Adventures of the Early Ooters

Proposed walk for 22nd Feb

2012-02-15T16:58:00.002Z

Meet outside Neilston Station around 10.00a.m. The walk will take in Neilston Pad and return. (around 2.5 hours). Short walk to allow Ronnie plenty of time to get home and get organised for the Sloe gin tasting.
Curry orders should be e-mailed to Ronnie a.s.a.p. to ensure everyone has the curry of their choice. The menu can be viewed on line at www.jewelinthecrownkilmarnock.co.uk .
Bring your entries for the Sloe gin competion and any other drinks required to Ronnie's place for a 7.30p.m. start to the proceedings.

Durisdeer Walk Wed 8th Feb

2012-02-08T19:05:00.008Z

Cairn Table Wed 15th Feb.

2012-02-08T19:00:00.002Z

Meet at Glenbuck Loch car park around 9.30.a.m. Move some cars to the start point in Muirkirk and leave enough at Glenbuck to get back to Muirkirk. Probably a good idea to have some spare capacity in each car.

Sloe Gin Night

2012-02-08T18:53:00.002Z

The Sloe Gin evening has been moved to Feb 22nd. Meet at Ronnie's around 7.30.p.m. Arrangements are as follows :-choose your curry on Wed 15th, consume on the 22nd around 7.30-8.00 p.m. Sloe gin tasting around 8.30.p.m. Followed by the usual banter and nonsense.

New Lanark Walk 1st Feb 2012

2012-02-01T18:27:00.007Z

Dates for your Diary

2012-02-01T17:12:00.003Z

15th Feb. Sloe gin competition and curry night. Meet at Ronnie Thompson's house around 7.30p.m.
2nd March Sportman's Dinner. Irvine Sports Club. Contact Johnny.
7th March Rupee Room to celebrate Alan's 65th birthday.
17th March Ronnie's 65th birthday bash. Details to be arranged.
30th March Bowling club Quiz Night.
The Oran Mor visit as yet to be finalised- watch this space.

25 January Glen Afton’s One Top

2012-01-31T17:27:00.003Z

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Rex & Ronnie

The late John Denver sang ‘Some days are diamonds, some days are stones’. The last time we were on the Glen Afton Hills the day was unquestionably of the precious variety – blue, sunny skies, glistening, powdery snow and views that went on forever. And we had hopes for something of the same today given the snow fall of yesterday and the forecast for a clear and sunny day. But somebody up there doesn’t like us. Whatever we have done to offend the provider of our weather we don’t know but with what has been given to us this winter we feel he is definitely against us.

This is the truth we found when we gathered in Cumnock on a dreary January Wednesday. Already there was dissension in the ranks. There was some thought of the foul weather alternative but our weather man suggested that it would be late afternoon when the rain arrived. We took his word for this and set off into Glen Afton.

Barely had we left the cars at the waterworks than we felt the first spits. But, according to our weatherman, this is only a passing shower for the rain was forecast to arrive no earlier than late afternoon. And go off it did though by the looks of the sky and the hill fog it could come back any minute. We walked along the forest road on the west side of the reservoir watching to see if the fog was lifting or coming further down. By the time we had reached the bridge over the upper reaches of the Afton a decision had to be made; should we go ahead as planned or cut the walk short and come back along the east side of the reservoir. The party split in two; the wimps opting for the lower walk and the adventurous, unwise, foolhardy and downright stupid opted for the hill despite Johnny’s hip-flask bribery.
The wimps: wise, intrepid, mathematically principled souls: we three giants of the maths teaching fraternity know a thing or two about gradients, turning points and distance formulas. All too obvious, the approaching poor weather, no need of TV predictions. We could see it coming. A walk around the Afton reservoir seemed a prudent move. Bullying JM over-ruled concerned AS about completing the circuit. As it turned out AS was right. The path, though not impassable, was unpleasantly deeply muddied. We retraced our steps back to where we had become the splinter group. Here we could see our brave brothers battle the elements as they crested the summit and disappear from our view. We made it back to the cars in good heart. We had lunch. We wondered back up to the reservoir dam just in time to see our courageous comrades caper casually along the edge of the reservoir.

We await (inserted above JM) a report from the wimps for the scribe was in the latter group. This was the group that made its way up the side of the river to the old fruit van that sits on it own on the hillside. That’s where the rain came. When we had been in the shelter of the forest, any rain that came was no more that a steady dribble. But we were no longer in the shelter of the trees and the steady dribble was wind blown and wetting and when we left what little shelter the fruit van afforded, we were into the weather proper. Though the wind-driven drizzle stung the faces, we still had faith in our weatherman and his prediction that the rain would arrive until the late afternoon and so set of for the first climb of the day, Alwhat

Not only was it wet overhead, it was extremely wet underfoot for the first fifty metres or so until the ground steepened and we found the drier grasses. Thank heavens for quad bike tracks; at least the climbing would be easier than the coarse hill grasses and rushes that surrounded us. It certainly seemed to be easy for Jimmy. What he had for breakfast certainly worked for he took off up that slope like a whippet on ecstasy and left the rest trailing in his wake. But not only had we Jimmy’s pace to contend with; as we gained height we also changed direction and now found the wind driving the rain directly into our faces, and it stung. But at least we could see where we were going so far.

Ronnie felt the pressure on this climb - he is recovering from major surgery and has not yet regained his fighting fitness - but struggled manfully on in Jimmy’s wake crossing the tufted grass of the slope to the fence on Alwhat summit. Here we found Jimmy waiting with alternate routes in mind. But Ronnie was done for the day and was for returning the way we had come up. And we, being of a compassionate nature and anyway having had our fill of soakings for this year, offered to keep him company. We turned to retrace our steps back down to the fruit van in the valley.

Back in the shelter of the trees at the bridge we stopped for a bite. The time was twelve-thirty and the rain was still on. We are beginning to lose faith in our weatherman.

When we came out of the trees again the rain had gone and a decision was made to return by the east side of the reservoir. To this end we followed the forest road to its end and then took the path to the dam where we met with the renegade three. Half a mile later we were back at the waterworks and the cars, our walking past for the day.

This was another dreich day and the best that can be said is that we got some exercise. Come on ‘ye pow’rs wha mak mankind your care’ gie us a break and a dry day for a change.

As usual in this neck of the woods FRT was taken in The Sun in Cumnock. New grandfather Ian stood the first round to wet the baby's head. Congratulations to the proud mum and dad and equally proud grandparents.

18 January Annbank - Auchincruive Circuit & The Burns Supper

2012-01-24T16:58:00.000Z

Allan, Andy, Davie C, Davie Mc, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Rex, Robert & Ronnie

Today’s walk was to be short for this was the night of our inaugural Burns Supper and Johnny had to get home early to peel the tatties. Just as well for the weather was as it has been for a few weeks now, dull, damp and dreich. Surprisingly, given the weather and the nature of the evening ahead, most of us turned up at Annbank bowling club car park for a short walk over very familiar ground. This number included Rex who had returned prematurely from his holiday in New Zealand – he just can’t stay away from us for too long.

The walk has been well described in these pages the past ( December 2010 and 2 sep 2009 and others) so there is no need for further description here. Suffice to say we wandered down to the river and on to Auchincruive House and the Burns/Wallace monument for coffee. Considering the day, this was an appropriate place to have coffee. Some thought of returning by the same route, and one even thought of going downstream to the next bridge. But, when it was pointed out that the next bridge was on the Ayr bypass, he changed his mind and went with the consensus that we return on the south side of the river.

This is exactly what we did, returning by the River Ayr Way past Wallace’s Seat and Tarholm Bridge to the confluence of Ayr and Coyle. Here we stopped for a bite to eat then continued up the river to Privick Mill and back to Annbank.

There was no FRT today for Johnny would need all the time for his preparation for our shindig later.

Later than evening we gathered in Johnny’s place in Irvine for our inaugural Burns Supper. As you can see from Allan’s pictures below, the night was a great success with everybody contributing to the merriment. The scribe can say that the evening started off well but can’t say for certain how it ended. ‘The nicht drave on wi’ sangs an’ clatter and aye the usquabae grew better’. He can only hope that he was in a better state than the chairman when he got home. Johnny’s video should be very enlightening. But, Johnny, we are pensioners and can’t afford the blackmail money. ‘We were fu and unco happy’

Our collective thanks go to Johnny for hosting this event and we look forward to the next one.

Inaugural Burns Supper 18 January

2012-01-20T13:55:00.005Z

11 January Clyde Walkway in Glasgow

2012-01-17T08:57:00.001Z

Andy, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Peter, Robert & Ronnie

It was a great idea and like all great ideas it was so very simple: Johnny would check the time of the bus leaving Irvine and arriving at Kilmarnock bus station, Ian would check the time of the same bus arriving at the bus stop near his house in Killie, the outlying contingent would meet at Ian’s place and we would all travel to Glasgow on the same bus. Simples! But this is the Ooters we are talking about here and if anybody can muck up a simple idea it’s the Early Ooters.

Jimmy and Peter were first to defect from the plan. They couldn’t get a bus to connect with the one from Irvine so would travel direct to Glasgow and wait there for the rest of us. This they did, having coffee and bacon rolls in the Concert Halls while they waited. Andy from Largs had a similar problem with the same solution, only without the coffee and roll. He was found loitering by the ‘Tempus Fugit’ when the other two had finished coffee and had made their way back to the bus station to await the arrival of the others.

The bus from Irvine arrived bang on schedule. That’s not to say that all the Ooters arrived on schedule. The first part of the plan had been carried out to perfection. The Irvine contingent caught the bus and two of the Killie men boarded at Kilmarnock bus station. So far, so good. But what we had failed to factor into our plan in our alcohol induced euphoria last week was the capriciousness of the travelling public. It appeared that the whole of Kilmarnock wanted to travel to Glasgow on the same day, and on the same bus. The inconsiderate so-and-so’s filled the bus at the bus station leaving no room for those poor Ooters waiting at Ian’s place. Five of them were forced to stand and watch as a full bus sped past with familiar faces gesticulating furiously from the upper deck windows.

Now there were seven Ooters in Glasgow and five waiting in Kilmarnock for the next bus. There was nothing to do now but to spend the time having coffee in the Concert Halls while we waited. (Remember when this was a walking group? - Ed) Nearly half an hour later the missing five appeared having been fetched from the bus station by Robert. They had no time for coffee for the rest of us were ready for the off.

Sometime before noon we wandered down Buchanan Street admiring the city scenery. (One of these days one of you will be arrested for admiring the scenery too closely – Ed) We crossed Argyle Street, came through St. Enoch Square and came to the Clyde Walkway at the foot of Dixon Street. We thought we were turning eastward along the riverside but Davie Mc and Ronnie turned in the opposite direction - ‘Just going to show Ronnie La Pasionara’ – and we followed. La Passionara, the sculpted tribute to the men of the International Brigade who fought Fascism in the Spanish Civil War, has had a lucky escape. The recent storms have blown down a tree the branches of which just missed the upreaching arms of the bronze lady on top of the pedestal. Luckily no damage has been done and La Pasionara still looks defiantly over the river – ‘Better to die on your feet than live forever on your knees’. While we admired the artistic and other interest of the memorial, Davie and Ronnie wandered further westward to look at some Greek inscription on the remains of the old railway bridge.

Once the Greek had been examined and La Pasionara commented on, we did turn eastward along the walkway following it to Glasgow Green and beyond. A skuller from the Glasgow Rowing Club drifted upriver with a casual stroke passing us easily. He passed us again drifting just as casually downstream. We would see him again later. Then we met a walking group coming in the opposite direction and we being of a sociable nature, stopped for a blether. They were a group from East Kilbride who had started at Dalmarnock and were walking into the city centre. They did tell us the name of their group but the scribe has forgotten it. Johnny presented one of them with our blog cards so East Kilbride walkers if you are reading this get in touch and we will give your group a mention.

But time was now wearing on, nearing lunchtime, and we had promised ourselves lunch in West, the German pub on Glasgow Green. An arrangement was made that we would walk on until one o’clock and then turn back. The designated hour came with Andy, Davie Mc and Robert some hundred metres in front of the main group. When they thought one o’clock was we don’t know but they were walking on. Despite shouts from the pack, they walked on. We turned and ambled slowly back along the walkway. We were passed once more by the skuller but this time he was accompanied onshore by a coach on a bike, a coach with a megaphone, and his stroke was more intense. And they passed us again going downstream. But, this apart, there was very little to record before we came to Glasgow Green for the second time.

The errant three caught us up as we came to the Green and we made our way as a group to the Doges Palace and the German pub. Ian’s brother, Alistair, was waiting for us in the pub. It was nice to meet one of our regular readers and it might be nice to meet the other one sometime. However a convivial couple of hours were spent over lunch and refreshment and we can only hope that we haven’t put Alistair off joining us some other time.

Peter and Alistair left us early for different reasons – Alistair to make his way home and Peter to view some art work in St Andrews Cathedral - but the rest of us sat for a while yet. Then we made our way through the city centre to the Buchanan Bus Station and the bus back for Kilmarnock and Irvine and Largs. This time we all managed to get on whichever bus we required.

Next week we are not using buses!

Arrangements for Wed 18th Jan 2012

2012-01-11T18:59:00.004Z

Meet at the bowling green car park in Annbank at 9.30a.m. The walk is along the river Ayr to Auchincruive and return. No refreshments today due to the early start of the Burns Supper.

