We missed the bus. Peter and Jimmy were late so we missed the bus. We had intended to take this from the finishing point in Maidens to the starting point in Girvan, but we missed it. We had to do a car shuttle from Maidens to Girvan. Considering that there were ten of us today this was not an easy logistical exercise. But then, not a lot is in the Ooters. However we managed and found ourselves ready to start from Girvan around 10:00 (ish).
No shorts today. The fresh north-westerly blowing off the sea kept the temperature low, so low that even Davie refused to wear shorts. (He did carry them as just in case for the sun was shining when he left home and he was ever hopeful. But he never wore them.) And this fresh wind was to be in our faces for the entire walk.
Down the north side of the harbour we came, down to the Rotary Gardens. We came this way despite the way-markers directing us otherwise for some wanted to see the garden. Perhaps it was the wrong time of year but, as public gardens go, this was as good as average. So we didn’t hang around, especially now that we came into the teeth of the wind.
From the gardens, our route took us to the edge of Girvan golf course. The way-markers pointed us down towards the river again but Ian had us closer to the club-house saying that it didn’t matter; it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. And he was right. We came onto the official route beside the river and followed this through the golf course, still on tarmac.
At Girvan Mains farm we left the road before it joined the main A77 and came down a narrow farm track to the sea. Here was another badly planned part of the long distance walk. The track decanted us directly onto the beach, a beach of largish cobbles that slipped and coggled as we walked. Relief from the stones was sought in the grass alongside a field fence and was temporarily found in a narrow pad. But this pad disappeared after a while and the grass was of the course dune type and the walking was hardly any easier here. We returned to the stones. We did this often on this stretch.
A track of sorts was eventually found and many were the sighs of relief for the stones and coarse grasses were taking their toll. This track brought us round a small rise to a series of small ponds at Chapeldonan. Duck flew off these ponds – Scaup, Jimmy called them – and this set the birders off again. Apparently Rock Pipit, Skylark, Curlew, Redshank, Dunlin, Gannet and sundry gulls could be seen today if you were interested enough. And a Goldfinch caused some excitement at one point.
Then we came to our first burn, the first of many, each holding its unique challenge for the hydrophobic amongst us. And for Rex, who chose to walk in trainers today. The water ran deep and many made their way upstream while the brave sought a shallower way near the tide-line and ploughed through. This was to be the case later as well.
With the burn safely crossed and all with dry feet, we made our way past the sewage works still on a beach of cobbles/shingle/soft sand. And the wind was in our faces. It was not the best part of any walk. And the scenery didn’t provide too much in the way of distraction. The wind kept the air clear and the seaward prospect was extensive, as far as Arran and Ailsa Craig. But there is a limit to how much waves running up the beach can keep even the best of us interested. The landward view was uninteresting. Beyond the immediate field ran the bus A77, and beyond this the fields rose more steeply to the skyline barely a mile away. The litter along the shoreline probably held most attraction. And we came to the sewage works. Not the most interesting part of the walk.
We ploughed on along the beach. Another burn was crossed with the same antics as the last. But, again, all were safely over. On this side of the burn was the works of Alginate Industries with a rough track alongside the boundary fence and, on the windward side of the track, some large boulders as a breakwater. As coffee was being called, we lay in as much shelter from the wind as these boulders provided and had coffee. It was then that Rex found his camera to be missing. It must have jumped from his pocket when he jumped the burn. A great search and rescue mission was called into being to find the missing camera, all but Peter and Jimmy (lazy b******s) joining the fun. They were not amused when, after the return to the burn and ten minutes scrounging around, Rex announced that his camera was in his other pocket. What senior moment?
Post coffee, the trudge was continued, on the same type of terrain as before. And the interest was as before.
