When in Largs, there are Vikings. So why not eat ice cream in the morning? Famous saying of the Rambling Knights We don't have a massive walk for our final day of the Ayrshire Coastal Path. That's partly because we choose the "low road", rather than the "high road" to Skelmorlie. I can't say it occasions much debate between us which we should take. We begin after a breakfast of ice cream and cake at Nardini's with a bit of rain but it clears as we follow the quiet B road which elevates us above the main noisy coastal road. Why are we going up? I thought this was meant to be the low road? Oh well, once we have climbed a bit the road levels out and we have good views over to Great Cumbrae which is now passing behind us, and the Isle of Bute becomes visible across the Firth of Clyde, the giant waterway which narrows to eventually reach Glasgow. We will be going there too eventually, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. And so we finally reach the end of the 100 mile Ayrshire Coastal Path at Skelmorlie. There is no fanfare awaiting us, just a weather battered sign and Wemyss Bay train station and ferry port. We are not quite finished for the day however as although we have completed the last 7.1 miles of the Ayrshire Coastal Path path this turns seamlessly into the Clyde Coastal Path, which we now follow a bit further to our accommodation at Inverkip. It is a case of headphones because the traffic is a bit annoying, but all we want to do by now is just get there. As we approach Inverkip Jennie locates a bench with a curiously enigmatic sign saying "Inverkip Bay. Pure delight, pure terror." Better not linger too long here then! A bit of retrospective research explains what this may refer to: "In the 1600s Inverkip became infamous as a centre, allegedly, for witchcraft, and many burnings of women accused of being witches took place. It was even said that a local landowner, Alexander Dunrod, was a practising warlock living with witches among his tenants." The real end to this second section of our epic walk from Mull of Galloway to John o' Groats arrives as we get in to our B&B and Jennie collapses holding a Tunnocks tea cake. You may find it surprising (or not) that Jennie was still motivated to go out to Inverkip Hotel not long afterwards where we celebrated with some top quality pub grub and beers. This completes a major phase of our walk . When we get home we enjoy plotting how far we have come on our map. Not bad! The next part of our adventure shall be in November as we venture along the Clyde into the industrial heart of Scotland's 'dear green place' - Glasgow.
Matthew
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We depart the marina at Ardrossan and salute the ferry to Arran which is just departing. Arran has a brilliant coastal path which we did about half of on holiday a good few years ago, an incomplete achievement which we decided did not warrant an addition to this website. One day we shall return... but for now it's onwards and northwards along the Ayrshire coastline. We maintain our constant view of Arran as we traverse more sandy beaches on the very enjoyable walk towards Portencross. This takes us a while though because we detour into West Kilbride to find some toilets, and end up having a pint of coke and a scone in a hotel restaurant. The young staff are looking at us curiously but they are quite friendly. I worry about the state we might have made of the posh carpet if our boots had been muddy. More sandy soldiering against a fairly strong wind but there's no rain like the day before, and we have a decent amount of on-off sunshine. We see hardly any people until we approach the small settlement of Portencross where there are a few dog walkers. We see a deer and are delighted to get a good view of it until we realise it is injured and limping. I wonder if a dog has attacked it. So here we are around lunchtime at the impressive ruins of Portencross castle. A fantastic place to sit staring at the raging sea, the northern part of Arran and our new companions the Islands of Little Cumbrae and Great Cumbrae which are highly visible as they are much closer to the mainland. We stay here a while saying very little and feeling the power of the sea and of islands. This section of the walk has been very enjoyable and as if to crown our accomplishment of 6.5 miles, a rainbow appears. The next stage of the walk is however not something I would ordinarily choose to do for a day out as it involves walking through Hunterston Nuclear power station! Apparently safe (I have my doubts). We first pass the decommissioned Hunterston A and then the still operating Hunterston B. I hold in a sense of quiet horror and walk as fast as I can