Culter Fell, 8 August 2018

Alan McQ, Davie C, Davie McM, Gus, Ian and Jimmy

Only six intrepid Ooters were available to make the the longish car journey down the motorway to climb one of our favourite hills, namely Culter Fell. Davie McM remembers that the first time we climbed this hill, there were likewise only six of us, namely Bob, Davie, Peter the original three Ooters who were joined that day by some newcomers to the group Jimmy, Johnny and Rex. I wonder how many walks we've done since then?
It's interesting to note that although the hill is spelled Culter Fell, the village with its inn and school is known as Coulter with an extra 'o'.
The weather forecast for the day was promising; rain was not forecast until 4pm; however we  experienced the whole gamut:- sunshine, mist, cold wind and latterly quite heavy rain. However most of the walk  was extremely pleasant indeed. There are nine old grouse buts between the bottom of the hill and the top of the first rise and a rest was called for at each and every one; after an hour and a half in the car, it fairly tests your lung power on the first bit of the Fell. However we reached the trig point about an hour and a quarter after we'd set out which, believe it or not, was about the same time we took almost 13 years ago. Not bad for a group of old joukers (AMcQ excluded from the 'old').
We enjoyed a cuppa on our usual slope looking down in to the valley. Visibility was good and Loch Talla and Dollar Law could be seen, although wisps of mists were floating past us as we sat, creating a very picturesque scene.
After coffee we set off, not down towards the reservoir this time, but down in a northerly (I think- compass is no' very good!) direction and then veered east to take in King Bank Head. By this time, the wind was getting up, indicative of the pending rainstorm. We dropped off the top to shelter and have lunch and luckily we had just finished eating when the rain hit us accompanied by mist.
We wasted no time in retracing our tracks back down to the bottom of Culter  and then proceeded back down the track to Birthwood  Farm and the cars. All in all, it had taken about four and a quarter hours  and by the time we got back the rain had ceased and we were in jovial mood.
A good hour's banter and FRT were had in in the Crown Hotel in Biggar, a very nicely appointed pub. Davie McM brought in a football quiz he had composed which Gus and Jimmy made short work of. However the challenge is: Can our resident Scottish football expert, Mr Paul Crankshaw of that ilk, achieve a perfect score? We shall see.
report: DMcM
photos: Alan McQ

23 March Culter Fell

Alan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Gus, Ian, Jim, Jimmy, Kenny T, Paul, Rex & Robert

What can be said of this walk that hasn’t already been said before in these pages? Culter Fell in the hills of south Lanarkshire is one of those hills which, if the air is clear provides extensive and special views of the border hills and river valleys. It would remain to be seen if today’s walk would provide such views for the day was overcast and a damp clag hung in the air as we gathered in Darvel to car share through to Lanarkshire.

For today’s outing eleven of us made the trip through to the Culter valley just south of Biggar. There a cold southerly wind greeted us, a southerly wind that blew off snow and cut through to the bone. So, well wrapped against this blast we set off for the base of the hill. In common with the hills of this area Culter Fell start with its steepest ascent. This would sort the men from the even older men. Jimmy, who had recent chest infection, struggled on this steep section and, no matter how many ‘view stops’ sere called he continually brought up the rear. At the top of this steep we sat down for coffee and to wait for the struggling one.

            While we sat and took in what view the clag offered us and tried to shelter from the strong, biting wind, Jimmy decide to plod on at his own pace knowing that we would all catch him up. He was joined by Robert and the two Davies and a schism took place. We watched as the four took off upward into that bitter, piercing wind. That was the last we saw of them until the summit was reached.

            When the grassy summit of the hill was reached there was no sign of the errant four. They were eventually found ensconced on the leeward side, the Peeblesshire side, of the summit having lunch. We joined them. What a disappointment the day was proving. The bitter wind meant that there was no great hanging about on the summit, just enough for a bite of lunch and a well-earned rest. Not that hanging about would have done us any good today for the damp clag that filled the air restricted any viewing to around the three to four mile mark and the only distinct landmark was Tinto. And there was that bloody wind.

            The descent of the hill was a lot faster than the ascent for we now faced into the wind and it stung into our faces, numbing noses and watering eyes. Down we came as fast as we could to the Culter reservoir. (As for the struggling one? He came down that slope as fast as any of us and faster than most. We think he was just playing for sympathy on the ascent.) Here at last we were out of the main blast and the air was relatively mild. We could now take our time. An afternoon halt was called on the face of the dam and a relaxed coffee was taken.

            The walk down the road back to the transport was a delight. Any residual breeze was now on the back and the road sloped gently downwards. We arrived at the cars three and a half hours after we had left them happy with the day’s effort but disappointed in the views from the top. Bob's pictures below sum up the day. Still, next time………..

FRT was taken in Stra’ven in a pub that the scribe has forgotten the name of but I’m sure that somebody will remind us.

PS. The abbreviation FRT stands for Fluid Replacement Therapy a term coined by us many years ago to refer to (And justify? - Ed) the enjoyable hour or so spent in the pub at the end of a walk replacing the fluids lost on the day’s outing.

