Cathkin Braes 31 July

Alan, Allan, Andy, Ian, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Rex, Robert, Ronnie

Obligatory group photo. Johnny had left his hat in the car.

The morning was bright and clear as we left Ian’s house (thanks for your hospitality, Ian) and headed for our designated starting point i.e. the Croft in Spittal. This region of course brings up many memories for Ian as he was brought up here and was keen to point out that we were in Rutherglen and not Glasgow, and in fact for the best part of the day we were in and out of South Lanarkshire – more of this later.

The travel up to and through Castlemilk Park was as we remembered it (see September 2011) and quick progress was made up to the entry point for Cathkin Braes Country Park. Since our last visit the mountain bike trail has been built for the forthcoming Commonwealth Games and we were keen to see it for ourselves. It contains different coloured trails depending on severity and the first cyclists we saw were testament to the various degrees of difficulty. The first of the group of three negotiated a steep wee downhill section easily but the third lost balance and disappeared headfirst into the shrubbery. He quickly recovered and continued on his way with a skint knee and wounded pride together with shouts of ‘encouragement’ from the Ooters.

Gaun yersel!

We continued up to the top of the Braes and enjoyed marvellous views over the cityscape. The Braes are the highest point in Glasgow, 200m approx., and as we made our way from the radio mast towards Queen Mary’s Seat, where legend has it that Mary, Queen of Scots, viewed her troops being defeated at the Battle of Langside in 1558, we picked out the landmarks, particularly the sporting ones. Of special interest were the venues for the Commonwealth Games, an event at which Jimmy is the Athletics Competitions Secretary – we are not worthy! Well done Jimmy, and we hope to see you fit and well again soon.

Celtic Park, Paradise to some, The Arena, Velodrome and Hampden Park were clearly visible. Malcolm was first to spot Ibrox, stating that he could clearly see the Third Division Title flag fluttering in the breeze. He needs to get out more!

East end including Celtic Park

After coffee we made our way out of the park and crossed the road heading to Cathkin Marsh for lunch. It was on this part of the walk that we encountered a local resident who was keen to make sure we knew where we were going as the landfill site further up had cut off a path. This however would not affect us as we were turning off just before the site but we enjoyed his company for some minutes as he regaled us with the problems the landfill site had given him over the last 13 years and the fact that Glasgow, remember we were now in South Lanarkshire, just, had applied to extend the site and at present were operating there illegally. He then updated us on the dirty deeds Glasgow had done with the nearby wind turbine, which now dominates the area, and stated that they wanted to add another one. Needless to say, the members of Glasgow City Council were not on his Christmas list.

The Ooters doing what they do best - eating

We took lunch at the hide on Cathkin Marsh, enjoyed the sun and watched the Shetland cows graze. These had been brought in especially to improve the pasture and according to the chap from Scottish Wildlife Trust, who was doing some strimming, their introduction had been a success.

Continuing down the road back towards the car park for the Braes took half an hour at most and we were soon retracing our steps, downhill this time, back to the cars.

An excellent four hour walk was followed by FRT in the Croft where we met up with Ian’s brother, Alistair.

Ballageich Hill and Whitelee Windfarm in the distance

P.S. Legend also has it that the Braes were once home to an Iron Age Celtic tribe, no doubt dressed in green and white, called the Damnoni. Hence the call, centuries later, from the commentator ‘Oh naw. It’s no Damnoni oan an’ a’ noo’. Explanations can be provided later for those who do not follow football folklore.

7 September Cathkin Braes

Allan, Davie C, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul & Rex

Ian is a Rug’len boy, born and bred in the ancient burgh. He is proud of this fact and many a time he would have us there for a walk but this is not an area that any of us, apart from Ian, is familiar with and we would never have thought that it’s an area that would interest us. How wrong we were.

On a morning of heavy showers and blustery winds we gathered in Ian’s in Kilmarnock to car-share to Rutherglen. Some doubts were expressed when the showers rattled against the windows but when Jimmy arrived from Cumnock and announced that the sun was following him from the south-west, the decision was made. Rutherglen here we come.

The oldest burgh in Scotland (granted burgh status by David 1 in 1127) welcomed us with damp air, wet ground and a spot or two of rain. Yet the sky to the south-west was clear and we set off from the car park behind The Croft in the Spittal to explore Ian’s boyhood haunts in Rug’len and the Cathkin Braes with hopes of a better day.

