Walk 295 -- Dundrennan to Dalbeattie

Ages:  Colin was 70 years and 11 days.  Rosemary was 67 years and 154 days.

Weather:  Dry, mostly overcast.  A bitterly cold wind.
Location:  Dundrennan to Dalbeattie.
Distance:  15 miles.
Total distance:  2979 miles.
Terrain:  Tracks, some grassy and some muddy.  Lanes and road-walking.  Just out of Auchencairn we came across a new path which took us round the marshes for a mile or so.
Tide:  (Didn’t get near the sea!)
Rivers:  No.357, Urr Water.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  No.307 on a back lane.  Nos. 308 to 311 on the new path round the marshes.  No.312 at Orchardton Tower.
Pubs:  ‘The Old Smuggler’ at Auchencairn which said it sold Sulwath beers but it didn’t.  But there were a couple of real ales for Colin — Cairngorm ‘Howler’ and William Brothers ‘May Bee’.  I had a shandy as it is more thirst-quenching.  The bar is a boat!
‘Historic Scotland’ properties: No.43, Threave Castle which we didn’t have to visit because it is inland, but we did (on a different day) because it is interesting.  Not only is it on an island in the middle of a river and only accessible by boat, but also a couple of ospreys were nesting on a nearby tree!  (I really did mean ‘on’, and not ‘in’!)  A telescope was set up on a special viewing platform. No.43, Orchardton Tower.
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  None.
How we got there and back:  We were staying in our caravan in Dalbeattie.  This morning we walked into town and caught a bus to Dundrennan.  Then we walked a mile up the lane to Fagra Farm where we finished the last Walk.
At the end we walked from the causeway back to our caravan.  Almost immediately we went into town to dine at the Kings Arms Hotel — very nice meal and reasonably priced.
Unfortunately I developed a stress fracture in my left foot on this Walk.  By the next day I couldn’t put that foot to the ground.  I could only walk with a pronounced limp, and didn’t want to in case it put my back out.  So we gave in and came home. 

Threave  Castle 

Threave Castle, the remains of which stand on an island in the River Dee, was built in 1369 by Archibald ‘The Grim’ who later became the third Earl of Black Douglas.  He was the most powerful magnate in southern Scotland in his time.  In the mid 15^th century, King James II finally overthrew the mighty Black Douglases, and Threave Castle succumbed after a two-month siege.

When we visited the castle we had to walk half a mile from the car park to a small jetty from which we were ferried across to the island.  We explored the castle, which is bigger than most we have come across in this part of Scotland.

When we were ferried back we were taken on a five-minute ‘cruise’ along the river where we saw a heron fishing in the shallows.
Then we walked along to a viewing platform which had been set up by the local Wildlife Trust to look at ospreys which were nesting on a nearby tree — and I do mean ‘on’ and not ‘in’!

High-power telescopes had been set up so we could see them more clearly.  We were told they hadn’t yet laid any eggs this year because they had only just arrived due to the cold Spring weather.  But everyone was hopeful that they would successfully nest as they had in previous years.  It was exciting to watch these magnificent birds! 

We started today’s Walk on the lane near Fagra Farm where we had emerged from a footpath at the end of the last Walk.  We soon came to a cemetery where we turned on to a concrete road which later became a quality track.  We had views across the Solway Firth, but it was all in the distance — we didn’t get near the sea today.

We could just about make out the mountains of the Lake District (England!) on the horizon, and we noted a modern windmill ‘farm’ out in the estuary.  There were wild flowers everywhere, especially bluebells.
We found a worm trying to cross the track, but it wouldn’t go into a large puddle which was in its way, and it couldn’t find its way round.  After watching it struggle for a while, Colin flicked it into the grass on the other side so it could continue on its journey.

(We must value worms, we depend on them for our very lives — Charles Darwin taught us this.)
We walked through a farm, then down to some cottages which had a different name than the one written on the map.  The junction of tracks was confusing too and Colin was unsure that we were in the right place.  I was confident, mainly because there was simply no other way to go.

There was a stone unicorn head on a wall and there were wild and stray garden flowers all around.  One of the cottages was a B&B.

