free to be able to rate and comment on reports (as well as access 1:25000 mapping).
One final check of the contents of my rucksack, car keys in hand, Baileys all-important dog treats in my side pocket and it was time to set off on our first wild camp.
After a good deal of thought………well, humming and hawing if I’m being honest…… and planning, I had decided that Loch Trool in the Galloway Forest was to be my first attempt at conquering the wild (with my dog at my side of course). Our rucksack (that I filled and I carried, but was most definitely not mine……. I have a Patterdale Terrier……. if you know the breed, you’ll know what I mean) was checked over and tossed into the boot, Bailey was clipped into his seat belt and we were all set to go.
We headed South from Ayrshire along the Newton Stewart Road (pick up this road at Straiton) and marvelled at the stunning views on offer; pulling in at a suitable spot to take in Shalloch on Minnoch and the two eagles soaring effortlessly above. Well, I’m assuming they were eagles, I’m no birdwatcher but they seemed somewhat larger than a sparrow! With the sun in a clear blue sky, eagles gliding overhead and the only sound being the soft, melodious voice of Paul Weller assuring me that ‘no matter where I roam, I will return to my English Rose’, I just knew this was going to be a good 24 hours.
I did wonder if Mr Weller would feel the same had he happened to roam past this very spot on a day like this; I have my doubts, the view was amazing and the presence of two soaring eagles set it off beautifully.
We drove off and in no time reached the turn off for Glen Trool. If you haven’t been before and happen to travel down the same road, the turn off is clearly sign posted and is situated just before you enter the village of Glen Trool. A short drive will take you to a visitor centre where you can stock up on Irn Bru and mars bars or a nice cuppa and a scone; whatever your preference is……I had no need of either as I had a wee bottle of Scotland’s non-alcoholic amber nectar nestled in my back pack next to Baileys water and the Sawyers mini filtration kit we would be relying on for the next 24 hours. There are 2 or 3 short walks that start from the centre, for those looking for a short stroll, but we drove on to find suitable parking a mile or so along the road (closer to the start of the trail I wanted to follow) just where Loch Trool loses some girth and reinvents itself as the Water of Trool.
Having spent quite a while in planning what was my first wild camp, (a pretty straightforward one as it happens, but I wasn’t to know that when I pored over my OS map like a demented military General plotting out suitable spots to bunker down for the night) we headed off along the southern bank of the loch in a counter clockwise direction. The trail here is part of the Southern Upland Way and as such is well signed and not at all difficult to follow.
My route. I wasn't sure how to upload a GPX file, this was the best my limited IT skills could manage.
The first part takes you up and away from the loch and I was beginning to wonder where it was, however, there were some wonderful views over the hills on the far bank that drew me ever onward. Unfortunately, the combination of iPhone and my lack of any artistic talent conspired to produce pictures of dubious quality. But hey, lets be honest does a picture ever truly capture what the eye sees and it can rarely make your heart skip the way mine did when I took in the vistas. I’ll pop one or two up, but you’ll have to take my word for it that the views are much better than I can show.
First attempt at capturing the hills on the far side.
The far off squeals of people clearly enjoying themselves on the far bank of the (by now visible through the trees) loch below filled me with a pang of jealousy as I sweated a little under the 15Kg pack of dog treats, blanket, towel, food and chews for my canine companion while I watched him splash around and take a long draught of the cool water in one of the small rivulets along the path.
Ok, I had one or two things in the pack too, it wasn’t all dog food.
As he enjoyed a break in a little shady spot I gazed upward to where a certain Mr Bruce of some renown and fame in this area (apparently he was a big cheese….an Earl no less…… of the area where I had started my journey, before becoming King of Scots) had placed his infantry when ambushing an English force who were searching the area looking for him. I could only wonder at the carnage that would have ensued on these very slopes all those years ago. It was a moment or two before I noticed the squeals of delight had faded and that I had stood there in what felt (to me anyway) a moment of silence for the souls lost all those years ago. It’s a period of history that I find interesting and I think I ‘had a moment’ as I stood and took in the history around me.
I had one last look at the slopes above me and as the happy sound of people enjoying the water gradually returned I turned my gaze to the far bank…….
…….and just like that, I think I fell in love with Loch Trool.
I walked on, grinning and feeling as happy and content as I have felt in years, Bailey happily leading the way, stopping to sniff here and there…. Bailey, not me!... and spotted the prime real estate I had been hoping to find; a fine expanse of flat land with the Glenhead Burn running alongside and into what I just knew would be a wonderfully cooling loch for me to have a bit of a paddle once my camp was squared away. I’d spotted it on my map and there it was in all its flat, empty, loch side glory…….and not a single tent to be seen……. that should have been the clue really.
As I walked around to it, nearing the head of the loch (is that what you call it?) I stopped to capture one last picture from the southern side.
Looking roughly westward from the south bank.
A short incline took me to a well-placed bench that afforded an amazing view back down the loch, it would have been a lovely place to take the weight off my feet, Bailey having already decided he was for lying down and that we were having a break!
Unfortunately, I had been beaten to it by a lovely chap from Colorado USA and his son; we made our introductions and I discovered he was ex US Army, an MP no less! Yep, he could keep that bench all to himself and I wasn’t going to complain.
