3 November Falls of Clyde

                Superlatives are often overused now-a-days particularly by our popular media. This blog may well follow that trend of being filled with superlatives for this was a day for such. Last week we decided to venture into the Clyde Valley for some autumn colour. We were not to be disappointed. After a night’s frost the air was clear, the sun was bright and the trees held the autumnal hues that we had hoped for. All that we wanted for the day was coming together as we, all fourteen of us, assembled on the old bridge at Kirkfiedbank for our usual trip around the Falls of Clyde. Even before we started our walk, we were treated to one of nature’s marvels as the trees on the opposite side glowed in the early November sun in a pallet of yellows, browns and greens. Superb.

               Around ten thirty we crossed the bridge to the right bank of the Clyde only to be stopped temporarily by the chap with the camera. Jimmy had already spoken to him. He had been photographing the kingfisher that had just streaked off down the river and he was pleased to show us the results of his endeavours.

               Now we followed the Clydeside walkway. The short drop to the side of the river was followed by a pulse-raising climb to the outskirts of Lanark and Castlebank Park. Whoever thinks that riverside walking is level wants to follow the Clydeside walkway. From the park the pathway drops steeply in a series of zig-zags to the riverside again. We dropped with the path and for a short time it ran flat through sun-dappled woodland. An enjoyable section. Then came another climb, a steep climb, a step assisted climb, a lung-burning climb to a viewpoint high above the river looking out to New Lanark. Here we halted, partly to recover from the latest climb and partly to take in the view. And what a view it was. From high above the river, we could look upstream to see the low sun light up the sandstone walls of New Lanark and the autumn tinted trees surrounding them. Magnificent.

A short drop and a short climb brought us into the village itself. Here we halted once more - this time for a seat and refreshment. We dallied longer then usual over coffee for it was a day for such things and it was a peaceful place to sit.  Nothing could be heard but the roaring of the river as it surged through the gorge. And, of course, the blether of the Ooters. But needs must and we dragged ourselves away from New Lanark and entered the Scottish Wildlife Trust's Falls of Clyde Reserve.

       For the next quarter of a mile the walk was through more dappled woodland and then on boardwalk beside the full river. At the power station the path climbed again into the wood, eventually topping out at a viewpoint overlooking Corra Linn. Now the cameras and camera phones were out in earnest for this was sight to behold. The full force of the spating river crashed its way through tree covered banks in full autumn glory before hurtling itself over the linn into the gorge twenty metres below. Breath-taking magnificence. Ten minutes of trying to capture such a grand scene on a variety of devices and we were off again.

               Up though the autumn woodland again and the next photo opportunity came at the next waterfall, Bonnington Linn. Another ten-minute halt for some. We crossed the river by the barrage above the linn and came back down the other side of it. We sopped for lunch at the viewpoint looking back to the falls. More photo opportunities. Again, we sat longer than usual for who would want to rush away from the glory of the scene. Never have we, as a group, seen the river in such a spate nor seen the falls in such magnificent raw power. So we sat and absorbed the scene before us. Spectacular.

               The rest of the walk was through sun dappled, autumn tinted trees down the river by Corra Castle. Though this section was just as long as the first part and was excellent in its own way, it couldn’t compete with the sights we had already seen and it was a steady walk back down the riverside to the finishing point at Kirkfieldbank.

 

Only one word can be used for today’s walk – FABULOUS.

 

FRT was taken in the Black Bull in Darvel.

              

              

Falls of Clyde 5 June

Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Hugh, Iain, Ian, Johnny, Kenny R, Malcolm, Paul, Rex, Robert

Like last week, we travelled through some wet weather to get to our starting point but, similarly, on arrival, it was much drier. Kirkfieldbank is our starting point for this walk and as we awaited the Kilmarnock charabanc to arrive, most decided to don their wet weather gear, just to be safe. Let us record the fact that the Killie boys were seven minutes late, and also the fact that the rest of us were sympathetic and waited for them!

