We gathered at Johnny’s this morning. We might have met elsewhere but Johnny promised coffee and scones so we gathered there. Well done again, J
With respect to the weather, the day was a disappointment after the spell of frosty nights and calm sunny days. Although the thermometer said it was milder than of late, there was dampness in the air and a threat of rain and the wind off the sea made it feel colder than it actually was. When we arrived in the car park at Portincross the fist tentative spots of rain hit us. The side of caution won the debate over waterproofs - best to prepare for the worst. So we set off in waterproofs and in a light shower of rain.
Our fist port of call was to examine the ruins of Portincross castle set on its defensive spit of land. Much more of this remains than was first thought. Jimmy talked of history, Peter admired the stonework and Davie cursed the steel safety fence round the bottom that prevented a full circuit of the building. They retraced their steps to join the rest of the group. Davie also cursed the rolls of razor wire and ‘keep out’ notices that topped a small crag and ran into the scrubby wood. Quite rightly, for this is lethal looking stuff and does nothing to improve the look of the place.
We walked on with the wind blowing the drizzle into our backs. The track took us along the raised beach under the old sea cliffs. These cliffs are impressive, rising to around two hundred feet and reputedly the haunt of peregrine. Davie promised us birdlife but apart from some eider at the start of the walk, only two fulmar and a few gulls flew around the cliffs. And nothing was on the choppy sea. To improve the mood of the group Davie told us of the murder that took place in the house under the cliffs sometime in the early nineteen hundreds. A cheerless tale to suit the mood of the day. But at least now, the rain had gone. Jimmy, the optimist, pointed out the brightness in the western sky and the Wee Cumbrae was becoming clearer by the minute but the waterproofs stayed on. Johnny recalled a visit to the Wee Cumbrae many years ago and, since he made it sound extremely interesting, a similar visit by the Ooters was mooted. Johnny would suss-out the possibilities. Then we were round the corner of Huntertson point and into the lea of the headland. Hunterston nuclear power station became the topic of conversation for we were now beside the very thing. Pros and cons were debated in the usual vociferous way with Jimmy’s opinion for being soundly (appropriate?) defeated by Johnny’s argument against.
The group now split into two - the bird watchers and the others - for there were birds to be seen on the sheltered bay. The aviphiles saw eider and widgeon and mallard and teal, curlew and oystercatcher and black-headed gulls, shell duck and redshank and black-backed gulls. The non-birders saw jucks and broon burds. A tree creeper crawled its way up a saugh by the side of the road. Davie promised us birds and he delivered. The advanced group waited for the other and, eventually, the two were united.
We were on tarmac now and would stay on it for the rest of the walk. A cycle-way past Hunterston Castle was taken. The conversation was crap. Literally. Jimmy regaled the company with a description of the practicalities of sampling faeces for bowel cancer screening. Not to be outdone, Rex told of the anal cleansing needed before an endoscopy. Then we stopped for lunch. Delicious.
Post lunch the way lay along what must have been an estate entrance road for metal fences lined it and gateposts stood where it met the Main Largs road. Another byway took us back towards the sea. Holly’s stick throwers were out of form today and we had to duck a more than once as wayward branches were mis-thrown. Rex wins the prize for the highest mis-throw of the day. A microlight airplane was examined in the passing as was a house ‘built the wrong way round’. Flocks of greylag geese and thirty or forty curlew delighted the birders as we walked down towards the shore road and West Kilbride golf course. Tatties were being planted in a field near the car park and Peter managed to pick up some spillage from the roadside. We are all going to his house in the autumn for chips.
A shorter walk than of late but an interesting one and some new territory for a few of us.
PW We gathered later that evening for a curry to celebrate Davie joining the bus-pass brigade. OK, his birthday is not officially until next week but it was the best night for most of us. All together now, ‘Happy birthday to you,…………’
With respect to the weather, the day was a disappointment after the spell of frosty nights and calm sunny days. Although the thermometer said it was milder than of late, there was dampness in the air and a threat of rain and the wind off the sea made it feel colder than it actually was. When we arrived in the car park at Portincross the fist tentative spots of rain hit us. The side of caution won the debate over waterproofs - best to prepare for the worst. So we set off in waterproofs and in a light shower of rain.
Our fist port of call was to examine the ruins of Portincross castle set on its defensive spit of land. Much more of this remains than was first thought. Jimmy talked of history, Peter admired the stonework and Davie cursed the steel safety fence round the bottom that prevented a full circuit of the building. They retraced their steps to join the rest of the group. Davie also cursed the rolls of razor wire and ‘keep out’ notices that topped a small crag and ran into the scrubby wood. Quite rightly, for this is lethal looking stuff and does nothing to improve the look of the place.
We walked on with the wind blowing the drizzle into our backs. The track took us along the raised beach under the old sea cliffs. These cliffs are impressive, rising to around two hundred feet and reputedly the haunt of peregrine. Davie promised us birdlife but apart from some eider at the start of the walk, only two fulmar and a few gulls flew around the cliffs. And nothing was on the choppy sea. To improve the mood of the group Davie told us of the murder that took place in the house under the cliffs sometime in the early nineteen hundreds. A cheerless tale to suit the mood of the day. But at least now, the rain had gone. Jimmy, the optimist, pointed out the brightness in the western sky and the Wee Cumbrae was becoming clearer by the minute but the waterproofs stayed on. Johnny recalled a visit to the Wee Cumbrae many years ago and, since he made it sound extremely interesting, a similar visit by the Ooters was mooted. Johnny would suss-out the possibilities. Then we were round the corner of Huntertson point and into the lea of the headland. Hunterston nuclear power station became the topic of conversation for we were now beside the very thing. Pros and cons were debated in the usual vociferous way with Jimmy’s opinion for being soundly (appropriate?) defeated by Johnny’s argument against.
The group now split into two - the bird watchers and the others - for there were birds to be seen on the sheltered bay. The aviphiles saw eider and widgeon and mallard and teal, curlew and oystercatcher and black-headed gulls, shell duck and redshank and black-backed gulls. The non-birders saw jucks and broon burds. A tree creeper crawled its way up a saugh by the side of the road. Davie promised us birds and he delivered. The advanced group waited for the other and, eventually, the two were united.
We were on tarmac now and would stay on it for the rest of the walk. A cycle-way past Hunterston Castle was taken. The conversation was crap. Literally. Jimmy regaled the company with a description of the practicalities of sampling faeces for bowel cancer screening. Not to be outdone, Rex told of the anal cleansing needed before an endoscopy. Then we stopped for lunch. Delicious.
Post lunch the way lay along what must have been an estate entrance road for metal fences lined it and gateposts stood where it met the Main Largs road. Another byway took us back towards the sea. Holly’s stick throwers were out of form today and we had to duck a more than once as wayward branches were mis-thrown. Rex wins the prize for the highest mis-throw of the day. A microlight airplane was examined in the passing as was a house ‘built the wrong way round’. Flocks of greylag geese and thirty or forty curlew delighted the birders as we walked down towards the shore road and West Kilbride golf course. Tatties were being planted in a field near the car park and Peter managed to pick up some spillage from the roadside. We are all going to his house in the autumn for chips.
A shorter walk than of late but an interesting one and some new territory for a few of us.
PW We gathered later that evening for a curry to celebrate Davie joining the bus-pass brigade. OK, his birthday is not officially until next week but it was the best night for most of us. All together now, ‘Happy birthday to you,…………’
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