Images of the walk in the Lowther Hills featuring Alan McQ, Davie C, Davie McM, Dougie, Gus and Paul

Welcome to Wanlockhead! Let's see what activities are on offer in Scotland's Highest Village...

mine visit, eating, hiking, steam trains, skiing, mountain biking, gold panning and sheep.

We chose to do the hiking.

At the viewfinder (or 'indicator') on East Mount Lowther.

Marching on towards Lowther Hill and its distinctive radome.

Looking back down to Wanlockhead village. Cairntable can be seen on the left in the far distance.

At the next junction, take a right turn.

Keep right on to the end of the road.

Isla keeking out from her hiding place in a drainage channel.

Here come the Ooters!

After having lunch on Green Lowther, we descended to the reservoir.

Glen Franka Reservoir

Looks like the trains are aff at Leadhills Station

Just need to wait until normal service has resumed.

Walking the line towards Glengonnar Halt

The vital statistics

The three Lowthers 13 July 2022

 Alan McQ, Derval Davie, Killie Davie, Dougie, Gus and Paul

O wert thou in the cauld blast

Only the above six hardy souls met at Knockroon where a quick decision was made to do the proposed Lowther Hills walk as the weather promised to be favourable. Consequently just before 10 am we set off from Wanlockhead and headed up past what used to be the old Mountain Lodge, but which is now holiday houses. Grumbles were heard as Derval Davie suggested we do all three Lowthers, taking in East Mount Lowther, (or Auchenlone as it's also known) and by 11 o'clock we were standing on the top admiring the very expansive view as the visibility today proved to be excellent. (East Mount Lowther by the way is a bit of a misnomer as it's the most westerly of the three.)

After a short break at the viewpoint (hard to decipher because it was covered in bird droppings) we retraced our steps and started the slow lung-bursting relentless slog up to Lowther Hill. We were now feeling the effects of a very cold, biting wind and this was to continue until we reached the loch. July the 13th?! It certainly didn't feel like it.

We reached the top of Lowther a bit too early for lunch, so it was decided to carry on to Green Lowther, the highest of the three. "How long does it take to get there?" asked Paul. "Oh about 25 minutes," said Davie and rashly promised to buy pints if it was any longer. Fortunately it only took 23 minutes which was lucky as Davie's wallet was typically empty.

We cooried down out of the wind and had lunch before setting off down the grassy path to the loch or dam, the face of which was covered in thyme and looking beautiful. Before long we were at Leadhills Station where we had a wee break and then proceeded along the old railway line to Glengonnar and eventually back to the cars, roughly about 4 hours after we had set off. FRT was taken at the very pleasant Wanlockhead Inn where an enjoyable hour was spent.

11 April The Lowther Hills – All three of them

Alan, Allan, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Paul, Peter, Rex, Robert & Ronnie

Hubris is not a word that you will read often in these pages, mainly because most of us don’t have a clue what it means. Still, according to our linguist, a classic case of hubris got its comeuppance this morning.

The morning was bright but lightly overcast when we gathered at the fire station in Wanlockhead for a climb of Lowther Hill, a walk we have done a few times and will probably do a few times again for it is a favourite. The morning was bright but a snell northerly breeze kept the temperature down reminding us just how early in the year it was. However, it was this same breeze that kept the air clear and we looked forward to the views from the tops.

Paul was reminded, as if he needed to be, of the first time he did this walk with us (16 Jan 2008). I quote from the blog of that day: ‘Paul, having failed miserably to demonstrate his long-jumping skills, now attempted to demonstrate his paddling and bank climbing skills’. He fell in the burn. Not that we took any great delight in the misfortune of poor Paul. Oh no, we didn’t.

But to get back to today’s venture. We set off along the old railway track towards the Sanquhar road at a fairly brisk pace to stir the blood and build up a heat against the chill breeze. Unlike the time when Paul went for a swim, we didn’t stay on the Sanquhar road. Davie Mc, who knows this area better than any of us, had us turn off and up a shooters' track on to Middle Moor. Already we were rewarded with views for the landscape began to open up to us. The Nith Valley was clear, as far as Corsencon in the west but the hills around Glen Afton still held their morning mist. We had hopes that this would clear by the time we reached the top of our hill. But Paul was reminded, rather gleefully we thought, by Davie not to get carried away by the views for he still had the burn to cross. And remember what happened the last time!

