29 June Return to the Mysterious Lunky Hole

Alan, Allan, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Peter, Rex & Robert

Robert and Jimmy turned up in shorts today. Well Jimmy turned up in shorts; we feel certain that Robert had just climbed out of bed and came wearing his pyjama bottoms, pale tan and stripy things they were. The reason they turned up in shorts this morning was that the recent spell of summer weather had given us a morning of gloriously clear sky and warm summer sunshine, a morning meant for T-shirts and shorts. Yet, by ten o’clock when we eight of us gathered at Kames in Muirkirk, the sun had gone, the sky was overcast and there was the usual Wednesday threat of rain in the air. Would this be another disappointing Ooters day?

Disappointing or not, since we were gathered, we decided that the planned walk should go ahead - we would seek out the lunky hole - and set off up the old Sanquhar road towards Springhill, following the River Ayr Way. That’s when the rain came. There was general rush of digging into rucksacks for waterproofs for by the look of the sky, the rain might stay for a while. But it wasn’t to last. By the time we had turned right off the Sanquhar road on the track for Tibbie’s Brig, it had gone and there was a general discarding of waterproofs and stuffing them back into rucksacks. By the looks of things this might be the pattern for the day.

We stopped on Tibbie’s Brig. The eighteenth century brig (recently restored) is named after Isabella ‘Tibbie’ Pagan, keeper of an inn of dubious repute here, and a writer of poetry of sorts. It was Tibbie who wrote the poem ‘Ca the yowes tae the knowes’, a poem that a much more famous Scottish poet took, discarded the bawdy verses, rewrote more of it, transferred the setting to Dumfriesshire and matched it to an ‘auld Scotch air’. It is Burns’ version that is familiar to us. Perhaps Tibbie’s version should be more widely sung – but not in polite company.

The site of Tibbie’s ‘inn’ is marked by a cairn near the brig. At this cairn we had a minor decision to make. The track rises up the west bank of the burn and disappears round a knowe but a pad runs down the side of the burn and rejoins it further down. We took the burn-side pad for Jimmy mentioned a fossil bank some fifty yards downstream. We think Jimmy’s whisky induced hallucinations are kicking in again for, search that bank as thoroughly as we might, we found no fossils. Jimmy’s reputation is in tatters again.

Five minutes after the futile fossil search we were back on the River Ayr Way heading towards the old Muirkirk to Ayr railway. What early summers treat greeted us on that old railway. The last of the spring flowers were giving way to summer ones. A profusion of orchids, Heath Spotted and Early Purples, and white Heath Bedstraw grew on the old track and a swathe of pink Ragged Robin clothed the bank of a cutting. Small Tortoiseshell and Argus butterflies flitted from flower to flower in search of nectar. An absolute delight for the nature lovers amongst us.

But we were to leave the old railway before long and follow the path down to the river side at Adan’s Cairn. This cairn commemorates William Adam who was shot here in the killing times of the late seventeenth century. Adam was a shepherd at Wellwood. On a Sunday morning he was waiting at this spot for his fiancée when he was approached by a party of dragoons. In their eyes the fact that he had a bible in his possession was enough to mark Adam out as a Cameronian and he was shot on the spot and his body left there for his fiancé to find. He was buried where he fell and a stone was later erected over him by Old Mortality. All of this is displayed on a modern information board erected at the opening of the River Ayr Way.

We left Adam's Cairn and continued down the riverside. The caffeine addicts were beginning to grumble that their habit needed a fix so, on a wee wooden bridge over a wee burn that emptied itself into the river, we stopped for coffee. While we sat at coffee, swallows old and young skimmed the river feeding on insects totally invisible to us. A buzzard ‘meowed’ somewhere above the Wellwood trees and brown Argus butterflies flitted. And the sun came out! What a pleasant coffee stop.