until the view improves. Quite a lot of the land has at least been reclaimed by nature and there are a lot of sea birds. Hunterston sands is indeed a nature reserve, and we notice a teenager has arrived with a telescopic camera and is capturing nature's beauty in the most unlikely of places. Unusually I am actually glad of a bit of road walking as the route leaves the power station behind and takes us alongside the A78. We have developed a trick for where road walking and therefore corresponding traffic noise is unavoidable: bring some earphones and listen to some music. I find the metallic noise of Siouxsie and the Banshees' first album curiously soothing. Away from horrible modernity we reach the quite pretty village of Fairlie. We considered staying here but decided Largs would be better for spacing out the distances. We spy a great wee pub The Village Inn and can't resist going in for another pint of coke and a packet of crisps. Long distance walks are one of the rare occasions that fizzy drinks are a good idea. However we can't hang about too long so it is just a quick pit stop and we get going again towards the site of the Battle of Largs (1263) where there is an impressive monument known locally as 'the pencil'. We learn from our guidebook that the Scottish victory against the Vikings was somewhat overstated but it does symbolically mark the end of Norse dominance of the West Coast of Scotland and the uniting of Scottish clans under King Alexander III. It has started to rain as we approach Largs and we decide to march straight to the Fish & Chip shop on the promenade which Jennie quickly locates on TripAdvisor. It's really raining now but as it's still relatively mild and most people are taking away we sit in our waterproofs under the outside canopy and tuck in. Our accommodation tonight is a really cute cottage which was built for railway workers. I thought there might be a risk of trains thundering past in the night but that doesn't materialise and we have a good night's sleep. Only one more day and we will have completed the Ayrshire Coastal Path!
Matthew We "only" have 10 miles or so to walk today and as it is still the end of September and light in the evening, we have got plenty of time to check out the brilliant Scottish Maritime Museum. Amazingly the main building is part of the original Govan shipyard and was dismantled and reassembled in Irvine. You get a brilliant impression of the size and feel of the sheds they built the ships in, even though this is only about half the size of the original. Irvine was a very important shipping harbour in the 16th century but went into decline in the 19th century and was replaced by ports further up the Clyde. As well as fascinating museum exhibits there are also some wonderful audio and visual recordings of people's accounts of working in the shipyards. Furthermore, they currently have an exhibition which finally explains that vital question everyone wants to know the answer to, how exactly do you get a ship in a bottle? The question of why however remains unexplained. Jennie feels a note of pride to discover that her home town of Lichfield is the absolute world centre of the ship-in-a-bottle trade. I wonder if this has anything to do with being right in the middle of England pretty much as far as you can be from the sea in the UK. Although we have had a great time at the Scottish Maritime Museum, there does come a point on any such trip when the children just don't want to dress up as Captain Pugwash anymore, and it's then you know it's time to move on. We start off with a reasonable sort of overcast day, which is the sort of phrase that makes sense to people who do long distance walks. The path leaves the coast for a while and follows mainly cycle tracks into Stevenston. I can't find any reference on the route itself as to why we are not being allowed to just continue along the coast. But the guide book does make mention of the significance to the local area of the Imperial Chemical Industries Explosives factory during Word War 2, which continued to employ people until the 1980's and 90's. Cycle paths it is then. As we return to the seaside approaching Saltcoats the wind and rain really slam into us and become physically difficult to walk against. The cinema and amusement arcades don't look too amusing and we just want to get to our accommodation and inside as soon as possible! We make our way along the curved sandy bay of Ardrossan with it's old seaside town vibe, and finally reach our hotel. What a difference a shower makes (!) and with a change of clothes we venture back out to catch a film at a cinema on the esplanade at Saltcoats. We feel we've earned sweets and popcorn (and a cheeky Guinness).
