A few more from the Muirkirk walk

 

6th March: The Lunky Hole Walk (minus the Lunky Hole)

 Present: Derval Davie, Killie Davie, Bob, Gus, Dougie, Paul, Jimmy, Graham, Rex and Malcolm

The above 10 gathered at Kames Car Park in Muirkirk on what must be the sunniest morning the Ooters have had for a walk in 2024. Setting off just before 10, we made our way down to Tibbie's brig where Jimmy called for a photo shoot. Graham tried to explain to a bemused Davie how the fancy fencing beside the bench was made, using words like lasers and computers and such like. A conventicle-like gathering /halt was called here but eventually they were ushered to move on, so down the Garpel Burn we went, climbed the steps and on to the old railway. Some massive puddles were evident here, testimony to the amount of rain we have had recently.

Davie had warned the group that the path beyond Upper Wellwood farm might be impassable because of deep mud, as it had been when he tried to do the walk at the beginning of January. However it turned out to be not too bad although as you can see from Jimmy's photos the path was still in a state due to a JCB churning it up. Later it became obvious that the JCB had been used in the construction of a new brig opposite the ruins of Wellwood House. A very impressive bridge has been built, probably at some cost, where a simple wooden structure would have sufficed.

On we went along the river, with the usual coffee stop being called on the boardwalk. Once we had crossed the Cumnock road, a few of us took the time to admire the old heronry in the wee fir plantation here. The herons have not been seen here for a couple of years, but let's hope they return to nest this year.

On we went up the Dalfram Avenue road, crossed the Sorn road, and enjoyed the downhill stretch to Netherwood Farm. Lunch was taken with our backs to the stane-dyke revelling in the glorious sunshine.

Lunch over, we turned off down to Burnfoot Farm before crossing the Greenock Water brig and heading on to the forest roads. Since we knew that the bottom road at the lochans would be flooded, we headed past the Long Stone of Convention (without stopping to visit it) and emerged onto the Strathaven road. Davie turned left at Kirkburnhead Cottage to shouts of disappointment from some that Graham was going to miss out on the Lunky Hole. Rude comments about Vaseline, etc were made, but we promised Graham that the Lunky Hole would be exposed to him on our next visit here.

Soon we passed the old Muirkirk Parish Church with its interesting graveyard, turned along Crossflatt road and started the last leg of our almost 11 mile walk back to the carpark. It had taken 4 hours and 20 minutes, but it was a day to savour because of the sunny weather. 

Paul headed for home while the rest of us enjoyed a good hour of banter in the Black Bull in Mauchline.

Muirkirk Circular aka The Lunky Hole Walk 4 July

Alan, Alan McQ, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Gus, Ian, Jimmy, Malcolm, Peter, Rex, Robert

The brilliant spell of weather continued as we set off from Kames (or is it Kaimes?) on the path out to Tibbie’s Brig. The bench in memory of Councillor James Kelly gave us the opportunity to have a team photograph before we continued, skirting the Garpel, and taking the path on the old railway line down towards the Covenanters memorial. As per usual, coffee was called for, but, today, this shaded spot was infested with midges so little time was spent before we continued past the River Ayr and up to the opencast site which has now benefitted from landscaping. We reminisced that it was not too long ago that we could see to the bottom where men and machines were still working and wondered how deep the water was now. Peter left us at this point and followed the A70 back to his car. Crossing the main road, we stopped briefly at the bridge over the Ayr to take on fluids in preparation for the next section which would be the hottest part of the walk. We followed the road across the Sorn Muirkirk road (closed at the moment for some works apparently) and passed Netherwood Farm, before making our way up to the entrance to Burnfoot Farm. In a change to tradition, we stopped here in the shade of the trees and took lunch. The aforementioned shade and a wee breeze made for a pleasant fifteen minutes and allowed the more sweaty of us to change shirts.
Continuing on, we crossed the bridge over the Greenock Water and made our way up the track to the site of the old opencast, now covered in trees. Indeed, some tree felling had already taken place. It is not too long ago that the whole area was barren. Given the dry weather we, for the first time in a while, were able to take the lower road (usually flooded) and before long we emerged at the Muirkirk to Strathaven road and turned right towards Muirkirk. Our junior member was underwhelmed by the lunky hole in the drystane dyke and matters were made worse since the information board had been vandalised and the details had gone.
Almost to a man, the decision was to head straight back to the cars from here rather than take a detour through the woods to the churchyard, and so Kames was reached at ten to two, three and three quarter hours or so after having set off. The distance was averaged out to have been nine and a half miles, quite enough on such a warm day.
FRT was taken in the Empire Bar, where old friendships were renewed.