Post coffee we continued down the ‘Way’, crossed the Cumnock road (with extreme care as suggested by the sign with the River Ayr Way icon on it) and came to the unclassified road for Dalfram. This road has recently been resurfaced and the walking up it was smooth and easy. We crossed the Sorn road (no ‘take care’ signs here!) and came over a moorish tract to Netherwood in the valley of the Greenock Water. Whaups and buzzard and oystercatcher all made themselves known to us as we walked along the moorland road in search of a place for lunch. And the haunting cry of the peesie accompanied us finding a suitable place.

As we sat with our backs against a drystane dyke listening to the birds and watching the changing patterns in the sky (auld romantics, we), the sun went and an ominous charcoal grey cloud, pregnant with rain, crept over us. And it wasn’t long before the expected rain came. Waterproofs went on. But the intensity of the rain and its duration were as before. Waterproofs were on and back off before we had finished the peece and peece-stops are notoriously brief in the Ooters. The sun had returned by the time we set off again.

We left tarmac at Burnfoot Farm and took to a forest road. This took us through the forest and towards the houses of Smallburn. But we didn’t want to go there. When we found a road coming from the left we took this, came past a pond with an island full of resting gulls (seagulls!!!) and on to the Glasgow road at the cemetery. Then we crossed the road and came to a small car park.

Round this car park are built examples of different types of drystane dykes and information boards describing them. This is where we found the lunky hole. For the uninitiated, a lunky hole, according to the blurb, is a hole left at the bottom of a dyke for hares to get through but as our expert* pointed out, any form of wildlife would get through. So perhaps the blurb should reflect this.

We might have gone straight down the Glasgow road into the town but we didn’t. We found a path through the Kirk Wood and followed this to the Kirk. In the kirk-yard are buried the great and the good of Muirkirk past. Had we time to spare we might have investigated this but time was at a premium today for some had appointments to keep so we walked on down to the Douglas road and back into the town that way. That’s when Alan mentioned his Muirkirk connections. His wife, Ann, is a Muirkirk body and one of her relations was Professor Tom Symington BSc, MB, FRSE etc. etc. who is commemorated by a monument on Main Street. We admired the monument on the way past. And we admired the garden at the corner of the Glasgow Road as well, a garden commemoration the mining heritage of the town and the many famous people who were born, lived and worked here. This is well worth the visit.

Now we were only half a mile or so from the starting point. We turned up Furnace road and came back to Kames and the cars.

This is a good walk in mixed terrain, one that is worth doing again.

FRT and entertainment were taken in The Coachhouse on the corner of Furnace Road.

*The Early Ooters is full of experts on all subjects under the sun. If only the authorities would consult us, we would be able to put them right on so many things.

18 August A Brief History of Cumnock

Malcolm, the new lad, made a mistake. When Jimmy offered to show us some of the historical sites in the Cumnock area, Malcolm quipped, ‘What History? In Cumnock? Cumnock hisnae got a history!’ This was enough to spark Jimmy off and treat us all to the history of every bump, stone and blade of grass in the area. And what Jimmy missed out, Davie, also a native Cumnockian, filled in.

It was the day of Paul’s bus pass do and a short, local walk was called for. So when Jimmy suggested the Cumnock area, this was accepted and we all met at his place for a nine thirty (ish) start. OK, before the Talbot boys get their undergarments in turmoil, some of the walk was in Auchinleck Parish but it was still the Cumnock area.

The transport was left in the car park at the swimming pool (the new one apparently) and we set off along Auchinleck Road towards the town centre. Barely two hundred metres later we were stopped outside a tall, grey sandstone building for the first lesson. This was Lochnorris and was the home of James Keir Hardie, the founder of the Labour party. (See www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/PRhardie.htm) It is still a private home but a small plaque on the wall commemorates Keir Hardie’s connection with it and the town.