P.S. If you are envious of the T-Shirt I am sporting in the below photograph featuring an awesome Avocet, it is from the RSPB shop. May such bird-sponsorship become a craze. Matthew Right, time to stop lounging about in luxury and resume our rambles. But not before Jennie gets a photo op in her cool RSPB-gifted t-shirt by the Banks O' The Doon to say goodbye to Burns' hometown and advertise the fact we are donating 1/2 of the money we raise to them. If you have not done so already you can still pledge to sponsor us here. We will not collect funds until we make it to John O'Groats, which will be never if we stand about taking endless photos. It's back past Burns cottage and down into Ayr, a skip through the busy town and then a straightforward walk along a long promenade between Ayr and Troon via Prestwick (just the beach, not the airport, thankfully). This section is bustling with people out walking dogs, cycling or trying to stop their infants doing mischief, such as launching Winnie the Pooh into the sea. We witnessed this, it very nearly happened. We do get the odd strange look, not from children so much as adults thinking "why are they dressed as if they are about to climb a mountain when they are just sitting eating ice-cream on the beach front." With everything proceeding as planned, we negotiate more golf-related threats on the way into Troon. Our guide book says we have done 7.8 miles. That's actually been quite a lot of promenading and my feet are hurting a bit. This always happens when walking on concrete and I resolve to stick to the beach where possible. Apparently in around 1800 some of the first rail travellers, miners and weavers from Kilmarnock came down to Troon on their horse-drawn coal wagons for a holiday weekend. We come to a giant grassy mound which seems unnecessarily high. This is actually a Ballast Bank, a load of dumped colliery waste. We consider a shortcut instead of going up it and along the Ayrshire Coastal Path route, the reason being that the feet are already tired and it involves going up, but we get guilt about taking shortcuts. What would the RSPB and Butterfly Conservation think if they knew we'd 'cheated'? So we haul ourselves up the Ballast Bank. It's very windy and we nearly get blown off but it is fun watching the raging sea. For some inexplicable reason there is a sawmill. I don't pay it too much attention and at the end of the promontory we get a photo of a very impressive anchor. As we turn back towards the Troon marina though we have to go disappointingly close to the sawmill. What is worse is the wind is now blowing sawdust in my face. This is a really not a very enjoyable experience and I feel inexplicable rage against all forms of machinery. Oh how I long for the pretty Brig O'Doon and all my imaginary pre-industrial revolution nostalgia back in Alloway. Jennie's alright because she's wearing glasses which keeps the sawdust out of her eyes. We walk as fast as we can to get to a nicer bit of the walk. Indeed we find it because the long stretch between Troon and Irvine is a very pleasant sandy beach with hardly anyone on it and no modern machinery to annoy us; Jennie walks ahead of me as we each lose ourselves in the tranquillity of the scene. It's then I find him. A sad and bedraggled Tortoiseshell butterfly, stranded in the waves, one wing seemingly injured and weighed down with sand. I am alone, there is no-one else around. All I can think to do is to try and get him out of the waves which I do quite successfully and place him in some vegetation to dry out, for which he seems quite grateful. When I tell this story to Jennie she unsympathetically tells me that nature can be cruel and he probably won't make it. I don't believe her, I am confident Tammy will live forever. Evening falls and it is very beautiful (it goes without saying that all good photos on this blog are taken by Jennie). However Jennie's demeanor is somewhat taxed by the sheer amount of time it is taking to walk along this beach and indeed we are starting to wonder if Irvine will ever arrive. Oh yes, art is work. Eventually we reach our B&B at Irvine harbour. We are really tired and collapse into the room. We decide we can't be bothered to go out for a drink and instead after a shower and a brief rest I am sent to Asda and trudge back with some munchies. I'm sure the Kilmarnock miners never had to endure such hardship on their holidays ... A horse, now there's an idea.