Tibbie's Brig

Today's starting eleven

The guid auld days?

The big hole in the ground

Holly cools off (normally the track is flooded at this point)

19 August Muirkirk to Sanquhar – Tenth Anniversary Walk

Davie C, Davie Mc, Gus, Jimmy, Paul, Peter & Robert.

On the third Thursday of August, 2005 (the eighteenth, if memory serves) three newly retired teachers from Kilmarnock Academy went for a walk. Little did they know that ten years later they would still be walking together for this was the genesis of the walking group known as The Early Ooters. The walk they chose was the old turnpike road from Muirkirk in Ayrshire to Sanquhar in Dumfriesshire. Ten years almost to the day we decided to commemorate the birth of the Ooters by doing the walk that led to its creation.

It was slightly disappointing to note that only seven turned out for what is a long but easy walk but those who did turn up were treated to an enjoyable day out. The walk has been described in these pages at least once before and really needs no further description here. It follows the long abandoned eighteenth century turnpike through the wild moorland of east Ayrshire to the more verdant pastures of Nithsdale in Dumfriesshire. We find that it is always better to walk from Muirkirk for the sign there says that Sanquhar is twelve miles away whereas the sign in Sanquhar says that Muirkirk is seventeen miles away and we object to walking further than we need to. So, Muirkirk was our starting point and we took the bus from Cumnock to Muirkirk.

            We set off along the old road passing the usual landmarks - McAdam’s Cairn, The Whisky Knowe and the Sanquhar brig. So far the old road has been well maintained and the going easy. But beyond the Sanquhar Brig, on the climb to the head of the pass, the road has been abandoned and nature is taking over again. The going was reduced to good sections of road interspersed with rutted, wet bits. The pace was slowed accordingly.

Half way up the climb we came across a new landmark: A shiny, new metal seat has been placed here in memory of Bert Bradford (1955-2015). That Bert was a fisher was clear from the fretwork of the back but why his seat should be placed here, well away from any fishing water, is a source of speculation to the imaginative amongst us.

At the top of the brae we came to the part of the old road that has been a long time abandoned - nigh on two hundred years abandoned - and exists now only as a level section through the moss. Only where water has cut across it can the surface of the road be seen; the rest has been returned to the moss – the soggy and wet moss. We squelched through this for the next mile and bittock, avoiding the worst of the wet as far as possible though wet feet were had by the unwary. At the cleft known as the Ra’en’s Cleugh we settled down for our first coffee of the day.

On the other side of the cleugh the going was considerably drier and the road more obvious again and we could look around us instead of constantly watching where we put feet. There was a suggestion that we take in the Deil’s Back Door while we were her but this was rejected by six votes to one. (Actually we didn’t take a vote: It was simply said to the proposer ‘Awa an’ bile yer heid’. Or words to that effect.) We walked on to the edge of the forest where we left Ayrshire and entered Dumfriesshire.

The last time we came this way the path through the trees provided some difficulty being wet, muddy and overgrown. Surprisingly, given the wet summer, this was dry today and not as overgrown as we remembered. We found the forest road without difficulty, the forest road that follows exactly the line of the old turnpike. A sign here told us that Sanquhar was eight miles way and Muirkirk seven. We would follow this road downward for the next three miles to Fingland. A mile or so later another sign told us that Sanquhar was eight miles away and Muirkirk seven. Eh! A third sign giving us exactly the same information would be found further down the road. A couple of red deer hinds were startled by our approach and took off down the road in front of us before taking to the open hill. (Unfortunately the pair at the front who stopped to remove jackets missed them.) The path up to the Blackgannoch conventicle stone was noted in the passing but there was no visit today. Then we arrived at Fingland and a lunch stop was called.

As has already been said, this was an anniversary walk and Peter, one of the original three, dug into his rucksack and produced an anniversary cake. Unfortunately it was too windy to light the candle but the cake was appreciated and devoured with relish. Thanks Peter.

We found the tarmac at Fingland, tarmac we would follow all the way into Sanquhar. We also found the second and probably the longest climb of the day. And the rain came. It was a hot steamy climb to the top of the Bale Hill pass under waterpoofs. Then the rain went and waterproofs could be dispensed with. And now it was downhill. We could see Sanquhar lying down in the valley some two to three miles way but no matter how far we walked the town never seemed to get any closer. Down we walked. On the other side of the valley a great swathe of drizzle obscured the hill but yet we were in the dry. Sanquhar never got any closer. Another mile down the road and Sanquhar didn’t get any closer. This state of affairs continued until we crossed the railway bridge and suddenly we were crossing the Crawick Water and entering Sanquhar.

