In the late 1970’s and early 1980’s with only three TV channels to choose from, virtually everyone in Scotland knew who Tom Weir was. A cheery and familiar face, he was seen each week on “Weir’s Way”, as he explored the hills and glens of Scotland, and was our guide to the hills, glens, villages and people of rural Scotland. Already in his 60’s when his programme first appeared, it came as a surprise to me that this old fella in the red bobble hat had been involved in Himalayan expeditions and arctic explorations and was a well respected climber and naturalist, particularly specialising in ornithology. Later in life I began to read his books and as a railwayman was particularly interested in his series of short books on the various railway lines which crossed the highlands of Scotland, all of which are now long out of print but can be obtained at various online retailers or in secondhand book shops.
A few years back I picked up a copy of Tom Weir – An Anthology, edited by Hamish Brown. A collection of some of his works across his career, it gives a fine picture of Tom and if you haven’t read any of his works before I can highly recommend it – the literary equivalent of the “best-of” album. Tom was also an excellent photographer and his photographs often accompanied his printed work, and this book was no exception, containing photos of and by Tom. These ranged from photos of Tom as a child in Springburn to photos of him on expeditions across the globe, and all were meticulously captioned – all except one…
The photo on the front cover of the book shows Tom seated below a right of way sign, perusing a map. But where exactly was it? Of that I could find no sign (pardon the pun) and despite searching the inner jacket and other credits there was no detail of it anywhere. This intrigued me, and soon I was searching for the likely location. The signpost was topped by three arrows, indicating Scabcleuch, Ettrick Kirk and Riskenhope. Firstly I drew a diagram indicating where I thought the signpost would be in relation to the places it related to. These signs were set at an angle like an inverted ‘Y’, with Riskenhope at the base of the Y, Scabcleuch at the one of the tips and Ettrick Kirk at the other. Heading to Ordnance Survey I first tried Riskenhope and drew a blank. Ettrick Kirk wasn’t there either, although the hamlet of Ettrick was. Scabcleuch proved to be more successful and drew me to Scabcleuch Hill. To the east of this lies the Scabcleuch Burn – and a right of way! Following the right of way back I found it led north to “Riskinhope” with an I not an E. Following this path I noted a junction which led off to Ettrick, and there, just off the path was marked a church or kirk in Scots. So now I had my likely location and I was pretty confident I was right – but there was only one way to find out…
Fast forward a few weeks and I found myself with my tent in my bag, headed south on the M74. It had been years since I had driven this road. I usually travel south by train and see this narrow corridor from a different angle. The transformation of this area over the years has been amazing and if you love turbines, you’ll love this. I came of at Junction 15 and headed for Moffat, guided by satellite navigation towards the Loch of the Lowes and the car park. I was running slightly later than planned, as per usual, and so I bypassed the Grey Mare’s Tail waterfall and left it for the return journey, and was soon at a small car park at the far end of the loch which was buzzing with activity – mainly power-tools from renovations to the small community hall and from far off chainsaws in the woods on the far side of the loch. I was also met by signs which warned that overnight camping wasn’t permitted – which I took to mean vehicular camping. I then spotted a no overnight parking sign which concerned me more, but as this wasn’t a pay to stay car park I again assumed it was meant more for the campervan community and not for people off camping in the hills. Dumfries & Galloway is a renowned dark skies area which it uses as a selling point for tourism, and while I understand the problems associated with inconsiderate or dirty campers in campervans, these signs act as a deterrent to tourism and could be enough to drive people elsewhere.