Matthew You didn't think we were going to walk right past the birthplace of one of the world's greatest poets and not go in? Today we explore the concept of a non-walking "rest day." I'm not sure why we didn't think of this before in 10 years of long-distance walking. It is great to ditch the smelly boots for trainers, wear "civilian" clothes and give the blisters a rest. Although we still end up walking a fair bit in order to take in the Burns museum, the house he was born in and ... go back to the graveyard. Well, there's not that much to do in Alloway. Highlights of the Burns museum include finding out just how much of an adulterous lecher he really was and spending most of the time wondering why Jean Armour stayed with him. But in amongst this some phenomenal poetry adorns the walls, original manuscripts can be viewed and there are quite a lot of portraits of him. My favourite bit is the graphic above showing the makeup of a poet's mind. Jennie's favourite artifact is Robert Burns' English guittar from 1757, the earliest known in any Scottish collection. To top it off outside the museum there is of course, a giant mouse. That ain't no timorous beastie. Up next, no these are not photos of our B&B. This is in fact the cottage where Burns was born, although he didn't actually live there very long. It looks quaint from the outside with its lovely vegetable patch, however inside most of the room is given to the animals they kept in there, which I wouldn't really fancy myself. It is fascinating to read an excerpt from Burns school report in which his music teacher comments, "Robert's ear is remarkably dull, and his voice untunable." There's also what appears to be a spinning wheel. "O Leeze me on my spinnin-wheel, And leeze me on my rock and reel; Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien, And haps me fiel and warm at e'en! " - Bessy and Her Spinning Wheel Never believe what they tell you at school. I guess the spinning wheel is not original but apparently, part of the dresser definately is. There's a lovely garden where we hang out for a bit before heading over to the Brig O' Doon, which Tam O' Shanter fled over in the poem. These days it's not used by traffic, goes to nowhere, and has apparently been under threat of demolition several times. It is a curious and eerie thing to stand on this bridge with the ghosts of the past, the famous and not-so-famous who found their way into the songs. "Aft hae I rov'd by Bonie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o' its Luve, And fondly sae did I o' mine;" - The Banks O Doon Burns actually stood here. I feel a bit spooked out. We might as well go back to the Alloway Kirkyard in the daytime, then. We are not disappointed. There are some truly magnificent medieval graves that put the fear of God into me. They don't make graves like they used to. Mind you, plague is making a comeback so who knows. Burns himself is not buried here (he's in Dumfries) but his father, mother and his sister are. A memorial stone features an epitaph Burns wrote for his father. Yep, I think we've definately done Alloway to death, as they say. I really enjoyed it. Happy anniversary Jennie! (She actually got me interested in graveyards in the first place).
Matthew We leave our cheerful Airbnb and march out into the pelting squall which we have woken up to. This is definately a moment to fully appreciate our expensive Gore-Tex waterproof jackets and trousers. I feel Jennie doesn't appreciate this quite as much as she could. Hundreds of oystercatchers on the beach. Rain bothers them little. It unexpectedly bursts into another beautiful sunny day as we approach the ruins of Dunure castle. We learn that inside the castle in 1570, the owner Gilbert, 4th Earl of Cassilis, tied the administrator of a local abbey to a spit and roasted him over an open fire to try and extort land from him. Such gruesome discoveries contrast somewhat with our stroll down to Dunure's pretty wee harbour where we sit and watch a fisherman unloading lobster. We actually saw him sailing out this morning, and before we move on he's out to sea again. Past Dunure it's all very pleasant walking in sunshine over the low cliffs and down along the coast with the sizeable settlements of Alloway and Ayr becoming visible ahead of us. We have our final glimpse of Ailsa Craig as it is replaced by the phenomenal sweep of the Isle of Arran, our new companion for the next stretch of coastline. We are by now boiling hot and grateful to have brought caps to keep the sun off our heads. Hard to believe it is the same day we woke up to. Ah, the life of a rambler. Pass another picturesque ruin of Greenan Castle, we have a choice of two options to reach Alloway. Our feet are tired so we choose as Jennie puts it "whichever will get us there quicker", so we leave the coast and follow an old railway line. Besides, who can resist a sign saying "Burns Cottage Detour." Although this detour happens to be a planned one, to the birthplace of the man himself. We have booked a luxury stay for 2 nights in Alloway as it is our wedding anniversary tomorrow and we are going to spend it with a "rest day" doing everything 'Robert Burns' we can think of. We enjoy a decent pint of IPA at the Brig O' Doon hotel in the pictoral company of "the ploughboy poet", looking more dandy than ploughboy, as well as, curiously, a plate bearing the face of Charles Dickens. (I'm sure Dickens never left London, but perhaps there's some connection).
It's easy to forget about birds with all this drama going on. Yeah, we are slacking on the recording front but we do remember a male stonechat, oystercatchers, swans again (they love that seaweed), turnstones, kittiwakes, and lots of gulls.
