More pictures from the Goat Fell outing.

Summit group,minus Jimmy who was off taking pictures.

The pleasure after the pain-we are beginning to feel our age on these hills.

Davie enjoying a much deserved pint of Italian lager.

Ian doing the same.

Poor David showing restraint as he was driving -what a shame !

Some images from Arran

Robert takes a photo while he could still focus

Ian poses on the summit of Goat Fell

The best scenery of the day approaches the summit of Goat Fell

Ok, I lied about this one. It was actually taken last year when we did the Laggan Cottage walk.

The evening sun sets behind the island.

Pictures from the 4 Lochs walk

Here are a few images from the 4 Lochs walk on Wed 25th July.

Arran 20 June 2012

Allan, Andy, Davie, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Rex

‘I’ll tak the high road and you tak the low road’

Schism : division into opposing groups because of a difference in belief or opinion, especially in a religious body. Well that’s us then!

Seven Ooters were discussing whether Jimmy had slept in again for the Arran ferry as it left Ardrossan on a fine, clear morning or, whether he had had enough of Arran the previous week, when the bold James suddenly appeared announcing that he had been on the deck below probably wondering if the rest of us had slept in. Anyway Jimmy had plans for the day and as we partook of coffee and rolls in the café he said that, given the clear conditions, he was going high, taking in the Three Beinns (Nuis, Tarsuinn and a’Chliabhain -  the scribe thinks!). Davie agreed to keep him company and, despite our protestations, he took Holly with him. What cruelty! She had only just met up with her pals and had had a good sniff at our rucksacks as we came on board to ascertain what delights there might be for lunch.

The remaining six took the bus down to Lamlash before heading back up towards Clauchlands Point and the climb up to the trig point on Dun Fion. Here lunch was taken whilst we took in the views of the Holy Isle, Brodick and the hills beyond. Despite our best efforts we were unable to spot two men and a dug on the hills in the distance but, as Jimmy’s photos show, they were being blessed with superb views of their own.

Soon it was time to continue over Clauchlands Hill and down towards the main road. We did this walk back on 28 July 2010 and even since then the landscape had changed due to swathes of trees having being felled. Over the road we went and continued down the forest road towards Glen Cloy only stopping briefly for drinks before turning towards Auchrannie and back to Brodick.

Here we partook of ale at Mac’s Bar, as we do, but, being less than satisfied with the beer there, we reconvened at the Douglas which was more to our satisfaction.

A four hour walk on a fine summer’s day was complemented with chips on the boat home. The splinter group had set a target of the later crossing and we look forward to their minority report.

Report from the high* toppers

Even before the ferry left Ardrossan Jimmy’s mind was made up. The fact the he had done the proposed walk the week before and the fact that the morning was bright, sunny and warm and that the light morning hill fog was already burning off the hills made up his mind for him: He was for the high tops. When he mentioned this to Davie when he eventually found the group (having waited patiently on the lower sun deck while the rest waited on the upper one miscalling him), the latter agreed to accompany him. Even Holly looked pleased with this change of plan. And as we got nearer to the island and the hill fog continued to break up, the resolve hardened. We were definitely for the high tops.

The walk up Glen Rosa in the late morning sun was very pleasant indeed. Good natured chitchat was exchanged with like minded folk as we passed them and even birds were identified for those who were unsure what they were watching. A chap from Kilmarnock – sorry we forgot to get your name – followed closely behind us. He, likewise, was bound for the ‘Three Bens’ horseshoe and followed us along the glen to the bridge on the Garbh Allt. At this bridge we left the floor of the glen to start the first steep climb of the day, up the side of the burn on to a high moorland stretch.

The Garbh Allt or Rough Burn is just that, a steep flow of rushing water tumbling over and gushing between granite boulders in foamy white waterfalls or flowing more gently over smoothed granite slabs. The path alternately brought us to the burn side or raised us high above it depending on the drop of the water. Then it dropped us down into a deep gully, across the burn and up the other side and we could see our first objective, Ben Nuis, rising steeply in front of us for the hill fog had now completely gone and the peaks were free and clear.

It’s amazing how much steeper and higher they have made this climb in the twenty-six years since Jimmy last did it, or even in the ten years since Davie last did it. The climb was steep and hot and long but we consoled ourselves with the fact that our new Kilmarnock friend hadn’t passed us yet. Then, quite suddenly, we were on the top and could settle for a bite to eat. We were joined few minutes later by the Kilmarnock chappie.