The feeling was that we should get the next bus back to Cumnock for FRT. So we headed for the nearest bus stop, the one at the police station, and waited ten minutes for the bus to arrive. FRT was taken in our usual howf, The Sun, in Cumnock.

Now, for our twentieth anniversary ...............................

Muirkirk(ish) to Sorn 30 April

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Gus, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Peter, Rex, Robert

A good turnout today

The beautiful weather of Tuesday had given way to a grey morning as we assembled at Sorn. After a brief discussion about where to start today’s walk i.e. at Kames or at our usual point off the Sorn Muirkirk road, it was agreed that the latter option would suffice and so it was from here we set off at about 10a.m. Although overcast, jackets were soon dispensed with as we made our way along this familiar part of the River Ayr Way. Passing through Airds Moss Nature Reserve, the bridge at Greenockmains was chosen for coffee and a blether

Soon we were off again with Jimmy and Malcolm in the van (no wonder they were so fresh and dry at the end of the walk!) and the next wee stop was at the wobbly bridge over the river. Jimmy decided to try it and Malcolm, not knowing any better, followed him holding his breath. It didn’t dawn on him that we weren’t going to cross the river at this point, and when it was pointed out, as he reached the far side, the air turned distinctly blue, accompanied by much laughter.

Two hours into the walk and the rain began to fall, lightly at this stage, but enough to encourage the retrieval of waterproofs from our rucksacks. However lunch was not to be denied us as we stopped under the shelter of trees just prior to the start of the boardwalk.

Here Jimmy was able to point out some tree creepers (birds not local inhabitants) and these along with oyster catchers and sandpipers made for a reasonable day out for the ornithologists. At this point it has to be explained  that it was the Lemon Pipers and not the Sandpipers who had the 1968 hit, Green Tambourine. By the way, our resident bird expert was rebuked for not being able to recognise empty birds’ eggs which had been found en-route. He has been told never to let us down in this way again and to go home and brush up on his knowledge. See if he cares!

Who's a silly boy then?

The rain was pretty heavy by the time we were negotiating the last stages of the walk as the path snaked its way up and down and round towards Sorn and because of this we took the easier option of returning to the cars by the main road rather than using the higher level path. Four hours for the walk wasn’t bad and we were glad that we hadn’t chosen the longer walk given the way the weather had turned out.

It was rather drookit ooters that huddled under the shelter at the car park to get dried off and changed before heading to Mauchline and FRT at Poosie Nansie’s.

Notes from the naturalist: Though the weather was somewhat against us today, nature was in full springtime display. Marsh Marigolds decked the wetter areas by the riverside, bluebells were bursting in the wooded areas, lesser stitchwort was coming into flower, butterburr was in full flower,the spurge in the wet areas still held yellow and a full bank of primroses tumbled down the glen of the Windy Burn. Birdlife included Heron (many), Buzzard, Swallows and House Martins skimming the surface of the water for newly-hatched insects, two different pairs of Common Sandpiper, Pheasant, Treecreeper, Lapwing, Whaup (Curlew) and Oystercatcher. Butterfies were not so common withe only a few Peacock worth the noting. But mammals hid themselves from the weather (or from us) today.

PS the egg shell was definitely Pheasant. Am I forgiven?

26 February A Soggy Day in Muirkirk

Davie C, Gus, Jimmy, Rex & Robert

While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down,
And roars frae bank to brae;
And bird and beast in covert rest,
And pass the heartless day.

            The distinction between hardiness and foolhardiness has yet to reach the Ooters; in fact both of these qualities might be said to be embodied in the same people. Whether it was the five hardiest or the five foolhardiest that gathered in the rain at the Kames car park in Murikirk this morning has yet to be decided, even after the event. But sense of a kind had already broken out when, in view of the forecast, we decided to abandon the hills of Dumfriesshire in favour of a more local and lower level walk. The one chosen was the old favourite – The Lunky Hole at Muirkirk.