4 January Darvel to Galston Or What IS the capital of Wisconsin?

2012-01-08T14:41:00.003Z

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny & Ronnie

Johnny is learning the state capitals of the USA. In order to preserve his ageing memory he has set himself the task of memorising lists, the first of which is the state capitals of the US. We would put his new learning to the test throughout the day.

Davie Mc wasn’t going on the walk today. He was suffering from sinusitis which was a great pity from his point of view for we all descended on his house in Darvel to enjoy his hospitality whether he was feeling up to it or not. From our point of view this was one of the highlights to the day for the morning was dreich, the forecast dire and the rain had just started. Not only were we reluctant to carry out the proposed walk, we were also reluctant to leave the warm comfort of Davie’s living room and take to the cold January dribble. In view of this reluctance and the conditions outside, Jimmy’s suggestion that we curtail the walk from the long, high level to a more direct low level one along the river, was eagerly accepted.

The walk itself was a wet but fairly straightforward affair. We crossed the Ranoldcoup Bridge and found the road down the south side of the river towards Newmilns. The effects of Tuesday’s storm and the rains of the last four months were evident as we walked down the road. Blown-over trees, sawn up and roughly cleared from the road, and large pond-like puddles lying on the sodden fields reinforced our belief that this had been a particularly wet and windy winter so far. A tree yet to be sawn and cleared caused a minor diversion but no real inconvenience to our progress down towards Newmilns.

The decline in manufacturing in our area was commented on as we passed the empty and demolished mills and factories of Newmilns. Even the large employer Vesuvius Crucible is in a state of dormancy with only the office seemingly occupied. And Newmilns is typical of many Ayrshire towns. Yet there are signs of possible recovery with smaller units occupied. We will wait and see.

We left tarmac west of Newmilns and took to a pathway beside the river. There was a warning notice there that the path was temporarily closed due to flood damage but we don’t pay much attention to notices. We walked on. Near Galston we came across this flood damage to the path. The river in spate had changed course and washed away some fifty metres of the south bank and with it the path. The authorities have erected a temporary fence along the steep bank and local feet have created a temporary pad alongside this. This is the way we went, joining the made path at the side of the football ground in Galston.

The bus drew up at the bus stop just as we arrived. We took it back to Darvel. Lunch was taken in Davie’s and a fine old Macallan was liberally dispensed by our host – just to drive away the dampness of course.

After lunch we repaired to the Black Bull for FRT. That’s where we really tested Johnny’s new-found brain training. What’s the capital of Texas? Austin! Florida? Tallahasse! New Jersey? Trenton! Johnny was in good form. Idaho? Boise! Alabama? Montgomery! Quick as flash was Johnny. Nebraska? Lincoln! Wisconsin? Em! Em! Try as he might this was one that stumped Johnny. Not only did it stump Johnny, it stumped the rest of us as well. For all the time we sat in the Black Bull Johnny scratched his head (metaphorically not literally or we might have suspected that he was keeping pets) but nothing would come back. Not that anybody cared for we had better things to take our attention.

When we were only half way through our first pint, the barmaid came over to our table. ‘Have you boys had your Ne’erday from us yet?’ she asked. When we replied in the negative she gave us the next round on the house. Many thanks to her and to the Black Bull – may they have a happy and prosperous 2012.

And a Happy New Year to all our readers - both of you.

PS The capital of Wisconsin is Madison - Ed

Quiz Answers

2011-12-28T19:15:00.003Z

Congratulations to the winner Paul and runners up Allan & Jimmy.

The answers are posted on a new page. The tab is above the header photo or click here

The typist has been given her jotters for typing words that weren't actually there, namely "this year".

21 December Cumnock to Ochiltree via Dumfries House Tearoom

2011-12-27T15:47:00.001Z

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul & Robert

Some diseases are infectious and some are contagious – that’s medical fact - but never in his wildest dreams did your scribe think that accidents are infectious. Last week Jimmy appeared with a plaster on his forehead the result of walking into a door. (So he said but we suspect differently!) This week the entire Kilmarnock contingent arrived with plasters on their foreheads. Jimmy has yet to see the joke.

The plan for the day was to have a walk near Cumnock taking in the old mining village of Skares. This was so that Paul, our junior football expert, could see where the famous Skares Bluebell FC once played. But the weather, as it has been many times this year, was dull, damp and dreich with the threat of rain anytime. When we gathered in Jimmy’s place in Cumnock a change of mind was in the offing; we would abandon the Skares idea in favour of a mid-winter saunter down the River Lugar from Cumnock to Ochiltree.

This itself was a straightforward affair and one we have done often before (6/01/2010, 2/02/2011 inter alia) so merits no further description here. Only one or two details should be reported for the sake of the record. The first was a diversion to Dumfries House, not so much for the house itself but for the tearoom there. Because this is the festive season we decided to treat ourselves to an indoor cup of coffee. The waitresses were delighted to see us for they had had nobody in this morning before us and reckoned that they would have nobody for the rest of the day. We were a pleasant distraction from the boredom of doing nothing – at least we were some sort of distraction. A nice half hour over coffee (and Malcolm’s macaroon bar) and we were on our way again.

The next stop was at the Barony ‘A’ Frame. Those who knew that there was only enough seating there for six and who could count that there were nine of us, sped up the track to get the benefit. The three slowcoaches had lunch standing up while the rest enjoyed what comfort a perforated metal bench afforded.

Lunch was followed by a quick tour of the information boards then we headed back down the track to the river again.

A rather unpleasant incident occurred beyond Mill Affleck. The tail-enders - who incidentally had just been listening to a rather Johnny-like rant from Jimmy – came across a dog in some distress. It was one of those ‘Staffie’ type of devil-dugs and it appeared to have something stuck in its mouth. While it was happy to be clapped, it would not let any one of us – well Jimmy, the dug whisperer, anyway – near its blood spattered mouth. A few minutes later a young woman with another of the same type of dug came back along the path. She had been walking along talking on her phone and never even noticed the dog was missing. While the dug whisperer held the other on a lead, the woman bent down, opened the jaws of the distressed devil dug and prized the offending stick from between its teeth. Relieved of its torment now, the devil-dug was a calm and docile as any pet. The woman and her twa dugs kept us company to Ochiltree.

We took the bus back to Cumnock where the Sun provided festive FRT. A special mention should be made of Karen, the barmaid in The Sun who patiently suffered all our festive banter and returned it with a smile. Thanks Karen.

Walk for Wed 28th Dec.

2011-12-21T19:45:00.002Z

Chez Moi - 0930 -1000 for coffee/tea bacon rolls
Depending on weather -A- bus to Ardrossan and walk back to Irvine (3 hours)
OR -B- If weather bad - a short trip round Irvine (2 hours)
After all the exertion - - beer and stovies - Chez Moi

Johnny

Merry Christmas one and all.

14 December Glasgow for the Christmas Curry

2011-12-20T16:07:00.000Z

Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Peter, Rex, Robert & Ronnie

This time last year we talked about traditions and how they are developed; it was when we were in Glasgow for our customary Christmas curry. Today was the day designated to continue this particular Ooters tradition, but not before a sampling of conventional Christmas fare. Ian’s suggestion last week that we met at his place in Kilmarnock for mulled wine and mince pies was enthusiastically accepted and we gathered there around the nine-thirty mark this morning. (Mulled wine at nine-thirty in the morning? I think there is a problem here. – Ed)

Mulled wine notwithstanding, we travelled into the city, parking on Kirklees Place, just behind the Botanic Gardens. The walk was to be one that we have done a few times before (17 December 2008, 16 December 2009 et al). While some of us thought that we would make a change and do the walk in the reverse direction from the others, Robert and Rex set off in the usual direction. Despite the overwhelming feeling for the opposite direction, they strode on, oblivious to our gently persuasive comment. We followed, still commenting on the two disappearing down the hill. The walk was to be in the usual direction.

We walked down to the Kelvin Walkway, followed the river up to the Kelvin Aqueduct and climbed up to Maryhill Locks. A slight deviation from the straightforward walk was made so that the newcomers could see the river from the middle of the aqueduct. And Davie Mc made another when he crossed over a lock gate to the other side of the canal and back by another gate. Apart from that the walk was the usual. We followed the canal to Stockingfield Junction and then the spur to Spiers Wharf where elevenses were taken. That’s when Allan produced his hip flask. (As I said, there is definitely a problem here – Ed)

Suitably refreshed, we made the move to return. But Davie Mc said that it was too early for the return for lunch was booked for two o’clock. He suggested a slight extension to Port Dundas and the end of the spur. Though it wasn’t the most interesting part of the canal, it did add some time onto the walk and by the time we had returned to Speirs Wharf, it was indeed time to make the return journey.

We came back to Maryhill Road and left the banks of the canal. Then by cutting the corner we came to Queen Margaret Drive and back to the Botanics.

Though that was the end of the walk, it wasn’t the end of our day. A quick change of clothes - a quick change of tyre for Rex as well for one of the front ones of his car was flat – and we were on our way down Byres Road to the Ashoka on Ashton Lane. A very convivial hour or so was spent in the usual Ooters fashion. We left the Ashoka around three-thirty fed on curry, watered with lager and thoroughly mellow. (Yep, definitely a problem – Ed)

Early Ooters' Christmas and Ne'erday Quiz 2011

2011-12-15T19:28:00.000Z

The answers are all places that at least some Ooters have been to [this year - NOT this year. The typist has been sacked]; obviously I cannot guarantee that everybody has visited all the places in the answers. Remember, of course, that not all walks have been en Ecosse! Some of the solutions are rather obtuse to try and outwit smartarse Jimmy.

Section 1

Anagrams
Rearrange the letters to find the places according to the three headings:-

Lochs
TOYLAND
CARWIRE
A TINKER
CRINKLE DEN
CAT PEE SMELLS

Hills
NEARBY YELL
GENTLER WHORE
YAMS WILT
GONADS LITE
SACRED DIMPLE

Towns
SLOE MILKER
DIALS HELL
CLANKED BY
LEARN WANK
LAND DUD NO

Total:15 points

Section 2

Cryptic, sort of …

Would you be raving mad to live here? (6 letters)
But do Rex, Richard, Ross and Robert all live happily here? (9)
However, there are more bends on the road to this place than the name would suggest. (8)
Protestant ministers? Definitely not, this is Catholic country! (10)
Could you be bowled over by virgins in this place? (7)
You'd definitely need to be biased to stay and play here. (7)
Sounds as if it is larger than other places, but that's not necessarily so! (6)
Your flag would definitely fly proudly up here if you could see through the bloody mist! (5,8)
It's what the devil wears? Si, señora. Non, madame! (5 or 6)
I hear this is an excellent place for retired criminals! (11)

Total: 10 points

Section 3

Odd man out. Which of the following do not belong?

Dungrain Law, Hill of Stake, Blackcraig, Goatfell, Blacksidend.
Ballochmartin, Ballikillet, Auchenhessnane, Breakough, Figgantoch.
Rankinston, Galston, Annbank, Tarbolton, Catrine.
Col de Jau, Ness Glen, Cairntable, Clyde Valley.
Manteaux de Sel, Nouveaux Moulins, Château de Lait, Beau Zizi.

Any reasonable answers for the above will be considered, and then totally discarded and ignored in favour of the correct one which is mine!

Total: 5 points

Section 4

Ubi coitus sumus? Where were the following pictures taken?

10.

Grand total: 40 points

I'll put up a bottle of wine as the prize. In the event of a tie, I have a deciding question.

Bonne chance!

Quizmaster: Davie Mc

A bit wild in Troon today

2011-12-13T17:31:00.001Z

(not my photo, by the way!).

Kay & Davie were there too - this is the sandy path to Barassie beach. We didn't last long!

7 December Kilmarnock to Springside Circuit

2011-12-13T16:14:00.000Z

Alan, Allan, Andy, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, John K, Malcolm, Paul, Peter, Rex, Robert & Ronnie.

The rain drummed on the roof of Alan’s conservatory and rattled, wind driven, against the windows while we sat in the warmth, contentedly availing ourselves of Allan’s hospitality – bridge rolls with sausages, coffee and biscuits. It was nice to have Ronnie back with us as well after his medical problems and there was a bit of catching up to do here. The crack was good and the food was good and were reluctant to move. But then, are we not a walking group? Are we bothered by a wee bit of weather? The answer to that is probably ‘yes’ for we have seen enough of it this year, enough to last us for a few years to come. But there came a lull in the torrent and, as the rain went off, we set off into the breeze.

The walk was a straightforward, low level affair the first part of which was new territory to most of us and we looked forward to seeing a different part of the country. We set off on a tarmaced path round Annanhill golf course to an old estate house called Mount House. ‘Turned into flats now’, said Allan when we asked. We considered this an excellent way of preserving these old buildings. And we had a good look at it as we came round it to find the old drive which we followed out to what used to be the Dundonald road before the bypass was built. We came under the bypass and followed the old road to where it met the new section from Dundonald Road. Now Alan offered us a choice; we could go down to the river – the Irvine – and follow it or keep to the road to Gatehead. Given the rains of yesterday it was felt that to go to the river would present us with problems; the water would be high and the ground saturated. The consensus was to keep to tarmac. So we crossed the busy road and headed for Gatehead.

In Gatehead, at the Cochrane Inn, we turned right off the busier road onto a quieter country road. At least we though this wee road would be quieter but it was surprisingly busy and we had to step aside more than once to let traffic past before we came to Laigh Milton Mill. Coffee was called at the old mill. The old mill, not so long ago a fine dining place, is pretty derelict now; the windows are boarded up and the walls need some TLC; graffiti covers the boarded windows and litter covers the ground. The remains of the mill wheel stick out of the ground showing where the mill lade once came from the river but even this artefact is in need of attention before it is lost forever. And this was the place we chose to have coffee.

