Durisdeer 3 May

 

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Hugh, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Robert

It was a lovely morning for a walk, and we couldn’t wait to get started, so nine of us left Durisdeer five minutes early on our familiar route. Paul was still missing but we agreed that if we walked down to the turn-off at the cemetery, he would pass us on his way. Sure enough, we had just turned off when he arrived and before long the nine had become ten. Jimmy had suggested that we do the walk anti-clockwise, but the consensus was for doing the climb first.

It was hotting up us we made our way up to Kettleton Bothy and there were stops along the way to discard layers, but we were all present and correct for coffee by ten to eleven. Having moved on, climbed to the top of the path, and started our descent, the discussion turned to how we would get to Morton Castle. Most took the overland route by going down and over the burn before climbing up the other side and making their way to the lunch spot at the castle. Allan, Davie, Johnny and Malcolm decided to follow the road and arrived twenty-five minutes later for their lunch. The road option seemed to have got longer since the last time we had done it and the view was that the next time we would take the shorter route. The lunch spot was idyllic today but the last to arrive didn’t have much time to enjoy it as the rest were keen to move on.

As usual the long and winding road back to the cars seemed to go on for ever and the last wee uphill section back to cars was all we needed. By this time, we were well spread out with the back markers arriving back at twenty past two. Those who had followed the road to Morton Castle had done nearly ten and a half miles, whilst the rest had done nine.

It was a weary group who enjoyed FRT at the Crown in Sanquhar where the toils of the day, the warm weather, and the pints of beer certainly loosened some tongues. There was a ‘Jings and Crivens’ moment when Ian disclosed that, prior to his most recent visit to Gran Canaria, he had shaved his legs. He even had the scars to prove it! As one might imagine this led to a lively discussion as to the pros and cons and to whether other Ooters had had similar procedures and how hairy some of us were. The mind boggles! Forget Georgian architecture, this was mair like it. It was nearly four o’clock when we left the pub with the laughter still ringing in our ears. Once again, FRT had soothed the pains of the walk.