At the top of Moffatdale, a beautiful cataract cascades down a fearsome gorge. An isolated spot, at the end of many miles of narrow road, with a National Trust car park beneath a precipitous hill, and a bridge across the burn. The recent rain had swollen the waters and the waterfall – the Grey Mare’s Tail.
I came to explore and admire. Looking up, on the left is a slope which rises to White Combe (Dumfriesshire’s highest point)l on the right its twin; and between them. a plunging gorge. I first followed a path up the White Combe side, to a vantage point for the Grey Mare’s Tail. It is magnificent, and no photograph does it justice. From that point there is a barrier – the path beyond has collapsed and access is barred. So I returned and climbed the other side, wondering is there is a way across above the fall.
It is a steep path, clinging to the side of the hill – barely less than a cliff. It is a well-made path, and ful kudos to the National Trust for Scotland for creating and maintaining it in a challenging landscape – spanning many cuts in the slope where lesser burns course down the gorge. A steep climb higher to the level of the waterfall, and then it becomes easier, almost level, and leads on.
The moorland here is bleak and soaked. The rain began. Very soon I was bleak and soaked. Two walkers were on the other side of the river – I called over and they said that they had crossed at the loch – my destination – and they were unable to find a way back.
Suddenly the loch appeared: Loch Skeen. It is the largest loch in the Moffat Hills – possibly in the county, and here, isolated away from the sight of any other than those who have made the effort of the climb to admire it.
It might at a stretch have been possible to cross here the river that spilled out of the loch, which went on to thunder over the Grey Mare’s Tail. (Had I done so, I could hardly have got wetter than I was.) There ahead, over the stream and far over the moor, rose a great, forbidding white dome: White Combe. It was entirely covered in snow; trackless, sleep, icy and with the top hidden in cloud. If I had arrived earlier in the day when it was dry and there were more hours of daylight left, it could have been worth a try. There in the cloud and snow it looked defiant. (Aye; but I know where you are now, and how to reach you when the snow has gone.)
Beyond were other hills clad in snow. The Southern Uplands are not mild country-cousins of the Highlands: these can be serious mountains and, unlike the Lake District, are isolated and empty. One summer, I will see what the tops offer when the snow has gone and the heather is in bloom.
Down I came on the stone path, with a respect for these hills.
I followed the climb with a drive, up the dale and to St Mary’s Loch – a sheet of water equal to any but unfrequented. I followed up round to the Megget Reservoir, a huge loch in itself, if dammed by man, and past Broad Law (Peeblesshire’s highest point). Apart from there being nowhere to park, the ground up to it looks ankle-turning. That would need more research. I know one person who has climbed it. I was just passing by though, as the sun began to sink.
The landscape here is breathtaking. The hills are bun-shaped: rounded and steep-sided. Local people must understand them – except that there are no local people in these deserted hills – another contrast to the Lake District, to which I then returned, after a fascinating, soaking day.