Do ye like the burn, lassie,
That loups amang the linns,
Or the bonny green holmes,
Where it cannily rins;
Or the steep rocky glens,
Where the wild falcon glides?
Hew Ainslie
St.Valentine’s summer came late this year, two days after the big celebrations, but when it did, the warmer weather fairly shifted the frost and snows of the previous two weeks leaving us with soggy ground and high burn levels. And as is typical of this time of year, the mild spell was accompanied by overcast skies blocking out any drying sun. Yet, as we found out later, the visibility was remarkably good under this cloud cover.
Eight of us gathered at Largs today. Rex was still in foreign airts, Ian was off for a romantic few days with his good lady and Davie was laid up with thinuthitith*. Why Holly was absent we have yet to find out. However, eight of us gathered in Largs for another walk around the Gogo Glen.
We started uphill almost immediately, at first gently and almost imperceptibly through Douglas Park. Clumps of snowdrops under the trees of the park showed how early in year this was though the day was reasonably mild. It was a pleasant stroll though the park. But then we were pointed through a gate onto the open hillside and the slope steepened dramatically. Some person, in considerate mood no doubt, had laid railway sleepers to form steps. But these steps were small – women’s steps – and had to be taken two at a time for comfort. And they were greasy with the dampness of the morning. Care was taken.
We have the feeling that Peter’s reign as official group girn may be at an end for the one complaining most on the ascent was Ronnie. And his complaining got louder as the sleepers continued. Watch out Peter.
Approaching the view point on Castle HillBut these sleeper-steps did get us up the steep slope quickly and we were rewarded for the effort with a superb view, even under the overcast conditions. Largs lay immediately below us, spread out like a map; the Firth ran northward to disappear behind the headland of Inverkip; the hills of Arrochar and Cowal formed the northern skyline, running southwest to Knapdale and Kintyre; the Clyde islands shaped the nearer panorama, the low lying Cumbrae and Bute being contrasted with the alpine-like peaks of Arran, looking particularly rugged today with fangs of dirty-looking snow trailing down from the ridges; even Ailsa Craig in the far south-west showed clearly and, through a gap in the Knapdale hills, Islay could just be discerned. This was a superb view from so low a hill. Behind us, the yellow-brown grasses of winter clothed the moor as it sloped gently up to the hills forming the eastern horizon. And it was into these grasses that we turned our footsteps.
*We sympathised with Davie in his pain for some are fellow sufferers. While we were mildly disappointed that he was absent today, we were absolutely devastated when somebody pointed out that so was the kitty! We stopped sympathising.A grass path ran onto the moor and we followed it. Jimmy and Robert led the way, deciding which path to follow at each bifurcation. The gentlest of breezes blew but this is February and the breeze was cool. Coffee was called from the rear and the two sought a suitable place out of the wind. Robert thought he had found the perfect place in the lea of a knoll. But the wind could still be felt during coffee. Robert’s choice of stopping place was called into question and he was derided ceaselessly. In the face of this onslaught, he made a momentous decision. He would never to make a decision again. We won’t hold our breath.
Jimmy led the way after coffee, still following the green path as it rose genlty over the moor. Eventually the path disappeared and Jimmy was forced to find his own way through the tussock grasses. And we followed. He led us into a bog. This is the kind of stuff jimmy takes in his stride and today was no exception. This day he was joined by the long-legged Johnny. The pair strode out through bog and rough grass leaving the rest of us to follow in their wake. There was much mumbling and complaining as the rough terrain took its toll. Not that the advance pair took any notice for they still kept the pace up. Round the side of Rigging Hill (Frigging Hill, it was called at one point) they went; through the bog at the head of the burn they went; down through the rough flank of the hill they went and we followed. At last they reached the cleugh at the head of the Gogo burn and waited for us.
The burn had to be crossed. Some sought out stepping boulders. Jimmy, clad in gaiters, just ploughed through the shallows. He was followed by the gaiter clad Johnny. And, surprisingly, by Paul. (Is he overcomming his burnophobia?) The rest struggled over their boulders and in the cleugh, just above a waterfall we stopped for lunch. 11:30 and we stopped for lunch!
Just after leaving our lunch stop above the Gogo Glen. It was now we missed Holly. Johnny was at a loss, having nobody to throw sticks for. Try as he might, he couldn’t get any one of us to fetch for him. Hurry back, Holly. We were now at the extremity of the walk for the day and, as it was still early, the walk back down the glen was taken casually. We climbed a barbed-wire fence with only two casualties. Then we found our own ways down through some rough stuff, gathering at a sheep bucht. Here we found a grass path that took us to join a field road at a wee bridge. This is where we dined the last time we came this was and it was a sun trap then.
Not today though for the cloud cover persisted. So we only halted for a few minutes while the photographers recorded the place and the slow two caught up. We were to keep to the road now, ambling caually down to Largs.
That loups amang the linns,
Or the bonny green holmes,
Where it cannily rins;
Or the steep rocky glens,
Where the wild falcon glides?