Some sat, some stood and some nosied around the mill. That we were right to avoid the riverside today was apparent here. The Irvine, full of yesterday’s rain and the melting snows of Monday, ran fast and deep and brown over the mill weir, lapping near the top of its rubble-reinforced bank. It would have been silly to come that way today.

With coffee finished, we continued along the narrow road, coming on to the B7081 near Thorntoun Estate. Here we turned left for Springside. In Springside we turned left on to Overtoun Road to find the Kilmarnock to Irvine cycle track along the old railway. We were now back in familiar territory.

Once on the cycle track we had only four miles back to Killie. Only two things of note happened on these four miles: The first was the spotting of a large flock of swans, seventy plus, and an equal number of geese in a field to our right – whooper swans and pink-footed geese according to our expert: The second was to be caught in one of those squally showers that swept the country during our walk. We managed to get some shelter from the worst of the downpour under a bridge over the old railway track and avoid a soaking. Then it was a straightforward stroll/walk/march* back to Kilmarnock. We were caught in another shower just before we arrived at Alan’s place and, though the rain stung into the face, it lasted no length of time at all and was gone by the time we arrived at Alan’s.

Lunch was taken in Alan’s conservatory as was FRT. Wee Davie provided big ‘belters’, steak-filled pasties made by the baker of Killie Pies and we devoured them as well.#

* delete as appropriate

# It was noted that some had more than one bit of belter, one in particular had three bits. We know who you are!

Mosset Ooters visit 2012

2011-12-08T22:05:00.002Z

I am considering the possibility of a much earlier visit this year. I have booked to go to New England in the fall, therefore it would suit better to go to Mosset in the Spring . This change of season would enhance your experience of the flora and fauna of the Pyrenees. One of the weeks I am considering is the 17th-24th April. At the moment the Ryanair price for flights to Barcelona El Prat is £60 return (provided I buy a Ryanair prepaid card and book the flights before they go up and travel without a big case). Barcelona El Prat adds around an extra 60miles driving to the house
which is the result of O'leary being in dispute with Gerona Airport over subsidies. Carcassonne would cost £130 per person return. The flight times are good leaving Prestwick around 10.15a.m. and departing El Prat around 14.25 p.m.If interested consult diaries and wives and give me some feedeback on this proposal.

Loudoun Hill, Tuesday

2011-12-06T13:28:00.000Z

A few Pictures of Loudoun Hill this morning

30 November Carrick Hill from Greenan Shore

2011-12-04T08:56:00.001Z

Alan, Allan, Andy, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Peter, Rex & Robert

Given the weather of the last few days, especially yesterday when the monsoon hit, it is something of a minor miracle that we got for a walk at all today. Still, the morning was dry and, despite the forecast for more heavy rain later today, we did get for a walk.

Rex’s house was easy to find this morning for this being St. Andrew’s Day, a huge Saltire flew above his door. Despite his Aussie birth and upbringing, he has been here long enough to be a proud adopted Scot and was showing us how to celebrate our national day. But more of Rex’s celebrations later.

The plan was to walk to the top of Brown Carrick from Rex’s place in Alloway but given the predicted early afternoon rain, the decision was made cut the walk short and drive down to the shore at Greenan. While most of us found the correct car park one, who shall remain anonymous to save his embarrassment but for the sake of identification we will call Vadie Mc, found himself alone in the park nearer the millennium brig. By the time he had walked the half mile or so to join us we were changed into walking gear and were champing at the bit for the off.

Weel happit against a snell south-easterly, we set off along the shore towards Greenan Castle. The tide was on the flow but there was still sufficient sand for us to make it round the rocks under the castle. Birds by the hundred searched the weed on the litter line and prodded the sand closer to the water; the birders were in heaven. A pair of swans took to the wing, skimming over our heads, as we approached Craig Tara Caravan Park. Now, we would normally turn up through the caravan park but Jimmy and Ian had a ‘better’ suggestion; we would follow the route that they found the last time we were here – 8 December last year - and avoid much of the busy Dunure road.

We kept to the shore for a bit yet, turned in at the caravan park utility station and came on to its golf course. A friendly Yorkshire Terrier - is there really such a thing? – accompanied us across the golf course much to the frustration of its owner who stood and shouted long for it. Eventually we managed to chase it back towards her, but not until we had crossed the fairway to a gate on its far side. Now, with the dog heading back towards its owner, we came through the gate onto a steep and muddy track. So much for a ‘better’ route so far!

The track took us up to what Ian called ‘the llama field’. This was the field where the llamas were last December but here were none this December, only big, brown sheep and pale grey donkeys. Despite much ‘shooing’, it was the donkeys that decided to accompany us now. But that problem was solved when we came to the ford on the far side of the paddock and they decided to turn back. But now we had a different problem.

Not surprisingly given the recent rains the burn was in spate and the water was running deep and brown over the ford. The hydrophobes rebelled. A quick rethink was needed. We would now follow the burn across another field to find a track that would take us up to the Dunure road. This is what we did and found ourselves on the tarmac without too much effort. (Or too much miscalling of Ian and Jimmy.)

We bade farewell to Peter here for he had appointments to keep. He turned back towards Greenan while we crossed the Dunure road and took the minor one for Carrick Hills.

The climb of the road was a straightforward affair. We stopped on the lea of a bank for elevenses for the wind was now strengthening and we feared there would be little shelter further up the hill. And we were right. As we climbed, the wind grew fiercer. By the time we were on the final zigzags to the radio masts, we were battling into a ferocious gale, a gale that was proving tricky. On the zig it was in our faces threatening to push us back and on the zag it was on our backs hurrying us along. On the bends it was on the side threatening all sorts of other mischief. Yet, despite the wind, we all made it safely to the shelter of the shacks round the masts. And as a bonus, the rain had stayed away.

But we weren’t finished at the radio masts. We now left tarmac and took to the open hill. Surprisingly, the hill wasn’t nearly as wet as we expected it to be and the footing was easy. Not so the wind though. We butted into it across the open hill to the trig point marking the summit and stayed there just long enough for the record photo to be taken then turned tail and came back across the hill. With the wind on our backs, we made good time back to the shelter of the radio shacks. We lunched in the lea of the shacks.

The descent of the road was quicker than the ascent, especially for Jimmy who couldn’t control himself and sped past everybody only to wait for us on the flatter ground near the main road. And we kept to tarmac this time, coming past Heads of Ayr Farm with its exotic Zebu cattle in the field and back to Craig Tara. This time we did come through the caravans and back to the shore.

The tide was on the ebb again but was still pretty close to its high and some doubt we expressed as to whether we would be able to get round the rocks under Greenan Castle. These fears were increased when we had to climb and clamber down the first wee outcrop that we came to but they we allayed as we approached the castle and saw the extent of sand available to us. We would walk comfortably round.

Past the castle then and with only a few hundred yards to the cars the first spots of rain hit. We had been lucky with the day despite the wind on top.

For FRT today we repaired to Rex’s place where he had laid on not only the usual ale but, since it was St. Andrew's day, Scotch pies as well. Our thanks go to Rex for his hospitality. Next week we want fillet steaks.

9 November Portencross and Goldenberry Hill

2011-11-28T18:59:00.000Z

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Rex & Robert

Hill of Stake, that mysterious top that lies on the Ayrshire-Renfrewshire border, a top that we have tried and for various reasons have failed to find, remains a mystery. The plan to walk there and prove for once and for all that it really does exist was abandoned today again for the weather forecast was anything but good and we have had enough of walking in the rain this year. So where to instead?

After a bit of head scratching in the pub last week, we opted for a wet weather alternative of the Portencross circular. (See 5/01/2011 inter alia) So, four cars decanted eleven Ooters onto the car park at Portencross in North Ayrshire.

The forecast was for rain arriving sometime during the morning but at the moment it was dry though overcast. It was dry yes, but a raw sea breeze kept the temperature down and we were glad to be walking to stir up the blood and raise the body heat.

Most of us thought that we would be doing the usual circuit but Ian had other ideas. "Since we’re here and it’s dry at the moment, why don’t we climb Goldenberry and make the walk different?" His suggestion was accepted gladly, even by those with an aversion to climbing, for we have done this circuit so many times that we welcomed anything that would make it different. So we set off back towards West Kilbride. Robert spotted a path leading up the hill and proposed that as a route but the consensus was that this might be mucky and we should perhaps stick to the track through Ardneil Farm barely half mile further on.

That’s where Johnny stopped. Just as we were about to turn off the tarmac onto the farm track, Johnny met an old colleague and stopped for a blether while we walked on. But are we not compassionate people? As the track left the farm steading we stopped to wait for Johnny. And we waited. And waited. And waited......

Eventually Johnny arrived and we could walk on.

We might have stayed on that track and taken a direct route for the mast on top of Goldenberry but there was an interest in viewing the dun on top of Auld Hill, a top rising immediately on our left. This entailed coming through a field gate, rising slowly along the edge of a turnip field, through another gate, climbing steeply in a gap through the bracken and then more gently up the southern ridge of the rise. This sounds long and arduous but in fact it was easy, the distance to the top being nearly half a mile and the total rise somewhere around the eight hundred mark. And the effort was worthwhile. Why the ancients chose this point for their defensive farmstead was obvious as we took in the view from the top. Even on this dull day it was remarkable: from the heads of Ayr in the south to the hills of Cowal and Argyll in the north and from the hinterland of north Ayrshire to the islands of the Clyde and with the steep slope on one side and the cliffs of Portencross falling steeply to the village and its harbour on the other we could see why this was such a strong defensive position.

To add to our enjoyment of this wee top, shafts of sun broke through the cloud spotlighting the firth and surrounding landscape. Those with an eye for such things tried to capture the scene with their cameras.

We left the dun, clambered down the steep slope to the north-east and carefully stepped over an electric fence into a stubble field that sloped gently up towards Goldenberry. Some kept to the top of the sea cliffs above Hunterston and others made a more direct route for the top. But, no matter which route was chosen, we all arrived at the mast on top at the same time. Here coffee was called and we settled down in the shelter of the mast buildings for a caffeine boost.

After coffee some were for following the quad tracks towards Hunterston but Ian directed us in a more northerly and steeper line to find a track among the trees above the power station. This track took us gently down to the tarmac at Hunterston Castle. Now we were in very familiar territory and followed the tarmac to the power station road.

So far the rain had stayed away but the first spots were felt as we walked along the shore towards the power station. Rex and Robert, fearing that they might dissolve in the rain, picked up the pace leaving the birdwatchers little time for their observations. This was maybe just as well for the rain came seriously when we got to the power station. However, compassion compelled us to stand in the rain and wait for Ian who was seen to be sitting some hundred metres behind, but when we discovered that he was not medicating as we thought but just donning waterproof trousers, we were somewhat less than compassionate. Ian’s ears burned and we walked on into the steady dribble.

Nearly back at Portencross we came across a motorist with a predicament. Somehow he had managed to squeeze his car between two boulders to get into the old pier but couldn’t quite negotiate his way back through on his exit. Despite the rain we stopped to offer our advice and assistance, even trying to move the boulders for him. But when it became obvious that it would take time and a great deal of shuffling back and forth and the rain was constant now, we left him and his mate to it and came back to our cars parked in a more sensible place. We can only hope that he is not still stuck there shuffling back and forth between the boulders. We will find out next time we are this way.

Given the forecast, we had been lucky to get a dry walk at all. Yet, on the whole, the day was good, only marred by the rain on the way back.

FRT was taken in the Laurieston, a place that is rapidly becoming our howf after walks in north Ayrshire.

Not the Hill of Stake ... for the umpteenth time 23 Nov

2011-11-24T11:45:00.003Z

Allan, Andy, Davie, Davie, Ian, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Rex, Robert

It was chucking it down as we arrived at the Visitors' Centre at Muirshiel for the proposed ascent of the Hill of Stake. Some of us had arrived on time but others i.e. the Kilmarnock car driven by Ian and navigated by Robert were late - not for the first time recently I may add. Having missed a turn off they managed to get bogged down in a verge – you couldn’t make it up!

Given the weather, even the alternative lower level walk was out of the question given overhead and underfoot condition so we adjourned to the Visitors Centre at Castle Semple Loch to take stock.

Coffee and buns were duly consumed and, before we got far too comfortable (and much too excited after having drooled over Johnny’s pictures of his foundations – and they can’t touch you for it!), Robert, who else?, announced that we were going for a walk.

Therefore at 10.55 we set off down the cycle path towards Kilbarchan. This brought back somewhat sore memories of the cycle to Pollok Park a couple of years ago – a trip maybe to be repeated in better weather. The rain had moderated by this time and was in our back anyway as we made good progress (guess who was in the front!) along the well maintained path. After about an hour it was decided that we should turn around and retrace our steps. Again progress was good even into the rain until Johnny decided, within sight of the Visitors Centre, that we should deviate from the high path and take the lower one beside the loch. Bad move! We were in and out of puddles (good one Jimmy!) for the quarter mile back to the cars arriving at 12.50.

Use was made of the changing facilities in the Centre to get into dry clothes and we were made most welcome to bring our packed lunches inside. Every cloud…, as they say. Thanks to the staff there for being so hospitable!

We got soaked running the 50yds back to cars for the short journey up to the pub on the corner. Here, Ian graciously presented Rex with the Mosset trophy. Rex, in bouleish mood, accepted in typical Aussie way by suggesting that it had been far too easy. Next year there will be no Aussie rules boules – Johnny will make up the rules!

