Galloway Getaway
I had a week off work at the beginning of October. As is the case at that time of year, the weather was forecast to be quite changeable - but there was a break in the weather forecast for a couple of days, and a camping trip was in order.
The Scottish Highlands, a seven-hour drive away, were a bit far out of reach, but the Galloway hills, just over the England-Scotland border, were much more manageable. Heading straight up the M6 through Lancashire and Cumbria, the 'Welcome to Scotland' sign appeared a few miles before Greta, and my junction, from where I took the A75 west, through rolling fields and countryside and past Dumfries. At the small town of Crocketford, I turned off, following the A712 - also known as The Queen's Way', right into the Galloway Forest Park.
My first stop, a few miles past Clatteringshaw's Loch, and just off the main road was the Red Deer Range. A small 'outpost' for viewing the local deer herd. The hide on site was closed due to coronavirus restrictions, but the wooden fence by the side had viewing holes to view the deer just on the other side.
And they were close.
The deer closest to the fence were female Hinds, and calves. They didn't hesitate in plodding up to the fence and having a nosey - and I spotted some other visitors feeding them carrots through the gaps in the fence.
There was one stag lingering around the back of the herd, and further up on the hillside was a lone stag, keeping an eye on the herd, and bellowing every so often to make it's presence known.
It was easy to see that this was a relatively tamed herd, no doubt accustomed to seeing plenty of visitors, and the carrots they brought with them.
After spending an hour at the red deer range, I got back in my car, and continued along the Queen's Way, through the glen to the town of Newton Stewart. I made my way through the centre of the quaint town, heading north on the A714. After a few miles, I reached the turn off for Glen Trool. I passed the Visitor Centre, and the road reduced to a single track road as it hugged the woodland on the shore of Loch Trool.
At the eastern end of the loch is a decent sized car park. I parked up, booted up and slung my rucksack on my back, and set off into the wildness. But not before a quick stop at the Bruce's Stone.
Named for the famous Scottish Leader, the Bruce's Stone, laid in 1929, commemorates Robert the Bruce's 1307 victory over an encroaching English force which had entered the valley of Glen Trool. This victory is what started the campaign for a free and independent Scotland, ultimately leading to the decisive Battle of Bannockburn seven years later.
A short walk back to the road from the Bruce's Stone leads to the start of the Merrick Trail. The Merrick, standing at 2,766 feet, is the highest mountain in the Southern Upland range, which stretches across southern Scotland.
The narrow gravel path initially heads through deciduous woodland, climbing by the side of Buchan Burn, which through a series of waterfalls feeds into Loch Trool. On climbing above the woodland, the land vastly opens up and I get my first glimpse of the hills that lay ahead...
To reach the summit of Merrick, the trail first involved the ascent of neighbouring Benyellary before following the ridge across onto Merrick's summit.
But for now, the path continued alongside Buchan Burn, and through some glades of pine trees, before reaching a clearing and the Culsharg Bothy. The Scottish hills & islands are littered with these bothies, old shepherd huts which have been converted as use as mountain shelters as part of the Mountain Bothy Association.
I stuck my head inside. The bothy was bare bones - two rooms, stone walls, stone floors. The first room was unfurnished apart from a couple of camping chairs. There was also a small number of items on the window sill, a sort of emergency larder with a couple of tinned goods, waterproof matches, which other visitors had left out of courtesy.
The second room had a large raised wooden platform, to be used as a sleeping area of the cold stone floor. You had to bring your own bedding.
But it was dry, and sheltered, and that was all that really mattered to keep you alive in unsavoury mountain conditions.
Hopefully that wouldn't be needed tonight.
The path ran behind the bothy into pine woodland, following the small but picturesque Whiteland Burn. The autumn colours were really making an impression on this part of the walk, as the woodland was dotted with red fungi.
After a short climb, the path came out onto a forestry track where I turned right and followed the track for just a couple of yards before a sign pointed towards a large gated fence.