Lesson one past, we continued along the street, still heading into town. At the Lugar Bridge we left the main street and took the road for Woodroad Park. ‘All Our Yesterdays’ kicked in with the Cumnock boys for this was the scene of their youthful frolics. The outdoor swimming pool was here (built 1936 and one of the first and finest outdoor pools in the country - see John Strawhorn, A New History of Cumnock, 1966), the putting green was here, the carnival was held here – Ah, nostalgia! As Davie wiped a nostalgic tear from his eye, we walked on through the park. Her Majesty, the Queen visited here in 1956 and made a speech from the bandstand. ‘Us weans thocht she was juist a wee wummin’, said Jimmy, ‘We were expectin’ flowin’ robes an’ a crown at least’. And with this observation ended lesson number two.

One thing Jimmy forgot to mention in his speech was that the Cumnock Cycling rally was also held here during the forties and fifties. It was their hill climb section that we tackled next as the road climbed steeply through the wood to Templands Farm.

Holly was amused by the chickens and ducks in the farmyard and some of the rest of us were more amused by the pigs and goats. We feel sorry for those who don’t get out often.
The last time we came this way as a group, it was chucking down with rain. Today made a pleasant change for the early morning rain had gone and the sun was trying to make an appearance. We took to the Broombraes footpath and continued the climb. Somewhere up the slope we halted to remove fleeces as the heat of the day and the slope took its toll. But the climb didn’t last long and we were soon dropping down through the trees to meet the river again. Jimmy had us halted for another lesson. ‘This is where they quarried the stone for Dumfries House back on the mid seventeen hundreds’ (Lesson three). Peter, our lithophile, wasn’t content with seeing the quarry from the top, he was for down into it to examine the rocks. Ian went with him. The rest stayed where they were and awaited the interesting report.

No report was forthcoming so we wandered on. The path came down to the river and brought us out to the main A70 at the west end of Lugar village. We turned through the village. The neat rows of single storey, brick-built, cottages - iron-worker’s cottages originally - and their gardens were admired as we wandered along to the other end of the village.

Lesson number four came at Rosebank Park, the home of Lugar Boswell Thistle FC. The gate was open and we wandered in. Paul, our expert on all things junior football, was asked about Lugar Boswell’s claim to fame. ‘They used to play in the senior leagues’, said he, confident in his answer, ‘playing the likes of Rangers and Hearts’. But this was not the answer the inquisitors were after. Apparently Lugar developed the tactical system of playing two full backs, three midfielders and five attackers using two flying wingers, a system that was used universally for fifty-odd years before the Italians came up with four – two – four and effectively killed the game. Well, were we gobsmacked or what? We Walked on.

Fifty metres along the road we were stopped again, this time it was to have a look at Bello Mill Farm. Bello Mill was the birthplace on 21 August 1754 of one William Murdoch, inventor and engineer. (See en.wikipedia.org.wiki). Murdoch (later Murdock) whose most famous work, gas lighting, was developed here at Bello Mill, in a riverside cave under the present farm. (Lesson five) This cave just had to be explored. But the burn was high and access today would be difficult and would probably result in wet feet, so the visit was postponed. We did however see the original Mill where Murdoch was born.

Fifty metres beyond the farm, at the entrance to the gorge of Bello Pass, are the remains of a Neolithic stone circle, evidence of a very early history for the place. Had Jimmy not pointed them out as such (lesson six), we would have walked past and noted only a pile of stones.

Then we were into the gorge. Bello Pass was the scene, in 1688 of a skirmish between covenanters and government troops when a party of covenanters ambushed the troops taking the covenanting minister David Houston from Ayr to trial, and probable execution, in Edinburgh. Houston escaped but local man John McGeachan was mortally wounded. He is buried on his farm of Meikle Auchengibbert above Cumnock. (See www.cumnock.net/) We would maybe see his monument later. Until then, we walked on.