We passed a good half hour or so chatting and discussing the merits of the adjacent ‘prime real estate’ that they had also spotted (albeit approaching from the other direction) and figured would make a good camp. I had to break it to them; that although I was a novice, I was 100% sure that boggy, tussock grass up to your waist does not make for good camping.
There was a reason no one had pitched there!
We continued on our way along the track, looking for a shortcut marked on the map, but ended up sticking to the main path as the shortcut seemed to be a now missing small bridge over the burn. Being honest, splashing across would have been no problem but given the shortcut would only have shaved 200 metres off the walk I didn’t bother. The track then started to take us round to the north bank and again pulled slightly upwards and away from the loch. This part of the walk was more akin to a ramble along a country lane and I fell into step with a young couple from Cumbernauld and chatted amiably as we followed the road with the slopes of Buchan Hill on our right and the ‘prime real estate’ on our left giving way to a wooded area, that I was now eyeing keenly for possible camp potential. Passing one or two people with full packs on I figured they were also looking for a suitable spot and as we passed by a waterfall on our right I said my goodbyes to my walking companions of the last half mile and followed a track on the left, following the water back toward the loch I was sure I’d find a spot and have the added bonus of relatively fast flowing water close to hand.
![IMG_0612.JPG]()
Provider of many cups of tea.
After a couple of aborted attempts to get closer to the loch I doubled back on myself and settled for what looked like a well-used spot amongst the trees. Now, I had intended to find an unspoiled spot and leave it that way; but I figured that as this area already had a fire pit dug out, had a few logs around it for sitting on and was pretty much the first spot that this inexperienced camper had come across it would have to do. So, keeping one eye on my canine companion as he sniffed around, I set about pitching my tent. Surprisingly I put it up in no time and with no problem. I then got myself squared away and set about building a small smoky fire as 602 midge squadron had moved in on us!
A small smoky fire and some midge spray over us I sat myself down for my first brew. Bailey skipped gleefully away to a small grassy area to chew his bulls pizzle in peace.
I had hoped to see the Milky Way as it was to be a clear sky and Galloway Forest is a dark sky park, but I was content that I’d only catch a glimpse of some stars under a reasonably sparse canopy. Being honest I was just glad I’d found a spot to pitch up. I was now onto my second, or third brew and a young couple from Glasgow wandered down the path toward my camp, looking for a spot of their own. I spoke to them for a few minutes and advised them that I had followed both trails to the left and right but had turned back as it was too boggy and that this was the best spot I could find. I assured them there was plenty of space here and I would not be at all bothered if they wanted to pitch here as well (I wasn’t sure if there was an etiquette to where you pitch in relation to others, but figured there probably is). They wandered off to try their luck down the two tracks and I laughingly said to them ‘see you in five’……. and, sure enough five minutes later they were back and asked if I was sure I didn’t mind them pitching close by.
We chatted on and off, then settled into doing our own thing. We spent a very pleasant hour together before I turned in for the night and left them to enjoy their wine. Bailey loved them; as while I had packed a cheesey pasta and smoked sausage combo for dinner he had mooched pork chops and Chinese style ribs from his new best friends. I wondered why he hadn’t looked at his food despite the energetic day he had. Now I knew why, he had been popping over for titbits most of the evening! I was worried he might be a nuisance, but they assured me he was adorable and were more than happy to fuss over him.
Pork chops versus cheesey pasta? One nil to Bailey I think!
In the morning I broke camp, but got into a bit of a kerfuffle packing up and I realised my camp system needed refining.
Did I use the handy pockets in my tent? No.
Did I stow away my clothes, to keep the damp off them? No.
Did it all pack away effortlessly like it did in the living room the day before? No.
Did I know where the tea bags were? Of course I did.
So I made a cuppa and enjoyed it as I scanned the ground around me to make sure I hadn’t accidentally left anything behind.
A few more dry bags are the answer for keeping things together, and a slightly bigger backpack to fit them all in. My Lowe Alpine is certainly up to the job of an overnighter with my dog, but if I’m going to do weekenders or longer, I’ll be needing a bit more capacity. Especially as Bailey will be needing his own bag, after refusing the blanket I’d packed and insisting he got in beside me! I know, I spoil him.
I followed the trail back up toward the road and walked a few hundred metres or so down it until I came to the track going down to Bruces Stone. There is a track that runs down from a small parking area, again it is well sign posted and it’s worth taking a small detour for a few minutes as the view from here over to the north bank is stunning.
View from Bruces Stane.
I headed back up the short track and re-joined the road and followed it as it looped up behind Glen Trool Lodge. The road would have taken me back to the car park area had I stayed on it, but I fancied one last look at the loch before leaving. There is another track that branches off to the left and takes you down a very well maintained path, it is sign posted and difficult to miss. I’m glad I took this track as I spotted one or two spots that would be ideal to pitch my tent when I return. I stopped a good few times along this track to make sure I got one last look before the loch gave way to river and the track to car park.
I was genuinely sad to leave and had thoroughly enjoyed my first wild camp. I’d picked up on one or two things that need refining and overall, I was very happy with how things had gone. It was a success.
Thinking back to the start of my journey as I stowed my pack in the boot, I found myself once again thinking of Paul Weller and his English Rose as I selected some driving music…….and I know this; no matter where I roam, I will return to this Galloway rose.