Before long, as we made our way up towards New Lanark, layers were being removed as the skies brightened and the temperature rose, and we were not to see any more rain until we got back to the cars. We did not venture up to see the wooden sculptures but continued at a steady pace, following the Clyde Walkway, up to the village. There was a suggestion that we might buy a coffee in the café, but as the weather was now very pleasant, we took coffee at our usual spot i.e. at the benches.
Ten minutes later and we were off again reaching the dam just before midday. The recent rains meant that there was plenty of water in the river making the views (and the sound) spectacular. Having crossed over we followed our preferred path down to our customary lunch stop just beyond Corra Castle. The last leg down to the cars had some muddy bits bit, in truth, it was better than we had anticipated.
The walk of seven miles had taken us three hours in surprisingly dry and warm conditions, and FRT was taken at the Black Bull in Darvel, where we were well received!

Entering New Lanark

Coffee stop

Impressive!

Lunch spot

 

photos from New Lanark

Falls of Clyde 24 September

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Gus, Kenny, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul

View point on the way up to New Lanark

Soon be time for coffee!

New Lanark

The overnight rain had given way to a bright, fresh autumn morning as we assembled at Kirkfieldbank for our walk up to the Falls of Clyde. With memories still fresh from last week, tick bites provided a source of discussion as we made the initial climb up to the Clyde Walkway. Paul assured us that Lyme Disease was not an issue as the bites causing this formed a sort of bullseye pattern. His were more like a clock face and reckoned he had been bitten by tick tocks!

The flow was a mere dribble

Anyway, there were gasps when Jimmy, leading, indicated the path to be taken. However, the general consensus was that, on this occasion, he was right and that no curtilages would be violated. The walking was pleasant and time was taken at the various view points as we made our way up to New Lanark where coffee was taken.

The view upstream from the dam

Continuing up past the power station we could not help but draw comparisons about the low level of water compared to previous encounters. It was suggested that it would be worth watching if one of our number was to go over the falls in a barrel. When Davie’s name was unanimously agreed, Johnny said that a firkin would suffice. Davie’s reply was something like, ‘I might be daft, but I’m no firkin stupid!’

Lunch was taken just after midday on the pathway at the far side of the dam before the circuit was completed and the cars were reached.

Downstream from the dam

As much of a waterfall as we could see today

FRT was taken at the Black Bull in Darvel where George was treated like a long lost son.

Another fine day out!

Falls of Clyde Circular

Circular walk taking in New Lanark and the Falls of Clyde. Walk done on 30 April 2013. Boots needed. Some steep bits and steps. Depending on your speed and how much time you spend taking photos and exploring New Lanark this 7 mile walk will take anything from two and a half to four hours or more.

Park in Kirkfieldbank near the old bridge on Kirkfield Road.

Cross the old bridge and turn right between some cottages and go downhill to the start of a grassy path along the river.

looking back along the grassy path

Go through the gate and follow the path. It leaves the river and climbs up past some water works.
Continue climbing until you reach a tarmacked road (St Patrick's Road).

Walk along the road looking out for a signpost (just past asign for Jookers Johnnie) for the Clyde Walkway to the right. (Certain Ooters have been known to miss this!)

Turn right

Follow the tarmacked road with 5mph speed limit sign for a short way and a second sign  to the right leads you to a zigzag path through woodland down to the river again.

Follow this path along the river. At the top of the climb there is a viewpoint balcony from where you get your first view of New Lanark.

The path leads you up to the New Lanark Road and go down this road into New Lanark.


Make your way through the streets to the far end and climb the steps with signs for Falls of Clyde/Corra Linn/peregrines (in spring). There are lots of viewpoints.

Corra Linn in spate June 2012

Keep following the river until you eventually get to the bridge at Bonnington Linn. Cross it and follow the paths back along the river. You pass the ruins of Corra Castle. After you have passed New Lanark on the other side the path moves away from the river. Keep bearing right and soon you pass new houses on your left and you come to Kirkfield Road.  Go right, back down to the bridge.