With a “Toorie” bunnet atop my head redolent of Tom himself I headed over the bridge towards the historic Tibbie Shield’s Inn, drinking den of James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, whose statue overlooks the loch, and his compadre Walter Scott, before following a footpath across the fields, over a wooden footbridge, to follow the southerns shore of the loch. The loch is renowned for its nesting osprey, but there were none in sight today (newspaper reports suggest they arrived a few days after my visit). A followed a notable cut in the hillside up towards an old stone sheepfold, and paused for a few minutes to send my drone up above the loch, looking back at the path which had led me here, then scouting the hillside ahead from the air. Drones are marvelous tools and I’m still getting to grips with this one. Rucksack back on, and I ploughed ahead along a faint path, eventually joining the main right of way just south of Riskinhope. This climbs above the steep slopes which fall towards the Riskinhope Burn, eventually cresting just below Pikestone Rig where the path joins the Southern Upland Way. By this time my left heel is becoming quite tender and I stop here to dress the blister. With no-one around for miles I think it’s fairly safe to dump my pack just off the track and scoot off to the likely location of the signpost, just over a kilometre away. Bizarrely, the junction I am looking for is clearly shown on the 1:50,000 OS map – but not the usually more detailed 1:25,000 one.
As I get further from my pack I suddenly feel quite stupid, realising that my car keys and hundreds of pounds of camera gear have been abandoned for anyone to find. I carry on downhill, losing site of my pack but soon coming across what I came to find. Right where I expected, is a signpost. I take Tom’s book from my pocket and compare it. The signs have been renewed, and there are now two instead of three, but this looks like the original post. I take my seat and sit where Tom once did. With that mystery solved I scan my map for tonight’s possible camp site. I had wanted to camp on the strangely named “The Wiss”, but with the state of my foot I think it is unlikely. Instead I will head for Earl’s Hill, around 2km from where I am sitting now, and around 2km from The Wiss. Tenderly I climb back uphill to find my pack still safely where I had left it, and once loaded up I head off along the Southern Upland Way, dropping down to to pass through the ruins of Riskinhope Hope, crossing the Crosscleuch Burn and finally ascending to the top of Earl’s Hill. At 446m, it gives a fine view back over the way I’d just come as well as on towards St Mary’s Loch. Thousands of years ago St Mary’s Loch and the Loch of the Lowes were one body of water, but time saw the accumulation of silt split them in two, joined now by a small burn which flows from the larger loch into the smaller.
With daylight fading I set the tent up and set up camp for the night. Soon I am watching as the sun drops down below the horizon and the first stars appear. Having carried in some wood for my folding fire pit I burn it off, if only to save carrying it out. The temperature is comfortable and there’s a light breeze, enough to trouble my stove as I prepare dinner, a dehydrated curry which is excellent. After calling home and watching the stars reveal themselves I found myself completely done in and called it a night. I’m still recovering from Covid and find myself needing a fair bit of sleep, and after carrying in all my gear it appears to have taken it’s toll. I slept soundly until around half past four in the morning. By now the cloud had crept in and there were no stars to be seen. I dragged myself back to sleep for another few hours, to be woken by daylight and the fantastic song of the skylarks.
I prepared breakfast as the sun crept across the hills. I was trying out a new cooking set, and I soon realised the major drawback of a combined cup/pot setup – you can’t have a hot drink while using it to cook. With a mental note made to add a cup back in to my gear I had a breakfast of porridge, packed up my gear and headed off, but rather than drop back immediately on to the Southern Upland Way I instead headed north west, dropping down to an interesting looking structure which sat on the hillside below me, a prominent pillar constructed of stone. On arrival I found no sign as to its significance and it is not shown on the map. Having solved one mystery on these hills I leave with another. A feature of these hills is the steep cleuchs, which I was reminded of as I descended to cross the Moory Sike burn before reascending to pick up the Captain’s Road section of the Southern Upland Way again for the descent back to Crosscleuch and Tibbie Shields Inn.
Crossing the burn at the loch, I headed up firstly to view the commanding statue of James Hogg. I had read his book “The Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner” many years ago and it still a very powerful work today, almost 200 years after publication, and was the inspiration for Robert Louis Stevenson’s “The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde” which in turn influenced Ian Rankin’s “Knots and Crosses”. I toddled off down to the car park by the loch where my car was parked. There were a few walkers getting ready to leave who were chatting to a woman in a car and as I passed she called over – “Is that your car?” I replied that it was, expecting a complaint about parking overnight but instead she told me that she was on the verge of calling the police as she was concerned that I was missing – either on the hills or on the water. “One thing’s for sure” she said “They’ll no miss you with that hat!”
The Airdrie Rambler 