Walk 296 -- Dalbeattie to Caulkerbush

Ages:  Colin was 70 years and 51 days.  Rosemary was 67 years and 194 days.

Weather:  Torrential showers with a very warm sun between.  Hot and humid.  Later turning breezy and cooler.
Location:  Dalbeattie to Caulkerbush.
Distance:  14 miles.
Total distance:  2993 miles.
Terrain:  Some road-walking, some coastal path.  Slippery (mud) in places, uneven ground in others but some pleasant grass paths.  Could be very undulating — quite a few steps.
Tide:  Out.
Rivers:  No.358, Kirkgunzeon Lane in Dalbeattie.  No.359, Barnhourie Burn at Sandyhills.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  Nos.313 & 314 as we approached Rockcliffe.  Nos.315, 316, 317, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, 330, & 331 on the coastal path.  (19 in all!)
Pubs:  None.
‘Historic Scotland’ properties:  None.
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  None.
How we got there and back:  Yesterday we towed our caravan from home to Dalbeattie.  This morning Colin drove the car to Caulkerbush where he parked it and caught a bus back to Dalbeattie.
At the end we came to our car parked by the side of the road in Caulkerbush.  We drove straight back to Dalbeattie for our tea and biscuits in the caravan.

Nearly six weeks later, and here we are back in Dalbeattie.  My foot feels fine and I can walk properly, so we are looking forward to a couple of weeks good walking.  But the weather is not co-operating.  As we walked through Dalbeattie to the starting point of today’s Walk (at a crossroads by the end of the causeway near the river) the rain poured on to us.  We passed people scurrying into a church for a funeral, and felt the weather was quite appropriate for such an occasion!
Despite wearing full wet weather gear, we had to stand under a tree at the crossroads for five minutes or more because it was raining so hard.  Hence we were reluctant to take our cameras out, and the photos taken were fewer than we would have liked.  And all of them were taken on Colin’s ‘instant’ camera because it was easier to slip it in and out of our pockets.
About a hundred yards down the road a track forked off next to a triangle of grass.  Some horses were tethered to a post on this piddly bit of greenery, and they looked very miserable in the pouring rain.  From a distance I thought a man in the adjacent bus shelter was their rider, but it turned out he didn’t have anything to do with them, he was just sheltering from the rain.  I really felt for those horses, and hoped they hadn’t been abandoned.
We crossed a stream into a yard, then followed a track through a gate and on towards the sewage works.  There were lots of horses and ponies in adjacent fields — this seems to be a very ‘horsey’ area.  It was muddy underfoot and still pouring with rain.  We came to the sewage works, but inevitably it had a locked gate.  So we went into the field next to it and walked alongside the perimeter fence.  But we were faced with a hedge and a fence at the other end, with trees and dense undergrowth beyond.  There was no way we could have got through.
Disappointed (we had hoped to walk, for a bit, by the river) we retraced our steps to the locked gate, then tried to walk the other way round the sewage works.  This time we were thwarted by a hedge and a double barbed wire fence.  So we had to walk back in a northerly direction which is exactly what we didn’t want to do.  We were inside one of the fields with horses — they came right up to us and were very nosey!  We walked all round their enclosure but couldn’t find any way out to the road.  It was quite muddy and slippery in places, so not easy going.  I was glad I had brought my walking poles.

Then the sun came out — we couldn’t believe the huge amount of blue sky after all that rain!  But it didn’t last, so we whipped out the camera to take the first picture of the day — me with some of the ponies.  It got very hot, so we started to peel off layers — they soon had to go back on!  We admitted defeat, went back to the yard where we were able to exit to the road.  We had wasted a lot of time and made very little progress on our Walk.

We walked down the road to a picnic area where we stopped to eat our pasties.  By then it was raining again, and that remained the pattern of the day though it did remain warm.

Then we continued down the road for about two miles, passing a field with ponies and their very young foals on the way.  It was a relief to get off the main road when we turned on to a minor road to Kippford.  It was still raining.

We walked down to the village where we admired shells set in a wall — but it was too wet to get the camera out, so no photograph.  We turned a corner, and a lovely view of the river opened out before us.  We were at the mouth of the estuary — at last we were back by the sea!  The tide was right out, so most of the boats were stranded on the sand/mud.  We could just make out a cormorant ‘drying’ its wings next to one of the boats — in the rain?  (It was honking down!)

We passed a Millennium ‘Saxon’ Cross, but again too wet to risk getting the camera out.  We wanted to stop and eat our sarnies and there were lots of seats with fabulous views — but all out in the open in the wet.  Frustrating!  But right at the very end was a shelter with dry seats inside facing the sea, it was clean and freshly painted.  Perfect!

 Not only could we have our lunch in comfort, but we could take photographs of the estuary without getting the camera wet.
And then it stopped raining — things were getting better!  It wasn’t clear on the map whether we could get through to the next village, Rockcliffe, at this level down by the shore.  We sincerely hoped we could because otherwise it was retrace our steps back to the main road and walk several miles round.  We asked a local lady who was out walking her dog.  She said she thought we could get through but she believed it was a bit of a steep path.  (Don’t mind that, so long as we don’t have to go back to that wretched road!)