It was two o’clock when we eventually made the summit of Ben Nuis - the climb taking longer than Jimmy thought - but it was well worth putting in the effort for the views presented to us today were spectacular. (See Jimmy’s pictures below) Yet, for a wee while it looked as though we would be deprived of these views for, as we climbed to the summit, a drift of cloud floated in our direction and we thought the worst. But, as we sat, it broke up around our summit revealing tantalising vignettes of the western hills and Loch Tanna below. To the east though, the high tops leading on to Goat Fell were clear and bathed in sunshine. Our ridge to the north looked ominously steep and forbidding under the cloud that broke up around us. Then the cloud was gone and a wonderful hillscape opened up for us, with vistas as far as the Galloway hills in the southeast, Ireland in the southwest, The Paps of Jura in the west, the Goat Fell ridges in the east and the ridge on to our next top, Ben Tarsuinn, running away northward.

It was along this ridge that we wandered after lunch, stopping frequently as Jimmy tried to capture with his camera the impressive scene of rock walls and steep gullies that make up this ridge. We passed a structure of fractured granite slabs known as the Old Man of Ben Tarsuinn and of course this just had to be photographed as well. Then, just as suddenly as on Ben Nuis, we were on the summit of Ben Tarsuinn.

Ben Tarsuinn gives great views of the peaks and rock faces of all the northern hills of Arran and we spent a wee bit of time identifying the tops and possible walks over and amongst them. But we didn’t spend too long doing this for we were conscious of distance and time, and the last ferry. We left the top of Ben Tarsuinn a little after two-forty-five.

Now there came a steep and rocky descent where we lost the path, found it beyond a granite slab and almost immediately lost it again. This pattern continued for a good quarter of an hour of ever downward progress. Eventually, after a few more drops off granite slabs, we found the path on a more level slope. This descent was not easy and was made very much with use of hands as much as feet but it did drop us on to the path coming through the Bowman’s Pass. Through the rock arch and we were on better footing again on the path for Ben A’Chliabhain.

We reached the summit of Ben A’Chliabhain at four o’clock – bang on Jimmy’s schedule – and another halt was made to replace lost fluids.
The descent from Ben A’Chliabhain is by way of a gritty path through the peaty areas and by many easy-sloping granite slabs, ‘The Pavement’ Davie’s children called it all those years ago. Now there’s one thing about Davie; there’s no holding him back on an ascent but his dodgy knees and sair back prevent him from exercising the same speed on the descent. The down slope was taken in three distinct groups of one – Holly to the fore chasing mice and voles in the long bent-grass by the side of the path, Jimmy striding casually down the ‘pavement’, hands behind his back, and Davie bringing up the rear trying hard to protect his knees. Then the ‘pavement’ gave way to wet moorland and the group was together again. But the path down the Alt Garbh caused Davie the same problems and Jimmy and Holly had to wait at the bridge in Glen Rosa. Davie wasn’t too far behind though, and we all gathered at that bridge at five o’clock. Again, bang on Jimmy’s estimate.

It was at the bridge here that we were joined by David from Bishopbriggs. He had done the first part of our walk but instead of turning to Ben A’Chliabhain he had continued towards Cir Mhor, a walk we had identified on Tarsuinn. But, said he, he had bitten off more than he could chew and had come back down into the glen by a steep path on the flank of Cir Mhor. David kept us company for the rest of the walk.

The walk down the glen was taken at a more leisurely pace than the walk up it earlier in the day. The six kilometers or so back to Brodick took just over an hour, plenty of time to replace lost fluids in Mac’s Bar before the evening ferry back to Ardrossan.

This had been a long day – seven hours – but it is one that will live long in the memory of the two who did it. We feel sure that they will have recovered in time for next week’s walk.

*For the benefit of our Californian readers (and Ronnie), 'high' here refers to altitude not to chemical enhancement.

Some images from Arran

Bennane Head / Ballantrae some pictures

Loudoun Hill 13 Oct 2010

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.