Dundonald to Irvine 16 Nov

2011-11-18T16:33:00.002Z

Alan, Andy, Davie, Davie, Eddie, Ian, Malcolm, Robert

This may be a first for the blog as the blogger was not on the walk. Who says the blog is a work of fiction anyway?

Six ooters were reinforced by Eddie and Andy today. Davie, hearing of the shortage of regulars, sent 3/4. With the smell of bacon rolls wafting through Dundonald everybody made the meeting point at Malcolm’s and tucked into his (sorry, Anne’s) tasty treat. Ian Hill, noticing a surfeit of the rolls, had a second and allegedly stopped after that. What is the collective noun for bacon rolls anyway? Maybe we’ll just call it a malky.

Suitably fed and watered, the expedition set off towards Troon following, at least most of the time, the Smugglers’ Trail. Robert, as usual, set a comfortable pace – who’s kidding who here? – and legend has it that by the time lunch was called for on Barassie beach, in lovely sunshine I may add, the distance from the first to last man was a mere 2km.

After the trek along the beach to Irvine, a pit stop was made at the Ship Inn before returning to Dundonald by bus and car (Allan by this time had served his punishment and had been let out for the rest of the day).

Further refreshments were taken at the Old Castle in Dundonald.

Penpont walk - route

2011-11-08T10:44:00.001Z

Distance 14.7 km

Penpont pics

2011-11-02T19:14:00.000Z

Perthshire in autumn

2011-10-30T20:48:00.001Z

More pictures of Mosset 2011

2011-10-29T21:59:00.011+01:00

Mosset 19-26 October 2011

2011-10-29T15:55:00.007+01:00

Cast

Big Chief Long Toe ...Robert
Ipache Indian ...Johnny
Sitting Boules ...Rex
Quartermaster, cook and general good time girl ...Alan
Texas Ranger (or Taxes Ranger, whatever!) ...Malcolm
General 'Lumpy' Custard ...Davie C
Major Issues ...Paul
Miss Kitty ...Allan

Wednesday 19th

As Ooters, we don't ask much
Only that Paul can tell the brake from the clutch

Prestwick - Girona - Mosset
For possibly the first time the beardies were outnumbered as we assembled at Prestwick for the annual Mosset trip. Seven of us had prebooked the former toilet area on the Ryanair flight and were strapped in standing up for the length of the journey. Not bad for an extra 50 euros each! Rex chose the first class option and had the outside toilet all to himself.
Soon we were at Girona and finding our way to the hired cars.
The Kilmarnock/Ayr Fiat Doblo was soon on its way and should have been followed by the Irvine/Dundonald/Barassie VW Caddy but for the inability of the car to start. Paul tried umpteen times to get it going and was advised by Allan to depress the clutch before turning the key, but still no joy. Paul did say though that he found that the clutch had little travel on it - this should have been the clue.
Eventually Paul and co-driver Malcolm went back to the office for assistance only to return and report that the car had a voice activated starting mechanism. Paul tried again as Johnny shouted in Fawltyesque fashion for the car to start. After a while with still no joy Paul admitted that this was a joke and that all he had to do was depress the clutch before starting. After failing miserably again Allan got out from the back, (not easy as the Caddy had only one rear door and it was not at Allan's side), went into the driver's seat and started the car first time. Paul and Malcolm were amazed. 'Let me try again,' said Paul. It was only after some more unsuccessful attempts and some helpful 'advice' from the rear did he realise that he had been pressing the brake all the time.
However, to be fair, Paul and all the other drivers did us proud for the week.
We stopped for a bite to eat at the Catalan Village then headed for Super U to stock up for the first couple of days. Robert made his famous sausages and lentil dish and the company settled down for a relaxing evening of wine, women and song - well one out of three ain't bad and, in case your wondering, the one came out of a bottle, well a box actually. By this time the rain was pouring down outside but thankfully this was the only occasion we were to see any real rain.

Thursday 20th

The first snow of winter was on the peaks
It made for a walk of rosy cheeks

Pic du Roussillon
We awoke to a bright crisp day having decided that the opener should be the walk up to the Pic du Roussillon. The rain on the previous evening had fallen as snow on the mountain tops and made for some stunning scenery. This is a well established walk and the sunny conditions made for good progress. The wind was chill though and our usual coffee stop was passed by in favour of the shelter of some rocks further up. As we took a short break, for the wind seemed to be hitting us no matter where we sat, griffon vultures soared effortlessly overhead. Some thought was given to sacrificing the two Mosset virgins in our midst but sense prevailed when they offered us money for their safe passage.
Next stop was at the shelter close to the road for lunch and here indeed we were sheltered and enjoyed a lazy half hour basking in the sun before striding up the road towards the summit. Allan, Johnny and Malcolm continued on the road whilst the others made the detour up to the top where the windy conditions made for a short stop. After that itwas downhill all the way with the party being reunited well before we returned to Mosset.
Alan cooked up a fish pie plus accompaniments for the meal and a very convivial evening was had.
N.B. Johnny retired at 9.15.

Friday 21st

Not the shock that it may seem
The doms were won by the Irvine team

Canal Walk Into Molitg Les Bains
Thought had been given to do the coastal walk but some were keen to watch the Australia v Wales rugby match so the coast was put off until the next day. Whilst the rugby was on another shopping trip was made and lunch was taken alfresco. The weather was still beautiful despite the overnight frost when we set off along the canal heading for Molitg.
We had intended having a beer at the cafe in High Moiltg but it was shut so we headed down to the Royal and enjoyed our beers there before setting off down past the Spa before climbing up to the top of the hill. Here we had ample photo opportunities in the lovely afternoon sun before commencing the homeward leg. Here forward thinking on Robert's part paid off as the Doblo had already been parked on the road back to Mosset. Seven of us in a 2-3-2 formation piled into the car whilst Paul, he of the good sense (remember this was a 5-seater), decided to stride back to base camp.
Rex's dish tonight was Pork in Hoi Sin sauce having carried the tin of sauce all the way to France from Possil - now there's dedication for you.
The dominoes competition was won far too easily by Johnny and Allan after the teams had been decided by drawing lots. It must be stated that the previous joint winner failed to win any of his downs. Nae T-shirts this year then!

Saturday 22nd

Tapas for dinner on a night so starry
A new anthem, 'There's only one Bob McGarry'

Coast Walk to Port Vendres
Another fine morning saw the group travelling to the usual starting point for this walk between Banyuls and Port Vendres. The weather had dulled over but by the time we reached the lighthouse at Cap Bear the sun had come out again and lunch was taken in our den before continuing along the road to Port Vendres where refreshments were taken in a quayside cafe.
We then drove to Collioure to enable Malcolm and Davie to see this picturesque village. After a look around and being entertained by rowing races in the rather choppy harbour, we set off for home.
For dinner we had booked in at the cafe in High Molidg. It hadn't been our first choice but since the Cafe Royal was not doing evening meals and the menu looked good Robert had taken the opportunty to book it. We set off in good spirits in the Doblo with Robert driving and this time the formation was 2-4-2.
Unbeknown to us though, the choice was Tapas or Tapas. This suited most, but our resident I.T. expert was less than impressed. However, although different, we had a good night ending with Robert putting a bet on with the owner about the outcome of the Rugby World Cup Final. The formation on the return was a more-laid back 2-3-3, the ball players being in the boot.

Sunday 23rd

Brownings, Aulds and Greggs should cry
There's nothing like a Mosset Pie

We settled down to watch the New Zealand v France game whilst Davie prepared the evening meal. Despite the pundits' predictions the home side just hung on for a narrow victory with France taking a lot of credit. Because of this Robert didn't have the Gaul to go and pick up his winnings - a free drink.
After lunch at the house we set off for a walk from the Col de Jau. This took us off to the right and as we passed two dead sheep in a pen we wondered what lay ahead. Maybe the circling eagles above had something to do with it.
Q. What do you drink with a dead sheep?
A. Mutton Cadet
After an hour or so of following the track, it eventually ran out and, with the weather beginning to close in, a decision was made to return the way we had come. Paul, who had earlier informed us that, according to his GPS, we were only 962 miles from the Hill of Stake (possibly the closest we will ever get to it) and Robert made a wee detour to try and find another path and when they emerged they were accompanied by a wee dug which followed them all the way back to the cars and looked longingly at us as we left it behind.
Davie's Beef Wellington aka Mosset Pie went down a treat and since Johnny had retired early again and we were suffering withdrawal symptoms from his eloquence we compensated by listening to Kevin 'Bloody' Wilson. Another good night!

Monday 24thThe forecast was dodgy, a day for cagoules?
A coffee, an abbey and a game of boules

Saint Martin du Canigou
In anticipation of rain we decide to play safe and travelled to Vernet Les Bains where we had a coffee before climbing up to L'Abbaye St Martin du Canigou. The weather was fine if a bit windy at the viewing point so we wasted no time in finding our way back to the carpark for lunch.
The annual boules tournament was held in Vernet and on a much better surface than last year. This allowed for some fine play with Rex, Alan and Paul reaching the final in which Rex was triumphant. Who is Ian Hill anyway?
The day out had been much better than anticipated with only a couple of brief, light rain showers to contend with.
Johnny was given special dispensation to return to the kitchen and he produced the goods by serving up soup and seafood risotto for dinner.

Tuesday 25th

Up the hill to the hamlet of Llugols
The vanishing three got a flea in their lugholes

Prades Market and Llugols
A beautiful morning greeted us for the trip to Prades market and a coffee in our favourite café. Various options had been suggested for today including a trip to the Col de Mantet and the walk up to Les Trois Etoiles but, with fatigue setting in, a low level walk was agreed.
This started at the school in Prades and wound its way up the road to Llugols. Low level it might have been but it was uphill all the way affording terrific views back down the valley from Prades to Perpignan and over towards the Canigou. Having reached the hamlet (basically a few houses) Allan decided to go back down the way he had come up and was followed by Johnny and Malcolm whilst the remainder walked on down a donkey track to complete a circular route.
Back at base camp, after the big tidy up, Johnny was allowed a reprise in the kitchen with another hearty soup and pork chops.
The darts tournament was held in the evening and was won by Malcolm who beat Allan in the final. Thankfully we decided not to use the rules devised by Johnny (we'd still be playing yet) and went for a straight knock-out.

Wednesday 26th

It's good-bye to Mosset for another year
Is Davie still drinking the Chimay beer?

Mosset - Girona - Prestwick
A 9 o'clock start saw us back at Girona in plenty of time for the flight back to Prestwick. .

Thanks again to Robert for his hospitality and forbearance.
Well done to the drivers, cooks and bottle washers.
A special award to Davie for managing the walks where his vertigo was sorely tested.

So it's back tae auld claes and purridge then!

26 October Cumnock to Catrine via Ochiltree

2011-10-26T21:30:00.000+01:00

Jimmy, Peter, John Kelso

With the gang still missing for the reasons of last week, Jimmy and Peter with Peter’s friend John from Auchinleck took advantage of a bright morning to walk the Cumnock to Ochiltree walk, visit Dumfries House, have a a bite of peece in the old graveyard at Ochiltree and finish by walking through Auchinleck House estate to Catrine.

19 October Lunky Hole Circular, Muirkirk

2011-10-26T21:23:00.000+01:00

Davie Mc, Jimmy

With most of the group jetting off to France for the annual trip and others otherwise occupied, only two turned out for this outing around Muirkirk. As we changed into walking gear in the car park at Kames a plane was heard flying south and we suspected this was the flight carrying the boys to the sun of southern France. Had the weather been as it has been for the last week - pouring rain flooding the countryside - we might have felt a twinge of jealousy. As it was, the day dawned bright and sunny and, given the northerly airstream, we anticipated that this would be the pattern of the day; there was only a fleeting moment of regret as we heard the plane fly south into the morning sun.

The northerly wind was cool but when we were sheltered from this the sun was pleasantly warm, warm enough for Davie to start the day in shorts and for Jimmy to set off jacketless. This was the way it was to stay for the rest of the day.

The walk itself was to be the same circuit as we have done before (7/7/2010 & 29/6/2011) so we set off south-westward behind Kames towards Tibbie’s Brig on the River Ayr Way. This was to be a more relaxed walk than we are used to for Jimmy had his camera with him and Davie had the patience to wait while he photographed anything from Tibbie’s Brig to sunlight on the autumn leaves and the coos in the fields. And in this relaxed mood we came down the River Ayr Way to the Cumnock road.

Birdlife was abundant on this section today: kestrels hunted over the moor around Tibbie's Brig, finches kept us amused along the old railway and a flock of around two hundred fieldfare fed in a field near Wellwood. We took time to watch the birds today.

Unusually, considering the bright morning, we never met a soul on the ‘Way’ today. The first person that we saw was a fisher preparing to catch lunch at Dalfram Bridge. We wished him success and walked on up the minor toad to Dalfram, crossed the Sorn road and continued towards Netherwood. Jimmy’s camera was in action again when he saw the unusual herd in the field; horse six cows and a single sheep. When Jimmy stopped by the roadside, the herd/flock came running towards him affording plenty of opportunity for the camera. Davie waited patiently while all this took place. Then, with the prize winner in the bag, we walked on.

We left tarmac at Burnfoot and came down to the side of the Netherwood Burn. On the bridge here we stopped for a bite to eat.

We found the wet bit just over the bridge, where the old track degenerates before it joins the forest road but then what could we expect after the rains of the last month. But we managed to pick our way over the wet muck to join the forest road and followed this round to the remains of the old open-cast works.

