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.
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.
4 comments:
See what happens when Holly and I are not there to look after you! How the hell could you get lost on this walk? It would be easier to get lost in Darvel Park!
Just so nobody gets lost on the way to this Wednesday's venue, here are the directions:
1 go to Dalmellington
2 proceed beyond Dalmellington to the Loch Doon Road
3 go up the loch Doon road (can you detect the sarcastic tone?)
4 go over the dam
5 proceed another couple of miles and cross a bridge
6 immediately after the bridge you will see a forestry road on the right. do not go to the left as this will take you into loch Doon itself!!
7 park there and wait for Holly who will show you the way
BTW I just typed it to David's dictation! (the dictator)
"See what happens when Holly and I are not there to look after you! How the hell could you get lost on this walk?"
Yes indeed. We did say that if Holly had been with us we'd have been fine.
I don't think your name was mentioned though. :)
Wher's dalmellington?
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