to the boots and makes walking difficult. But the herd has used his quad bike on the hill and quad tracks flattened the grass and made an easier track for us. And the tracks continued to Black Lorg giving a route through the sea of lank grass. We followed the quad tracks, staying more or less together as a group on the down-slope to the col between the two hills.
It is not a difficult climb from the col to the top of Black Lorg but it is long and drawn out. It was ‘heads down and plod on’ time for there was nothing to take the mind off the interminable upward slog of Black Lorg. And, as the usual suspects kept the pace up, the Irvine pair fell behind again. We would wait for them on the top.
Black Lorg is one of those rounded hills that when you are at the summit, you can’t see the flanks. So we waited on top for the Irvine boys to appear over the edge of the rise. And we waited. And we waited. We waited long enough for Ian and Jimmy to walk through three counties (The county boundaries meet here) and for Rex, despite his advancing years, to be able to pee over three counties. And yet we waited. Jimmy went out as scout in one direction while Robert retraced the journey towards Blackcraig. Both returned with no sightings of the missing twosome. We had to conclude that they had skirted the top and were in front of us heading towards Cannock Hill.
With a little anxiety concerning the lost souls, we dropped off Black Lorg following the remains of a drystane dyke towards Cannock. Holly shot off in front recognizing the two red dots in the distance as the missing Irvine men. We were right; they had flanked the hill and were now away in front. They were to stay in front, missing out the other tops as well, till we caught up with them at the reservoir.
Meanwhile, we dropped off Black Lorg at a fair old rate, Jimmy still pushing the pace from the front. While Jimmy climbed to Cannock top and Peter followed, the rest of us chose to follow the Irvine two round its side. Then down off Cannock we sped, to the marsh between here and Craigbranneoch Rigg, the rise onto Steyamrie, the last top. Jimmy had already made up his mind on Blackcraig, succumbing to his dodgy knees, not to make the final climb to Steyamara. The rest of us, with two exceptions, decided enough was enough for the day and opted to join him. The two who chose to make the final climb were Paul and Davie; full credit to them.
We parted company with the peak baggers and dropped down to the side of the Afton Reservoir where we met up with Allan and Johnny. Mobile phones are wonderful things – when you can get a signal. On top of Black Lorg of Glen Afton there is no signal. Those who had been trying to contact others to let them know that they were skirting the hill couldn’t get through; those who were trying to find out where others were couldn’t get through. That’s why we waited and Allan and Johnny went their own way. Still, no harm done and we promise to show more compassion to the slow on the next walk.
We had all of twenty minutes to wait for the return of the peak baggers before motoring back to Cumnock. At 3:02 we were ensconced in the Mercat taking FRT and tucking in to Sadie’s stovies. Many thanks to Sadie for the feast and to Jimmy for organising this.
Just before Christmas Robert mentioned how easily traditions become established. It seems there is now an Ooters tradition of having stovies in the Mercat in Cumnock after doing the Four Tops walk in Glen Afton. This was the case today and stovies had been booked for 3 o’clock. It was felt by some that we might be pushed for time to get back to Cumnock for three and that might go some way to explaining what happened today.
All seemed right with the world when we gathered in Jimmy’s in Cumnock for an early start. The forecast was favourable and the time for departure was set early enough. But it might have been an indication of things to come when the Kilmarnock contingent arrived to say that Alan had slept in and would be a few minutes late. We delayed departure to wait for Allan. (See us! See compassion!)
The time was approaching quarter to ten when we left the waterworks car park, taking the road we had just driven up for we were to do the walk in the traditional Ooters direction, i.e. clockwise. (‘The best and easiest direction’ say those who know these things.) So we set off back down the road we had come. Conscious of time, Jimmy pressed the pace from the start taking Johnny and Paul with him and leaving the bulk of us trailing on behind. Down beside the river we marched, down onto the floor of the glen we marched, down to the Blackcraig Farm road we marched, and still no let up from those in front. On to the farm road we turned, across the river we came, up to the farm we marched, and at last came a halt for a well earned breather.
Now we were set to tackle the upward slope on the old pony track, a track that would lift us high on Quinten Knowe, on the shoulder of Blackcraig Hill and the pace could be eased - or could it? We strode on upward, Jimmy setting the pace again and stringing the group out down the track. Allan struggled on the upslope but those in front were oblivious to his pain and kept the pace high. The glen might have opened up for us then and given us some superb views – it has done in the past from here – but there was no time to take in the views as the front men pushed on.
Thank heavens for tradition. At our usual coffee stop by the sheep fank, we halted for coffee, the struggling Allan arriving at the coo’s tail. Coffee was taken and we waited only long enough for Allan to distribute his Allsorts. Then we were off again.
The slope steepened but did the pace slacken? No! The front bunch pushed on leaving the rest panting upward in their wake. We were strung out on that track, Jimmy and company shooting on in front and the struggling Allan bringing up the rear. His only consolation as he watched the backs of the rest of us disappear into the distance, was that he had his Irvine companion for company for Johnny also found the pace too brisk on the climb.