The descent from Middle Moor was steep and the party fragmented as each took his own time coming down. Davie, walking with Paul, reminded him again that the burn was at the foot of this slope. Perhaps Davie should read The Book of Proverbs especially the one that says, ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall’. Hubris ill becomes an Ooter. Still in our ones and twos we came down to the burn which, to be fair, most crossed with little effort. But Davie reminded Paul of the difficulties of crossing it. No problem to Paul this time though, his long legs making short work of the crossing. Not so Davie, however. Pride certainly goes before a fall. Not just metaphorically but literally in his case. Down went the proud Davie, down on his backside in the middle of the burn. Did Paul laugh? You bet he did. And so did the others when the drookit Davie joined them at coffee at the start of the Dempster Road. Davie had to remove his wet breeks and walk for the rest of the day in waterproofs.

After coffee we followed the Dempster Road as it rose gently above the Mennock Pass. Then we left it to make its way down towards Dalveen and took to a well walked path on the flank of Threehope Height. Then we climbed towards Auchenlone or East Mount Lowther - ‘Why is it called East Mount Lowther when it is the most westerly of the group?’ asked one. ‘How the blazes should we know, we only walk the hills, we don’t name them!’ was the curt response. Anyway, as we climbed we could look back and see the sun shine on Nithsdale, and the rain shower blowing on the breeze towards us. The whole of the Nith valley from The Ayrshire boundary to the Solway was spread out below us, Corsencon marking its north-west entrance and Criffel the south. Jimmy set the poser; in which of Burns’s poems does he say, ‘Nith shall rin to Corsencon and Criffel sink in Solway’? The other Burnsian in the group, Davie, smiled a knowing smile but held his peace. Answers please by comment to this post.

The climb wasn’t too arduous and we crested the top of Auchlone without a great deal of difficulty. But before we could get to the viewpoint indicator that marks the summit, the rain and hail that we could see coming down Nithsdale hit us with ferocity. All we could do was turn our backs to the breeze and let the rain and hail bounce off the waterproofs while we waited for party to regroup. Then it was down as quickly as we could.

‘Down’ was the short drop to the head of the Enterkin Pass. Even before we got there the rain had gone. But the going of the rain only exposed the steep face of Lowther Hill looming before us, a patch of snow still clinging tenaciously to a high cleuch. Now the going would be tougher. Fortunately a track led up to a corner of the ‘golf ball’ service road and this eased the climb somewhat though nothing eased the burn in the old legs and lungs. Even when we reached tarmac the slope was taking its toll and once more the group was fragmented as each took his own time on the climb. At the door of the ‘golf ball’ we collapsed to the ground and had lunch.

It was during the peece stop that the hill fog arrived. When we left the ‘golf ball’ on the service road for the masts in Green Lowther, the fog was still with us so the view wasn’t. All we did then was walk on talking Ooter stuff with each other. A pair of birds ran across the heather before taking to the wing into the fog. ‘Golden Plover’ said our ornithological friend. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the fog started to break up. By the time we had climbed to the Green Lowther masts, the fog was gone and we were left with crystal clear air, clear air that allowed extensive views.

When all around was named and commented on we looked further away. The Moffat hills held patches of snow but most snow could be seen on the hills and mountains marking the highland line some seventy miles away.

Below us we could see the wee unnamed reservoir that would be our next objective. Despite the cool breeze, the afternoon was turning pleasant and the progress now was downward and relaxed. We wandered down that slope taking in the changing landscape around us. Then, at the reservoir, we sat down for an afternoon break, the first such this year. Alan spent the time watching wee fishes jump for insects and Ian finished his umpteenth sandwich but most just sat around enjoying the early spring sunshine. Then it was time to move on.

The short stretch of moorland between the reservoir and the service road for the ‘golf ball’ was upward and rough, testing already tired legs. While the fit charged on, some plodded manfully behind and were more than relieved to find tarmac at the top of the slope. We came on to that tarmac barely quarter of a mile from the Wanlockhead fire station and the waiting cars.

Though there was a point half way through the day when we had a poor spell, on the whole this was a super day, one of the best of the year so far – hubris and wet breeks notwithstanding.

FRT was taken in our usual howf, the Crown in Sanquhar.

