A Wee Overnighter On The Moor
It was fairly dreich when I set out along the Moor Road. It had taken me far longer than I thought to put together my kit for the trip - just a quick overnight to get out of the house. By the time I stepped off the bus in Eaglesham it was 2pm, and I knew I was working to a fairly tight schedule, sundown being at 5pm. So I hoofed it fairly rapidly up the road to the point where I could turn off onto the moor. Walking beside the road made me nervous. The cars were going by pretty fast and I could have done without the harassment from the boy-racer and pals who honked and shouted and then made a U-turn to do the same from the other direction. 400ft and 2.5 miles later I had made decent time, but I was cursing the weight of my pack - about 16kg. I wasn’t exactly travelling lightweight with my 3 man tent. It was a relief to turn down the track towards Greenfield farm. There wasn’t too much to see apart from the multitude of windmills once I got out onto the moor - visibility wasn’t the best. Despite that I was starting to feel very good about getting out.
I learned a lot in the first half hour about map-reading. Mostly that I wasn’t nearly as good at it as previous experience had indicated. I also reinforced the old saw about short cuts leading to longer delays. Hindsight was cold comfort as I wallowed knee deep in water in a vain attempt to save time. Retrospectively I was glad of my watery ordeals, though. Walking on paths always seems a little bit like cheating. My non-waterproof boots were definitely playing the game like an Englishman, alright…
I made it up to the treeline by about 1630… the only problem being that it wasn’t a treeline any more. A massive chunk of what looked like trees on the satellite view and on my OS map was actually a soaking mess of deforestation. I’d had a possible campsite in mind, but once I got there it was clearly impossible. The whole thing was just clumps of vegetation in inches of water. I backtracked and then beasted myself along the treeline with one eye on the sky and another on the ground, looking for anywhere with more than 3 feet of fairly flat firm ground. By this point I was knackered. Higher ground proved impossible to attain without soaking myself further, and I finally found somewhere to pitch crammed in under the trees. Hardly ideal but nothing else was looking promising. By the time I’d pitched and got my gear inside and the dinner on it was nearly pitch black.
I was starting to really enjoy myself. It was a great night despite being freezing, in agony from unused muscles and every piece of clothing below the waist wringing wet. I’ve rarely enjoyed sausages and beans so much. Just getting out there and getting an idea of what the gear I had was capable of and where it fell down was brilliant. The tent stood up brilliantly to any weather that might have been going on outside - sure it was single-skin and so it was a tad chilly and soaked with condensation, but it didn’t blow away or fall over or let the rain in, and the porch was big enough to play fives in. I’d borrowed a gas stove too, and whilst it weighed a tonne it boiled water in about 4 seconds flat. I very nearly burnt my dinner it was so fast. I had a self-inflating mat, too, (incredibly comfy - the first night I’d experienced anything better than the old blue foam) and it solidified my decision to get a 3/4 length one. A short fella like me doesn’t need anything near the full 6 feet, and I don’t mind putting my rucksack under my feet.
I slept on and off till about 0500, when I had a look at the map and eventually decided to try and take my chances going out a different way after breakfast. Then I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew it was light and about 0830. It was dead silent, with about 6ft of visibility - magic! I had a leisurely breakfast and a couple of strong coffees (the omnipotent Buff is great to stop you burning your hands on a glass mug full of coffee!) and finally set about the task of packing up. By the time I moved off it was near on 1100. Pretty shameful!
I found a sort of inadvertant route through the trees and battled through until I popped out onto the moor again. At least, it might have been a moor, but it was more like someone had sprinkled some grass on a loch. I have to say, despite being wet, my Trespass boots (borrowed from my cousin, who must have identically shaped feet to mine) stood up very well - not a hotspot in sight, let alone a blister. I forced my way up a hill and after a sticky moment with a barbed wire fence I was onto proper farmland, then a path, then the road. A much-appreciated pick-up meant I was back home by lunchtime getting outside some ciabattas and hot soup.
I was delighted to finally get out and it really put me in the frame of mind to do a lot more as soon as possible. Many thanks to everyone who lent me kit!