Just 3 weeks later we are back to Girvan and setting off on Ayrshire Coastal Path - Part 2. It's as if we never left, and our blog also has a seamless change of authorship as Jennie gets a rest. We arrive on a Friday and have a nice leisurely meal without any aches or pains and just before catching the sunset over Ailsa Craig, (Gaelic Aillse Creag meaning "fairy rock") the mysterious mirage that seems to gaze peaceably across at us over the next few days. It's stone is uniquely quarried to make curling stones, which I find fairly uninteresting. What I do find exciting is that it has a gannet colony to rival that great monument of Scotland's East Coast, the Bass Rock. I wonder if the gannets of East and West have ever met each other. Do they get on? I will take no sides in this debate. We're not expecting to see any gannets today but we do start the day off well with a huddle of turnstones (just about visible in the picture below) Before midday we get a couple of quality butterfly sightings in, a small copper followed by a slightly shabby looking common blue. There is a washed up sea anenome, a lot of jellyfish and a hell of a lot of seaweed. I could pretend here I know something about tides, but alas I know nothing. I suddenly spy a large bird floating in front of Ailsa Craig. Is that a ... swan? I'm not quite sure what a lone swan is doing here but then a little bit further on we see a collective of them, quite visibly tucking into large clumps of seaweed. The mute swan, so called because it hardly makes any noise. There is no-one else here but us. We stand and watch them a while listening to the sound of the waves. This is an indescribably beautiful and peaceful scene. We enjoy beachcombing and birdwatching on a sunny day as we head towards the attractive Turnberry lighthouse, built by David and Thomas Stevenson in 1873. I was hoping to get a closer look at it, but then Donald Trump got involved and we were disappointingly redirected off the coast to trek across his massive Turnberry golf course. I hate doing this, I am paranoid about being hit by a golf ball and there are plenty of signs to remind me this is a distinct possibility. But I survive and we dutifully follow paths like good ramblers. We soon reach Maidens which has a shop and we think we've just about earned some kind of ice cream. The official guide suggests Girvan to Maidens as a section so we know we have done 8.1 miles from Girvan. But we shall not cease from Mental Fight until we are as far away from Trump as possible (he's not about, incidentally). We are soon walking through the attractive surroundings of Culzean Castle country park and receive a stunning view across Culzean bay. It is curious being largely alone for long sections of a walk and then turning up somewhere like a country park where there are hundreds of people having an easy day out. We should do that some time. No, this is better. Around this point Jennie starts getting nervous that I don't know where our accommodation is, because I don't, but I do know there are only about 3 houses along Croy shore and it has to be one of them. We find it and because we arrived much earlier than planned we have time to enjoy the lovely sea view and sunset. We've had a beautiful day's walk, bring on the next day's adventures. Matthew Bird sightings
Wheatears - mainly female Stonechat Chaffinch Starlings Swallows - all preening - perhaps in preparation for the migration? Swans - eating green seaweed (yum yum) Cormorant - Matt pointed out a baby cormorant practicing it's wing-drying technique Lots of oystercatchers in a flock Possible grey wagtail - black throat prominent but yellow throat? Very confusing Goldfinches Sanderlings Turnstones - LOADS Heron x 3 croaking loudly in flight Curlew Butterflies Small copper Common blue Tortoiseshell Large white The weather is a bit driech, my blisters are hurting now with every step, as is my right calf. The coast along from Ballantrae is pleasant but due to access issues (again) walkers are directed to follow the trunk road behind Bennane Head. The road is a noisy, fast and less than fun companion. There are apparently several large caves nearby, once used by travellers and smugglers, and tales of cannibals living in the caves and waylaying travellers at the end of the 16th Century. A mixture of beach walking and pathways alongside the trunk road eventually reach a crossing to join a track which makes a steep ascent to an old 18th century coach road where we pause to have some lunch and take in the views of the Firth of Clyde. A couple of miles later we descend again and pick our way along the rocky beaches until we meet the outskirts of Girvan. The sun is already quite low and the sea a mill pond. The final push to our hotel is tough. By now my feet are really unhappy and the constant soreness in my calf throughout the day has made me feel nauseous. I am so glad to reach the friendly Queens Hotel and after a couple of hours of rest and lots of water I manage to enjoy a couple of pints in the bar next to the log fire. Thank goodness the first section is complete - I would definitely not be able to do the same again tomorrow! Jennie