Lade at New Lanark June 2012

Distance: 9.4 km (map by ooter Paul)

New Lanark Walk 1st Feb 2012

12 January Falls, Falls, Slips and Slithers

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



Distance: 9.3 km

Anywhere last week-end’s snow had been compressed by feet had been turned to ice thanks to the daytime thaw and overnight freezing. Not that we in Ayrshire would have known this for the snow had all but disappeared from God’s own county and the countryside had long returned to green. And, though the morning was overcast, there was sufficient lightness in the grey that promised a good day ahead so we were full of the joys of the morning as ten of us motored into darkest Lanarkshire for another round of the Falls of Clyde.
Yet, even before we reached the Clyde Valley, we had a hint of what underfoot conditions might be like for icy-looking snow lay in the fields and roadsides beyond Stra’ven but no way were we prepared for the full extent of what was to come. When we reached the bridge at Kirkfieldbank we were to find out. The bridge and the access road were caked in an inch or two of bumpy wet ice, wet ice that proved treacherous to Vibram soles. And we now suspected the path round the walk would be the same.
We were not daft enough to try to cross the bridge. Instead, working on the theory that the thaw that caused the wetness of the ice would have worked its magic by the afternoon and the bridge would be safer to cross, we decide to do the walk in and anticlockwise direction for a change.
So up the dry road we started, up to the start of the path. As soon as we turned off the road onto the track we knew we were in for a difficult walk. The same treacherous ice that coated the bridge lay along the length of the track as far as we could see. Extreme care was taken as each tried to find grip on the hazardous surface. Only Rex strode out, his Christmas present of Yak Grips doing what they were supposed to do; the rest of us slipped and slithered our way along the path watching carefully where we placed feet.
There might have been things to see in the trees or over the river but we never saw any of them, we were too busy with heads down watching where we put feet. At one point Rex, twenty metres in front and confident in his Yak Grips, shouted back ‘Careful of the branch’. Jimmy raised his head to see what branch and promptly tripped over the one directly in front of him. Down went Jimmy like a Lithuanian footballer, spread-eagling on the ice. Those behind sympathised in the usual way; those in front walked on oblivious to the drama behind for their heads were down watching where to place feet. Jimmy, bleeding though he was from a cut in his hand, picked himself up and slithered on manfully.
We did stop occasionally, to catch breath and look at any view. Across the water the footpath looked even icier and even more treacherous than the one we were slithering along. With a little reluctance on some parts, we skated on. After what seemed hours of slipping, sliding, glissading, pirouetting, holding on to branches to regain balance, we slid to a halt on the viewpoint overlooking Corra Linn. Here we took a welcome break for coffee.

A lot of water dropped over the falls today, brown water, snow-melt water. None of us, not even Davie, a veteran of this walk, had seen the falls as spectacular as this. Metre long icicles still hung from overhangs and ice still coated some rocks. And a flood of ice-cold, brown water threw itself over the drop into the gorge below. Absolutely stunning. The photographers took the opportunity to get the cameras out. WLFTSTR.

But the cold dampness began to chill old bones so we moved on.

The workers, who appeared to be digging a hole in the path at Bonnington barrage only to be filling it up again with concrete, were as surprised to see us as we were to see them. We thought for a minute or two that they were going to say that there was no way across the barrage and that we would have to go back the way we came. But we needn’t have worried. They were a pleasant bunch of guys and invited us to step over their trench, clamber over their pile of debris, step round their barrowful of wet concrete and cross the barrage. This we did and came to the east bank of the river.
If the thaw had done anything in the last few hours, it was barely noticeable. Under the trees, where the snow hadn’t lain, the ground was clear and we could walk normally, well as normally as we usually do. But these patches were few and far between and we were as often as not back to our slithering progress. Now it was Robert’s turn to see the ice close up. Coming down a slope, a gentle slope, a slope that would not normally be noticed, Robert’s footing went and Robert went. He received the same sympathy as Jimmy, picked himself up, wiped himself down and slid on.
After considerably more pirouetting, glissading, pas-de-basing, arabesque-ing, cabriole-ing and generally flaffing about, we found ourselves down past the peregrine watch, the power station and the board-walk entering New Lanark. Here we found two picnic benches free of ice and wet, on which to have a bite of lunch.
The village was free of ice and it was a pleasure and relief to be able to walk with heads up, not constantly looking down at feet. The relief didn’t last too long though, and we were soon back onto an icy track by the riverside. But was the thaw working its magic? This ice seemed crumblier, less solid than before, and less treacherous. Only in places though, for there were still sections of precarious footing and more ballet steps before we reached the safety of Castlebank Park. Now we had only half a mile or so back to Kirkfieldbank and the icy bridge.
The thaw had indeed worked it magic on the bridge for most of the ice had gone by the time we reached it; only in patches did it lie. We crossed the bridge without breaking stride and returned to the waiting cars.
And the result of all this cavorting on the ice? A walk that would normally have taken us three hours took nearly four. And we expect some stiff thighs in the morning.
FRT was taken in the Bucks (sic) Head in Stra’ven on the way back to safe, green country in Ayrshire.