What had they got in there? King Kong?!
Heading through the large deer fence, the path steepened as it entered a mature pine plantation.
It was quite surprising how quickly it got dark as I headed deeper into the pine forest. It was also eerie how silent it was. The pine needles both on the trees and on the ground must soften the sounds, but also heighten any noise that is made - the trickle of a stream, the squawk of a bird, or the snap of standing on a twig.
As I headed up, I passed a few people who were heading back down. Eventually, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and left the pine forest, and went out onto the wild & open moorland. A large stone was set into the ground to signify the transition between environments.
Leaving the forests behind, the path weaved its way out onto the open moorland. Up ahead, I could see a number of walkers making their way back down off the top of Benyellary - my next stop. The path first headed up towards a saddle in the ridge, before turning right to start the climb to the top.
At the saddle, I paused to catch my breath, and looked back from where I had come. It was quite an impressive view.
I then began the climb of Benyellary. It was a steady climb up to it's 2,358 foot summit, marked by a huge cairn. But this was just a brief stopping point, and the high point of Merrick lay just over a mile away, linked to Benyellary by the ridge known as 'Neive of the Spit'.
It was quite breezy at height, but dropping down off Benyellary provided some shelter from the wind. A stone wall ran along the length of the ridge, and the path ran alongside.
Another spectacular view made itself known whilst crossing Neive of the Spit, looking right from the path, the grass covers ground dropped off steeply, revealing the desolate valley containing Gloon Burn, and in the distance a number of Loch's including Loch Neldricken and Lock Valley. Considering this is Galloway Forest Park, the only trees in sight were the eastern end of the pine plantation I had passed through earlier, and evidence of extensive felling. But I'd be exploring that area more closely on my return leg.
The final climb began, and I soon reached the large summit plateau of the Merrick. At the north eastern end, I spotted the trig point, so headed over to 'bag' the top.
I had a wander around the flat summit top, looking for a place to pitch my tent. However the rains earlier in the week meant the ground was quite sodden. The view north from the summit was an expanse of wild, empty ground. Even in the remotest parts of the Lake District, you're never far from a drystone wall - the simplest sign and connection to civilization. But this land was empty - with no walls or fences in sight. But I was drawn to the faint bellows of the Stag's down below.
The skies above were pretty flat & grey with high level clouds, as they had been all afternoon, so I wasn't expecting there to be any spectacular sunset tonight. So, I decided I would make my way down through the pathless rock terraces of the eastern ridge of the Merrick - called Redstone Rig. Hopefully there would be somewhere suitable to pitch, but I still had almost two hours until darkness descended, so plenty of time to explore.
From the top, I worked out a route down through the terraces and rocky knolls. As I went I kept spotting potential pitches and making my way over to check if it was suitable. Most of the time the flat ground ended up begin sodden, boggy or standing water. Eventually, about half way down I found a spot. Although the ground wasn't sodden, it was 'moist', but I was happy and confident to pitch my tent there. I also had an amazing view over Loch Enoch.
For my first Scottish wild camp - I thought I'd try something different for dinner. I had brought with me a small tin of Heinz baked beanz, which I placed in boiling water to warm through. I then used the boiling water to make up some Idahoan instant mash. I had also brought half a Matteson's smoked sausage, which I diced up, and finally some grated cheese which I had kept tightly packed in a zip-lock bag. Mixing it all together and that was my tea - a tasty and filling meal.
Darkness had descended by the time I had finished my dinner, so after washing up, I popped on my down jacket to keep the chill off, and cracked open a beer. I then spent the evening sat outside listening to the bellows of the competing Stag's in the surrounding hills and valley. It started to spit with rain at about 9pm, so it was then time to call it a night, and retire into the tent. Before falling asleep I set my alarm for the morning - 7am - about 45 minutes before sunrise.
My alarm rang, and I peaked outside the tent door. A band of cloud was drifting along the valley and over Loch Enoch. There was still quite a bit of cloud overhead, but their was a golden sliver of light on the eastern horizon - dawn was on its way.