Today's first six miles from Cairnryan to Glenapp look straightforward enough, however, as we ascend in to the hills beyond the ferry terminal to Belfast, things start to get a bit tricky. Visibility is bad from the outset and gets worse as we climb. This means way-markers are harder to spot and the atmosphere starts to feel a bit oppressive as we pass the low outlines of buildings from World War 2. Further on as farm tracks turn in to moorland we hit a couple of miles where the path essentially disappears. It takes us almost two hours to pick our way through waist to neck-high reeds. The Ordnance Survey App proves invaluable to placing our exact location relative to fence lines. My headphones prove invaluable for emergency anxiety management! This would not have been a positive experience for anyone with arachnophobia; the foggy dew illuminated every web, which although strange and beautiful, meant many an up close encounter with eight-legged residents. At last we reach Glenapp and the official starting point of the Ayrshire Coastal Path. The path leads up round Sandloch Hill and as the sun pushes back against the fog the butterflies appear. Feeling buoyed by the sunshine we press on until we meet an unexpected sign... ..."Ayrshire Coastal Path GLENAPP 7 miles. Scenic Route, gentle ascent Quiet tracks and minor roads No gates or livestock Suitable for less fit or able walkers" This points in the opposite direction to another sign for the "Ayrshire Coastal Path" which from our map we can see hugs the coast all the way to Ballantrae. Considering ourselves 'fit' (ha!) and wanting to avoid more gravel and tarmac, we ignore the alternative route. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. The views over to Bennane Head are stunning but as we continue along the cliffs we run in to one issue after another. Firstly barbed wire fencing with stiles missing (making for snagged clothes and hands). The path then becomes increasingly faint; potted and uneven land from years of cattle grazing makes for slow going with the constant risk of a twisted ankle. As we pass a field of cattle they start to moo loudly. The mooing becomes increasingly aggressive until a few of them decide to charge (!)... I start to imagine that cows can jump fences. Hearts pounding we move as quickly as possible past and away from the herd*. Increasingly tired and with aggravated blisters from all the rough walking our frustration builds further as we are forced to climb over a boarded up kissing gate and then, worse, we come up against electric wires strung directly across the path** We are starting to worry about remaining daylight hours and so proceed to army roll under this (first, but not last) electric fence. 'I am in blood / Stepped in so far, that, should I wade no more, / Returning were as tedious as go o'er' Macbeth on his long distance walking holiday. Bedraggled, bruised, electrocuted, we eventually reach a minor road. Light fading we arrive in to a misty Ballantrae and find our B&B. After speaking with the owner I look in the mirror and notice how there are big streaks of mud on my face. I decide I don't care; I am far more interested in the feast of mini babybels and chocolate awaiting me after a long hot shower. Jennie
*Cattle are dangerous and all attacks and incidents are potentially lethal. From our experience it is best to give all cattle a very wide berth, preferably with a fence between you and them regardless of how docile they might appear.
** We contacted the relevant Access Officer and have been advised by the path manager that the (in our opinion somewhat confusing) signage is due to a case of landowners withdrawing permission for promotion of the original route due to an incident involving an irresponsible dog owner. However, access rights still apply on the original route and walkers are well within within their rights to continue on it and not expect to come across electric fences, blocked off kissing gates etc. These are obstructions under the Land Reform (Scotland) Act 2003. Local Authorities in Scotland have a duty to uphold access rights and should work with the landowner and path manager to have these obstructions removed. Please note this Act applies to Scotland only. We are advised that a re-instatement of the clifftop route early in 2022 is currently being negotiated, which is good news as it is a beautiful stretch of walking and avoids more tarmac and gravel pathways which are a significant feature of the route up to that point. Between using local taxis and asking B&B owners for their assistance, moving our luggage is a complicated business which takes a lot of planning! There are no baggage transfer companies which serve this part of the route. Unfortunately the day starts with a baggage transfer problem resulting in a last minute change to our accommodation plans in Cairnryan. After a bit of back and forth we eventually get off to a brisk walk along the beach. Accompanied by lively Stonechats and over-excited sparrows, we turn inland for the first time. Its another very warm day and once again shade is in short supply. There is a long section of country lanes to navigate, which although quiet, prove tough going in the heat. I have been a bit late to applying Compeed plasters to a couple of early blisters - I also start to regret not wearing in my new boots properly! Moving on to paths through farmland we have our first cow encounter with some curious and excitable young bulls moving as a herd alongside us as we pick our way along