2 August Campsie Fells – Meikle Bin

Distance: 13.6 kms

Paul allowed us to go to the Campsies today; the weather was set fair so he allowed us to go. Unfortunately, due to holidays and other commitments, only five intrepid souls - Allan, Davie, Ian, Jimmy & Paul - made the journey northward to Kilsyth. In Kilsyth, the Tak-ma-doon road took us up, up to a viewpoint high on the flank of the hill.
The rain of Monday and the showers of Tuesday had cleansed the atmosphere and a light northerly air-stream this morning gave us a day of clear air and long visibility and already the view was outstanding, southward and eastward. Over Cumbernauld and Lanarkshire to Tinto and the Culter Hills and over West Lothian to the Forth bridges, Arthur's Seat and the Pentlands the view was superb.
But we weren’t at the viewpoint for the view; we had a walk to do. As this was to be a linear rather than a circular walk we left a car here and motored on to Carron Reservoir in the other. We started walking around eleven.
The first part of the walk was through the Carron plantation on a forest road so the views were restricted. But the sun hit us and the day was August warm and we were in spirits to match the day. We wandered up that road setting the world to rights, Paul directing us when we met a bifurcation. At one point the trees cleared sufficiently for us to have a view northward to a mountainous landscape. It was just a small vignette bordered by spruce trees but it was one that whetted the appetite for a better, broader vista from the summit of the Meikle Bin, our destination.
Paul instructed the leading twosome to look out for a path through the trees on the left. We found it, a wet muddy slope obviously tramped that way by the passage of many feet. We slither our way up twenty metres of goo to find more solid grassy ground at the top. But the footprints ran out here. So did the gap in the trees. This was not our path. We slithered our way back down the goo. Davie, trying to avoid the goo by clinging to the trees, had a closer encounter with one than he would have wished for. This arboreal embrace left him with a grazed throat oozing blood and a pin-prick on the point of his nose fairly dripping the stuff. Were we sympathetic? Course we were and we showed it in the usual way.
Back on our forest road again, we continued the search for the path on the left. This time we found it, marked by a small cairn of stones. But this was in no better state than the last and required just as much attention. Feet placed injudiciously saw the owner slide half a metres or so back down the slope with what we took to be whoops of joy but were more likely screams of terror in case the perpetrator landed on his behind in the wet goo. Davie was careful to avoid too much contact with the trees this time though the branches were an assist to us as we held on to swing round and over the deepest of the ooze. And the muck lasted until we cleared the trees some hundred metres later.
Though the slope was still steepish, we were on firmer, drier ground now and could stride out a bit. But the progress wasn’t too fast and as we climbed and the view northward opened out, many were the ‘view stops’ called. And what a view it was. Beyond the low ground of the Forth and Endrick valleys rose the southern highlands, mountain upon mountain. Peaks were identified and re-identified as we climbed and more familiar summits appeared. And all of them were bathed in sunshine as we were, and all of them were sharp and distinct in the clear air, and all of them looked close and inviting. It took us – well four of us for Davie was away up in front again - some time to climb the last few hundred feet to the summit of the Meikle Bin.
For such a low eminence, a little over 1750ft/570m, Meikle Bin provides one of the most remarkable panoramas in Scotland, especially on a day as clear as this. The landmarks we could identify in our three-sixty degree compass took in, from the east in a clockwise direction, The Bass Rock (94Km/59miles*), Arthur’s Seat (65Km/41miles), The Pentland Hills, The Moffat and Culter Hills, Tinto (56Km/35miles), Cairnsmore of Carsphairn (86Km/53.5miles), Merrick (102Km/64miles), Brown Carrick above Ayr (76Km/48miles), Ailsa Craig (105Km/66Miles), The Arran Peaks (Coich-na-hoich and the Cock being the only two visible for the rest had cloud touching their tops), The Cobbler (48Km/30miles) and the Arrochar group, Ben Lomond (35Km/22miles), Ben Lui (58Km/36miles), Ben More (48Km/30miles) and Stob Binien, Ben Venue (32Km/19miles), The Braes o’ Balquidder, The Ochil Hills and The Lomond Hills. Others that we should have identified but didn’t were Ben Ledi, Ben A’an and BenVorlich in Strathyre (38Km/24miles). Man-made landmarks included Alloa, The Forth Bridges, Edinburgh, the Falkirk Wheel and Cumbernauld. This must rate highly on the McMeekin scale of fabulosity, second only to the Cobbler this year.
