27 October So This Is Windy Standard Then

Distance 13.8 km (or 14.2 km if you believe Ian's GPS)



Allan, Davie, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Rex & Robert

Some would argue that the air of confusion that hangs over a meeting of the Ooters would indicate a complete disorganisation within the group or perhaps the early onset of senility. Others would see it as an ability to think on the hoof, re-evaluate the situation and act accordingly. Whichever your viewpoint this was another morning of confused chatter when we gathered at Ian’s place in Kilmarnock in the dark of a late October morning
In the convivial surrounds of the Crown in Sanquhar last week we hatched a plan. The intention was to travel to Loch Katrine, take the steamer to Stronachlachar and walk back; this would be our last chance for the year for the boats stopped sailing on Halloween. It also explains why we gathered in Ian’s somewhere before dawn. But, when the day arrived, so did the weather. A depression centred off Iceland was throwing rain bearing fronts in our direction and the area round Loch Katrine was to be subjected to some heavy rain. While one or two were still keen to make the trip north, there were those who, given the rain of yesterday and the forecast, preferred not to go so far for a soaking. And when our weather-man said ‘No’, we were inclined to take his word and cancel our Trossachs sojourn. The boat trip will need to wait till next year.
The foul weather alternative was to walk along the old railway from Kilmarnock to Irvine. Now, we have done this walk before and it is just that – a slog along an old railway through not particularly interesting territory (The scrappies yard at Knockentiber notwithstanding). A change of mind was creeping in. When the weather-man said it might be drier and brighter further south, we sought alternatives in that direction. Ayrshire coast? Loch Doon area? Ness Glen? We eventually settled on an old favourite - Windy Standard from Glen Afton.
The sun shone as dawn broke but cloud still hung on the hills as we drove towards New Cumnock and it looked for a bit like this was going to be another ‘Windy Standard day’ (see 31/01/2007 & 11/03/2009) But there was blue sky above this and as we drove up the single track road of Glen Afton we could see the clag break up in the sunshine. We might be lucky after all. The only fly in the ointment of the morning was the cool westerly we experience when we left the cars at the waterworks. (The fishers' car park was closed due to ‘Dangerous trees’ so we were forced to find a spare piece of ground by the waterworks)
The route taken was the same as previously – up to the dam, find the forest road and walk westward on this toward the base of the hill. The pace was brisk on this upward section, brisk enough to raise the pulse and keep us warm against the westerly blowing in our faces. What made today different from other times we have come this way though, was that today there was a view. Near the top of the rise we stopped to take in that view and recover some breath. Behind us lay the deep blue waters of the Afton Reservoir and beyond this the winter yellow hills of Davie’s ‘Four Tops’ walk. To our left the ‘windmills’ on Windy Standard turned on the fresh westerly. And to our right the rubbish dump of generations of Glen Afton farmers – tangles of wire and fence posts, old fridges and cookers, tyres and wheels, and drums of unidentifiable liquids. ‘It’s the view that makes it all worthwhile’ said Rex. But we didn’t spend too long admiring it, even if the old wardrobe looked interesting, for the wind was chilly and sweat was turning cold. We moved on.
We thought that when we entered the forest plantation we would be sheltered from the wind. Not at first though, for the road ran directly into the wind and the trees acted like a funnel for it. But as the road turned and veered and dropped toward the Deugh, the strength of the wind was lost and the walking was a bit more pleasant. At the bridge over the infant Deugh Water, where we always stop for coffee, we stopped for coffee.
After coffee, Robert made a quick check to make sure nothing was left at the bridge – yes, Jimmy had his specs – and we moved on.
No more than a quarter of a mile along the road we came to the base of our hill, left the road and took to a steep fire break that would raise us to the heights of Jedburgh Knees. That this is Allan’s favourite part of the world became obvious as he again took his time savouring every upward step through the dripping grass and soggy peat mosses while the indifferent rushed on to the top. Only Johnny waited (eventually) to share Allan’s pleasure in the climb. When the two cleared the trees and came on to the open hill they saw the speedsters waiting for then on the crown of the ridge barely fifty metres away beside one of the many wind turbines that occupy this top.
Windy Standard is well named. Even on its lower subsidiary top of Jedburgh Knees we felt the strength of the westerly. We suppose that is why they planted wind turbines here. One advantage of having the wind-farm here (‘There are advantages?’ asks Jimmy) is that there is a service road right along this ridge and on to the top of the hill. We followed this upward towards the summit, taking in the view as we did so. To the east were the hills of Glen Afton – Black Craig, Black Lorg, Alwhat and Alhang with the lower rocky peak of Steyamara looking down the glen – and behind rose the Lowthers with the ‘golf ball gleaming white in the sun. To the north Glen Afton ran out onto the plains of central Ayrshire, Cumnock and Auchinleck being the most obvious settlements. To the west Cairnsmore of Carphairn looked very close much to the surprise of some of the group whose spacial awareness wasn’t to the fore today. But beyond this the Rhinns of Kells and the high Galloways still hid in clag and the sky in that direction was greying. We could only hope that this wasn’t the start of the forecasted rain coming in our direction.

'So this is what the view from Windy Standard looks like', said Paul taking it all in as we walked.
But we didn’t stop to take in the view for the wind was fresh and cooling, and we pushed on for the top. Well, one of us pushed on to the top. Davie left the road and took a path directly for the summit trig point while the rest of us stuck to the road. Davie would like it recorded that he was the only one who reached the summit today for the road swung round the top and missed it by fifty yards and some thirty feet of height. Did we care? Did we heck! We’ve been there before – we think!
‘It’s all downhill from here’, said Davie when he rejoined us, ‘Follow me. I know the way down’. No offence meant to Davie but on a clear day such as this, the way down was obvious to us all. So down we set. Now that we were on the lea side of the hill, a suitable place to eat was sought. Robert, Rex and Johnny found a spot on a dry, well dryish, mound sheltered from the breeze. But Davie had a better place ‘just down here’ so we walked on. ‘Just down here’ turned out to be down beside a fence* for quarter of a mile, over the fence and up the side of another slope, Millaneoch, and down through a boggy area toward the Afton Water. Half an hour after we left the original lunch stop, we stopped for lunch on a boulder some hundred feet or so above the floor of the valley.
The car park at the waterworks was barely an hour away from or peece-stop. We came down through the bog to a wee cleuch (gorge, Rex) on the Afton. The burn had to be crossed; there was no other way to find the track that would take us to the forest road round the reservoir. A place was found near a sheep fank and the burn crossed without mishap, though not without consternation in some quarters. The quad track was found easily enough and took us down past the old fruiterer’s van now serving as some sort of storage shed for the shepherd, a fruiterers van which, for some reason or other, always causes amusement in our ranks. Rex stopped to photograph it while the rest walked on. The track took us down the side of the Afton Water to the forest road where we waited for David Baillie to catch us up.
Now it was just a half hour saunter round the reservoir to the dam and back to the cars. And still the sun shone on us.
This was a good day, better than the forecast suggested and easily the best of our outings to Windy Standard. ‘Just over 14 Km at just over 5Km/h’, said Ian consulting his sat-nav. We were happy enough with this.
Another instance of our trying new things came when we went to the Craighead in Cumnock for FRT

* Holly found out the hard way that this was an electric fence and was live. Some of you in New Cumnock might have heard her squeals as she retreated sharply from the offending object.

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