30 May Merrick

Alan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Rex & Robert

In the seven years or so of our existence there are some outings that live long in the memory as classic outings – the Rhinns of Kells, The Cobbler, Pic Del Madres are some. Our last visit to the Merrick (15 July 2009) has entered Ooters folklore for completely a completely different reason. This was the day of the monsoon; a day that will live in infamy, a day that will be told down the generations as the greatest rain storm since Noah’s flood, a day that we hoped wouldn’t be repeated.  We had high hopes for this visit for the heat-wave that scorched Scotland over the week-end was gone and the weather yesterday was considerably cooler but just as sunny. Today might just continue the pattern.

Yes, we hoped for a better day but as we drove down the hill road towards Glen Trool the sun disappeared and the hills gained a cap of cloud. Would our hopes for a great day be dashed? That remained to be seen.

When we decanted from the cars at Bruce’s Stone in Glen Trool our hopes were lifted again for the sun had returned and the morning was warming up nicely. Liberal lashings of sunscreen and midgie repellent were applied for the sun was strong and already we could feel the wee blighters biting. And we have had experience of Glen Trool midgies before. As the lotions were being applied Jimmy said that on Sunday morning when he was here, there was a pair of young peregrines just taking to the wing off the crags above us. And just as he spoke the two young birds appeared in the place Jimmy pointed to, swooping across the heather and crags. We took this as an indication of a good day to come.

The climb away from the glen up beside the Buchan Burn was hot, partly to do with the slope and partly to do with the sun which was turning increasingly hot. But our spirits were light for before us we could see Benyellary bathed in sunshine. Surely Merrick must be the same. Yet, it was a pleasure and relief to get into the cool shade of the conifer forest that lay between the lip of Glen Trool and the Culsharg basin for the sun was hot on our backs. But this shade didn’t last and too soon we emerged into the sun on the flat basin around the old shepherd’s cottage of Culsharg.

For many years the old cottage has remained as a shell with a roof but now work is being done on it to make it into a comfortable bothy, new windows, new door and new roof and chimney. But the inside is still untidy with branches and dirt and bird droppings so despite the improvements we sat outside for coffee.

Now came the steepest and possibly the hottest part of the day. Or would it be for the first clouds drifted across the sun? By the time we had climbed through the trees to the open hillside the cloud had thickened and the morning was turning cooler.  Was this because the slope was easing off or was the temperature really dropping? We would find out.

Halfway up the gentlest part of the slope we met a chap on a quad. We distracted him from his task for we are blethers and nosy and just had to find out what he was up to. He was planting willows by the wee burn that runs down beside the path. We told him that we would return in twenty years to see if his work was worthwhile. With that he looked at the sky and told us it would be raining before long. We thanked him for his optimism and continued upward.

Now we could see where the tree-planter was coming from for as we rose towards the drystane dyke on Benyellary’s flank, we could see the rain sweep across the moors on our left hand side. And it looked as though it might come our way. We pressed on. The steep slope to the top of Benyellary was taken easier than any of us remember it before and we gained the top exactly an hour after leaving Culsharg bothy. But we weren’t alone in reaching the top, the cloud and the rain also reached it. Though the cloud blanked out the landscape and hid the Merrick from us, the rain came to nothing and we hoped that it would stay that way.

We dropped off Benyellary to cross the Nieve of the Spit, the nearest thing we have to a ridge in the Galloway hills. This is usually a good part of the walk with views to both sides of the Nieve but today we might have been anywhere for there was no view, not even of Merrick which we were rapidly approaching. Leaving the drystane dyke to run up to the lip of the gairy, we took to the Broads of the Merrick, that gently grassy slope that would take us all the way to the summit.

It might have helped our ascent of the grassy slope if we could see where we were going but the fog had closed in and it looked as though it would stay. It did and we walked into it towards the summit. As we approached the summit we met three ladies of a certain age making the descent. They promised that when we got to the top the sun would be out and the pub would be open. We gained the cairn on the summit of the highest of our southern hills in the fog and there was no pub! And now the fog was accompanied by a wind, a fresh wind and a wind that chilled sweaty bodies. We didn’t spend too much time on the summit - there was no point for the swirling fog looked as though it would remain for the duration – just long enough to have a bite and then we set off downward.

The intention was to return by Loch Enoch and down the Gairland Valley but we had had enough of walking in the fog so the decision was made to return by Benyellary again. Jimmy led us along the lip of the gairy. At the top of a steep gulley called the Black Gitter we stopped for a look down. Far below us we could see the wet rock sided Gitter merge into a grassy slope before it was swallowed up in the fog. Nothing else could be seen. Little wonder, on a day like this, that the Gitter gained the appellation Black. But one of our number is not too sure about steep, rocky places and had us move on.

We found the drystane dyke and followed this towards Benyellary. Now the rain came seriously, well serious enough to cause us to waterproof. But this didn’t last and we gained Benyellary top for the second time in the fog, but at least not in the rain. A few spots came as we dropped down the steep slope beside the drystane dyke but, like earlier it came to nothing. And as we dropped down, we came out of the fog altogether.

Now that we were on the down-slope the reckless among us decided that it would be easier to jog down and took off into the distance. Most of us ignored the joggers yet took the slope fairly quickly as well. But he who speeds up the hill has dodgy knees and difficulty coming down so the poor soul was left trailing at the end. But are we not compassionate? We waited for him at the deer fence and promised to slow up. We did but it was still a brisk pace that brought us down through the trees to Culsharg.

That’s where we met the ladies of the sunshine and pub. They were a group from Crief in Perthshire having a few days in Galloway. We blethered to them, they telling of walks in Perthshire and us of walks in the south-west. We presented them with our blog card, wished them well for the remainder of their stay and went on our way.

A relaxed walk brought us down the old Culsharg pony track, through the trees and down the Buchan Burn to Bruce’s Stone having had a fair stretch of the legs on Merrick. It was nothing else than a stretch of the legs for there were no views and the stop on the top was too cold to hang about.

The FRT (Fluid Replacement Therapy) for the day was taken slightly out of the way at Willie Wastle’s in Crosshill.