If we thought that the road was wet earlier, we were in for a shock now for the wee wild-life pond created here was filled to overflowing with the previous rains, overflowing right across the road we had to travel. And ten inches deep in places. We had to make a diversion round the only comparatively drier area to the west. At least Holly enjoyed the paddle.

Back on terra firma we followed the road out to the Stra’ven road, crossed this and too the Tardoes Road to the kirk. There are a few interesting old stones in this graveyard. Buried here are Tibbie Pagan, John Lapraik, the Rev. John Shepherd (Muirland Jock in Burns’s ‘Kirk’s Alarm’) and the covenanter John Smith but the most intriguing stone must be that to the two children killed by a wildcat. We spent some time in the old graveyard, wandering around in the sun, even taking time to look at the covenanter’s monument retrieved from the old Glenbuck church before it was swallowed up by the open-cast.

But time was moving on and we moved on as well. From the churchyard we made our way back on to the River Ayr Way by way of Auldhouseburn road. Twenty minutes saw us back along the ‘Way’ to Kames and the end of the walk.

The Coachhouse provided FRT for the day before we made our separate ways home.

12 October - Cumbrae

2011-10-17T10:20:00.002+01:00

Nine Ooters (Robert, Johnny, Allan, Ian, Macolm, Rex, Paul, Davie x 2) gathered at Allan's for scones and coffee and to make a decision on the day's walk.

The original plan to walk from Largs to the Hill of Stake had been more or less ruled out for fear of it becoming another Black Craig walk. Muirshiel to the near-mythical hill was the proposed alternative, but the day had dawned grey with low cloud, and after a vote(!!!) the decision was taken to go to Cumbrae instead. The vote had been 5-4 in favour of Cumbrae .... but the waters were then muddied when Allan tried to switch his vote from Cumbrae to Hill of Stake (Allan doesn't often vote for anything with "hill" in it) but his intervention was deemed ultra vires.

At this point Robert opined that what we needed was a "benevolent dictator". A few nodded sagely, but all opined that, by definition, Robert would obviously be ruled out from holding such a position.

Rather than the two men and a dog we expected to be waiting for the Cumbrae ferry, the slipway area was mobbed with scores of university students (budding biologists going to cut up fish) waiting to board the ferry. Strangely they were all lined up in twos, with a few holding hands. Whatever happened to the student anarchists of yesteryear? Some of the Ooters chose to line up behind the students, not holding hands so far as could be seen, whilst the erstwhile anarchists just stood at the top of the slipway, and consequently got the best seats.

Ian had a plan.

At the Water Sports Centre we were to leave the road around the island and cut overland towards the Glaidstone road. There was a track. We climbed to the top of Broomy Knowes (89 metres asl) but then the rains which had fallen in recent days all seemed to have accumulated on the path below Broomy Knowes and we had to pick our way around deep puddles and clawing red mud to get back to tarmac. Some were more successful than others in avoiding the perils of the track. In the best traditions of the Ooters, Ian got pelters. However, his retort that he had voted to go to the Hill of Stake soon silenced the critics.

Morning coffee was taken at the usual spot, atop the Glaidstone, now embellished with several new seats.

The rain which had stayed off so far now put in an appearance, but it was no worse than light drizzle. It transpired that Ian didn't have his waterproof jacket with him, but using the skills he no doubt learned in the BBs he created a fetching little black number out of a bin liner he had with him.

Millport resembled a ghost town with hardly anyone out and about. We decided to call in at the golf club for a refreshment but we were thwarted in our ambitions. Like Millport, it was shut.

We headed off through the fields to Fintray Bay where lunch was taken at the picnic tables by the shore. Today very few cyclists were out on the road, and cars were pretty infrequent too.

The walk ended, naturally, with a race to the ferry terminal.

FRT was taken at the Laurieston in Ardrossan.

This was a pleasant and relatively leisurely day out ... and we still have the Hill of Stake to look forward to!

West Kilbride to Largs 31 Aug 2011

2011-10-08T13:35:00.002+01:00

Allan, Davie C, Ian, Jimmy, Malcolm, Paul

Six Ooters met at West Kilbride Railway Station at 9.30 on a dry, warm but overcast morning to start the walk to Largs via Blaeloch Hill and down through Kelburn Estate. The route was well documented when we did this walk for the first time on 28 April 2010 so mention here will be made of the big change to the landscape that has taken place over the last 15 months, namely, the groundworks and accompanying road network that have been installed in order to construct yet another windfarm . The view from Blaeloch Hill inland towards Dalry and Kilbirnie is now dominated by the aforementioned works but, on the positive side, it meant that another group of walkers, the West Kilbride Ramblers, had an easier walk up to the hill from Dalry as they now could follow a road for a fair part of the way. Lunch was spent blethering to our new friends.

Our descent towards Kelburn was also made easier for part of the way as we joined the access road for half a mile or so until we turned off towards the burn and the path into the estate before descending to the bus stop at the foot of Haylie Brae. Fortunately we did not have long to wait and we were soon heading back to West Kilbride but as we passed through Fairlie we stopped to pick up the WK Ramblers who had made their way down via Fairlie Glen.

This was a good walk (5 and a bit hours) with only one really boggy part to contend with despite the rain that had fallen on previous days.

FRT was taken at the Lauriston in Ardrossan.

Arrangements for 12 October

2011-10-05T17:26:00.003+01:00

Hill of Stake(!) from Largs, via Gogo Burn.

Meet at Allan's, 9.00 for 9.30 departure.

JM - alternative

Robert never printed T-shirts like this for us!

Nice to see we have an American Following
JMatt - supplementary

28 September Not Carlin’s Cairn: Not Our Easiest Day

2011-10-04T16:37:00.002+01:00

Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Robert

‘Setting my staff wi’ a’ my skill,

Tae keep me siccar,

Though leeward whiles, against my will.

I took a bicker.’

‘We must have come to the only place in Scotland that’s no’ bathed in sunshine’, said Davie Mc. And he seemed to be right for when we left central Ayrshire this morning the sun was rising into a clear blue sky and the air was still and already warm and the forecasters said that there was to be wall to wall sunshine across the country. Yet, when we gathered at Greenwell just north of Carsphairn, not only was the sky overcast but the cloud hung low over the hills, the hills that were our intended target for the day. And a fresh wind blew; a wind that threatened to be even stronger two thousand feet higher up the mountain. Still, we were here and the optimists suggested a forecast that was favourable so the decision was made to carry out the planned climb to Carlin’s Cairn.

Carlin’s Cairn is a two and a half thousand foot top half way along the Rhinns of Kells, the long, broad ridge of tops that runs for nearly ten miles from Loch Doon in the north to Clatteringshaws in the south. So we knew that it would be a long day, a long day but not too difficult for once we were up on the ridge, we wouldn’t drop below the two thousand foot mark for the next four miles or so. But we had to get to the ridge before we could climb to the top and to get to the foot of the ridge we had a mile and a half of road and track to cover.

We set off up the road towards the remains of Woodhead lead mining village, towards the hills, towards the fog, the leaders setting a fine pace. We came over the swollen Carsphairn Lane by the stone arched bridge (1935, Davie?) and up to the farm of Garryhorn where Greirson of Lagg had his headquarters during the killing times of the seventeenth century. But there was no let up in the pace to examine Garryhorn - ‘We’ll see it on the way back’ - and we continued to climb gradually towards the ruins of Woodhead at a fair old lick. Nor was there time to examine the ruins of the lead mines or the village - ‘We’ll see it on the way back’ - as the leaders pushed steadily on. Then, at the top of the village by the remains of the old school, a halt was called for a caffeine top-up.

And still the fog was down on the hill. But it did seem to be breaking up – or was this just wishful thinking on the part of the optimists? We would see for there was a determination to climb today, fog or no fog.

The caffeine top-up was necessary for within a hundred yards of our halt we left the track and took to the open hill on the flank of Coran of Portmark. Again we thank the inventor of quad-bikes for a set of tracks eased our way up the slope. Without these we would have been climbing through uncultivated, tussocky and lank grasses, an experience not to be wished on anybody. But we had the quad-bike tracks and the slope was not too steep and we climbed easily enough. And as we climbed the sun broke through and the hill fog broke up. And the wind freshened!

‘View stops’ were called frequently for the day was turning hot despite the freshening wind. But the ‘view stops’ didn’t produce the expected long vistas for, even with the wind, a haze hung over the landscape restricting visibility to around the eight or nine mile mark. Still, ‘view stops’ are stops and full advantage of these was taken to recover breath and ease legs. And this is how we gained the top of the ridge on the summit of Coran of Portmark, ‘view stop’ to ‘view stop’.

On top of Coran we found the first of our high level views, a view that was somewhat restricted in the sunny haze but it was sufficient to give the newcomers a flavour of what might be had in clearer air. To the south, our ridge undulated towards Carlin’s Cairn, still holding some of this morning’s cloud; to the south-west Merrick also rose into the cloud but Mullwharchar stood clear; and below us the blue waters of Loch Doon ran north into the Ayrshire haze. But on Coran we also felt the full brunt of the wind – a strong southerly gale, a gale that was reminiscent of the one on Culter Fell a fortnight ago, a gale that we would be walking directly into on course for Carlin’s Cairn.

There was dissention in the ranks. Some felt that to walk into that wind would be daft so, after some discussion, a change of plan was made. We would now walk northward with the wind on our backs to the lower summit of Black Craig of Loch Doon. This was the first of our mistakes.

Jimmy and Robert set off down through the grass to the north east in a direct line for Blackcraig. But Davie insisted that there was a quad-bike track at the side of the fence leading directly north, slightly off course but easier walking. We took to the tracks – the second of our mistakes. These tracks headed for Loch Doon, downhill, away from where we wanted to be. Jimmy and Robert made a decision to strike out over the rough ground to the top of the col between the two tops suggesting there might be a path of sorts there; the others followed Davie further down the tracks to see if there was a path there.

There was no path. No matter the direction taken, there was no path on to Black Craig. We ended up climbing through rough vegetation, knee deep heather and coarse grassy tussocks, that threw the feet sideways and sapped the energy, an experience not to be wished on anybody. Not until near the top did we discover a path of sorts, a narrow pad tramped through the coarse vegetation. The wind wasn’t quite as strong on this top as it had been on Coran but it was strong enough. So we dropped off the top to its leeward side and a rather tired bunch of Ooters threw themselves on to the grass for a bite of lunch.

‘There’s an old road that runs from Drumjohn to Woodhead’, said Jimmy, ‘and if we follow this pad it’ll probably take us down on to it’. That was agreed for we had had enough of rough stuff for the day - our third mistake. Our pad, or rather the wet scar through the vegetation that acted as our pad, did take us down to the road as Jimmy suggested but it was still a rough descent with hidden sheughs and boulders ready to trap the unwary. It did take us down to the road, though. It was a well constructed forest road and, boy, were we glad to see that road.

Now we were out of the wind and the day was pleasantly sunny and warm. We set off along that road into the sun with a sense of relief. Now the walking would be easy. And it was. But there came a bifurcation in the road, a bifurcation that was unknown to Jimmy who was the one that had been here before. ‘Thirty years before’, protested Jimmy, ‘and from the other direction’. We took the lower road – our fourth mistake. This road turned down towards the Carsphairn Lane and came to an abrupt end in the forest.

The sensible were for turning back to the junction but Robert and Johnny pressed on into the forest to see if there was a way forward. They shouted that there was for Johnny had spotted the end of another road. We staggered through the rough grasses towards the new road. Johnny hadn’t seen a road. What he had seen was the wall of a fire pond with not a road to be seen. For some reason we decide to press on through the rough stuff in the hope that there might be a path beside the drystane dyke that we could see in the distance– our last and worst mistake of the day.

There was no path! There were tussocks of long grass; there were deep, hidden morasses; there were yells as feet found pools of cold, peaty water; there were surprise disappearances as bodies stumbled and fell into the rank vegetation; there was the mysterious incident when Paul’s stick sunk in the peaty mire handle first and, when he regained the vertical, only the point was visible; there were incidents aplenty but there was no path. For the best part of a mile we staggered and stumbled through the jungle of lank grasses and hidden mire, the effort taking a toll on already tired bodies. This was not nice. We weren’t lost; we knew exactly where we were; we just couldn’t find an easy way through the rough stuff. The main road was a hundred yards away over the Carsphairn Lane but there was no way we could get to it over the swollen burn. We just had to thole our misfortune and stagger on as best we could. If ever we get the chance to torture our worst enemies, we will send them to walk through here – twice would be enough.

Eventually though, Ian, from the top of a heathery knowe, spotted the bridge over the river and we had barely a hundred yards or so to go to safe ground. Never has anybody been as glad to see a tarmaced road as we were then. In fact we thought at one time Johnny was going to kiss it. Some stopped on the bridge to recover, some wandered on for if they stopped they would never get going again. It was a weary bunch of auld men that trudged the quarter mile up the road to the Greenwell and the waiting cars.

Though it had its moments, this was hardly our easiest walk. Needless to say, FRT in the Dalmellington Inn was most welcome today.

We didn’t get to Carlin’s Cairn. Nor did we get to examine Garryhorn or Woodhead. Still there’s always another day.

Here be dragons!

2011-09-29T12:34:00.004+01:00

At least it was a short cut.

21 September Ness Glen Again

2011-09-27T16:49:00.003+01:00

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Rex & Robert

Once again this year the weather put paid to the planned outing. We had thought to do a high level walk on the Rhinns of Kells, to Carlin’s Cairn and back. But the present rain and the forecast gales and heavy rain put paid to that idea and we found ourselves gathering at the dam of Loch Doon for another circuit of the Ness Glen/Dalcairnie Linn walk.

