Gang aft agley
An’ lea’e us naught but............
.....................................................Anither Irvine Valley Walk
We looked forward to a walk in the Campsies, a walk that would be new to most of us. All week long we looked forward to it. Paul looked forward to it, even to the extent that he did a ‘reccy’ at the week-end and posted i t on the blog just to keep us looking forward to it. Oh, how we looked forward to that walk in the Campsies.
Came the day, came the weather. A depression in the North Sea was dragging rain southward across the country. Paul, very unlike himself, was reluctant to go to the Campsies suggesting that the rain would reach there around eleven, just about the time as we would. Should we really go that far for another soaking? Or would it be more sensible to stay local and get another soaking? Yielding to Paul’s reticence, we opted for the latter. We would walk from Robert’s house along the Irvine valley trails.
We were joined today by Malcolm Campbell a recent escapee from the chalk face who, in the exhilaration of his new-found freedom, had a sudden rush of blood to the head and decided to join us. Time will tell if this was a wise decision.
As for the walk we did undertake, it followed a route we’ve done before (20 August 2008) taking us by Kay Park along McKenzie Drive and McPhail Drive over the bypass by a footbridge and on to the Milton Road. Not a lot happened that was worth reporting over the next hour or so. We walked to Templetonburn where some of us might have missed the route such was the conversations and our interest in the surroundings. But Davie called us back and had us down the fisher’s path by the river. And we kept to the riverside for a bit eventually finding tarmac again at Greenwood Bridge Then we came by Grougar Row and Burnbank to the ancient kirkyard of Loudoun Kirk where coffee was taken.
While most of us sat and conversed socially (blethers again – Ed.) Jimmy took himself off in search of a particular grave, that of Janet Little poetess of this parish, leaving behind his rucksack and camera. Now, haven’t just we learnt a new jape from young Davie Clunie? (see Allan’s poem of 28 July last) When it was time for us to go, we shouted to Jimmy, handed him his rucksack and walked on.
We came down a track to Ga’ston. It was suggested that we might walk on to Darvel as we did the last time we came this way and take the bus back to Killie. This nearly caused apoplexy in Jimmy who had left his wallet and bus pass in his car. So, to keep theold soul happy we decided to return by the old railway, now a cycle path, to Hurlford. So it was up through Ga’ston then.
The old railway is now The Sir Chris Hoy Cycle Way. ‘Why Chris Hoy, Why not Graeme Obree’, asked one. We had to agree that the local man should have been commemorated rather than the Edinburgh fellow. However, it was along the Chris Hoy Way that we went.
Cycle path or no, this is still the old railway, straight, level and uninteresting in itself. The highlights included a yellow plant that our botanist could identify * and our meeting with Boydy.
The yellow flowers grew profusely in clumps around forty centimetres high on both sides of the tarmac but what they were stumped Jimmy. ‘You could always photograph the flower and look it up when you get home’ suggested Davie with something of a twinkle in his eye. But Jimmy was for none of this. ‘My camera’s in my bag and I cannae be bothered getting it oot. Anyway I’ve got a fair idea in my mind’. So we walked on.
Boydy was a collie and was accompanied by a wee lassie of around eleven on a bike. ‘Boydy?’ we queried. ‘Aye, ma faither’s a Rangers supporter’ came the reply. ‘But Boydy disnae play for Rangers ony mare’ we smirked. ‘S’no ma problem’ said she, threw her head high and cycled haughtily up the track with Boydy trotting alongside.
By this time Ian was reminding us that it was lunch time. So, when we reached the viaduct over the Cessnock, we sat down and took the peece.
The amusement during lunch was the men painting the electricity pylons. ‘That would make a good photo’ said Robert in Jimmy’s direction. At this comment Allan took the opportunity to wander round the group photographing everything in sight. For some reason he seemed particularly interested in taking Jimmy’s picture. Not until he asked Jimmy if he liked his new camera, did the latter realise that it was his. The bold Alan had picked it up at Loudoun Kirk when Jimmy went walkabout and Jimmy hadn’t missed it until now. I refuse to repeat what he called us all when we burst out laughing, such things are not for sensitive ears. But he has sworn revenge. We quake in our boots. See what you’ve started, Davie Clunie.From the Cessnock viaduct we followed a path behind the houses of Hurlford. This took us to the main Valley road and turning along this we came to Hurlford cross where we crossed the river. Then taking a footpath beside the river, we came back to the Milton Road and retraced our steps back into Killie.
The ultra-observant among you will have noticed that there is no mention of rain in the above narrative. That’s because there was none. The sky was overcast but there was no rain. But Paul assures us that it would probably be chucking it down on the Campsies.
*The mystery plant would appear to be a thing called common toadflax – not so common in this area.
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