           

Some pictures from Coulter Fell walk

14 September Culter Fell - Fourth Visit

Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Peter, & Robert

I to the hills will lift mine eyes,

From whence comes my peace.

We defy anybody with any feelings at all to stand on a high place on a clear day and not be moved by the scene below him (Or her – Ed). One of our favourite high places, one with almost three hundred and sixty degree views and the one we intended to get to today, is Culter Fell, a two thousand three hundred foot plus top on the border between Lanarkshire and Peeblesshire near Biggar. But as for the clear day, that remained to be seen.

The remnants of hurricane Katya battered the country on Monday and brought a day full of rain on Tuesday. Wednesday dawned considerably calmer and though the morning was lightly overcast, there was the hint of sun in the sky so our intended outing was still on. Ten of us made the journey to darkest Lanarkshire and into the valley of the Culter Water with the hopes of a decent day on the hill for a change. And as we travelled east, the day turned brighter and the sun made an appearance.

As we arrived at our car park in the Culter Valley we were surprised to see a car already parked there. The occupants were four people, two men and two women of our own vintage, from Dalmarnock. They were for our top as well. As we changed into walking gear, we conversed with them and Jimmy presented them with our blog card. If they are reading this blog can we say that we hope that they enjoyed their day.

That Jimmy was in fine fettle this morning should have been obvious right from the start when he was champing at the bit to be off while the rest of us were still getting ready. It should have become even more obvious when he and Robert and Peter walked off leaving the rest with one boot on. They claim that they took it easy along the four hundred metres or so of road to the foot of the hill to let the rest of us catch up. Huh! At least they were in sight as they took to the track towards the steep of the hill. Here they were joined by Davie Mc and Holly.

Those who know Culter Fell will know that the grass track climbs gradually to the foot of a steep heather slope, the knuckle of a broad ridge. The speedsters waited at the bottom of this slope for the sensible. Then they moved smartly off again.

The path steepens on this slope, rising beside a series of shooters butts, eight shooters butts in total according to our Culter veteran. We took this slope climbing between shooters butts and stopping for views. And what views were presented to us today. The advantage of the recent weather was to clear the air and, with the sun shining the views were not only extensive but well defined, and in a wide arc. Firstly Tinto and the Clyde valley appeared over the other side of the valley. Then, as we climbed from butt to butt, the Ayrshire Hills, Cairn Table and the Glen Afton Hills, started to appear. Then the Lowthers and, to the north, the Ochils and the Pentlands began to show. And there in the blue distance was the Bass Rock. Yet over the Clyde conurbation nothing was visible for a haze hung in that direction. That Allan was enjoying these views and the climb was apparent as he took up his usual position at the rear of the bunch and let the speedsters climb on ahead. But this time he was joined in his delight by Johnny and Malcolm who are both now beginning to appreciate Allan’s viewpoint; splendid views behind and the backs of the fit b****** climbing on in front.

As we climbed we found the great disadvantage of the day, an ever freshening westerly blow, the last remnants of Katya. It was to be a problem later but now it was on our backs pushing us up the broad ridge towards the final rise. On a dry bit at the bottom of this rise, the fit, now including Paul and Ian, waited for the others. But the wind was chilling and we didn’t wait there very long, only long enough for the slow to catch their breath then we pushed on for the summit. Needless to say it was the revitalised Jimmy and Davie Mc who gained the summit first. The two made an executive decision. The wind was far too strong to have coffee on the summit so they decided to climb over the fence into Peeblesshire and drop over the summit to the lea of the hill where some shelter might be found. This was the case and they settled down for coffee. They were soon joined by Paul and Peter and Ian and Robert and Davie C and a few minutes later by the slow trio. The Dalmarnock folk joined us a few minutes after Allan and co.

Now we had a different view to delight us as we took coffee. There were the Tweedsmuir Hills, White Coombe and Broad Law and Dollar Law, and the valley below running down to the main Tweed one. We defy anybody not to be impressed by the views from Culter Fell. But we didn’t spend too long admiring this view for the wind still reached us and it was chilly.

‘Where are we going now?’ asked Peter, hopeful that somebody would say ‘Back down’, for Peter is not too fond of hills. But he was disappointed. ‘Over there’, replied Davie Mc, pointing to Capelgill Hill, a top barely a mile away as the crow flies. But since we are not crows and a deep defile lay between us and our goal, we had to settle for the longer way round by King Bank Head. We packed up and set off into the wind towards King Bank Head, Jimmy setting a cracking pace on the down slope from Culter top.

King Bank Head is a peat-hagged, soggy watershed between two drainage systems – the Culter and thence to the Clyde and the Holm Water leading to the Tweed. Our grateful thanks go to the inventor of quad-bikes for without the tracks made by one of these, we would have found ourselves following the county boundary fence and trudging through the peat-hags but the quad tracks took us round the hags and eased the way to the bottom of the slope to Capelgill

Two bodies of opinion existed in the group today; there were those who could have walked all day for nothing was too much bother, and there were those who wondered why we were heading for Capelgill just to come back to where we were. The group split in two; the Capelgill group climbing away to the east and the others following the fence to the low top of Cardon Hill.