Up through Bello Pass we went then, on the busy Muirkirk road. At the top of the pass we took a minor road on the right. Lack of coffee was beginning to tell on the caffeine junkies for it was now after eleven and at least an hour since coffee in Jimmy’s so, somewhere along this wee road, on the parapet of a bridge over a wee burn, we stopped for coffee.

The road rose sharply after coffee; rose beside a wee wood into which Peter constantly looked in search of mushrooms, another of his passions. But, mushrooms there were none so we continued up the hill without hindrance to top out in a flattish, mossy area. A few spots of rain hit us, only a few spots but the sky behind was ominously black and the few spots were sufficient to make the wary don the waterproofs. This however was enough to make the rain go off in another direction and that was the last we were to get for the day. It wasn’t the last we would see, though.

The moss we encountered at the top of the hill was dominated on the right by the spoil-heap of another opencast coal works. This elicited some interest for it just wasn’t here the last time either Davie or Jimmy came up this road. Peter, he of the interest in things rocky, was interested in this, as was Ian, our physicist so a short stop was made here to examine the workings, or what we could see of the workings. ‘Part of Cumnock’s new history’, said Jimmy. Lesson seven?

We followed the road yet. Along past where Glenmuir School used to stand (now swallowed by the opencast), down to a bridge on Glenmuir water, took a right turn on Glenmuir Road and climbed again by Darmalloch Farm. At the top of this hill we left tarmac for a while and took the service road for Avisyard (pronounced Aisyard) Farm and the phone mast we could see on the summit of Avisyard Hill.

The farmer stopped his car and rolled down the window. ‘Are you heading for the mast?’ he asked. When we replied in the affirmative he told us there were kye with young calves in the field and warned us that they could be dangerous. ‘Especially wi’ the dug’, said he. It looks as though he didn’t want us to be there. We told him we would take our chances and were ready to spout the freedom of access laws to him. But without further comment, he rolled up his window and drove on. We walked on.

Just after we parted company with the farmer Holly disgraced herself. Jumping the fence, she entered a field with young beasts. When nosy young cow approached her, she started barking and chasing. No matter how much Davie called her, she refused to give up the fun. Well, that is until all the other cattle joined in the chase. This time it was Holly who was the chased. Discretion being the better part of valour, even in the canine world, and especially with twenty cows running after her, Holly beat a hasty retreat and joined us back on the farm road. She knew then that she was in disgrace for she was leashed.

The field, up through which the track to the mast ran, did contain kye, young beasts and nosy. But they presented no threat to us and we walked up to the mast with a mini herd of young cattle going before. And we reached the mast and trig point on top of Avisyard Hill dead on Jimmy’s schedule of 12:30.

We didn’t stop at the mast, the breeze was cool and there was no shelter. We walked westward down the hill to find the remains of a drystane dyke along which we sat and had lunch.
It had been commented often that you don’t have to go particularly high in Ayrshire for a view. Here was another. From Corsencon in the south, through the Afton Hills, Blackcraig and Windy Standard, Cairnsmore of Carsphairn, Ben Beoch above Dalmellington, Brown Carrick at Ayr to Blacksidend in the North, the whole of central Ayrshire was laid out. Cumnock lay below us and the towns of East Ayrshire could be picked out as the low ground of the county stretched down to the sea. Yet, the day was such that Arran, normally a prominent feature of Ayrshire views, remained hidden.

We took our time over lunch, enjoying the view and resting in the sun. And as we sat, we watched another heavy cloud drifted in from the west dragging a dark streak of rain below it, obscuring the landscape as it came. But we were in sunshine and we watched as the rain fell on Auchinleck and parts of Cumnock before heading up the Lugar water towards Muirkirk. But we were in sunshine and so it would stay.

It was all downhill after lunch – literally. We walked down to the corner of a wood where we found another track. ‘Do we follow this track?’ asked Robert. ‘Aye, it’s bound to take us somewhere’, replied our leader. It took us down to the farm of Borland Mains. Over to our right was the farm of Auchengibbert and in a field surrounded by trees could just be seen John McGeachan’s grave.