            As for the walk itself? Well, waterproofs were worn from the start. Even Jimmy whose aversion to waterproof trousers is well known in Ooterland admitted defeat in this instance and happed up from head to toe. Thus, thoroughly defended against the elements, we set off into the weather. It was not torrential rain, it was more a steady falling, but it was driven on the slightest of south-westerlies and it was wetting. Up the Sanquhar road we came, heads down into the rain. At Springhill we turned right to come down to Tibbie’s Brig and found the rain being blown into our faces. We plodded on heads down partly to avoid the stinging rain and partly to see where the next mucky puddle was. The rain was adding to already saturated ground and puddles were developing into ponds. At Tibbie’s Brig He Who Knows These Things suggested that we stay on the track rather than our usual route down the burn-side path. ‘It will be drier and less mucky’, said he.

            It was drier. At least it was until the wee rivulet that was running down the track decided that it wanted to be a loch and spread its cold, brown waters right across our path. On to the soggy, slippery moor then, to avoid wet feet or worse. Still, first hazard bypassed, we climbed onto the old railway where we were slightly sheltered from the worst of the wind-driven rain. A slight respite was also had at Adam’s Grave but it was only a temporary one. When we reached the river we were back into the incessant rain. And the path was turning into a burn in places. It was difficult to keep to a dry area. Still we plodded on, down the riverside to the Cumnock Road.

            Crossing the road, we kept to tarmac for a while. At least now the feet could be kept out of the water even if the bodies were still being soaked from above. At the Sorn road a decision had to be made. Should we continue with the planned walk or cut it short and return by the main road? On a vote of three to two, we continued up the tarmac to Netherwood. The fellow in the covered quad was amazed and amused to see five bedraggled walkers coming up the road. So amazed was he that he took delight in stopping, winding down his window and telling us how dry he was. Our comments are not suitable for those of a sensitive disposition. We left him smiling his way down the road while we trudged upward, still into the rain.

            We left tarmac at Burnfoot and took to the forest track. This was a quagmire but there was no other way than to grit the teeth and wade through the wet, slimy, mud that used to be a track. Firmer footing was found on the rise on the other side of the bridge and the firmer footing would be with us for a while. Up into the forest we came, up to where the old mine workings were. Now we looked at our route out to the Stra’ven road. Hardly surprising that the road by the wee pond was flooded given the kind of winter we have had. There would be no dry way through here. So He Who Knows told us to go straight on and it would bring us down into Smallburn. This we did. And it did.

            Now you would think that we had nothing else to do than walk along the road to the Furnace Road and come back to Kames. But no! A plot had been hatched by Jimmy and Gus to turn us right, come across the river at Airdsmill to Kames Farm and across the golf course. We followed meekly, splishing and splashing our way over the golf course. Wonder upon wonders! As we approached the club-house, the rain stopped! Now we could finish the walk – all four hundred yards of it – in the dry.

            Whether we were the hardy five or the foolhardy five we will leave you to decide but, boy, were we happy to be finished and changed into dry clothes. This must be the quickest ever round of the Lunky Hole walk. You might have notice that there was no mention of lunch. We did stop for a coffee, a standing up coffee, on the banks of the river but there was no halt for lunch. In fact, apart from the coffee stop and the five minutes with the farmer in the quad, there were no halts at all.

           

The hour spent in FRT in The Empire Bar was well earned today.

Muirkirk Circular 30 October

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Gus, Jimmy, Malcolm, Paul, Rex, Robert

At nine-thirty we met at Kaimes

See above for all the names

Waste no time and avoid the rain

The recent weather has been a pain

Follow the trail to Tibbie’s brig

Where fellow travellers would have a cig

Make our way to the covenanter’s stone

Have a coffee and a bit of a moan

Underfoot it’s getting wet

Though nothing to worry about just yet

Stop at the open cast hole in the ground

It’s filled with water and not a soul around

Cross the road, on tarmac now

The weather’s holding , Paul, take a bow

Cut off at the farm with the strange-looking sheep

A dead one at the bridge made us weep

Up the hill and stop for lunch

Shelter in a copse, was our best hunch

‘It’s time to move’, faither commanded

Make haste before the first rains landed

The trail beyond was flooded in bits

Jack and Victor had the rest in fits

‘Show no compassion,’ was said with a wink

As the two backmarkers were left to sink

All reassembled at the lunky hole

Soaking feet had taken its toll

Down through the wood seemed to be par

Whilst J and V went straight for the car

The Empire Bar was most convivial

As usual our talk was insane and trivial

A good day out, and we got it dry

Just!