Wind-assisted, the fit lot reached the summit of Capelgill just as the others reached the base of Cardon. Capelgill Hill presents a different prospect of the Tweedsmuir Hills than its close neighbour Culter fell. We now looked into the heart of these hills and there was Talla and Fruid reservoirs lying blue in the sun. And below us Tweed wound its way towards Peebles. But still the wind was strong, stronger it seemed than it was before, and we couldn’t spend too long admiring the view. We turned our faces to the wind and retraced the steps to the county fence.

The other group were found settled for lunch in the lea of Cardon Hill. We joined them and sat for a while enjoying our cheesy peeces and the view down Tweed.

We hadn’t realised the strength of the wind for it was on our backs or behind our left shoulders up till now. When we left the shelter of Cardon Hill we realised the strength of it. A forty miles an hour blow hit us on our right and gusts well in excess of this threatened to tumble us off our feet. We came back to King Bank Head heads down and fighting the wind, fluttering of wind-blown jacket hoods drowning out any conversation.

But we made it back to King Bank Head and a little relief from the worst of the wind. The sensible found the quad-tracks and followed these while some others chose the direct route through the peat hags. But whatever route was chosen, we came together before we climbed the county fence and came back into Lanarkshire. Our route now lay downwards, still following quad tracks, on the flank of Tippet Knowe. We lost the wind as we dropped and the day turned pleasantly warm. A well graded path eased the drop on the hillside and when Jimmy, a hundred metres in front of the rest as was his usual today, stopped beside a group of boulders to remove his jacket, we all felt the need for a break and stopped with him. There we sat enjoying calm air after the blow on top and took in some warming September sun.

The rest of the walk was taken whichever way we fancied; some jogged down the grassy slope, some sauntered slowly and some grimaced as the down-slope took its toll on old knees. However we all arrived back at the cars wind-blown, sun-kissed and happy. By this time the Dalmarnock folk had gone. We hope they enjoyed their day as much as we did ours. We have never been disappointed with Culter Fell.

FRT was taken in our usual howf in Biggar, The Crown, before the long drive back to Ayrshire.

30 January Culter Fell 2

The day promised much. The overnight frost meant a bright and sunny start to the morning and the destination was an interesting and scenic part of the country so, when we gathered at Davie’s place, spirits were high. And six of us - Davie, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Peter & Rex - travelled eastward towards Biggar and the valley of the Culter. Yet, as we came towards the hills, it was obvious that the promise of the morning would not be fulfilled for these were the hills making the clouds that now trailed the sky and the tops were clothed in thick, grey mist. Even in the valley of the Culter the raw wind was felt and we knew it was blowing over unseen snow on the tops. And it was into this wind that we started our walk.

The first 300m (325 yards for the old folk) was on tarmac and the pace was kept high to warm the blood. Then tarmac was left and the grass path was found that would take us to the sharp climb onto the shoulder of Culter Fell. Peter, whose first outing this was since before Christmas, found the climb and the pace testing today. At this point Davie would like it minuted that it was not he who was setting the pace today, it was Mr Porter! Peter’s discomfort was not eased by the strength and temperature of the wind that blew constantly on our right sides as we climbed. So a halt was called to admire the view. Not much in the close view for the clag still hung on the hills but the sun still shone in the Clyde valley and lit up the high flats of Motherwell. Then it was upward again. The path took us up beside a line of shooting butts and it was suggested that coffee should be taken here as these would provide some shelter from the arctic wind and there would be none on the top. Three stopped in one butt while three made for another higher up.

After coffee, the climb was continued steeply but eased as the shoulder of the hill was gained. By then, though, we were into the freezing fog and a dusting of snow. The ground was frozen just sufficiently to bear the foot until weight was put on it when it gave way with a crunch and provided slightly less than easy walking. But the top was won easily enough given the conditions. The bitter wind and freezing fog combined to grow horizontal icicles from the trig point and fence and Rex got busy capturing this with the camera. But these were not conditions in which to linger and we were soon making the descent.

The initial descent was through the frost rimed grass and powdery snow into the teeth of the wind. But conditions improved as we came out of the mist into the shelter of the hill and it was a lighter-hearted group the came down the heathery slopes to find a shooter’s road. And Rex continued to set the pace. The group split into two - the fit and the sensible - four to the front and two in the rear. The four stopped for lunch at the reservoir dam and waited for the two. And waited for the two. And waited. Holly’s bark attracted the attention of the two who had somehow lost the shooter’s road and had taken to the heather again. They appeared out of the trees above and to the right of the diners, thanking Holly for attracting their attention. Navigation lessons needed here. Or at least lessons on how to tell a road from a heathery slope.

The way was now down the service road. Estimated were made of the time it would take to complete the trip and these ranged from 15 minutes to three-quarters of an hour. The fifteen minute guessers set the pace, the three-quarters of an hour boys took their time. It took thirty-five minutes. Well done Davie.

Another good outing despite the cold wind.

We chose The Crown in Biggar for our post walk refreshment.