The Kilmarnock contingent was late. Oh, excuses were made but the bottom line is that they were late – end of story! Still their lateness gave the opportunity for another classic Ooters faux pas. As we stood in the rain and waited, Davie Mc suggested that as soon as they drove up we would all look at and point to our watches to indicate their tardiness. Then, when Ian’s car was spotted coming along the road, Davie gave the countdown - three, two, one and we all held up watches to the car. It was not until it drove past with a stranger in the driver’s seat giving us an even stranger look, that we realised our error. Oops! There were seven rather sheepish looking Ooters standing in the rain by the roadside at Loch Doon when the Killie boys eventually arrived.

So, with the party now numbering eleven, we set off down the glen into the rain. Robert set a cracking pace on the first section, apparently not wanting to be late twice in the one day. Conversation was at a premium as the pace was kept up and the heads were kept down into the rain. Along the top of the gorge we trudged, along past ‘Fort Apache’, along past the remains of Tracy’s bench and down to the Bridge on the Craigengillan road. In trees it was difficult to decide whether the rain was still on or whether the pattering on the jacket hoods was just drips from the trees, shaken off by the freshening breeze. It was still on but, as the breeze was south-westerly, it was on our left shoulder. It might have been worse; it probably would be later when we turned out faces into the wind but for now it was on our shoulder and we trudged on tholing it.

At Bellsbank ponds we stopped for coffee. Some sat on the bench (only room for four), Johnny sat on the seat of his rucksack and the rest stood around in the constant dribble. Needless to say coffee this morning was a speedy affair. Then we trudged on down to The Promised Land.

Was the rain easing slightly? Yes it was and by the time we had gained The Promised Land, it was off. But there was no brightening of the sky; it remained as steely grey as ever. The walk along the road to Dalcairnie * was better than it might have been with only the occasional drip from the trees, the damp air and the wetness of the road to remind us of the rain. The breeze was still with us though, but as we dropped off the road to Dalcairnie Linn, we lost both the dribble and the wind. And here in the shelter of the trees at the linn we stopped for lunch.

As was to be expected on a day like this, the linn was spectacular, a forty foot wall of brown-white water roaring down into the rock-walled cauldron and sending clouds of misty spray downstream. While most were content to eat, Allan tried to capture the scene with the camera. We look forward to seeing the results.

Lunch, like coffee, was a brief affair – there are some amongst us with itchy feet and even a ten minute stop is too much for them – and we were soon on our way again. We hadn’t realised just how much shelter we had down at the linn. Now we realised for when we reached the road again, a fair old blow greeted us. And the rain was with us again. Once more it was a trudge into the elements.

We met a rather soggy-looking herd working soggy-looking sheep at the buchts at the top of the hill. He remembered us from the last time we met in the snows of December last. Had the weather been better we might have stopped longer for a blether but it wasn’t and we didn’t. The herd returned to his soggy work with his soggy sheep and we returned to our own wet travail. We trudged on over the high ground towards Barbeth.

One of us must have upset the weather god today for, at Barbeth, he unleashed his spite. Torrents of rain were thrown down on us and, if we hadn’t been so heavy with water, the accompanying ferocious gusts of wind might have thrown us off our feet. As it was, it threatened to tear limbs from the tree we chose to shelter under, great rattling and groaning above alerting us to this. Daft we may be, but stupid we are not. Needless to say, we didn’t shelter under that tree for long but chose to suffer the storm rather than be crushed by falling branches. We plodded, rather we slogged, on into the mini hurricane.

The pace was quickened as we dropped off the high ground of Barbeth into the valley of the Doon again. Here we were sheltered from the wind once more and the rain had eased to a steady dribble. Yet the pace wasn’t eased any. Jimmy, Davie Mc and Rex kept it high along past Craigengillan, down to the river again and into the gorge.

The gorge was its usual spectacular self with millions of tonnes of water roaring down through the chasm. But we didn’t take time to examine it today; we kept our heads down and the speed up. Up through the gorge we came then, up towards Loch Doon again. And somewhere along here the rain went. We arrived back at the dam in the dry just as the first patch of blue sky showed, having covered the distance in record time – 3 hours 28 minutes for a walk that would normally take us four to four and a half hours.

This was one soggy, wet walk, and windy as well on the high ground of Barbeth, but we consoled ourselves with FRT in the Dalmellington Inn, and the notion that the weather would have been ten times worse on the heights of Carlin’s Cairn. By the time we came back out of the Inn, the sun was splitting the sky and the day had turned pleasantly warm. Typical!

*Dalcairney, Dalcairny – choose your own spelling for it has been spelt all three at one time or other.

14 September Culter Fell - Fourth Visit

2011-09-20T18:19:00.003+01:00

Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Peter, & Robert

I to the hills will lift mine eyes,

From whence comes my peace.

We defy anybody with any feelings at all to stand on a high place on a clear day and not be moved by the scene below him (Or her – Ed). One of our favourite high places, one with almost three hundred and sixty degree views and the one we intended to get to today, is Culter Fell, a two thousand three hundred foot plus top on the border between Lanarkshire and Peeblesshire near Biggar. But as for the clear day, that remained to be seen.

The remnants of hurricane Katya battered the country on Monday and brought a day full of rain on Tuesday. Wednesday dawned considerably calmer and though the morning was lightly overcast, there was the hint of sun in the sky so our intended outing was still on. Ten of us made the journey to darkest Lanarkshire and into the valley of the Culter Water with the hopes of a decent day on the hill for a change. And as we travelled east, the day turned brighter and the sun made an appearance.

As we arrived at our car park in the Culter Valley we were surprised to see a car already parked there. The occupants were four people, two men and two women of our own vintage, from Dalmarnock. They were for our top as well. As we changed into walking gear, we conversed with them and Jimmy presented them with our blog card. If they are reading this blog can we say that we hope that they enjoyed their day.

That Jimmy was in fine fettle this morning should have been obvious right from the start when he was champing at the bit to be off while the rest of us were still getting ready. It should have become even more obvious when he and Robert and Peter walked off leaving the rest with one boot on. They claim that they took it easy along the four hundred metres or so of road to the foot of the hill to let the rest of us catch up. Huh! At least they were in sight as they took to the track towards the steep of the hill. Here they were joined by Davie Mc and Holly.

Those who know Culter Fell will know that the grass track climbs gradually to the foot of a steep heather slope, the knuckle of a broad ridge. The speedsters waited at the bottom of this slope for the sensible. Then they moved smartly off again.

The path steepens on this slope, rising beside a series of shooters butts, eight shooters butts in total according to our Culter veteran. We took this slope climbing between shooters butts and stopping for views. And what views were presented to us today. The advantage of the recent weather was to clear the air and, with the sun shining the views were not only extensive but well defined, and in a wide arc. Firstly Tinto and the Clyde valley appeared over the other side of the valley. Then, as we climbed from butt to butt, the Ayrshire Hills, Cairn Table and the Glen Afton Hills, started to appear. Then the Lowthers and, to the north, the Ochils and the Pentlands began to show. And there in the blue distance was the Bass Rock. Yet over the Clyde conurbation nothing was visible for a haze hung in that direction. That Allan was enjoying these views and the climb was apparent as he took up his usual position at the rear of the bunch and let the speedsters climb on ahead. But this time he was joined in his delight by Johnny and Malcolm who are both now beginning to appreciate Allan’s viewpoint; splendid views behind and the backs of the fit b****** climbing on in front.

As we climbed we found the great disadvantage of the day, an ever freshening westerly blow, the last remnants of Katya. It was to be a problem later but now it was on our backs pushing us up the broad ridge towards the final rise. On a dry bit at the bottom of this rise, the fit, now including Paul and Ian, waited for the others. But the wind was chilling and we didn’t wait there very long, only long enough for the slow to catch their breath then we pushed on for the summit. Needless to say it was the revitalised Jimmy and Davie Mc who gained the summit first. The two made an executive decision. The wind was far too strong to have coffee on the summit so they decided to climb over the fence into Peeblesshire and drop over the summit to the lea of the hill where some shelter might be found. This was the case and they settled down for coffee. They were soon joined by Paul and Peter and Ian and Robert and Davie C and a few minutes later by the slow trio. The Dalmarnock folk joined us a few minutes after Allan and co.

Now we had a different view to delight us as we took coffee. There were the Tweedsmuir Hills, White Coombe and Broad Law and Dollar Law, and the valley below running down to the main Tweed one. We defy anybody not to be impressed by the views from Culter Fell. But we didn’t spend too long admiring this view for the wind still reached us and it was chilly.

‘Where are we going now?’ asked Peter, hopeful that somebody would say ‘Back down’, for Peter is not too fond of hills. But he was disappointed. ‘Over there’, replied Davie Mc, pointing to Capelgill Hill, a top barely a mile away as the crow flies. But since we are not crows and a deep defile lay between us and our goal, we had to settle for the longer way round by King Bank Head. We packed up and set off into the wind towards King Bank Head, Jimmy setting a cracking pace on the down slope from Culter top.

King Bank Head is a peat-hagged, soggy watershed between two drainage systems – the Culter and thence to the Clyde and the Holm Water leading to the Tweed. Our grateful thanks go to the inventor of quad-bikes for without the tracks made by one of these, we would have found ourselves following the county boundary fence and trudging through the peat-hags but the quad tracks took us round the hags and eased the way to the bottom of the slope to Capelgill

Two bodies of opinion existed in the group today; there were those who could have walked all day for nothing was too much bother, and there were those who wondered why we were heading for Capelgill just to come back to where we were. The group split in two; the Capelgill group climbing away to the east and the others following the fence to the low top of Cardon Hill.

Wind-assisted, the fit lot reached the summit of Capelgill just as the others reached the base of Cardon. Capelgill Hill presents a different prospect of the Tweedsmuir Hills than its close neighbour Culter fell. We now looked into the heart of these hills and there was Talla and Fruid reservoirs lying blue in the sun. And below us Tweed wound its way towards Peebles. But still the wind was strong, stronger it seemed than it was before, and we couldn’t spend too long admiring the view. We turned our faces to the wind and retraced the steps to the county fence.

The other group were found settled for lunch in the lea of Cardon Hill. We joined them and sat for a while enjoying our cheesy peeces and the view down Tweed.

We hadn’t realised the strength of the wind for it was on our backs or behind our left shoulders up till now. When we left the shelter of Cardon Hill we realised the strength of it. A forty miles an hour blow hit us on our right and gusts well in excess of this threatened to tumble us off our feet. We came back to King Bank Head heads down and fighting the wind, fluttering of wind-blown jacket hoods drowning out any conversation.

But we made it back to King Bank Head and a little relief from the worst of the wind. The sensible found the quad-tracks and followed these while some others chose the direct route through the peat hags. But whatever route was chosen, we came together before we climbed the county fence and came back into Lanarkshire. Our route now lay downwards, still following quad tracks, on the flank of Tippet Knowe. We lost the wind as we dropped and the day turned pleasantly warm. A well graded path eased the drop on the hillside and when Jimmy, a hundred metres in front of the rest as was his usual today, stopped beside a group of boulders to remove his jacket, we all felt the need for a break and stopped with him. There we sat enjoying calm air after the blow on top and took in some warming September sun.

The rest of the walk was taken whichever way we fancied; some jogged down the grassy slope, some sauntered slowly and some grimaced as the down-slope took its toll on old knees. However we all arrived back at the cars wind-blown, sun-kissed and happy. By this time the Dalmarnock folk had gone. We hope they enjoyed their day as much as we did ours. We have never been disappointed with Culter Fell.

FRT was taken in our usual howf in Biggar, The Crown, before the long drive back to Ayrshire.

Pics from September 2011

2011-09-16T14:25:00.001+01:00

Wee Pie

2011-09-15T20:34:00.003+01:00

For those of you who can't contain yourselves at the thought of having to wait a couple of weeks before this prestigious event, here is a wee ditty to whet your appetite.
Just remember the old adage 'Never mind the quality, feel the width'.