We took coffee on Meikle Bin and spent time there relaxing in the sun and taking in the phenomenal view from Ailsa to the Bass (182Km/114miles) and from Merrick to Ben More (140.8Km/88miles). Paul got all the plaudits for choosing the destination and the day to do it in. We might let him choose again some other day.
Eventually we dragged ourselves away from the summit of Meikle Bin. We followed a path of sorts across the top in a southerly direction. ‘It’s all downhill from here’ said Paul, ‘except for the wee uppy bits’. And downhill it was, down into the trees again and down into the peaty goo again. All views were lost to us as we picked our way carefully down the bog. A four foot wide, four foot deep sheugh cut across the ‘path’. This was also on the gooey side. Many and varied were the antics of five auld codgers trying to drop into this wet, peaty trench and back out without unexpected seats in the slimy, black wetness. It’s slightly disappointing for your scribe to report that we all made it without mishap.
Then came one of Paul’s ‘wee uppy bits’, a sixty degree slope of grassy tussocks with green bogs waiting on flatter sections to catch the unwary. Paul was now being called all manner of unflattering things for leading us into this. But it was only a wee uppy bit and didn’t last too long and we topped out at the edge of the trees beside a fence on Black Hill ‘Follow the fence’ said Paul and we did. And on the relatively flat section, Davie set the pace, Davie’s pace.
The path beside the fence brought us to the top of Garrel Hill where we could look back at Meikle Bin. Though most of the northern view had gone, hidden behind the Bin, there were still glimpses of highland hills rising one behind the other. And the Wallace monument on abbey Craig at Stirling showed itself now though the town still hid behind the Carron hills. Most of the view was on the south, across the Central Lowlands to the Southern Upland hills and we admired this for a wee while before moving on. And Davie still set the pace.
Paul said, casually ‘We’re coming to a wet bit now’. A wet bit! We thought we had already come to wet bits so why did he think to mention this now? We feared the worst. And we got the worst.
We dropped off the top of Garrel Hill still following the pad beside the fence. Down into a shallow col between hills we came and all our views disappeared. Not that we could have looked at the views anyway for we were now in Paul’s ‘wet bit’ and spent the time watching where we put our feet. Burns that didn’t yet know that they were burns oozed from the sphagnum and wet peat at every step covering the uppers of the boots and splashing legs and gaiters with black muck, and feet had to be placed cautiously to avoid even deeper immersions. Where the ooze wasn’t too deep, reeds and rushes were pressed into service as ‘steppies’ but detours were needed to avoid the deepest of the quagmires. Paul’s ears were abused again. And again. And again.
And Davie set the pace.
By the time we had negotiated the wet and started the rise on the drier (only drier by comparison) ground to the top of Tomtain it was closing on lunch time and Ian was complaining of starvation. Paul sought a place dry enough to sit on for a bite. But Jimmy and Davie had ‘better’ ideas. They saw the remains of a drystane dyke on the horizon and thought this would be ideal. So we followed them up the hill to its summit where we sat on the remains of a drystane dyke and ate.
What a place we chose to take lunch. Though the northwest views had gone, hidden behind the Bin, we could still look south and east and north-east. Oh how fickle are the Ooter’s memories. How quickly we forget. Paul, who, only twenty minutes ago, was being abused for leading us into the wet, now received plaudits for bringing us to another splendid hill on such a splendid day. Well done Paul.
Such was the clearness of the day, the magnificence of the view and the warmth of the afternoon sun that we thought to spend a bit of time over lunch. But the itchy feet lot had other ideas. Even before Ian had finished eating – well, we didn’t have all day – they had packed up and were ready for the off. Why this should be, we are not quite sure for we had just to walk down the hill to the car, but ready for the off they were. Poor Ian hurriedly scoffed down his third roll, packed up and followed meekly.
Less than a mile of downward progress brought us to the car parked at the Tak-ma-doon viewpoint.

This was a day when the enjoyment of the views and the warmth of the sun far outweighed the nuisance of underfoot conditions. Our thanks go to Paul for
1- Putting us off from going in the rain a fortnight ago. ‘It would have been miserable’ said Davie, ‘We would have seen nothing and got soaking forbye’.
2- Allowing us to go on such a splendidly clear day. We will let him lead some other day.

Those who missed today missed a very good walk. But it’s one we will do it again for it is well worth the doing.

Distances from
Meikle Bin to Ailsa Craig 104.8 km
Meikle Bin to Bass Rock 93.4 km
Ailsa Craig to Bass Rock 181.4 km

Report by Jimmy, Route & distance calculations by Paul, Photos by Allan

Braveheart