16 September Falls of Clyde 3 – An Adventure for the Early Ooters or Falls, spills, breaks, brakes, losses and losts

Davie was missing today, consequently so was Holly. This was a great pity for both have done this walk many times, and know the route like the back of a hairy paw. But we had with us four who have done this walk before and Paul even had the sense to bring a map. So, there should be no problems today, should there? Well, maybe.
Other absentees today were Peter, Rex and Ronnie, which meant that seven Ooters gathered at Alan Stewart’s place in Kilmarnock to take coffee and scones in his new conservatory. (Much appreciated, Alan.) But even before that, our troubles had started.
Johnny had noticed an occasional thud at the rear end of his car as he drove to Killie. By the time we had driven from Killie to Kirkfieldbank, this had turned into a regular solid thump and a jamming-on of a rear brake. But Johnny is a member of the AA (the automobile one, not the alcoholic one) and a quick phone call set his mind to rest. Yes, since we were there for a walk, it was ok for Johnny to join us and the man would come and rescue the stricken car between three and four o’clock. This settled, we prepared to cross the old bridge at Kirkfieldbank.
Robert and Jimmy appointed themselves leaders and led us off. Jimmy opened a gate into somebody’s garden, at least that’s what it looked like to the rest of us. But Jimmy knows where he’s going and the gate admitted us on to a path beside the river. This path took us to the sewage works – we do see the best bits of our country – before rising away from the river onto the road towards Lanark. Now familiarity began to dawn on those who had been this way before. Not so familiar though, was the path he took us into the park, but he did take us to where we should have been, at the top of the path back down towards the river. Isn’t it great to have somebody who knows the way? Anyway, Paul had a map.
Yes, Paul had a map. He was the only one, so what follows must be his fault. Agreed? Anyway, that’s what our two co-leaders are saying.
The two took off down the path with the utmost confidence. We followed. It all looked so familiar to the pair at the front and they strode out. Even the steep ‘off-path’ section cutting the zigzag seemed familiar. All was going so well until the path started to run back down the river towards the bridge from where we started. Not so familiar now and doubt crept in. On the advice of our leaders, we turned back. Jimmy was confident that the path that branched off on the left was the correct one. And Jimmy knows where he is going.
We took Jimmy’s path. Though this started as a woodland path, it soon degenerated into a woodland with no walkable path, in fact no path at all. And the bank down to the river was steep. We clambered over fallen trees slimy with moss, struggled through nettles and brambles, crawled under overhanging branched that scratched at bare flesh and all the time trying to keep our feet on the steep bare earth slope, searching for a recognisable path. At one point Allan was about to phone Ray Mears for advice but then another prospective path was spotted and our leader struck off uphill again. No luck again. We clambered, and struggled and crawled on while our leader shot off in different directions in search of a get out. Half an hour of this jungle travail eventually brought us out onto the side of a grassy valley under the houses of Lanark and well away from the river we thought we were following.
On the other side of the valley rose a steep grass slope topped by a row of houses. ‘We should make for there’, said Jimmy but by that time mutiny had broken out in the ranks and we sat down refusing to move until we had coffee. This is where Paul showed us his map!
The grass slope presented no real problems and we found ourselves looking into the back gardens of the row of houses spotted at coffee. Which way to turn? Our intrepid leader made the decision. We turned right. The path through the trees was good to start with but this too disappeared before long. At the end of the houses, we had two choices – to go on through the wood to wherever it went, or to force our way through brambles and nettles to the road at the front of the houses. We left the decision to the barelegged one who promptly opted for the latter.
Once on tarmac, we sought the advice of a friendly native (a native with an English accent) who was able to point us down a path (a well-constructed one this time) to New Lanark. A full hour after we should have been there, we found ourselves walking down into New Lanark. We were now an hour behind schedule and Johnny had an appointment with the AA. Still, we had plenty of time for the day was yet young and there was no real need for hurry; we would explore some of the village.