The Suit

There was an old tailor called Nobby
Who in truth was a bit of a jobby
He needed a suit
To let him get oot
So he called on his old pal Bobby

Now Bobby was painting a lobby
For this was a bit of a hobby
But he knew how to stitch
And without a hitch
He enlisted his boy called Robbie

Robbie was known as a dandy
In his hands the ladies were candy
One of his latest loves
Had plenty of curves
Oh! how her legs were so bandy

But to Robbie the two had to pander
And lodged him a wee back hander
For one of his joabs
Was to make a’ the robes
When he worked for Claude Alexander

The boy was most imperial
With glee went after the material
He lumbered a smasher
A local haberdasher
And risked disease so venereal

The encounter got him some cloth
And so with a bit of a froth
Took it back to his dad
Said it looks no sae bad
But watch oot for the sign of a moth

To Nobby the cloth they did move
It was up to him to approve
He said he would take it
And imagined the jaiket
Which would put him back in the groove

So on they went at their leisure
And Nobby they duly did measure
But he had to beg
On his inside leg
They didnae mess with his treasure

Instructions were barked
And the cloth was then marked
A command was made
And an extra bit laid
On the place his bum would be parked

Every team has its fault
And this one’s was malt
They were sorely tempted
For the bottle to be emptied
Hence progress soon came to a halt

They resumed the work wi’ a passion
The tin flute would be the height of fashion
They cut with a knife
But after the water of life
The boys’ false teeth were a’ gnashin’

The three cavaliers were almost in tears
For realised were the worst of their fears
The legs there were three
How could that be?
So they decided to stop for some beers

After emptying a keg
Nobby phoned his wife Meg
When telt o’ the faffing
She peed herself laughing
At the breeks for Jake the Peg

But these boys were no losers
So they made some new troosers
With the cloth that remained
The pants were regained
And off they went tae the boozers

When it came to the fitting
It was more like a flitting
Lots of pins and thread
And material to be shed
No time for talking or sitting

In time the new suit
Had really come aboot
The team were well pleased
And Nobby they teased
What a spectacular colourful rig oot

Big stripes were the theme
Caused Nobby to beam
He truly was glowing
And the plaudits were flowing
As he walked down through the scheme

He was told one thing mair
Because his friends they did care
Of this we beseech
Don’t go down to the beach
Or be mistaken for a bloody deck chair

Nobby took this on board
For the beach he ignored
He got some new shoes
With similar hues
And how his street cred had soared

To stop his hair getting mocked
He delved into his inside pocket
Brought out his fur hat
Wi a tail like a cat
And marched on like Davy Crocket

Although the end is now nigh
Without the word of a lie
This is no fable
For he took the top table
At the Irvine Tailors Wee Pie

So a suggestion I moot
To think long aboot
We could maybe remember
As part of the agenda
To make an Address to the Suit

We would a’ pipe it in
And clap wi’ a din
As the suit was addressed
And then be well blessed
With wine or whisky or gin

But such is our habit
We’ll no get a’ crabbit
Because haggis it’s no
So respect we will show
And certainly we’ll no want to stab it

You may think this was daft
And my brains have gone saft
But charge your glasses
Get aff yer asses
And toast the Irvine Tailor Craft

7 September Cathkin Braes

2011-09-13T16:13:00.003+01:00

Allan, Davie C, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul & Rex

Ian is a Rug’len boy, born and bred in the ancient burgh. He is proud of this fact and many a time he would have us there for a walk but this is not an area that any of us, apart from Ian, is familiar with and we would never have thought that it’s an area that would interest us. How wrong we were.

On a morning of heavy showers and blustery winds we gathered in Ian’s in Kilmarnock to car-share to Rutherglen. Some doubts were expressed when the showers rattled against the windows but when Jimmy arrived from Cumnock and announced that the sun was following him from the south-west, the decision was made. Rutherglen here we come.

The oldest burgh in Scotland (granted burgh status by David 1 in 1127) welcomed us with damp air, wet ground and a spot or two of rain. Yet the sky to the south-west was clear and we set off from the car park behind The Croft in the Spittal to explore Ian’s boyhood haunts in Rug’len and the Cathkin Braes with hopes of a better day.

We wandered along Lugar Place and Kirkconnel Drive to the burn where the young Ian and pals practiced burn jumping then turned up Alloway Drive where his boyhood home was. Then we climbed Alloway Drive to Croftfoot road. ‘You’ll have noticed’, said Ian, ‘that all the streets in this area are called after Ayrshire places.’ It took the pedant amongst us to tell him that Kirkconnel was actually in Dumfriesshire as if it mattered that much. However we left the southwest named streets and turned right across Croftfoot Road. A hundred yards of this and we left tarmac to climb gradually beside the burn in a wee wooded glen towards where stood the old Castlemilk House. This was a pleasant escape from the buzz of Croftfoot Road and despite the supermarket trolleys and buckie bottles, this was quite a scenic part of the walk and it took us up to the swan pond of Castlemilk House. Ian delighted in telling of his boyhood adventures in this wee wood.

Castlemilk House no longer exists. The lands of Cassilton of Carmunock were acquired by the Stuarts of Castlemilk in Dumfriesshire in the Middle Ages, and in the 16th century they renamed the estate Castlemilk. In 1938 the estate was acquired by Glasgow Corporation for housing, but the outbreak of the Second World War delayed building work. The mansion was used to accommodate evacuees from the city until the end of the war, and then until 1968 as a children's home until closed in 1968. Castlemilk House was demolished in 1972.

We left the site of Castlemilk House and came up through the Glen Wood to Ardencraig Road. Again we took a right turn and a hundred metres or so of tarmac later turned left on a made path towards the Big Wood of Cathkin. The path now turned slightly steeper than we had experience so far today but not sufficiently steep to take the breath away. It did, however take us up through scrubby trees to a seat in the Big Wood. Over on the right was the golf course of Cathkin Braes and slightly above us the trees of the Big Wood.

The rain came when we entered the Big Wood and jackets were donned. The drizzly rain lasted no time at all but the jackets stayed on for when we left the shelter of the trees we met the wind, a strong wind and chilling. We crossed the grassy slope under a telecom mast to the edge of the Cathkin Braes and what a panorama of the city greeted us. From Cumbernauld and the suburbs of the east to Clydebank in the west and from Newton Mearns in the south to Bishopbrigs in the north, the whole of the metropolis was spread out like a map. Landmarks were pointed out; Celtic Park, Hampden and Cathkin Park (who thinks we are obsessed by football); Glasgow green and the Doges Palace; the armadillo and the university. Dumgoin and the Campsies formed a backdrop and away in the east the Lomond Hills and the Pentlands just showed themselves. We spent some time standing picking out landmarks but the wind was chilling and we sought out a sheltered spot for coffee. This was found a few yards along the scarp where we could still get the view.

After coffee we came across the grass again to the boulder known as Queen Mary’s Seat so called because legend has it that Queen Mary rested here after the battle of Langside and before her fateful flight to England. We also sat on the seat – well, what else would you expect?

We came down a slope, crossed Cathkin Road and found a minor road for South Cathkin Farm. That’s where we found the ‘blind’ horse; at least Ian who had done a recky last weekend said it was a blind horse. As far as we could determine the horse had some sort of skin complaint and its head was covered in a gauze-like net giving the impression that it might be blind. But it could see us all right for it came towards us when we stopped to see it. It’s a good job Ian taught physics and not biology.

The tarmac ran out again and we took to a well constructed path into a marshy wetland which was a former reservoir but is now a wetland nature reserve. In the hide there we settled down for lunch. That’s when Ian spotted the buzzard. At first the birder dismissed it as a crow but as it got closer and he got his binoculars out he was forced to change his mind and apologise to Ian. It definitely was a buzzard and we watched it for a few minutes as id hovered over the bank then disappeared over the hill again. And with the bird gone, it was time for us to go as well.

We found tarmac again at the far side of the marsh and turned back towards the city. When we came to Cathkin Road again we turned along it to the golf club. That’s where we bumped into Steve. Steve was a chap slightly younger that ourselves but a fellow walker doing our route in reverse but able to break off his walk for a blether – that’s the kind of walker that we like and we spent a few minutes sharing walking experiences with him before Johnny presented him with one of our blog cards. If you are reading this, Steve, welcome from the Ooters. But the time came for us to take our separate way – Steve towards the nature reserve and us into the Big Wood once more.

‘It’s all downhill from here’, said Ian and on the whole it was. We came back to Queen Mary’s seat and down an old estate road into Castlemilk. A contorted route through the streets of Castlemilk brought us to the house where lived the Celtic legend Bobby Murdoch, then to the street where lived Ian’s future wife, Sheila. Then we came back to the ‘jumpie-over’ burn and The Croft.

This was a very interesting walk in an area that none of us except Ian would have thought about. Well done, Ian.

FRT today was taken in the most convenient place – The Croft in Rutherglen.

Arrangements for 7th September 2011

2011-09-02T12:41:00.003+01:00

Meet at Ian's house at 9.00am for tea/coffee etc. and depart 9.30am for Hill's Heritage Tour of the oldest Royal Burgh in Scotland,Rutherglen(1126 granted by King Davie I) including Cathkin Braes(not Cathkin Park Paul) and Cathkin Marsh Wildlife Reserve for the birders. Estimated distance of 12.5 k and only 192 m of climbing Allan.

24 August Fishponds, Fenwick and Furious Fermers

2011-08-30T08:36:00.002+01:00

Allan, Davie C, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul and Robert

In the six years of our existence we can count on the fingers of one finger the number of times we have been challenged as to our right to walk on a certain piece of land. Today would take us on to our second finger.

Due to holidays, Munro-bagging and various other reasons, only eight of us gathered in Robert’s place in Kilmarnock for a walk we have done before, a low level and easy walk to Fenwick and back. (See 15/09/2010) After the delights of Robert’s coffee and half a dozen of Wee Davie’s wee scones (an egg cup size doesn’t satisfy hungry walkers or indeed greedy Ooters, Davie) we set off.

Conflicting weather forecasts had us unsure about when the rain would arrive but we set off anyway expecting to be rained on at sometime in the day. We came through Kay Park admiring the new Burns Monument Centre – well done to East Ayrshire Council for producing a building of some quality and not just the usual cooncil tat – past the Reformers Monument, a monument to the Killie men who struggled for the parliamentary reforms that eventually led to us all having a vote, and on into Dean Park.

In this park, Ian had us round the new Fallow Deer enclosure. Sure enough there were the deer grazing away and trying very hard to ignore us. But we will not be ignored. With whistles and ticks we managed to stir up enough interest among the deer for them to lift their heads and be photographed. Then we walked on.

A country road took us towards the Craufurdland estate and a track through the wood took us to Craufurdland Fishery. Since coffee was calling we looked for a place to sit and have a caffeine boost. But, since the last time we were here, last September, a new eatery of sorts has been opened in the hut and we felt that it was not de rigueur for us to use their tables; we looked around for a suitable seat. That’s when we were approached by a chap emerging from a land rover, a chap who had the air of authority in such a place. Pleasantly he asked us what we were looking for. When we explained he said it was OK for us to us the tables but if we felt uneasy about this then use the picnic benches round the back. This is what we did, thanking him for his courtesy.

Only two fellows appeared to be using the fishpond today but whether they were actually fishing or just cleaning out the pond, we couldn't be sure. We decided on the latter for they were far to active to be anglers and, anyway the net seemed to be full of green stuff ather that fish. We watched them do what they had to do while we relaxed and drank our coffee.

After coffee we found the public road and walked towards Fenwick. Then, taking a right, we turned away from the village on the road for Waterside. An old road, long abandoned, leaves this one to join with another old road from Horsehill to Netherraith. This was the way we intended to go. The first part of the old way is now used as the service road for Dalsraith Farm and we turned up this as we have done before.

That things have changed since we were last here should have been obvious from the closed circuit TV camera installed on this drive. Still, we walked on. The old road comes close to the farm building, between this and an old shed. Again we noted a difference for the way was now blocked by a static caravan and since there was no alternative route created, we had no option but to walk by this caravan to the other side of the farm. That’s when we were approached by a chap of a very different hue from the Craufurdland one. ‘Do you know you are on private property?’ he snapped. This was the wrong thing to say to us and the wrong attitude to approach anybody with. There then ensued a debate on rights of access. For reasons of civility we will draw a veil over the arguments of this debate. Suffice to say that a rather furious farmer retreated to his house muttering things to himself and we walked on.

The freedom of access laws give a right to us all to walk responsibly along old tracks and field edges even if these have been sown. Our old track was obviously an old road, twenty feet broad and separated from the fields by hedges on either side. Though overgrown, the firmness of the surface underneath confirmed it to be an old road. Even if there had been livestock in the fields, we would not be disturbing it for the hedges we fairly high. But there was no livestock to disturb and we walked along the old track wondering why this chap should be trying to keep us out.

Then the track made a sharp left turn and came to a gate. As we are responsible users of the land, in our usual fashion we opened the gate – barbed wire not withstanding – and closed and fastened it behind us. Now the track came along a field margin but the firmness and the map confirmed that it was still the old road. We walked on. Where this track joins the other, we found the muddy bit. This lasted almost a field length until we found more solid ground that proved we were still on the old track. This track brought us down to Netherraith Farm and tarmac again.

But we are not great tarmac lovers so at Craufurdland Bridge we crossed the public road and took the path down beside the Craufurdland Water. That the farmer was busy spreading slurry was evident from the aroma drifting on the breeze. Where we usually stop for the peece got the full effect of this country perfume and those with sensitive olfactory organs decided that this was not the best place to eat. We walked on. Further down the path we found the cause of the aroma. In a field that we were to walk through was a working tractor dragging a hose behind it and spraying brown, evil-smelling, watery slurry twenty feet in the air. We were lucky. He hadn’t quite reached our path but we hurried on just in case. Unlike the last farmer we encountered, the driver of the tractor gave us a cheery wave in the passing.

Now that we were downwind of the offending smell, we could sit down and have a bite to eat.

The rest of the walk was uneventful. We came back to Dean Park. We had been lucky with the weather so far but between here and Kay Park the rain came. The sensible donned waterproofs but Jimmy opted to walk on in shirt sleeves. ‘No point in getting my jacket wet’ said he. Anyway he had a dry change waiting for him on the other side of the park.

So ended another pleasant, if not uneventful, excursion. We returned to Robert’s house and took FRT in convivial surroundings watching the rain being driven away by the sun.

27 July Pinwherry to Ballantrae

2011-08-23T08:45:00.001+01:00

Allan, Davie, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul & Peter

According to the leaflet, ‘Walks from the Ayr to Stranraer Railway’, that Johnny passed to Jimmy and Jimmy passed on to Paul, there is a path along and old coach road from Pinwherry to Ballantrae. Since none of us had been there before, today seemed the perfect opportunity, especially as the weather was settled into a warm summery spell and we needed an easier walk than last week. That’s why seven of us waited at Girvan harbour for the bus to Pinwherry. The seven was soon raised to eight when we were joined quite unexpectedly by Ian who had come away from an appointment rather earlier than expected and had rushed down the road from Killie to join us. Now there was eight of us (and Holly forbye) we set off on the bus for Pinwherry.