The Lowthers 1 Sept 2010

Added by JM









6 Ooters met at Davie's on a fine morning for the trip through to
Wanlockhead. On this occasion we took the motorway down to Abington
before cutting off and heading to our start point at the NATS service
station. Soon we were starting the climb up to the 'golf ball' on
Lowther Hill. Davie had stated (more than once) that this would be an
easy walk, 'You can't get an easier hill walk', he said. 'Aye right,'
said the doubting Thomases. Straight up we went, not following the
road, eventually reaching the top where we were amazed to find a couple
of workmen strimming the grass. 'What's the point?' was the question.
'Nats want it done,' came the reply. It turned out that the firm came
from Kilmarnock and the lad we were talking to was an ex St Joe's
pupil. Coffee was called for and as we sat overlooking the hills and
valleys below us we could see what we agreed had to be heather being
burned off in the distance. The smoke from the fire provided a topic of
conversation as the effect of the incoming rain squall on the shape of
the rising smoke was noted.
The first spots of rain hit us as we moved off on the road towards
Green Lowther. Surprisingly, as we waterproofed up, the rain turned to
hail and then back to rain again as we made the climb up to the highest
point of the day. By the time we had reached the masts the rain had
abated and it was to be gloriously warm and sunny for the rest of the
day. A debate was had about whether we would continue up to Dungrain
Law or whether we would descend from here. The decision was made that
we would push on. 'There's a slight ascent further on,' said Davie
mischievously. So on we went passing over Peden Head before seeing
Dungrain in front of us. Unfortunately in order to get to the top of
Dungrain we had to descend first and therefore lost most of the height
we had gained. It's just us well that Davie was out in front by this
time with his ears turned off. However, the summit was reached and
lunch was called for. For the second week running we had hit it off
with the weather and again the views to be had were worth the climb.
Johnny's boots were beginning to bother him again by this time so he
changed in to a pair of sandals for the rest of the day. The relief on
his face was apparent.
All good things come to an end though. The descent was down the side of
the hill through heather and as we descended we could here the sound of
gunfire across the valley, grouse shooting no doubt. It took a fair wee
while to reach the bottom but as we walked towards the old railway line
we could see behind us the ridge we had walked today, quite impressive!
Just when we thought that the climbing was finished for the day, Davie
said we would take a short cut up the hill in front of us. A note of
resignation to the inevitable overtook us as we started the climb.
However, Davie knew what he was doing and after two minutes and with a
smile on his face he led us on to a path which skirted the hill. Soon
we were on the track taking us to the Leadhills railway station. A
drinks stop was called for and as we rested we could see the grouse
beaters coming down the hill behind us in a regimented line. We
followed the railway line back to the cars and finished the walk at
about 3.10p.m. Having started at 10.30a.m. this made for another good
day.
Davie did admit that it maybe was a moderate walk after all!
FRT was taken at the Black Bull back in Darvel.

21 January Endurance on Lowther Hill

Cauld blaws the wind frae east tae west,
The drift is driving sairly,
-------------------------
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure it’s winter fairly.
R. Burns