21 August Muirkirk to Dalblair

Alan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Malcolm, Jimmy & Ronnie

There is a great swathe of wild country to the south of Muirkirk, one that is bounded by the valleys of the rivers Nith, Clyde, Douglas and Ayr. On the whole this is hill and high grassy moorland fit only for sheep and forestry and broken only by the valleys of Glenmuir, Duneaton and Douglas waters with their minor tributaries. It is a vast, pathless waste with only farming and shooters' tracks following the watercourses into cul-de-sacs and with no through roads: none that is except for the long-abandoned Muirkirk to Sanquhar turnpike. It was into this waste and on this old turnpike that we set our feet today.

            The logistics of this through walk were overcome when only five of us turned up in Cumnock with three cars. Two of these were left at Dalblair in the Glenmuir valley and the other carried the five of us to the institute in Muirkirk. That’s where we met Davie Mc. and Holly, they having come the short way from Darvel. It looked as though the forecast for the day was to be fulfilled for the overnight rain and the morning drizzle were gone and there was a brightening in the western sky. We had our hopes high as we came along the front of the institute to find the old Sanquhar road.

            The Muirkirk to Sanquhar turnpike has been described in these pages before so no further description is needed here. We wandered on, enjoying the open moor and the brightening sky. Along past McAdam’s Cairn we strolled, round the Whisky Knowe we ambled and, at the Sanquhar Brig we stopped for a rest from all this exertion. Then came the steep bit! The old road used to be maintained for shooters but now it isn’t and is beginning to deteriorate, particularly towards the head of the pass. The use of recreational quad bikes/motor bikes has taken its toll here and the old road is churned into a quagmire. We had to be careful with our steps. So careful were we looking to our steps that we didn’t notice the weather deteriorating as well. Then we reached the head of the pass and saw the rain coming in from the west.

            So carefully did the turnpike’s surveyor, John Ainslie, plan this next section of the road that it rises and falls no more than four feet in the next two miles or so. This might have been great for the coaches, carts and horses of the eighteenth century but two hundred years of weather and rain have turned this flat section into a bog, a bog cut by the occasional drainage ditch, a bog to trap the unwary and soak the feet. We had to be even more careful of the moor grasses on this section, grasses that still held last night’s rain and soaked the legs even when we managed to avoid the bogs. And that’s where the rain hit us. So now we were absorbing water from above as well as below.

At first the rain was a light drizzle, then a heavier drizzle and by the time we stopped in the Range Cleuch for coffee it was a downpour. We sat as long as was necessary for coffee and to let the rain abate somewhat before climbing out of the cleuch and continuing to follow the old road, hopeful that the rain would clear. And it did.

At the sheep buchts we, well Davie Mc and Jimmy, made a decision. We would normally walk to the south end of the buchts and hang high towards the Deil’s Back Door but the decision made was to cut through the buchts, through the long, wet grasses and thistles and head straight down over the moor to the burn and Glenmuirshaw. Easier said than done!  As has already been said, this is a trackless, pathless waste and the going through lank moor-grasses and hidden potholes and sheughs was tough. Stumbling onward, lifting feet over tussocks of grass or out of hidden ditches, we followed Jimmy who seemed to know where he was going. Seemed! Down into one burn we dropped and climbed out the other side. Then into another we dropped and climbed. Then another. And all the time through the long, tussocky moorland grasses. Rebellion was brewing in the ranks. But Jimmy ‘kenned whit was whit fu’ brawlie’ He had spotted the quad bike tracks, tracks that he hoped would lead us out of the wilderness to the safety of the road-head at Glenmuirshaw. And they did – eventually. Taking Jimmy’s lead, we came down to Glenmuirshaw everyman for himself, Jimmy to the front and Ronnie bringing up the rear. And, just to add to our enjoyment, the rain came again and went again as we did so.

Eventually a drookit and starving Ronnie found the drookit rest waiting by the sheep fanks of Glenmuirshaw looking into the gorge of the Deil's Back Door. But were we to have lunch here? No way! Half a mile down the rough, sandy track was the abandoned steading of Glenmuirshaw. We would lunch there. And, much to Ronnie’s relief, we did.

The farm track into Glenmuirshaw appears to have been abandoned to maintenance as well now for grass and weeds were growing thick and wet along it. And the grass and weeds continued to be there, less thick and less wet though, as we walked to the uninhabited farm of High Dalblair. Then the surface improved and we strode out the few remaining miles to Dalblair enjoying the ease of walking after the slog through the moor and watching the weather improve from the west. Too late for us now though for, by the time the sun came, we were at Dalblair.

We arrived at the two parked cars, piled into them and drove back to Muirkirk.  

Our usual howf for FRT at Muirkirk is was closed so we tried a new place, the Empire Bar on the Glasgow road. We think we will change howfs for this one was much more to our liking.