We turned left up a tarmacked track which led us through posh gateposts with stone birds on top.  I thought I could see a gravestone up ahead, as it was a stone cross.  But it turned out to be a name-board for the cottages below, the correct name we had been looking for when we thought we might be lost.  (We were not lost at all, just confused!)

At that junction we touched on the corner of a tarmacked public road, then immediately turned right on to a grassy track which was muddy in places.  This took us across to a farm where we turned on to a stony track which led uphill.

The bright yellow gorse by the trackside was almost blinding, and we had wonderful views across the fields to Solway Firth.

The sun came out, but it remained bitterly cold.

It was there that my left foot began to hurt as if I had sprained it, yet I had been walking quite normally and done nothing knowingly to cause an injury.  I tried to ignore the pain, but it gradually got worse.  We walked down through a farmyard where it was very muddy and difficult to get by.  Most of it was farm s**t — the countryside is all about pooh!

Still the wildflowers excited us, and a tree that had partially dropped its blossom made us think of weddings.
We sat on a wall further on to eat our pies.  It was a bit nippy in the wind so we didn’t stay long.  The track turned into a tarmacked lane, and eventually we reached the main road.  So we donned our bright yellow waistcoats for the march down into Auchencairn.  We took a short-cut street in the village to get us off the main road for a few minutes — this was officially further from the sea, but since we were nowhere near the sea anyway we didn’t care!  This came out at the village pub, but we were ten minutes too early for opening time.  So we waited on a bench outside.  By now my left foot was really painful and I was glad of the rest.  The pub didn’t do Sulwath’s ales, as advertised, but it did do other real ales so Colin was happy.  The bar was a boat!

As we got up to leave I felt a sharp pain through my foot.  I took more painkillers and carried on, but it became more and more difficult to ignore.  At the exit to the village we passed the War Memorial and a children’s playground.  And there we came across a walkers’ signpost pointing vaguely towards the sea — there was no such footpath marked on our OS map, but we’ve sort of got used to this  lack of information by now.  The sign told us it led to “High Paton”, and there was a map showing us that it was a circular walk emerging on to the road a little further north.  We decided to take it.

A footbridge took us across a small stream, then we followed the path down to the marshes on a boardwalk.  We turned a corner and found we were out of the wind, which was bitter today.  We couldn’t believe how different it was, so we made the most of it by sitting on a wall to eat our sarnies.  We looked across the marshes to Auchencairn Bay, about half a mile away, and I said, “This is the nearest we shall get to the sea today, so take it all in!  For we have to walk inland all the way to Dalbeattie in order to cross the river called Urr Water."

Further on, out in the wind again, we turned on to a good track to return to the road.  There were lots of puddles, and many of them had hundreds of tiny flies buzzing about just above the water.  I took a video of them.  I took more painkillers because the pain in my foot was quite intense, but they had no effect.  We plodded alongside the road for two more miles, me trying not to limp.  The traffic was intermittent, but when it did come it was fast.  Not pleasant.  We passed a field where Shetland ponies were grazing -- beautiful animals but I think they can be feisty at times.

We decided to turn on to the lane to Orchardton Tower even though it was a loop which was much further.  We’d both had enough of the road by then, and this tower is an ‘Historic Scotland’ property.  We thought it would just be another ruined tower that we would look at from the road, but found there was more to it than that.  It was built in the middle of the 15^th century, and lived in until the middle of the 18^th century.  It is unique in that it is the only round tower house in Scotland — and why not?  Curves are so much more calming than straight lines, I’ve always wanted to live in a round house (though how I’d arrange the furniture is another matter!) 

There was no warden, but the tower was open with a spiral staircase inside.  There was a lovely carved piscina in one room.  The notice told us it is not known whether it was put in by the laird as an ornament or whether the tower doubled as a chapel.  We climbed the staircase.  We had nice views of the surrounding countryside from the top, very pastoral.  But we were a long way from the sea by now so we had no sight of that.  There was a narrow seat at the top, and we found that we were partially out of the wind if we sat on it.  So we used the opportunity to eat our apples.

The lane led north to the village of Palnackie where we could have walked down to the river — but we didn’t because it was a dead end.  That is where we had to rejoin the main road which we stayed on for the rest of the Walk.