The sky had been breaking up ever since we left the waterworks and now the winter sun shone in its full glory. As we neared the cairn on Quinten Knowe, we came into its full glare. With the speed of the walk, the steepness of the slope and the now warming sun, it was a sweaty bunch of speedsters who stopped at the cairn to wait for the strugglers.
We were to stay in the sun for the rest of the walk; well, nearly for the rest of the walk but I will come to that in due course. For the moment we were in full sun and the day was pleasant. Not that it was too pleasant for some of us though, for Allan and Johnny continued to struggle and now came the steepest part of the day. We left the old track at the county boundary fence – well, who wants to walk in Dumfriesshire anyway – and took to the open hill on the flank of Blackcraig itself. That’s where we encountered the first snow, icy snow, solid snow but snow that only lay in patches now that the thaw had worked for a fortnight. The snow was easily avoided. Jimmy did make an attempt to cross one patch but could make no impression on the concrete-like surface. Muttering something about discretion and valour, he joined the rest of us in climbing the steep grass slope to the broad level summit of Blackcraig Hill.
The views on the way up had been mainly to the east across Nithsdale but now, as we walked across the summit plateau to the trig point they turned more to the westward, to Windy Standard and Cairnsmore of Carsphairn. A blanket of fog draped the tops of these hills, shining white in the sun and looking to be rolling in our direction. Sure enough when we stopped at the trig point for a bite, the fog rolled in and we were enclosed in a world of our own on the flat top of Blackcraig Hill. Was our good day gone? It certainly seemed that way for when we were ready to move on after lunch, the clag was still with us. But it was a thin layer of fog that covered our hill blue sky showing through it some twenty feet above us, and it looked as though the sun would burn it off again fairly quickly. And it did. We walked off southward into the fog, south towards Black Lorg, dropping down the steep grass slope. Barely had we dropped off the summit when the sun made its reappearance and stayed for the rest of the day.Thank heavens for quad bikes. The southern slope of Blackcraig is covered in deep, course hill grass, grass that clings to the boots and makes walking difficult. But the herd has used his quad bike on the hill and quad tracks flattened the grass and made an easier track for us. And the tracks continued to Black Lorg giving a route through the sea of lank grass. We followed the quad tracks, staying more or less together as a group on the down-slope to the col between the two hills.
It is not a difficult climb from the col to the top of Black Lorg but it is long and drawn out. It was ‘heads down and plod on’ time for there was nothing to take the mind off the interminable upward slog of Black Lorg. And, as the usual suspects kept the pace up, the Irvine pair fell behind again. We would wait for them on the top.
Black Lorg is one of those rounded hills that when you are at the summit, you can’t see the flanks. So we waited on top for the Irvine boys to appear over the edge of the rise. And we waited. And we waited. We waited long enough for Ian and Jimmy to walk through three counties (The county boundaries meet here) and for Rex, despite his advancing years, to be able to pee over three counties. And yet we waited. Jimmy went out as scout in one direction while Robert retraced the journey towards Blackcraig. Both returned with no sightings of the missing twosome. We had to conclude that they had skirted the top and were in front of us heading towards Cannock Hill.
With a little anxiety concerning the lost souls, we dropped off Black Lorg following the remains of a drystane dyke towards Cannock. Holly shot off in front recognizing the two red dots in the distance as the missing Irvine men. We were right; they had flanked the hill and were now away in front. They were to stay in front, missing out the other tops as well, till we caught up with them at the reservoir.
Meanwhile, we dropped off Black Lorg at a fair old rate, Jimmy still pushing the pace from the front. While Jimmy climbed to Cannock top and Peter followed, the rest of us chose to follow the Irvine two round its side. Then down off Cannock we sped, to the marsh between here and Craigbranneoch Rigg, the rise onto Steyamrie, the last top. Jimmy had already made up his mind on Blackcraig, succumbing to his dodgy knees, not to make the final climb to Steyamara. The rest of us, with two exceptions, decided enough was enough for the day and opted to join him. The two who chose to make the final climb were Paul and Davie; full credit to them.
We parted company with the peak baggers and dropped down to the side of the Afton Reservoir where we met up with Allan and Johnny. Mobile phones are wonderful things – when you can get a signal. On top of Black Lorg of Glen Afton there is no signal. Those who had been trying to contact others to let them know that they were skirting the hill couldn’t get through; those who were trying to find out where others were couldn’t get through. That’s why we waited and Allan and Johnny went their own way. Still, no harm done and we promise to show more compassion to the slow on the next walk.
We had all of twenty minutes to wait for the return of the peak baggers before motoring back to Cumnock. At 3:02 we were ensconced in the Mercat taking FRT and tucking in to Sadie’s stovies. Many thanks to Sadie for the feast and to Jimmy for organising this.
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