Hew Ainslie
St.Valentine’s summer came late this year, two days after the big celebrations, but when it did, the warmer weather fairly shifted the frost and snows of the previous two weeks leaving us with soggy ground and high burn levels. And as is typical of this time of year, the mild spell was accompanied by overcast skies blocking out any drying sun. Yet, as we found out later, the visibility was remarkably good under this cloud cover.
Eight of us gathered at Largs today. Rex was still in foreign airts, Ian was off for a romantic few days with his good lady and Davie was laid up with thinuthitith*. Why Holly was absent we have yet to find out. However, eight of us gathered in Largs for another walk around the Gogo Glen.
We started uphill almost immediately, at first gently and almost imperceptibly through Douglas Park. Clumps of snowdrops under the trees of the park showed how early in year this was though the day was reasonably mild. It was a pleasant stroll though the park. But then we were pointed through a gate onto the open hillside and the slope steepened dramatically. Some person, in considerate mood no doubt, had laid railway sleepers to form steps. But these steps were small – women’s steps – and had to be taken two at a time for comfort. And they were greasy with the dampness of the morning. Care was taken.
We have the feeling that Peter’s reign as official group girn may be at an end for the one complaining most on the ascent was Ronnie. And his complaining got louder as the sleepers continued. Watch out Peter.
Approaching the view point on Castle HillBut these sleeper-steps did get us up the steep slope quickly and we were rewarded for the effort with a superb view, even under the overcast conditions. Largs lay immediately below us, spread out like a map; the Firth ran northward to disappear behind the headland of Inverkip; the hills of Arrochar and Cowal formed the northern skyline, running southwest to Knapdale and Kintyre; the Clyde islands shaped the nearer panorama, the low lying Cumbrae and Bute being contrasted with the alpine-like peaks of Arran, looking particularly rugged today with fangs of dirty-looking snow trailing down from the ridges; even Ailsa Craig in the far south-west showed clearly and, through a gap in the Knapdale hills, Islay could just be discerned. This was a superb view from so low a hill. Behind us, the yellow-brown grasses of winter clothed the moor as it sloped gently up to the hills forming the eastern horizon. And it was into these grasses that we turned our footsteps.
*We sympathised with Davie in his pain for some are fellow sufferers. While we were mildly disappointed that he was absent today, we were absolutely devastated when somebody pointed out that so was the kitty! We stopped sympathising.A grass path ran onto the moor and we followed it. Jimmy and Robert led the way, deciding which path to follow at each bifurcation. The gentlest of breezes blew but this is February and the breeze was cool. Coffee was called from the rear and the two sought a suitable place out of the wind. Robert thought he had found the perfect place in the lea of a knoll. But the wind could still be felt during coffee. Robert’s choice of stopping place was called into question and he was derided ceaselessly. In the face of this onslaught, he made a momentous decision. He would never to make a decision again. We won’t hold our breath.
Jimmy led the way after coffee, still following the green path as it rose genlty over the moor. Eventually the path disappeared and Jimmy was forced to find his own way through the tussock grasses. And we followed. He led us into a bog. This is the kind of stuff jimmy takes in his stride and today was no exception. This day he was joined by the long-legged Johnny. The pair strode out through bog and rough grass leaving the rest of us to follow in their wake. There was much mumbling and complaining as the rough terrain took its toll. Not that the advance pair took any notice for they still kept the pace up. Round the side of Rigging Hill (Frigging Hill, it was called at one point) they went; through the bog at the head of the burn they went; down through the rough flank of the hill they went and we followed. At last they reached the cleugh at the head of the Gogo burn and waited for us.
The burn had to be crossed. Some sought out stepping boulders. Jimmy, clad in gaiters, just ploughed through the shallows. He was followed by the gaiter clad Johnny. And, surprisingly, by Paul. (Is he overcomming his burnophobia?) The rest struggled over their boulders and in the cleugh, just above a waterfall we stopped for lunch. 11:30 and we stopped for lunch!Just after leaving our lunch stop above the Gogo Glen. It was now we missed Holly. Johnny was at a loss, having nobody to throw sticks for. Try as he might, he couldn’t get any one of us to fetch for him. Hurry back, Holly. We were now at the extremity of the walk for the day and, as it was still early, the walk back down the glen was taken casually. We climbed a barbed-wire fence with only two casualties. Then we found our own ways down through some rough stuff, gathering at a sheep bucht. Here we found a grass path that took us to join a field road at a wee bridge. This is where we dined the last time we came this was and it was a sun trap then.
Not today though for the cloud cover persisted. So we only halted for a few minutes while the photographers recorded the place and the slow two caught up. We were to keep to the road now, ambling caually down to Largs.This was a shorter day than some expected (13Km according to the cartographer) so an early finish was made. Yet it was a walk enjoyed by most despite the rough going at times. The Merrick in Seamill was the chosen refreshment point for the day
*We sympathised with Davie in his pain for some are fellow sufferers. While we were mildly disappointed that he was absent today, we were absolutely devastated when somebody pointed out that so was the kitty! We stopped sympathising.
Distance: 13.1 Km
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