Ian pointed out the rooftop garden on the visitor centre. Since we didn’t have Holly with us today, it was suggested that we visit this but when we heard that it would cost us and we are pensioners therefore stingy auld so-and-so’s, this plan was abandoned and we walked on. We came through the village to find the start of the Falls of Clyde path, remarking on the developments since the trust was set up in the nineteen-seventies.
The walk up the river was interesting though by comparison uneventful. We found the boarded way alongside the river and came along this to the power station, exchanging greetings with passing tourists. Then we climbed to the top of the gorge of Corra Linn, halting only for a view of the falls and a few pictures.
Our next stop was at the peregrine viewing platform but, as there were no birds about today, we walked on upriver. We crossed the river by the barrage and, since it was that time of day and stomachs were telling us it was that time of day, we sat down in the sunshine for lunch.
An incident occurred during lunch that nearly put us all off our food. (Well, it might have put most of us off our food but we have yet to find anything that remotely puts Ian off.) A collie appeared, and just behind it, a jogger swung onto the barrage, a female jogger and by the build and speed, a female jogger of the older vintage. As she joobled closer to us we realised that she was not as old as first thought but by the wobbling build and shuffling gate, we suspected a complete novice. Neither she nor the dog looked the direction we were on as she swung down the path we would follow later, and toddled out of sight. We sat quietly and let the apparition pass. For all we knew it might have been a figment of a collective imagination brought on by the trauma of being lost in the woods. ‘At least she’s trying’ said Alan, breaking the silence at last. ‘Aye...........’ was the response. Then we finished lunch.
Time was wearing towards Johnny’s AA appointment so we set off to follow the jogger fully expecting to find her lying by the side of the path, the victim of a heart attack. The walk down the river was fast but unhurried. We had time to stop at Corra Castle to look for bats and again at Corra Linn to view the falls from the different side. New Lanark was commented on in the passing and we found ourselves by the new houses of Kirkfieldbank with plenty of time for Johnny’s appointment.
The woman with the collie saw us coming and pulled the dog into the side but this didn’t stop it barking savagely at us as we passed. Jimmy, who fancies himself as something of a dog whisperer, stopped to speak calmly and quietly and proffer a friendly hand to be sniffed. Sure enough the barking stopped and the tail wagged. Then, quietly and cautiously, the dog came towards the outstretched hand. We might have been impressed if the hound hadn’t got to within a few inches of the friendly hand before lunging forward and nipping it.
We left the woman and her treacherous collie, trying not to laugh as the blood trickled down Jimmy’s hand and arrived at the cars just in time to prevent complete blood-loss with the application of a plaster.
Alan’s day didn’t improve much either. All day he had talked about recycling some slates – he is making bird houses – from a derelict building near where we were parked but when we got there somebody had beaten him to the good ones leaving only broken fragments. Poor Alan was miffed.
We arrived at the cars at ten minutes to three, perfect time for the AA.
But, as the song nearly says:-
‘That wisnae a’ oor troubles yet,
We’d mair tae seek beside,’

Five of us left Johnny and Allan to wait for the AA and retired to the leather soffa’d luxury of the Tillietudlem Inn to take FRT. The barman, who acknowledged us coming in, was on the phone so we waited. Ten minutes we waited, only to be told by the barman, who had finally finished his phone call, that the bar shut at three and refused to serve us. Another pub to cross off our list? We moved on to the Popinjay. More success here and FRT was enjoyed by the five.
How were the other two getting on? Jimmy offered to phone and find out. They were ensconced in the cab of an AA pick-up on their way to Irvine. By the time he found this out, it was time to go. It wasn’t until he was back home in Cumnock that he discovered his wallet to be missing. A few phone calls were made. No, it wasn’t in Ian’s car. No, Allan and Johnny never found it in the car park. Yes, it was in the Popinjay. It had dropped out his pocket when he drew his phone out. It was another run to darkest Lanarkshire for Jimmy.

This was definitely a different kind of day for the Ooters and, as Johnny says, we can make the simplest of walks into much more of a drama than any sane person could imagine. Let’s hope all our bad luck was dished out on this walk and we can get back to normal for our next outing.

September 16 - New Lanark/Falls of Clyde route

Distance: 9.4 km