Davie
C, Gus, Jimmy, Rex & Robert
While, tumbling brown, the burn
comes down,
And roars frae bank to brae;
And bird and beast in covert rest,
And pass the heartless day.
And roars frae bank to brae;
And bird and beast in covert rest,
And pass the heartless day.
The distinction between hardiness
and foolhardiness has yet to reach the Ooters; in fact both of these qualities might
be said to be embodied in the same people. Whether it was the five hardiest or
the five foolhardiest that gathered in the rain at the Kames car park in Murikirk
this morning has yet to be decided, even after the event. But sense of a kind
had already broken out when, in view of the forecast, we decided to abandon the
hills of Dumfriesshire in favour of a more local and lower level walk. The one
chosen was the old favourite – The Lunky Hole at Muirkirk.
As for the walk itself? Well, waterproofs
were worn from the start. Even Jimmy whose aversion to waterproof trousers is
well known in Ooterland admitted defeat in this instance and happed up from
head to toe. Thus, thoroughly defended against the elements, we set off into
the weather. It was not torrential rain, it was more a steady falling, but it
was driven on the slightest of south-westerlies and it was wetting. Up the
Sanquhar road we came, heads down into the rain. At Springhill we turned right
to come down to Tibbie’s Brig and found the rain being blown into our faces. We
plodded on heads down partly to avoid the stinging rain and partly to see where
the next mucky puddle was. The rain was adding to already saturated ground and
puddles were developing into ponds. At Tibbie’s Brig He Who Knows These Things suggested that we stay on the track
rather than our usual route down the burn-side path. ‘It will be drier and less
mucky’, said he.
It was drier. At least it was until
the wee rivulet that was running down the track decided that it wanted to be a
loch and spread its cold, brown waters right across our path. On to the soggy,
slippery moor then, to avoid wet feet or worse. Still, first hazard bypassed,
we climbed onto the old railway where we were slightly sheltered from the worst
of the wind-driven rain. A slight respite was also had at Adam’s Grave but it
was only a temporary one. When we reached the river we were back into the
incessant rain. And the path was turning into a burn in places. It was difficult
to keep to a dry area. Still we plodded on, down the riverside to the Cumnock
Road.
Crossing the road, we kept to tarmac
for a while. At least now the feet could be kept out of the water even if the
bodies were still being soaked from above. At the Sorn road a decision had to
be made. Should we continue with the planned walk or cut it short and return by
the main road? On a vote of three to two, we continued up the tarmac to
Netherwood. The fellow in the covered quad was amazed and amused to see five
bedraggled walkers coming up the road. So amazed was he that he took delight in
stopping, winding down his window and telling us how dry he was. Our comments
are not suitable for those of a sensitive disposition. We left him smiling his way
down the road while we trudged upward, still into the rain.
We left tarmac at Burnfoot and took
to the forest track. This was a quagmire but there was no other way than to
grit the teeth and wade through the wet, slimy, mud that used to be a track.
Firmer footing was found on the rise on the other side of the bridge and the
firmer footing would be with us for a while. Up into the forest we came, up to
where the old mine workings were. Now we looked at our route out to the Stra’ven
road. Hardly surprising that the road by the wee pond was flooded given the kind
of winter we have had. There would be no dry way through here. So He Who Knows told us to go straight on
and it would bring us down into Smallburn. This we did. And it did.
Now you would think that we had
nothing else to do than walk along the road to the Furnace Road and come back
to Kames. But no! A plot had been hatched by Jimmy and Gus to turn us right,
come across the river at Airdsmill to Kames Farm and across the golf course. We
followed meekly, splishing and splashing our way over the golf course. Wonder upon
wonders! As we approached the club-house, the rain stopped! Now we could finish
the walk – all four hundred yards of it – in the dry.
Whether we were the hardy five or
the foolhardy five we will leave you to decide but, boy, were we happy to be
finished and changed into dry clothes. This must be the quickest ever round of
the Lunky Hole walk. You might have notice that there was no mention of lunch.
We did stop for a coffee, a standing up coffee, on the banks of the river but
there was no halt for lunch. In fact, apart from the coffee stop and the five
minutes with the farmer in the quad, there were no halts at all.
The hour spent in FRT in The Empire Bar
was well earned today.
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