the field edge. This sparked similar behaviour in the adjacent field of cows (mums!?) who were a lot bigger but thankfully separated from us by fencing. A little further on we run in to a couple of padlocked kissing gates which we manage to climb over with a bit of help from "Sticky" the worlds best walking pole . Having reported the locked gates to the local council access officer (thanks to some speedy assistance from @ramblersscot via Twitter) we push on to Stranraer through a pleasant wood where we cross the Southern Upland Way (a future ambition!) and find a beautiful moth which, again through the power of social media, we discover is an Autumn Thorn. Stranraer provides opportunity for something tasty, especially as the legs are starting to feel the effects of the miles. Strawberry milkshake, coffee and cakes (chocolate Guinness cake and homemade cheesecake) provide a much needed boost. The final miles along Loch Ryan to our accommodation are HARD. The views are beautiful and we catch sight of large groups of ducks and swans, but our thoughts are now mainly on getting to our room and a shower. There is nowhere immediate for an evening meal when we eventually arrive, but we don't care and settle gratefully for pot noodles and squashed biscuits. Jennie
A big bowl of porridge and a bus ride back to Drummore and we are ready to tackle our first full day of walking. We can already tell it is going to be hot so the key is going to be trying not to get dehydrated... there is quite a bit of road-walking on this stretch and the beaches are very stony, but the views across to the Machars Peninsula make up for some trudging :) On the edge of the tide we spot Turnstones, Redshank, Curlew. It is hard to differentiate between waders - but we definitely spot dozens of Ringed Plover, adults and juveniles, living and hiding among the stones. The highlight however is three Greenfinch, singing happily in a leafless tree on the path ahead. This is my first, ever, Greenfinch sighting so it is worth a little victory dance. Sadly though we read that they are in decline due to a parasite. However, we can all help these lovely finches by routinely cleaning our bird feeders: https://www.bto.org/our-science/projects/gbw/gardens-wildlife/garden-birds/disease/trichomonosis As the heat ramps up we are grateful for a small shop, which has one freezer of fishing bait and another of ice-creams - not one to muddle up. Despite getting chased (yes, chased) by an angry Chihuahua (I do mention 'mad dugs' on the sponsorship page) we agree over a Magnum that life doesn't really get much better than this :) Approaching Sandhead we are grateful that the path starts to move in and out of wooded areas. Its amazing how the flora changes under the tree canopy, a carpet of clover, Herb Robert (one of my faves) and ?Lesser Stitchwort. Its so peaceful. We take advantage of the shade for a rest before completing the last couple of miles for a second night at the Tigh Na Mara hotel. Jennie
The taxi drops us off at the Mull of Galloway car park after a few near-death experiences on the winding country roads from Stranraer. A short walk later and the lighthouse comes in to view. And what a view! This place feels special. It isn’t long before we spot some Gannets in flight; amazing birds with a six-foot wingspan and ability to dive at speeds of up to 60mph! We find a spot to mark the start of our walk and drink in the peace and quiet. A couple of ice creams and its time to set off… the path is undulating as it hugs the coast but we make light work of it, encouraged by the incredible scenery and regular helpings of wild blackberries. Arrival in Drummore means a bus ride to Sandhead for the night’s accommodation and a celebratory pint. A traditional-style caravan is parked up on the green with a temporary paddock for a horse. Idyllic? This gets us wondering about the extent of the possibilities for future remote working… 😉 Jennie
Walking from the most south westerly to the most north easterly point of Scotland is an idea we've been toying with for a little while now. We fell in love with long distance walking following a wet yet wonderful week on the Rob Roy Way in October 2011 and have felt all the benefits of immersing ourselves in nature with a map and compass for days on end ever since. We'd hoped to get started with the SW to NE idea in 2020 but that was of course not to be... however, if anything, the last 18 months have only made us appreciate the outdoors even more; the paths, parks and hills close to Dundee (our home since last summer) revealing all the amazing nature, wildlife and history right on our doorstep. So it is with great excitement that on 23rd August we shall finally commence the first stage of our walk from the Mull of Galloway to John o'Groats. The full route totals 494 miles (that is, without accounting for additional treks to accommodation, side trips and any navigational mishaps) and will take in six recognised trails, including two of the four official Long Distance Paths of Scotland (the ones with the white thistle way-marker). We hope to do the final, and likely most challenging stretch, the 147 mile John o'Groats Trail, from Inverness to the finish line, by Autumn 2022. "I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in" |
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