Some different interest was provided, though, at Balkenna Cottages. The going had been less than easy so far. Now a way-marker was pointing us into a muddy ploughed field. When we spotted a stretch of tarmac along the seaward of the cottages we were for this. It wasn’t until we had come to the end of the row of cottages that our attention was caught by a woman* knocking on a window. Jimmy and Johnny stopped to pass the time of day only to be told in a rather brusque fashion that this was a private road and we should not be on it, there was a path through the muddy field. She was fed-up with us coming in front of her window. How she could be fed-up with us is beyond us for this was our first time here. However, Jimmy was suitable sympathetic (‘Oh dear’, he said) and Johnny was suitably apologetic and offered to fetch Rex for her. The harridan retired into her own tiny, cocooned world little aware that if she hadn’t come out to accost us, we would have been off her private road much quicker.
We were directed by a way-marker on to a sandy beach, a long sandy beach with a build-up of dunes on the landward. Then there came another one of those blasted burns. This time it was too wide and deep even for the adventurous though Jimmy and Ian made an abortive sortie seaward to find a crossing point. No chance. We climb the dune to find it covered with briar and brambles. There was no option but to retrace our steps to find a way to the bridge we could see from the dune top. This bridge carried us over the burn onto the grounds of the world famous Turnberry golf course.
But plebs like we walkers have no place on such hallowed ground and the way-marker pointed us once again onto the sandy beach. It was a long beach, 2Km long. The sand was just firm enough to take the eight but gave way at each forward step. It was like walking in the snow of Lowther Hill (21 Jan). It was interesting to note the drunken route taken by the forward party as they sought firmer footing. And the wind still blew in our faces. It was a case of heads down into the wind and plough on. This is what we did, for what seemed like miles.
Eventually the sand gave out and the way rose onto the golf course again. This time we were allowed to stay on the holy turf provided we remained on the path. But the path offered the only interesting bit of scenery for the day, the view of Turnberry Lighthouse over a small bay. Our designated path curved round the bay and brought us to the ‘half way hut’ of the course. Here lunch was called and was taken in the lea of the hut.
Now we had only around a mile to go to Maidens. It was the most interesting mile of the walk. The path took us across the course, through a bank of whin in full flower and onto an abandoned runway of the old airfield. We might have followed the old runway but opted to stay with the path. It brought us on to the A719. Somebody – we suspect not the planners of the long distance walk – had the sense to provide a pavement alongside this road and we followed this to Maidens.
This was a shorter walk than of late. Unlike the other sections we have done, which had good and bad parts along them; this was only interesting towards the end. Or, perhaps this is only the scribbler’s opinion.
No shorts today. The fresh north-westerly blowing off the sea kept the temperature low, so low that even Davie refused to wear shorts. (He did carry them as just in case for the sun was shining when he left home and he was ever hopeful. But he never wore them.) And this fresh wind was to be in our faces for the entire walk.
Down the north side of the harbour we came, down to the Rotary Gardens. We came this way despite the way-markers directing us otherwise for some wanted to see the garden. Perhaps it was the wrong time of year but, as public gardens go, this was as good as average. So we didn’t hang around, especially now that we came into the teeth of the wind.
From the gardens, our route took us to the edge of Girvan golf course. The way-markers pointed us down towards the river again but Ian had us closer to the club-house saying that it didn’t matter; it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. And he was right. We came onto the official route beside the river and followed this through the golf course, still on tarmac.
At Girvan Mains farm we left the road before it joined the main A77 and came down a narrow farm track to the sea. Here was another badly planned part of the long distance walk. The track decanted us directly onto the beach, a beach of largish cobbles that slipped and coggled as we walked. Relief from the stones was sought in the grass alongside a field fence and was temporarily found in a narrow pad. But this pad disappeared after a while and the grass was of the course dune type and the walking was hardly any easier here. We returned to the stones. We did this often on this stretch.
A track of sorts was eventually found and many were the sighs of relief for the stones and coarse grasses were taking their toll. This track brought us round a small rise to a series of small ponds at Chapeldonan. Duck flew off these ponds – Scaup, Jimmy called them – and this set the birders off again. Apparently Rock Pipit, Skylark, Curlew, Redshank, Dunlin, Gannet and sundry gulls could be seen today if you were interested enough. And a Goldfinch caused some excitement at one point.
Then we came to our first burn, the first of many, each holding its unique challenge for the hydrophobic amongst us. And for Rex, who chose to walk in trainers today. The water ran deep and many made their way upstream while the brave sought a shallower way near the tide-line and ploughed through. This was to be the case later as well.