The road was alongside the river at one point, and we could see the sweeping meanders — almost oxbow lakes.  My foot was still giving me grief.  We sat on rocks at the entrance to a caravan site to eat our chocolate.  When we got up I don’t know how I had the courage to continue.  But I just gritted my teeth and carried on, I was that determined.
Further on there was a bit of twisty road where it climbed between two walls.  The road narrowed there, and there was nowhere to escape the speeding traffic.  We had passed that spot several times in the car, and this morning on the bus.  I was quite concerned for our safety on that stretch.  But we had also noticed a two private driveways to posh houses going off one side just before and after the tricky bit and we wondered if they connected up.  We decided to give it a try — this is Scotland, after all, where we have the ‘right to roam’.  We were quite relieved that they did join up, and that we met no one to tell us we shouldn’t be there.  By the exit there was a fine display of forgetmenots under a tree.

Now we had a mile and a half of fairly straight road up to the traffic lights by the river bridge.  The traffic was very fast on this stretch and it was a bit hairy!  We crossed the bridge, and then a half mile of causeway into Dalbeattie.

That ended Walk no.295, we shall pick up Walk no.296 next time at the end of the causeway in Dalbeattie.  It was ten to six, so the Walk had taken us eight hours fifty minutes.  We walked through the town back to our caravan — I was relieved to get the weight off my painful left foot.
It transpired that I had sustained a stress fracture in one of the tiny bones in my foot due to plantar fasciitis (flat feet to you and me!)  I am convinced that it was caused by all that pounding on five miles of unforgiving concrete roads through Kirkcudbright ranges — the so-called ‘footpaths’ the military had opened.  Today’s Walk, so soon after, had been the last straw.  The only treatment is rest until the bone heals.  The next day I couldn’t put that foot to the ground, I needed crutches and the pair left over from my broken leg era (I had to buy them abroad) were in the attic at home.  So we packed up and returned to Malvern. 
Frustration!  This year had started so well, and we had planned to get to Carlisle this session.  I am a very impatient patient!

Walk 294 -- Kirkcudbright to Dundrennan

Ages:  Colin was 70 years and 9 days.  Rosemary was 67 years and 152 days.

Weather:  Steady light rain all day.
Location:  Kirkcudbright to Dundrennan.
Distance:  16 miles.
Total distance:  2964 miles.
Terrain:  Some very muddy paths and tracks.  Some stony tracks.  A lot of concrete roads and lanes.
Tide:  (Didn’t get near the sea!)
Rivers:  No.356, Abbey Burn.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  None.
Pubs:  None on the Walk.  But we did visit the Sulwath Brew Pub in Castle Douglas several times while we were in the area.
‘Historic Scotland’ properties:  No.40, Dundrennan Abbey (which we visited on a different day).
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  None.
How we got there and back:  We were staying in our caravan in Dalbeattie.  This morning we drove to Dundrennan, parked the car, then caught a bus into Kirkcudbright.  (We had to pay our fares today!)
At the end we walked a mile along a lane from Fagra Farm to Dundrennan where our car was parked.  We drove back to Dalbeattie for tea, biscuits and a lie-down. 
  

No free bus fares today!  Unlike two days ago, we had to pay for our bus ride this morning.  It rained practically all day, so we embarked on a pretty soggy Walk.  We didn’t take many photos because we didn’t want to risk the cameras getting wet.  Those we did manage to take, we were huddled under Colin’s umbrella trying to face away from the wind so they aren’t very good.  They were bunched in groups, and occasionally we got drips on the lens.

We walked alongside the river in Kirkcudbright until we had passed the harbour, then we had to go inland a little because buildings blocked our way.  We came out at the marina.  From there we walked through a park — all this in the rain.  At the other end we merged into a housing estate, trying to keep as close to the river as we could.  We wondered if we would be able to get out at the other end because we have been ‘trapped’ in housing estates before.  But we found an unofficial path, obviously much used by the locals, which led round the end of the perimeter fence into a marsh.  It was a bit boggy underfoot, but we coped.  We carried on along the edge of what was once a wood of fir trees but was now cut down.  We came out on a track which led all round St Mary’s Isle — only it isn’t actually an island, just a long thin peninsula.

