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.