The farm road took us down to tarmac again. Turning right then left, we crossed the railway bridge and came to Craigens. ‘All Our Yesterdays’ kicked in again. This was the boyhood haunt of Davie and Jimmy and they revelled in nostalgia. ‘Do you remember the duck pond?’ This asked as we passed Craigens Farm. ‘Oh, aye. An’ the horse? Whit wis its name?’ ‘Auld Davie’ ‘Auld Jimmy Craig wis the fermer, crabbit auld bugger’. Ah, the good old days.

In this bout of reminiscence, they had had us down into Netherthird where they were brought up. Twisting and turning through the streets, they had us past where Davie stayed; then where Jimmy stayed. It seemed to keep them amused. What amused Robert though, were the Unionist flags hanging out of windows. For this was the middle of the marching season. He immediately broke into a swagger and started whistling The Sash much to the amusement of some, not least himself. But the sensible amongst us just admired the carved wooden birds in a garden. And the two natives wallowed in nostalgia as we wandered down through Netherthird.

At the bottom of Netherthird sits The Thistle Inn. Adopting our new philosophy of doing something different, this is where we took today’s FRT.
But we weren’t yet finished with the walk, or the history lessons. We left The Thistle and came down Glaisnock Road past the cemetery. ‘That’s where James Keir Hardie is buried’, nodded Jimmy. (Lesson eight)

We stopped outside the town hall to admire Benno Schotz’s bronze bust of Keir Hardie. And outside the Dumfries Arms Hotel for lesson nine. ‘Finished around 1771, it was where Burns stayed once on a journey from Dumfries to Mauchline. But it’s not the oldest building in the town’. The oldest apparently was the one facing us as we crossed Ayr Road, The Craighead Inn. ‘Don’t know the exact date but it’s pre-seventeen hundred’.

Then we entered The Square. ‘You’re walking on top of the old medieval cemetery. The present church dates from 1866 but there’s been a church on this site since the middle ages’. (Lesson ten).

From the Square we made our way back along Auchinleck Road to the cars, not quite exhausted from the walk but totally ‘history’d oot’. Bet Malcolm won’t make that mistake again!














Distance: 16.6 kms by Paul

29 April Glen Trool 2

Land of the brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and of the flood,
Walter Scott

Eight of us drove into Galloway and gathered at Bruce’s Stone in Glen Trool. The intention of the day was to traverse the Awful Hand range from north to south but the view of the fog-covered hills as we drove southward and the forecast of later rain caused a change of mind. We would now stay low and hope the rain would stay away.
Jimmy, who knows the area well, suggested a couple of routes that would keep us reasonably low and yet give some superb views. We took his advice for we are mostly novices in this part of the world and, in some cases, complete Glen Trool virgins. He also warned us that part of the route would be through a wet, boggy area (what else could we expect from a Jimmy walk?) but we were all willing to try it anyway. So off we went.