Now if it had been a sunny day with the sunlight dappling through the trees, the next part of our Walk would have been truly beautiful.  But it was a grey, drippy and gloomy day — despite that it was still beautiful!

I love trees, I love woods in the springtime with their pale green new leaves and the assortment of wild flowers on the woodland floor.  Added to that, we had glimpses of the river, now an estuary, through the trees on our right.  It was boggy in places, but we didn’t let that spoil our enjoyment.

There was the all-pervading scent of wild garlic which was prolific in the woods.  As a child, Colin used to call them “stinking nans”, it was a local name in Derbyshire.  We recalled the time when our own children were young and we took them for a picnic in woods at this time of year.  Maria was about six at the time.  She came trotting back to me and said, “I’ve just been running through the smelly grandmas!”  Ever since then, these lovely Spring flowers have been known as “smelly grandmas” in our family!

We came to the end of the ‘island’ where we could see an extra bit of land, detached, through the trees.  Near there we found a log where we could sit without getting too wet, so we stopped to eat our pies — in the rain!  The path curved round and followed the other side of the peninsula, almost back to where we had started.

We merged on to a potholed road, and further on some workmen were filling the potholes with stones.  Eventually we came out on to the proper road which had recently been retarmacked with those horrible little stones which are not properly embedded in the tar.  We thought we were going to get splattered with tarry grit, but we didn’t because the traffic was light.  A sweeping lorry came along, supposedly picking up the surplus stones, but it was quite inefficient.  The road looked just as bad after it had passed by.  There was a pavement for the mile we had to walk this road, so we didn’t need our bright yellow waistcoats.

The road went inland so we turned off along a lane.  Further on the lane went inland so we turned off along a track.  It was a well made-up track as far as the turnoff to the lifeboat station. After that it was a bit muddy.

We were alongside the estuary, and had glorious views of it through the trees — at least they would have been glorious if they hadn’t been so uniformly grey.  But we remained in good spirits because we were surrounded by wild flowers and trees with their new leaves, a lovely green even in that dull light.

We also found an unusual coloured snail sliding across the track.  We sat on a log to eat our sarnies — in the rain!
Further on we passed a car stuck in the mud.  Two men had given up trying the drive it out, they had only got themselves stuck in deeper with their efforts.  The track had narrowed to footpath width long since, so we don’t know why they were there.  We could only conclude that they drove on too far after the track had deteriorated into a muddy footpath — but where did they think they were they going?  They had tried to turn round by driving off the side, and got themselves into even deeper mud.  They seemed to be quite cheerful about their situation, they said they had phoned for help and a Landrover was on its way to haul them out.

The path emerged from the trees at Torrs Point, and there it became a narrow cliff path around the Point.  At last we were at the mouth of the estuary and should have had views across the Solway Firth — but not on a rainy day like today, we could barely see back across the mouth to the peninsula we were on during the last Walk.

However we did have views ahead along the next bit of rocky coast.  Little did we realise that it would be the last view of the coast on this Walk, of which we had so far completed less than half.  There were several stiles to get over, one of which presented me with a lot of difficulty because the steps were much too high.  Or is it that I’m getting old?  These days I find I have to look at a stile and plan how I’m going to climb over it before starting to climb up.  My back problem limits my flexibility in twisting over a stile, and my thigh muscles are not strong enough to haul myself up huge steps nor to lift my legs very high to get over the top.  Far better to have a kissing gate!
We climbed up to an entrance to the military ranges.  Way back on our last Walk we had stopped to chat to a local man who was sitting on his garden wall.  He gave us lots of tips as to how we should proceed, and had asked if we knew that the MOD had now opened a footpath through Kirkcudbright ranges.  He told us that if we wanted to walk there (we did because it is nearer the sea) we should ring up beforehand to make sure they were not shooting on the day we wanted to walk through.  So yesterday we had called in at Kirkcudbright Tourist Information Centre where they furnished us with a leaflet.  So we had a sketchmap of the open paths through the ranges and I rang the number on the leaflet to be assured we could walk through today quite safely because they had no plans to shoot.

