Oyster Clough

Nobody seems to know how Oyster Clough got its name. 17th century records indicate that it was previously called Nether Clough. Some people say that the contours on the map suggest an Oyster. Having never seen an Oyster in real life, I really can't say. It is a wonderful clough though and the high level path provides a platform for great views across to the Kinder Scout plateau on the other side of the valley.  The pearl in this Oyster though is the bothy at the top of the clough. It used to be a shooting cabin and has been converted to a basic, but clean shelter.  It looked like the bothy had been given a new roof since my last visit in 2020.  Reports say that it blew off in the winter of 2021. I remember reading the visitor's book in 2020 and noting how people were using it as an escape from the terrors of Covid. A new visitor's book had just been started and so I took a pen from the jar and penned my own thoughts. It was lucky that I didn't pen my afterthoughts since once I'd put the pen back into the jam jar I found that my hand was covered in black ink. I tried to remove the ink in the nearby brook, but it looked like it had the persistence of the stuff used by tattooists.  I sighed, maybe this black patch on my hand would be my Oyster Clough tattoo for the rest of my life.

Cowms Rocks

From the bothy I followed a sketchy path along the other side of the clough towards Cowms Rocks. It wasn't really an edge as such, and sometimes I lost the track. I came across about a 100 metre section of the hillside that had slipped away leaving a deep wide gash. I remember walking over here a couple of decades ago when there was no evidence of a crack along the edge. Looking down into the valley below I could see how the land had slumped down the hillside over the years and created a shallow valley above the main valley. No wonder the Snake Road is in a permanent state of  repair; the hills around here have an inherent instability.  There has been an even greater landslip in the next valley and this has formed the famous Alport Castles.  I would get a view of this in a short while. After Cowms Rocks I joined a stone wall that brought me to Hey Ridge and the Alport Valley. My view of the valley was blocked by the forestry plantations along the western side of the valley. At this point the route turned northwards along the western edge of the Alport Valley.

Alport Castles

The track along the western edge of the Alport Valley ranged between vague and non-existent. I'm not sure whether the tracks that do exist had been made from previous walkers or from sheep. Care was needed. On two occasions my leg disappeared into deep holes covered by the heather. At the head of Swint Clough I cursed as I got a very soggy boot and trousers as my boot disappeared into a bog. At least it was hot and my trousers would soon dry out. Some cattle had settled near the northern end of the plantation and I gave them a wide berth when three of them started giving me hard stares. I guess they aren't used to seeing people around here. At one point there is a gap in the plantation's trees that permit a good view of Alport Castles on the other side of the valley. Disappointingly, it looks less impressive from this angle since The Tower seems flat to the cliff face. Even the sheep tracks seemed to vanish as the end of the forestry plantation approached. All the frustrations of the terrain difficulties evaporated though as the superb view opened up along the Alport Valley. The valley seems wide and deep with the River Alport a narrow band running along its bottom.  Looking towards the head of the valley, I could see that it  turned off to the west and out of sight.  The scale of it all was very impressive. Up on the west side of the valley I could see a vague track running along the edge. This was my route along the valley and I started making my way up to it.

Alport Valley

There was certainly more of a feeling of an edge to the Alport Valley track. The hillside on my right fell steeply down to the valley bottom. It looked like the Tree Troublers were extending their operations down in the valley, with large areas having been planted with trees. These looked more dispersed than the usual plantations and so I hoped it was more of a rewilding project than conifer congestion. There were plenty of Meadow Pipits joining me along the edge. Three years ago a couple of Hobbies flew over me  when I'd stopped for lunch up here. There was no sign of any today. In fact I'd only see a single Buzzard during the whole walk. The track gradually descended along Grindlesgrain Tor until it reached the sharp westwards turn of the valley. This opened a great view of the continuation of the valley as it threaded itself up into the higher moors. The track had now disappeared completely and I made my way around the edge to Nether Reddale Clough. The clough forms a barrier for anybody who wants to follow the Alport valley further up into the moors. A detour is required up the clough to find an appropriate place to cross it. I did think about doing this, but the lack of a track put me off. I decided to head back to Birchin Clough.

Return To Birch Clough

Five sheep kindly led me along the side of Nether Reddale Clough until I was able to cross it. I thanked them and waved them goodbye as I headed westwards. Even though there was no track, the moor on the west side of the clough was grassy and easier walking. I carried on westwards until I reached the track that runs from Over Wood Moss to Birchen Clough. This is reasonably well worn and, unless covered by snow, it would be hard to miss. I had my lunch sat above Birchin Clough. The Snake Road ran just below here and I could hear the traffic. Normally you can see the road, but the foliage was too thick today. With the constant stream of motorbikes, it sounded a little like a race track.

The track down from the moor to Birchin Clough is steep and slippery and is painful for the knees. Fortunately it wasn't that long and I was soon back to civilisation.

Although today's walk was reasonably short, a lot of the route was hard walking on sketchy tracks and sometimes trackless moor. The views of the Alport and Snake valleys made the extra effort worthwhile though.  It was a treat to drop in at the perfectly situated Oyster Clough bothy. I couldn't get enough of it. Wouldn't it be great if all the Tweed Trouser Brigade's cabins were made into bothies? We can only dream.