We started up the Merrick hill path towards Culsharg bothy, Robert and Jimmy leading the way. At one point, we were strung in Indian file along the narrow path. ‘Reminiscent of a canal cycle’, said a voice from the rear, ‘All you can see is the a*** of the person in front’. At this point we had to agree – if you weren’t watching your footing, you were trying to avoid running into the back of the person climbing in front. And we continued like this for half a mile or so with the path climbing, narrow and steep, beside the Buchan burn into the hanging valley.
When the slope eased and the path widened sufficiently to allow side-by-side progress, we were into the trees so still could see nothing. But, at least we weren’t staring at each other’s backsides now. Then the trees ended and we found ourselves in the wide valley of Culsharg with the bothy barely a hundred yards in front of us. We stopped at the bothy for coffee.
Somebody was in the bothy when we arrived. A chap from down south had spent the night there and was for the Merrick in the afternoon. He was still determined even after we told him the forecast was for hill fog and rain. Not everybody is as sensible as we are. We hoped he would enjoy himself and left him to it.
Davie led the way upward from the bothy, still following the Merrick path, on to the forest road. Here we met the tree planters, two older men, two young men and a lassie. They were carrying out an experimental planting of hardwoods on the Merrick path with both native and exotic species. They were armed today with sacks full of Tealeaf Willow (Salix Phylicifolia). ‘There are only five examples of Tea-leaf Willow in Galloway’, said the one who appeared to know, with a modicum of pride in his voice. Yet he didn’t seem unduly concerned by the fact he was about to ruin the rarity value of the other specimens. We let them to go about their business and turned left along the forest road.
This was new territory for all except Jimmy. A lot of the more mature forest has been felled now and the clearing afforded us a good view back down the hanging valley towards Glen Trool. The cloud hung on the top of Lamachan and the glen looked dismal in the dull light. We were glad of our change of mind.
Amongst the clear-fell, dead trees stood up like totem poles. Many and varied were the reasons put forward for leaving these but the consensus was that they were left for the benefit of wildlife – for perches for birds of prey, rotting wood for insect food, feeding stations for insectivore birds etc.. This must be true for it was the conclusion arrived at by two independent think tanks of Ooters. It’s amazing what we can turn our intellect to now that it isn’t taken up with filling up teaching paperwork. And we turned our intellect to many things as we walked along the forest road.
A mile or so after talking to the tree planters, we left the road. Now came Jimmy’s wet, boggy bit. There was a path of sorts, which Jimmy said was the route of the Merrick hill race. But it was a rudimentary path, formed only by the feet of the runners. Yet it was not as wet nor as boggy as he led us to believe and, with the trees felled, gave us good views out over the Moors of Wigtownshire. We walked along the path, in single file again, until we came to a wee heathery top where we halted for the view.

This was the Fell of Eschonchan and, even in these overcast conditions, the view was superb for so little effort. We looked down on Loch Trool snaking away westward towards the Wigtownshire Moors, and eastward to the Glenhead of Trool. The dark green tree-clad slopes of Muldonach rose on the other side of the loch and Lamachan behind this was now free of its blanket of cloud. Curlywee, Millfore, Craiglee and the Rig of the Jarkness formed the eastern skyline. Below this, ran the pass to Loch Dee and the road through this that we followed for White Laggan bothy (11/7/07) was pointed out. The fresh spring green of the ancient oak wood filled the base of the glen and ran down to the Englishman’s Holm and the loch. And a hint of sun dappled the glen floor and silvered the falls of the Gairland burn. Were we to regret our change of mind? Were we heck! Behind us, Benyellery and Merrick still brooded under a mass of boiling cloud and the valley of Culsharg was dark and sombre. We were happy to continue the way we were.
We dropped steeply from Eschonchan top, being careful of underfoot conditions, and came quickly to the car park at Bruce’s Stone.

