Goseland Hill from Biggar

[nigheandonn]

In a way this was back to my old project of mopping up hills which I'd nearly climbed before - although I'd always intended to do this one as a walk between Biggar and Broughton, but I couldn't get away until lunchtime, and the bus times just didn't work. But I could still go up from Biggar and over the adjoining hill, and then come back round the even-more-minor road to the south of the hills.

I nearly didn't make it at all, because my bus up to the west end was late, but fortunately the 101 was still sitting in traffic on Princes Street as I got to the junction - a very slow crawl up through Morningside, and then the run down the side of the Pentlands. The regional boundaries which meet in the middle of the hills are still spreading out here - Ninemileburn is in Midlothian but Carlops next door is in the Borders, then Dolphinton and Biggar are in Lanarkshire, although the Biggar Water runs into the Tweed.

Biggar looked bigger (no pun intended) and generally more attractive and alive than I expected, although I didn't have much time for looking round - I have been there before, but only really passing through. The road beside the theatre led past a tiny hospital, a new-looking school and into a street of houses, and then just when it looked like it was going no further, turned into a tree lined path, which turned out to lead through another unexpected golf course and past a park with a lake and a collection of caravans.

Path out of Biggar

There were also some unexpected noises going on, some kind of loudhailer commentary in indistinguishable words. Beyond the embankment of the old Peebles railway line the path became a tiny line between the sewage works and a tiny straight burn.

Passing the sewage works

Until I saw it, I had forgotten that this must be Tinto's hinterland - it's an odd hill, and I can see how legends became attached to it. From nearby it just stands alone, a bit like Eildon, but looking down the line of the Pentlands it's even more surprising - the main line peters out to leave Mendick Hill and the Black Mount and then nothing, only to suddenly spring up again miles away.

Tinto country

A bigger bridge over a bigger burn took me back into the Borders, and into fields sloping up to the buildings at the foot of the hills.

Bridge and boundary

A tiny mound here has the name Fir Knowe on the map, although there didn't seem to be any firs on it - it's that kind of country, scattered with historic odds and ends.

Fir Knowe

The path here isn't shown on the orange map, but it's clear on the pink map and on the ground, running up the edge of two fields and coming out at Pyatknowe farm. To the left of the farm is a plantation of trees, and I thought I might have to go right past that to find a way onto the hill, but a gate just past the neighbouring house let me into the grassy field, where a path slanted gently up below a higher field of scattered gorse.

Green hillside

Beyond that it was just a stop and go slog uphill - soft grass and unchanging slope and the wind trying to snatch my breath, as if I wasn't out of practice enough.

Climbing up

But the slope did eventually ease, to give the first glimpse of a fence, and also of the hills beyond - up until now it had been perfect sunshine, but the Culter Fells were holding some very brooding looking clouds.

Looming weather

The fence was fairly uncrossable where I first met it - all chickenwire - so I followed it along to a junction and crossed the other fence, following the outside of that up towards the first little summit, which appeared to have also been a tiny quarry.

Pyatknowe Hill summit

The first sight of Goseland Hill itself had been a surprise - seen round the corner it almost looked like a separate hill on the other side of a road, although it soon turned out to have only a farm in between. Seen on the map it did turn out that the dip between was only about 100m - but the whole height gain from the road wasn't much more than 200m, so it was a pretty substantial drop by comparison.

A long way down

It was not, in the end, all that bad - about 10 minutes from the summit to the dip, and although it was pretty steep it was good grass. The other side was less steep but much more heathery, and when I met a little sheep path slanting off I decided to follow it, since it seemed to be heading slightly uphill - it at least brought me round to a place with more patches of grass.

Slanting through the heather

All the view from here was down what seemed to be a kind of spare valley - no road, not even an obvious track, but green and open and leading up to Coulter from the 'back'. This is what makes Goseland its own little range, but it does look unusual.

Spare valley

A grassy streak now led up to what seemed to be the start of the top, with gathering sheep.

Flattening off

It did flatten off after that, but it also got much more heathery again - it seemed quite a while until the trig point came in sight, and it still looked a long way off then.

Summit in sight

But it was only actually about 20 minutes from the dip to the summit, much quicker than the first half of the hill. The Broughton Hills, with all their curves, were still in a kind of sunlight, although I wasn't.

Goseland Hill summit

The Culter Fells on the other side were darker and greener and much more brooding, still with the looming clouds.

Culter Fells

It was a pretty good all round view, but there wasn't a lot to keep me there in the very cold wind, and I headed back across the top. This time I just headed straight for the dip - heather may try to trip you up, but it catches you if it does (it didn't, this time), and it does hang on to you in between.

Down through the heather

Back at the bottom I retied my shoelaces and turned towards the farm, which was a slight maze - there was no very obvious way into a field of sheep which I didn't really want to scatter anyway, but I made it into the yard and out to the track that way.

From there it was minor roads back to Biggar - a straight stretch up over the end of the hill, and a downhill stretch on the other side. It was cloudy now, but it had stayed dry all day, which was more than I'd hoped when I first saw the clouds sitting on the hills.

The road out

After that there were more houses, on and off, and I discovered that the strange noises earlier had been Biggar RFC starting to play Watsonians. I didn't have as much time to potter about Biggar as I'd hoped, but just enough for a half pint before dashing off to get the bus home.