With the burn safely crossed and all with dry feet, we made our way past the sewage works still on a beach of cobbles/shingle/soft sand. And the wind was in our faces. It was not the best part of any walk. And the scenery didn’t provide too much in the way of distraction. The wind kept the air clear and the seaward prospect was extensive, as far as Arran and Ailsa Craig. But there is a limit to how much waves running up the beach can keep even the best of us interested. The landward view was uninteresting. Beyond the immediate field ran the bus A77, and beyond this the fields rose more steeply to the skyline barely a mile away. The litter along the shoreline probably held most attraction. And we came to the sewage works. Not the most interesting part of the walk.
We ploughed on along the beach. Another burn was crossed with the same antics as the last. But, again, all were safely over. On this side of the burn was the works of Alginate Industries with a rough track alongside the boundary fence and, on the windward side of the track, some large boulders as a breakwater. As coffee was being called, we lay in as much shelter from the wind as these boulders provided and had coffee. It was then that Rex found his camera to be missing. It must have jumped from his pocket when he jumped the burn. A great search and rescue mission was called into being to find the missing camera, all but Peter and Jimmy (lazy b******s) joining the fun. They were not amused when, after the return to the burn and ten minutes scrounging around, Rex announced that his camera was in his other pocket. What senior moment?
Post coffee, the trudge was continued, on the same type of terrain as before. And the interest was as before.
Some different interest was provided, though, at Balkenna Cottages. The going had been less than easy so far. Now a way-marker was pointing us into a muddy ploughed field. When we spotted a stretch of tarmac along the seaward of the cottages we were for this. It wasn’t until we had come to the end of the row of cottages that our attention was caught by a woman* knocking on a window. Jimmy and Johnny stopped to pass the time of day only to be told in a rather brusque fashion that this was a private road and we should not be on it, there was a path through the muddy field. She was fed-up with us coming in front of her window. How she could be fed-up with us is beyond us for this was our first time here. However, Jimmy was suitable sympathetic (‘Oh dear’, he said) and Johnny was suitably apologetic and offered to fetch Rex for her. The harridan retired into her own tiny, cocooned world little aware that if she hadn’t come out to accost us, we would have been off her private road much quicker.
We were directed by a way-marker on to a sandy beach, a long sandy beach with a build-up of dunes on the landward. Then there came another one of those blasted burns. This time it was too wide and deep even for the adventurous though Jimmy and Ian made an abortive sortie seaward to find a crossing point. No chance. We climb the dune to find it covered with briar and brambles. There was no option but to retrace our steps to find a way to the bridge we could see from the dune top. This bridge carried us over the burn onto the grounds of the world famous Turnberry golf course.
But plebs like we walkers have no place on such hallowed ground and the way-marker pointed us once again onto the sandy beach. It was a long beach, 2Km long. The sand was just firm enough to take the eight but gave way at each forward step. It was like walking in the snow of Lowther Hill (21 Jan). It was interesting to note the drunken route taken by the forward party as they sought firmer footing. And the wind still blew in our faces. It was a case of heads down into the wind and plough on. This is what we did, for what seemed like miles.
Eventually the sand gave out and the way rose onto the golf course again. This time we were allowed to stay on the holy turf provided we remained on the path. But the path offered the only interesting bit of scenery for the day, the view of Turnberry Lighthouse over a small bay. Our designated path curved round the bay and brought us to the ‘half way hut’ of the course. Here lunch was called and was taken in the lea of the hut.
Now we had only around a mile to go to Maidens. It was the most interesting mile of the walk. The path took us across the course, through a bank of whin in full flower and onto an abandoned runway of the old airfield. We might have followed the old runway but opted to stay with the path. It brought us on to the A719. Somebody – we suspect not the planners of the long distance walk – had the sense to provide a pavement alongside this road and we followed this to Maidens.
This was a shorter walk than of late. Unlike the other sections we have done, which had good and bad parts along them; this was only interesting towards the end. Or, perhaps this is only the scribbler’s opinion.
*This term is used for politeness only. It is not what she was being called later.
Distance 14.2 km
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