A great debate ensued when we met at Jimmy’s house in Cumnock: some were for the Lowther hills as planned and some were for an easier local Cumnock walk. The Lowthers contingent kept reminding us that the forecast was good and we should get great views and some snow today. The locals were wary of snow on the road on the climb to Wanlockhead and were for staying low. Rex had the deciding vote when he arrived for we were tied at four votes each. Unsurprisingly, the Lowthers it was to be.
We travelled to Wanlockhead with anticipation or trepidation depending on your viewpoint and encountered the first snow on the climb out of the Mennock valley. The road was clear but snow lay all around us. The lower hills that we could see were white and we knew that snow lay on the higher summits we were heading for. When we reached the village, snow lay deep and ploughed into ridges at the side of the road. All the car parks had snow too deep to allow entry so we were reduced to parking at the side of the road.
Even before we had left the cars, we picked up a companion in the shape of a champagne coloured poodle-type canine who took a fancy to Holly. He was to stay with us for the entire walk and was to give Holly plenty of exercise loupin’ sheughs and sklimmin’ hillocks in the snow - ‘Twa Dogs that were na thrang at hame’ enjoying each other’s company. Perhaps he thought he was into the squirrel dance but Holly was for none of it so they just ran through the snowdrifts together.
The cloud hung over the hills we were for but we knew the forecast was for brighter weather so were undeterred by this. We started walking. When we left the road, we came into the snow immediately. This was ankle deep to start with but deepened as we climbed. And as we climbed, we came into the fog. When we left the hard surface to come onto a path designated Southern Uplands Way, we were into a world of deep snow and thick fog. And a breeze began to stir. This was not a day for sunbathing.
The path was now fairly steep and was made to feel even steeper by the underfoot conditions. The climb was strenuous. And we tackled the climb smartly to build up a heat against the cold conditions. The effort and the speed were too much for the inexperienced Allan and he felt ill. While we agreed to slow the speed and encouraged him with the news that the service road for the ‘football’ was only some two hundred metres away, Allan decided he didn’t want to hold us back and decided to return. Johnny went with him. (We await a report on the walk they did at the lower level.)
Reduced to seven now, we continued to follow the Southern Uplands Way, each taking turn to break the path through the drifts. Red grouse whirred away into the greyness, telling us who invader their white world to ‘G’back, g’back, g’back’. With the snow deepening and the wind strengthening, we should have listened to them and gone straight back down to the pub. This was also Peter’s opinion and he persisted in frequently telling us how the sun was shining in Cumnock. But we ignored both birds and Peter and trudged on, heads tilted into the wind.
Jimmy led us into the cleugh through two foot of snow. We knew there was a burn to cross and nervousness started to grow in some. But there was no need to worry for this is an official long distance way and there is a wooden bridge over the burn, albeit with a covering of two or three inches of snow today. Jimmy, going before like a latter-day Moses, led us boldly over to the other side. Then came the problem. The drift on this side was deep - three feet at least - and Jimmy’s wee legs just disappeared into it. He was up to the a*** in snow. Yet, like a hero, he ploughed on before, breaking a way for us to follow. (Would you just stop boasting and get on with the narrative!) Once the drift was cleared, we were onto firmer footing with heather poking up through the four inches of white. And the posts marking the route of the road appeared out of the fog some twenty metres in front. Jimmy took a beeline for the nearest post and we found some relief from the deep snow.
Relief from the deep snow it may have been but it was hardly easy going yet. The road had been ploughed, throwing ridges of frozen stuff to the sides and leaving two or three inches of brown sugar on the surface. Every step involved some sort of slip back. It was energy sapping to trudge upward through this stuff. Then the snow hit - tiny pellets of snow, driven on the wind and stinging into every bit of exposed flesh. What should have been a pleasant walk was turning into an endurance test. Yet the Cumnock proposers said nothing. We trudged upward with only the banter to relieve the effort and counting the bends in the road to see how far we had to go for shelter.
Eventually, the ‘football’ solidified out of the fog and we knew this would be the extent of our endeavour for the day even before it was spoken. We found shelter from the wind by a garage door and took an early lunch.
Most of us ate standing up but Ian had the perfect solution to the conditions. He produced a narrow, one person, orange bivi-bag and proceeded to wriggle his way into it. By his gyrations, we suspect the bag has shrunk since it was last used. It was a tight squeeze. After lunch, we were for leaving Ian inside his bag for he struggled unwrap himself from his orange sausage. Alan took pity on him though and helped pull him out.
We were just about to set off again when the garage door opened and a blast of heat hit us. Two workers stood inside. ‘You must be off your f***ing heads’ said one and promised a deterioration in the weather for the afternoon telling us that the weather changes quickly in the hills. Davie kept his own counsel but we knew that he knew these hills better than the speaker did and was well aware of the vagaries of the hill weather. However, we had already made the decision to return by the road.
The decision to abandon the walk at this point was a relief to us all for we didn’t fancy stumbling and slithering through the deep drift that we suspected lay further on. We stuck to the road. It was a lot easier going down the way and, forty minutes after leaving the summit, we were walking out of the fog into Wanlockhead.
Holly’s new friend deserted her here for it saw its own folk and made a joyful beeline to join them - without even a thank-you to us for taking it a walk.
Here we met the other two who had just returned from a lower level and sunnier walk than we had.
The B-team report.

Wanlockhead – Cumnock? What a debate! People changing their minds! Paul! Sixty year olds behaving like six year olds – wanting to play in the snow. We B-teamers were certainly outvoted, and so it passed that democracy prevailed (there being no executive to make wise decisions for the time muddled drink befuddled masses) and so it was that we set off for the snowy heights of Wanlockhead. Allan made the attempt to keep apace with the whippets and testosterone loaded but heart and mind did for him as his honed logic and advanced reasoning bid the question “ whit the f…. are we daing here?” So Allan and his faithful friend decided to seek an alternative to this heart stopping climb.

Leaving the Magnificent Seven to explore the cold misty snowy top, Allan and yours truly returned to the level that was Wanlockhead. This splinter cell, now recovered in spirit and body, decided to walk the railtrack to Leadhills station. This was not a walk in the park! A driving wind and foot deep snow gave enough excitement to cheer us. On our return we made a circuit of the village of Wanlockhead. It was here that a local chronicler spotted us and sought to capture our image. We obliged. Well exercised we retired to the comfort of Allan’s carriage and partook of a welcome lunch. Just as I drained the last from my second cup of coffee Allan spotted the Return of the Magnificent Seven(not as good as the original IMHO). All, Brothers in Arms once again, retired to the Crown in Sanquar. No need to debate right or wrong, good or bad decisions – all just glad to be able to be here to ‘decide’ next Wednesday’s outing.