I headed out of my tent, got the Jetboil on and made a brew whilst I waited for the show to start. With every passing minute the clouds rolled and the light from the approaching sunrise got brighter. I kept my fingers crossed the sun would rise just so it would illuminate the clouds from below with its early morning colours. I wasn't to be disappointed.
What a stunning sunrise for my first Scottish wildcamp!
After the sunrise, and breakfast, a band of low cloud moved in from the north. The loch disappeared into the grey clag, and it was time to pack up my tent and move on.
From Loch Enoch, there is a long, mainly pathless walk down the glen past a few more lochs, and back to the north eastern end of Loch Trool - that route I would tackle another time. But for today, I made my way south from Redstone Rig, crossing the marshy grassland, over and around the rocky terraces - and at one point almost had a heart attack when I inadvertently disturbed a Grouse in the grass, which promptly & loudly squawked and flew away. Leaving the low cloud behind, the sun began to make an appearance once again. The ground then began to drop as I reached the top of the Glen, and I made my way down into the valley.
The upper reaches of Buchan Burn was my guide back, like a silver ribbon weaving through the bottom of the glen. A faint path appeared in the russet grasses as I headed towards the stripped forest. A couple of stream crossings brought a bit of excitement to the trek, as well as bog-dodging as I had to avoid especially sodden ground.
After a mile or so, I reached the perimeter of the felled pine forest. I was expecting the forestry part of the walk to be a breeze, but the ground of the deforested woodland was even more challenging. Following the tracks from the forestry trucks, the ripped up roots, and discarded branches and trunks that were left behind meant I had to do some clambering, and the ground itself, no longer secured by the living roots, was a boggy and peaty mess. It was slow going to find the best route.
The track then reached a 'ford' crossing Gloon Burn. The burn was quite wide and fast flowing at this point, and the crossing was more suitable to the heavy forestry trucks, and not walkers. How could I get across?
I back-tracked up stream slightly where the burn was narrower, but more rocky, and spotted a series of rocks I could use as stepping stones to get across. The water was moving fast, as was my heart.
I had to consider my heavy rucksack as I slowly and steadily placed one foot onto a rock, trying to keep my centre of gravity low, checking my footing was stable before taking the leap, and moving my other foot to the next rock.
Eventually, and with a sigh of relief, I was on the other side. I headed down to where the ford came out the other side of the burn and re-joined the track. But I wasn't out of the water just yet. The track was now on the bottom of the glen, and the ground was really sodden. I was so glad to have my waterproof boots AND waterproof socks on.
Following the track, to my right I saw a long row of tree trunks piled up. My assumption was that this was felled lumber awaiting collection, and would have been piled by the side of a more substantial forestry track.
Veering from the path, I made my way slightly up hill through the felled woodland, and made it to the log pile - quite, up close was much taller than I first expected, but the good news was that my assumption was right, and I met up with a good, stone forestry road.
I followed the forestry road, and lo-and-behold, it was the same track which I had walked a few yards of the day before.
Once I reached that section of road, it was a short walk down to Culsharg Bothy, where I stopped for a quick break.
It wasn't long before I was making my way back down the path along Buchan Burn heading in the direction of Loch Trool. I passed a few walkers who were now making their way up to the Merrick, and soon enough I was back at Bruce's Stone, and then my car.
Epilogue
My first experience of wild camping in Scotland was the next level from what I have done so far in both the Lake District and Snowdonia. If anything, it is the increased sense of remoteness that really makes you realise both how beautiful, but also how potentially dangerous these wild places can be.
This won't be my last visit to Galloway Forest Park - there are many more hills to explore, and Lochs to camp by. I'm hoping 2021 will be a much kinder year than 2020, and fingers crossed, I'll be able to get back to camping more regularly, and in particular to explore deeper into Scotland - my goal being to head up to Glen Coe, Glen Etive, and at some point in the future, the Isle of Skye.
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