Once inside, the paths were well waymarked and we were warned not to wander off them on pain of death!  (I don’t think they know themselves how much unexploded ordnance lurks in the undergrowth, they have been shooting there for so many decades.)  We walked through woods at first which was very pleasant, and we admired the many wild flowers we passed.

We came to a building with toilets, but it was completely locked up.  Colin needed to change his pad — yes, he still has to wear small ones, and on wet days like today his artificial sphincter does not work as well as it might.  There was no one about, so he did it outside!

From there the route across the ranges was quite zigzag and rather like a roller-coaster.  We were disappointed that it was not footpaths, but unforgiving concrete roads for miles and miles.  And warning notices were everywhere about the dangers of wandering off these roads.  We only saw the sea from a distance, we never got up close.  Altogether it was quite tedious, especially in the rain.  There was nothing much to look at, except the odd rusty tank.  We sat on the wall of a bridge to eat our apples — in the rain!

A white van was buzzing about and passed us twice on our journey through.  It didn’t seem to be going anywhere in particular and I’m positive they were keeping an eye on us, making sure we were genuine hikers sticking to the route and not up to any mischief.  I expect they had us on their radar — I felt a little spooked.  (We have experienced this before when walking across military land, both at Shoeburyness in Essex and Thorney Island in West Sussex.)  There were warning notices everywhere about the dangers of wandering off the concrete roads.  But sheep and cattle were grazing all over the place, don’t they ever get blown up?

Colin worked here for a few weeks back in the 1970s.  He was working for Plessey at the time, and most of their contracts were for the MOD — he often worked alongside the Army.  All these years later he couldn’t remember much about the work he did here, but when he saw the Sergeants’ Mess in the distance he exclaimed, “That is where I was introduced to Glayva!”  (Of course, it is only the important things in life that stick in the memory!)

Soon after the bridge where we ate our apples, there was a fork in the road with no waymarks.  Help!  Are we going to be blown to smithereens?  We made an educated guess as to which way we should proceed — and got it right, thank goodness.  A bit further on the concrete road turned into an ordinary track which was much easier on the feet.
We passed a ‘Portaloo’ which was not locked, but it was dirty and didn’t flush.  But there were fresh tissues and toilet paper in there, so it was obviously intended to be used.  We didn’t — I’d rather hide behind a bush than use toilets in such a state.

The track led us on to a tarmacked road which turned down a stream valley.  It was very pretty, there were carpets of smelly grandmas….er, sorry — wild garlic!  This was the best bit of the whole ranges walk.

We came to an exit gate to the ranges where we sat on the wall of a bridge to eat our chocolate — in the rain!  Then it was uphill, uphill, uphill, higher than we’d been all day — a real sting in the tail when we were so tired.  At least the rain ceased and gave us a break.  We were amused by the cows rushing along next to us in adjacent fields — this happened in several fields.  At last we emerged on to a lane near a farm called Fagra.  The way on was to turn right, but we didn’t do that today.

That ended Walk no.294, we shall pick up Walk no.295 next time in the lane by the farm called Fagra.  It was five to six, so the Walk had taken us nine hours exactly.  We turned left and walked down into Dundrennan where our car was parked.  We drove straight back to Dalbeattie where we had our tea and biscuits in the caravan.

Dundrennan  Abbey

We visited Dundrennan Abbey on a different day, but it was still pouring with rain.  Or it was until just before we arrived, then it stopped but it was still very drippy.
The abbey was founded in the 12^th century by Cistercian monks from Rievaulx Abbey in Yorkshire.  It was connected to Glenluce Abbey, which we have already visited, and Sweetheart Abbey, which we shall pass by soon, because they were all founded by the same monks.  Also this abbey was where the tragic Mary Queen of Scots spent her last night in Scotland, the land of her birth, before she fled to England where she mistakenly believed Elizabeth I would protect her from her enemies.

There is not much of the abbey left, but enough to show it must have been very impressive in its time.  Colin was much more interested in a swallow’s nest he spied inside one of the arches.

To tell the truth, Colin would far rather have spent the day at the Sulwath brew pub in Castle Douglas which we did manage to visit several times when we were in the area.