We wandered along Lugar Place and Kirkconnel Drive to the burn where the young Ian and pals practiced burn jumping then turned up Alloway Drive where his boyhood home was. Then we climbed Alloway Drive to Croftfoot road. ‘You’ll have noticed’, said Ian, ‘that all the streets in this area are called after Ayrshire places.’ It took the pedant amongst us to tell him that Kirkconnel was actually in Dumfriesshire as if it mattered that much. However we left the southwest named streets and turned right across Croftfoot Road. A hundred yards of this and we left tarmac to climb gradually beside the burn in a wee wooded glen towards where stood the old Castlemilk House. This was a pleasant escape from the buzz of Croftfoot Road and despite the supermarket trolleys and buckie bottles, this was quite a scenic part of the walk and it took us up to the swan pond of Castlemilk House. Ian delighted in telling of his boyhood adventures in this wee wood.

Castlemilk House no longer exists. The lands of Cassilton of Carmunock were acquired by the Stuarts of Castlemilk in Dumfriesshire in the Middle Ages, and in the 16th century they renamed the estate Castlemilk. In 1938 the estate was acquired by Glasgow Corporation for housing, but the outbreak of the Second World War delayed building work. The mansion was used to accommodate evacuees from the city until the end of the war, and then until 1968 as a children's home until closed in 1968. Castlemilk House was demolished in 1972.

We left the site of Castlemilk House and came up through the Glen Wood to Ardencraig Road. Again we took a right turn and a hundred metres or so of tarmac later turned left on a made path towards the Big Wood of Cathkin. The path now turned slightly steeper than we had experience so far today but not sufficiently steep to take the breath away. It did, however take us up through scrubby trees to a seat in the Big Wood. Over on the right was the golf course of Cathkin Braes and slightly above us the trees of the Big Wood.

The rain came when we entered the Big Wood and jackets were donned. The drizzly rain lasted no time at all but the jackets stayed on for when we left the shelter of the trees we met the wind, a strong wind and chilling. We crossed the grassy slope under a telecom mast to the edge of the Cathkin Braes and what a panorama of the city greeted us. From Cumbernauld and the suburbs of the east to Clydebank in the west and from Newton Mearns in the south to Bishopbrigs in the north, the whole of the metropolis was spread out like a map. Landmarks were pointed out; Celtic Park, Hampden and Cathkin Park (who thinks we are obsessed by football); Glasgow green and the Doges Palace; the armadillo and the university. Dumgoin and the Campsies formed a backdrop and away in the east the Lomond Hills and the Pentlands just showed themselves. We spent some time standing picking out landmarks but the wind was chilling and we sought out a sheltered spot for coffee. This was found a few yards along the scarp where we could still get the view.

After coffee we came across the grass again to the boulder known as Queen Mary’s Seat so called because legend has it that Queen Mary rested here after the battle of Langside and before her fateful flight to England. We also sat on the seat – well, what else would you expect?

We came down a slope, crossed Cathkin Road and found a minor road for South Cathkin Farm. That’s where we found the ‘blind’ horse; at least Ian who had done a recky last weekend said it was a blind horse. As far as we could determine the horse had some sort of skin complaint and its head was covered in a gauze-like net giving the impression that it might be blind. But it could see us all right for it came towards us when we stopped to see it. It’s a good job Ian taught physics and not biology.

The tarmac ran out again and we took to a well constructed path into a marshy wetland which was a former reservoir but is now a wetland nature reserve. In the hide there we settled down for lunch. That’s when Ian spotted the buzzard. At first the birder dismissed it as a crow but as it got closer and he got his binoculars out he was forced to change his mind and apologise to Ian. It definitely was a buzzard and we watched it for a few minutes as id hovered over the bank then disappeared over the hill again. And with the bird gone, it was time for us to go as well.

We found tarmac again at the far side of the marsh and turned back towards the city. When we came to Cathkin Road again we turned along it to the golf club. That’s where we bumped into Steve. Steve was a chap slightly younger that ourselves but a fellow walker doing our route in reverse but able to break off his walk for a blether – that’s the kind of walker that we like and we spent a few minutes sharing walking experiences with him before Johnny presented him with one of our blog cards. If you are reading this, Steve, welcome from the Ooters. But the time came for us to take our separate way – Steve towards the nature reserve and us into the Big Wood once more.

‘It’s all downhill from here’, said Ian and on the whole it was. We came back to Queen Mary’s seat and down an old estate road into Castlemilk. A contorted route through the streets of Castlemilk brought us to the house where lived the Celtic legend Bobby Murdoch, then to the street where lived Ian’s future wife, Sheila. Then we came back to the ‘jumpie-over’ burn and The Croft.

This was a very interesting walk in an area that none of us except Ian would have thought about. Well done, Ian.

FRT today was taken in the most convenient place – The Croft in Rutherglen.