12 March River Ayr - Failford to Annbank

Wednesday Wimps Walking Group or Wise Wednesday Walkers depending on your point of view for our proposed walk on Merrick was cancelled today in the light of a weather forecast that predicted storm force winds and snow down to six hundred metres. So the foul weather alternative of the River Ayr was preferred for the day’s outing. Failford was the meeting point - it’s handy for the pub - and six of us (and Holly) gathered there with the wind just beginning to pick up.

The Ayr Gorge Nature Reserve was our first objective but this was easily found for it was just across the road. Bob’s extended absence in France told on him at the first flight of ‘stairs’ up from the river. I think ‘knackered’ was the word used. But his composure was regained as we reached the path along the top of the gorge. The wind was stirring the trees and wildlife was keeping its head down so very little was seen by even the keenest watchers. Having gained the lip of the gorge we could feel the wind strengthening. But the sun broke through and Jimmy thought that it would be a great day for the Merrick. He was quickly shouted down.

The same comment was made by the same person as the path dropped towards the river. We were now in the shelter of the gorge and in the sunshine it was quite warm. ‘This would be a great day for the hill’, said he and was quickly shouted down. Paul’s was the lone voice in support. Opening the jackets against the warmth of the sun, we walked beside the river, swollen by the weeks rain, as far as Peden’s Pulpit, a flight of steps and a platform cut into the sandstone of the gorge side. A bit of Peden’s story was related for some in the group had never heard of him. A suggestion was made that we might climb the steps, cross the bad step near the top and find the pad that would take us back to the main path, but this had to be abandoned when it was felt the bad step looked to be too slippery and it was twenty feet to the river below. And we had Paul with us. So our steps were retraced to find the path that would take us back to the top of the gorge. This climb was warm and when we came into the wind at the top it began to chill. The jackets were done up again. And we were to stay in the wind until the nature reserve was left. It was noticed when we halted here that Johnny’s legs had disappeared from the knee down. His new camouflaged gaiters certainly work. Peter left us here for he had domestic business to see to but the hardy five (not forgetting Holly) continued on the River Ayr Way.

Once again the path dropped to the river side and once again the jackets were undone. (It was a day of this kind of thing - undoing and redoing jackets and removing and replacing hats). A light shower hit as we approached Stair but it was sufficiently heavy to encourage some to don the waterproof trousers. It didn’t last long but it took the sunshine away for a while. And it was in duller conditions that we stopped at the sluice near Stair for a bite.

Now came decisions. Have we had enough and should we turn back before the rain and snow came? Nah! 'Let’s go on', was the consensus. And go on, we did. The good path gave way to a slough where it crossed a marsh and was lower than the surrounding fields. Another badly engineered part of the path. But, by the side of the river, came drier footing again. Thank heavens for the Annbank Angling Club. We were to follow their path beside the river to the viaduct at Gadgirth which became our turning point.

Like the previous walk, the return was by the same route as the outward. The same five herons were at the same place on the river, the same glaur-holes had to be negotiated and the same peece spot was stopped at for coffee. The same comment was made about the same hill by the same person for we were still in the valley and sheltered from the wind. It received the same answer. Funny how the walk back always seems shorter than the walk out and today was no exception. The valley was soon left to find the strength of the wind again on the higher ground at the entrance to the Nature Reserve. The gale was stronger than before and when it brought the first spots of rain, these exploded on the skin, stinging into the flesh. Fortunately the rain didn’t last and there was no real need for the waterproofs. At this point Davie was demanding a drugs test on Bob who now had a second or third or fourth wind and actually broke into a run at one point. Then it was Davie’s turn to show the speed as the smell of the ale got to him. We hung high on the top path before dropping to the river again at Failford, blown about but dry. Given the strength of the wind at this level, the right decision was made as to the walk. Even without snow, Merrick would be a dangerous place this day. But don’t tell Bob.

The Failford Inn was the chosen place of refreshment. This is an old fashioned inn with home brewed ale and walls bedecked with beer mats advertising different brews. Jimmy made the mistake of sitting under a mat advertising ‘Old Fecker’. The comments were choice. Beware you comment makers for Jimmy has a long memory and is vengeful.