But the day was young and the rain seemed far away so the walk wasn’t finished yet. We turned our footstep down the track to the Buchan Brig. A brief halt on the Buchan Brig to view the falls and read Scott’s stanza from ‘The Lay of the Last Minstrel’ and we were off again. Still on the road yet, we continued past Buchan, over the Gairland bridge and on towards Glenhead Farm. Then we left the farm road to follow the Sustrans route that runs through to Loch Dee. We were in tow groups now, Robert, Johnny, Davie and Jimmy in the advanced with Ian, Ronnie, Allan and Paul bringing up the rear. But the fast waited for the slow on the bridge over the Glenhead Burn where we joined The Southern Uplands Way. We would take the westerly branch.
Robert led us uphill beside the forest of Muldonnach. Somebody suggested lunch but Jimmy thought it better to wait for ten minutes until we got to The Steps o’ Trool where we could make use of the duckboards as a seat. This was thought sensible. (That made twice today when Jimmy has been accused of being sensible.) But, before we could make the Steps, the promised rain hit. Lunch was taken in two groups crouched under the trees at the steps for the boardwalk was exposed to the worst of the rain. We sat and watched as the downpour swept up the loch.
The rain was to continue for a while yet. We left the lunch stop, suitably waterproofed, and followed the path westward through the trees. Sometimes there were gaps in the forest and we could look out over the loch but the views over to the other side were washed out by the incessant rain. We were glad now that we didn’t take to the hill today.
The path brought us close to the loch side. Jimmy and Davie, both veterans of this walk, had us diverted away from the main path onto a wee pine-covered promontory for they said this gave a superb view of the loch. This was Jimmy’s favourite picnic spot and it certainly was a super wee area with a great view of the loch running eastward into its hills. But the rain was still on so not too long was spent admiring the view. We came back across the peninsula, through the grove of mature Scots Pines, to find the main path again.
Glen Trool Lodge sat on the other side of the water. Two large rhododendrons in full flower took the attention, spectacular even through the rain. Johnny suggested we would see them better when we passed later but Jimmy said this was the best view. We had to take his word.
The main path was followed upward and downward to Caldons. Another diversion was made to view the martyr’s grave. This was where five covenanters*, James Dun, Robert Dun, John Stevenson, James McLive and Andrew McCall were surprised at worship and were shot and buried. The enclosed grave sits among the trees of the ancient oak wood and is worth a couple of hundred yards diversion to visit.

Back on track again, we followed the road over the Trool and took the path through more clear-fell and into a wood of mature spruce. Ian and Ronnie dallied at the rear. We thought they might want to be alone so left them to it and walked on into the forest. But sympathy for the pair overcame our natural instincts and we waited for them to catch up. We were all together again, at least until the bottom of the slope up to Bruce’s Stone.
We were back on the road and the walking was good. We thought perhaps the climb to the stone would be taken easily as well but Johnny had different ideas. He took off like a man possessed. Only Davie, being dragged along by Holly, went with him. But even he had to concede as the slope took its toll and Johnny was left to race out the remaining few hundred metres to the car park on his own.

The only problem with a visit to Glen Trool is the lack of nearby watering holes. We had to return to Minishant for FRT today but, as usual, it was worth it.

Distance: 14.1 km

*A history lesson for those interested in such things

Covenanters
The history of the Covenanters is long and complex. They took their name from the a document called the Solemn League and Covenant signed in Greyfriars Kirk, Edinburgh in 1643 and culminated in a period known as the Killing Times in the late 1680’s.
During the reign of the Catholic James VII, a system of Episcopy was imposed on the Scottish Presbyterian church with Episcopal ministers enforced on the congregation. Those who disagreed with this left the church and formed their own congregations. These were then outlawed in order to get the people to accept the Episcopalian system. The Presbyterian Covenanters then met in outdoor meetings called Conventicles. The army was employed to hunt down these Conventicles and to impose an oath of allegiance to the king and his religious policy. If they refused to take this oath, they were summarily shot. They were refused burial in sanctified ground so were buried in the place they were shot. This is the reason that covenanters monuments are in remote areas.
Three of the most barbaric of the covenanter hunters were Graham of Claverhouse (Bloody Claver’se), Greirson of Lagg and Cornet William Douglas. One or more of these three names will crop up on most martyrs stones in the country.
The Killing Times ended with the Glorious Revolution when James VII was replaced on the throne by the protestant Mary II and William II.

Old Mortality
Old Mortality was the epithet given to Robert Paterson who, in the middle of the eighteenth century, left his wife and family to travel the country erecting headstones over the graves of the covenanters. When he was an old man he was introduced to Water Scott who named his novel of covenanting times after him. Many of Paterson’s original stones still stand in situ but the Caldons one has been removed to Dumfries museum to avoid the effects of vandalism.

Report by Jimmy
Photos by Johnnie
3D map by Paul