We followed a narrow winding dead-end road almost to its end, and were surprised to be passed by a police car on the way.  Wild roses grew in the hedgerows, they looked and smelled wonderful.  A path led us up through the woods (it wasn’t very steep) and down into Rockcliffe.  We were there!

And what a wonderful sense of humour the people of Rockcliffe have!  We loved the face made out of an old log particularly, but also the other faces and animals which adorned the cottages we passed.

A ‘grotto’ was for the under 5s and over 80s, apparently.  We fit into neither category, but we still loved it!  Then it started raining again which dampened our mood a little.

We walked down to the shore and across a bit of beach.

Up on to the minor road for about a hundred yards, then we took a footpath towards Castlehill Point.  About a quarter of a mile into it we were at last told that this was the coast path to Sandyhills.  It was with some relief that we learned this because, up until that point, we hadn’t known if we would be able to get through.

The path took us to an overgrown shore where I was struck by the variety of colourful stones on the beach.  They were mostly granites, I think, and looked really good glistening in the rain.
Very soon we were directed up through woods, and finally climbed to the top of Castlehill Point.  The rain had petered out by then and we were treated to magnificent views.

I loved the way the tide was edging into the mouth of the estuary, I thought it was quite artistic.  I even videoed it for a minute or two because I wanted to preserve the gentle movement of the waves.  It was soothing to my mood.  Then we noticed a heron standing in the shallows trying to catch a fish.  That just made the picture — pity the light was so flat.

We continued eastwards on the cliff path.  We saw one person in the distance walking his dogs, but he just did a circular round a field and then disappeared in the direction of Rockcliffe.  We actually MET NOBODY.  The rain held off and it got a little breezy.  Visibility remained poor but it did improve slightly.

It was a lovely path, we did enjoy it!  The views were magnificent, and they were occasionally enhanced by bright summer flowers.  We saw the occasional bird, the occasional sandy inlet, we passed a ruined building and a hedge which demonstrated very clearly the direction of the prevailing wind!

Out in the Solway Firth we could just make out an offshore wind farm, but we couldn’t see the Lake District which we knew was out there somewhere.

Colin was thrilled to see a long-eared owl, but didn’t have time to get his camera out before it flew away.  I didn’t see it because I was trailing a bit behind at that point — the path was very up and down.

The cliffs were beautiful too, a lovely russet red colour interspersed with grey.  (A Silurian rock called Wenlock, according to my geology map, with lumps of an intrusive igneous rock called Porphyrite scattered about.)

Eventually we came down steps to a road and we thought we were there — at Sandyhills, I mean.  But of course we weren’t.  We were getting a bit tired and this was wishful thinking.  A close study of the map told us we had only got to Port O’Warren Bay and we had at least another mile to go.  We walked up the road and turned right, still following the coast path signs.
A car passed us, then stopped and the driver put out a tiny ‘Yorkie’ dog.  Then she continued to drive slowly on with the little dog running as fast as its little legs could carry it to try and catch up!  We were open-mouthed!  Then we were passed by a van who had put out a labrador to run in the same way.  Is this the way the local people walk their dogs in these parts?

We turned on to the cliff footpath again, and felt we had had enough of the ‘up & down’ despite the wonderful views.  We were really tired by then, and the path was quite slippery in places because of the earlier rain.  We were very slow over this bit.

But we persevered, and came out in a maze of paths.  There was a distinct lack of ‘Coastal Footpath’ signs, and we kept taking the wrong turning which was irritating in our state of weariness.  But eventually we found a footbridge over the burn at the edge of Sandyhills Beach.  We had made it!
It was a lovely sandy beach to walk across, but it seemed to be owned by the adjacent caravan park.  A prominent notice on the beach warned us of an offshore deep channel which is concealed by the high tide, and of the fast-flowing incoming tide.  Don’t get cut off!  There was also a signpost pointing back the way we had come giving the mileages to all the places we had passed through since Rockcliffe.  We could have done with one of those at the other end — even better, as far back as Kippford!

We exited to the car park where we found a bench to sit on and eat our chocolate.   There we looked at a ‘history board’ which told us about stake nets, saltpan rocks, Barnhourie Mill, RAF bombing targets, etc, etc.  We were really too fatigued to read it all.  We could vaguely see the platform which was the RAF bombing target, but we just wanted to get to the end of the Walk.

We put on our bright yellow waistcoats and trudged the final two and a half miles along the road.  Mostly the sea was out of sight, but occasionally there was a gap in the trees revealing the water below.  On reaching Caulkerbush we came upon our car parked by the side of the road.

That ended Walk no.296, we shall pick up Walk no.297 next time just short of the road junction in Caulkerbush.  It was twenty to eight, so the Walk had taken us nine hours twenty minutes.  We drove straight back to Dalbeattie for our tea and biscuits in the caravan.
My left heel was very uncomfortable, and when I removed my boot I discovered a nasty blister had formed.  Feeling inside my boot I found there was a hole in the lining at that spot!  I shall have to fill it with foam or something.  Those boots had cost me a small fortune — they shouldn’t go like that!

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!