The hamlet of Pinwherry is nothing more than a scattered collection of houses along the Girvan to Newton Stewart road with a country station, hence the inclusion in the Walks from the Railway leaflet. But we weren’t to go to the station. The bus dropped us in the middle of the village and Paul, reading the leaflet, directed us southward through it and over the bridge on the Duisk Water. A hundred metres further on he had us turn off the road on to a well surfaced track under the railway. This was the start of the coach road.

The track climbed into some trees through stands of tall, purple-pink rosebay willow-herb through which small tortoiseshell butterflies fluttered, and upwards yet on the side of the Stinchar valley. Then, as the willow-herb died away and the trees cleared, we could look behind us to the upper Stinchar valley around Barr, and forward to the impressive landmark of Knockdolian guarding the lower valley. This, then, was the valley we were to follow all the way to Ballantrae.

. There was one point of concern when the well surfaced track came to an end and there was no sign of anything continuing through the field, but a recent tractor passage had left a trail and we followed this more in hope than in certainty. We were now into the full sun and we enjoyed its warmth as we crossed the open field for days like this have been few and far between this year. We wandered on with Jimmy lagging behind trying out his new camera and the rest still unsure of the way. But the tractor track did the job of taking us through the field to a gate hidden from us at first by the contour of the hill. This gate allowed us out of the field, across a ford in a wee burn and on to a broad grassy track lined with beech trees on its north side. ‘This’, announced our ancient roads expert, ‘is definitely the old coach road’. We took his word for it and continued along it.

Well, some of us took his word for it for less than quarter of a mile later the leading group were for turning off this track as the recently passed tractor had turned off and into another field. But our roads expert was adamant. This is the old road’, said he, pointing across a boggy section to the line of trees still marking the old way. He was right. We crossed the boggy part and found the track of the old road again. We would not get lost again. Huh!

By this time coffee was calling and on a sunny bank we settled down for a long, lazy coffee in the sun. That’s when Johnny produced the cake. It was his fortieth wedding anniversary at the week-end and a friend had baked Helen and him a cake for the occasion. Forty, not out. ‘Well done, Johnny’, was the general comment but whether this was on account of his anniversary or on his supplying cake, the scribe is not quite sure. Still, it is well done Johnny.

After one of our longest coffee breaks ever (please note Mssrs. McGarry and Porter!) we set off, still following the grassy track of the old coach road. Then the grass gave way to a more solid farm track that led down past a cottage. The woman in the cottage garden had the right idea for a day like this; ensconced in a deck chair, sporting both sun hat and sun glasses, she sat reading a book, sipping from a coffee cup and soaking up the, now hot, July sun. We told her in the passing that that was the best idea yet we continued to walk into the heat of the day.

Then the gravel of the farm track gave out on to tarmac, the old coach road still carrying modern traffic on this section. The postman passed in his van and we stepped aside to let him pass for, though the road was tarmaced, it was just as narrow as the old coach one. Then he came back past and we stepped aside again. But when he came back for the third and fourth time we suspected he was just doing this to see the look on our faces as we gave way. Maybes naw, but by the smile on his face, maybes aye. However the fourth time was the last time and we walked on keeping the ever approaching Knockdolian as our reference point.

The road took us to a T junction. A quick consultation with the leaflet showed the right hand branch would take us to Colmonel. But there was no consensus for this today and we turned left for Heronford. This road swung away from the main Stinchar valley and started to climb. A fellow in a tractor worked a field on the slope, summer ploughing and causing a flock of gulls to dot the sky looking for a free meal as the plough turned over the ground. Jimmy saw this as an opportunity to add to his collection of Ayrshire photographs and stopped to capture the scene. The rest of us, compassionate as we are, walked on and left him to it. Half a mile later, as the slope started its descent, we left the road, crossed a burn by a wee bridge and came into a sun-drenched field of short grazed grass. Here we lay down for lunch. Ten minutes later Jimmy appeared and joined us in the field. ‘How often have we been able to lie in the sun this year’, was the question. ‘Gie few’, was the answer. We lay luxuriating in our lunch stop for as long as we have stopped anywhere this year. (Ditto the above note) But that time came as it always does and, reluctantly in some cases, we moved on.

We came to Heronford, a group of houses beside the Water of Tig. ‘There should be a caravan park around here’, said our guide, human consulting paper, ‘and we should go through it’. We found the park, Laggan House, easily enough and went through it down the slope towards the floor of the valley. It wasn’t until we came to the fence at the bottom of the slope on the far side of the park and had another look at the guide that we realised that ‘through it’ meant enter the park and immediately turn left. Time to retrace the steps.

We found the old coach road again near the entrance to the park, continuing as a track through a wood. That the sun never reaches this track was obvious by the wet mud and puddles that we had to avoid on this stretch. And that it had been a public road until recently was obvious from the patches of rotting tarmac that we came across. But that stretch through the wood seemed interminably long. We had lost the sun and though the air was still mild, it was definitely cooler in the trees. And we had lost all views. All we could see were trees and nettles and each other, and our feet as we tried to avoid the worst of the puddles. We tramped on, and on, and on. Eventually the wood gave way and the track turned to tarmac again. And at last we had a view, down towards Ballantrae and the sea, and back to Knockdolian that we had last seen before lunch.

Our road took us to join the main A77 just south of Ballantrae Bridge. Some of us kept to the main road but others decided to take in the old bridge so turned down the old road, now only a footpath. But, no matter which route was taken, we all arrived in Ballantrae in plenty of time for the bus – at least an hour of time.

FRT was taken in the sun-soaked beer garden of the King’s Arms in Ballantrae reflecting on another good walk and planning our next outing in the sun.

17 August Maidens to Dunure

2011-08-18T15:59:00.005+01:00

Alan, Allan, Davie, Davie C, Ian, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Peter, Rex, Robert

11 Ooters met at Chez Rex for coffee before departing on one of our favourite and oft-described walks. Thanks for the hospitality Rex! This was a momentous day for Davie C, wee Davie, Davie minor (good job his name wasn’t Maurice), or Davy – we really have to agree on how to differentiate between the two Davies – as it was the day that North Ayrshire pupils started school again and he wasn’t there to greet them in his customary way. Having reached 55, (a discussion ensued as to whether this was years, conquests, or inches before sense prevailed and we realised that this was the percentage mark he had got that last time he tried a General Biology paper), Davie had decided to become a fully paid up member of the Ooters. Welcome Davie!

Due to the logistical requirements of positioning cars today Rex was disappointed at having to take his car meaning that he had to put on hold his liaison with a cheeky merlot, or was it matelot? Nevertheless we started our walk around 10.00am and made good progress along the beach and into Culzean. Debate had taken place as to whether we should skirt round Culzean on the beach or do what we usually do and enter the park. The decision was made to deviate a bit from our normal route and head for the coffee shop via the walled garden. It was here that the gardeners informed us that dogs were not allowed in the garden. Despite us assuring them that Holly wasn’t our dug they refused to relent. Davie, Davie, has anybody seen Davie? Davie and his namesake were posted missing. Robert and Johnny had to escort Holly along the road whilst the rest of us had a look at the garden – an impressive sight at this time of the year.

As we met up with Robert again his phone was ringing. It was Davie enquiring as to our whereabouts – and we thought he didn’t do technology. He was at the coffee shop and within minutes we had joined the terrible twins, the gruesome twosome, Little and Large, whatever. Please note that not once had he enquired as to the location or welfare of his dug. Sad to relate the scones were like bricks again and since we were being molested by wasps, attracted by the jam, we pushed on and headed for our lunch spot on the rocks by the beach. It was on this stretch (if I’m right) that the Kilmarnock Academy contingent encountered a former colleague heading in the opposite direction. It wasn’t until later that the ex-Ravenspark guys realised that the walker, John Harris, had also been a former colleague in the seventies.

Soon we were on our way again and made our way up from the beach and on to the path that skirts the cliff. Before we knew it we were at the look-out tower and, heavens above, we didn’t stop as we usually do. What is the world coming to? Anyway the car park at Dunure was reached at 2pm, just in time as a drizzle had begun just as we had approached the castle.

This meant that FRT (Fluid Replacement Therapy, for info) was partaken inside the Inn rather than outside. Allan, driving, was able to report that the calibre of the Kaliber would have blunted Excalibur.

17th August Walk Maidens to Dunure

2011-08-15T09:26:00.002+01:00

Call in for coffee at my place 8.45 /9.00 leave for Maidens 9.30 Rex

10/11 August: Culture, Curry and yet more Culture

2011-08-12T17:35:00.005+01:00

Decisive as ever, the Ooters made a very early decision to abort the proposed visit to Dunure in light of the dire, and in the event accurate - weather forecast for Wednesday.

Instead we opted to visit the Riverside Museum in Glasgow - the new home of the Museum of Transport and Travel.

Six Ooters (Robert, Paul, Allan, Davie, Malcolm and Johnny) were outside the Museum waiting for the doors to be opened at 10 am. Whilst we waited we marvelled at the water feature, which had gone unreported in all press articles about the new museum. Water cascaded from the roof onto the ground close to the main doors. It was quite reminiscent, on a larger scale, of the indoor cascade at the Dalmellington Inn.

The overall verdict on the museum was positive. One or two Ooters lamented the fact that compared to the Kelvin Hall Museum it was less of a "hands on" experience - but then Ooters are always complaining about the lack of hands on experiences.

Two hours was about right for the visit and when we left just after midday the car park, which was empty when we arrived, was stowed out and traffic was backed up to the main road. During the school hols in Glasgow, when the weans are whining and wailing, a wet Wednesday works wonders for the pursuit of culture.

We decided to lunch at the Ashoka in Ashton Lane, so we left the cars in the usual spot behind the Botanic Gardens and walked through the near-empty gardens. Allan complained about the hill at the entrance to the gardens. The business lunch menu was chosen and was voted a success.

The Ooters new-found decisiveness was in evidence again when the Christmas Lunch was booked!

A fine day, making the most of the rotten weather.

Glasgow Group Exhibition

On Thursday evening, at Peter's invitation, the same personnel (along with wives and some children, or was it children and some wives?) attended the preview of the Glasgow Group Art Exhibition in the Harbour Arts Centre, Irvine.

The exhibition was impressive, but the kitty was insufficient to purchase anything, although Allan had obviously been watching too much of the London lootings for he was seen, at one point, with one of Peter's paintings under his arm.

For the ex-KA contingent it was a chance to meet up with former friends and colleagues. Established artists Jim Wylie and Dougie Lennox were there as was up-and-coming artist Andy Lindsay. Painting in oils is a new direction for Andy for your scribe only remembers him as a p*** artist (only joking!) Andy claims to read the Ooters' blog occasionally - but Johnny still gave him an Ooters' card.

Irvine Incorporated Trades - Tailor Craft - Wee Pie

2011-08-11T23:46:00.005+01:00

David will attend the Tailor Craft Wee Pie where he will deliver a toast to the Tailor Craft.
Allan and Johnny, who have sponsored David are delighted at his acceptance and will be there to
support one of the three Ooter Grand Founders (OGF) David. This 360'odth Wee Pie could
be something special. All Ooters are welcome. It is a twee wee night full of history, community,
solemnity and drink. A distant twinkling star in the Irvine social firmament.
Cost - £15 includes meal, membership of the Tailor Craft, minutes for the year, and the
evening raffle(could be as much as £50, £30, and £20 prizes(based on a company of 40).
Drink, if taken, will be extra,(remember we are in a sport's club - reasonable prices).
Those who attent a Tailors' Wee Pie are 'defacto' Tailors!
Those attending a Wee Pie are keeping alive a near 4 century's tradition of community and charity.
A large Ooters support would be immense(fabulous in David's words).
Johnny and Allan - happy to support enquiries
Friday 30th September 1900 for 1930 carriages ~2300.

Ooters attending would gather 'chez moi' 1800 - 1900 for pre event FRT
Johnny

Arrangements for 17 August

2011-08-10T19:27:00.002+01:00

Meet at Dunure at 9.30am for Maidens - Dunure walk (postponed from 10 Aug).

Christmas Curry

2011-08-10T15:45:00.003+01:00

The Ashoka curry house in Ashton Lane has been booked for our annual Christmas treat . The arrangements are as follows :- canal walk and then meet in the Ashoka at 2.00p.m.on Wed 14th December. The set meal costs £12.95 for 3 courses +coffee ,mints and a glass of wine. We have provisionally booked for 13 people so contact David if you can't make it. Don't say we are not organised.

Muirkirk-Kirkconnel route

2011-08-06T08:24:00.002+01:00

Distance: For Davie 21.5 km, for everyone else 22.2 km.

3 August Muirkirk to Kirkconnel

2011-08-04T11:09:00.003+01:00

Allan, Davie, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul

5 Ooters met at Cumnock bus station for the 9.45 bus to Muirkirk where we would meet up with Davie who was cutting the walk short by getting Kay to run him up to Kames. We were not to let him forget about this transgression.

A recurring feature of this walk was to be the inaccuracies of the signage. As we left Kames on the Sanquhar road the first sign said Sanquhar 12 miles – aye right! As usual the progress was brisk, after all we had a bus to catch at Kirkconnel and Jimmy assured us that we could catch the 3.45. We were lucky with the weather having the last good day before it was scheduled to break on the Thursday and so we marched on through familiar territory until we deviated from the more often used Cairn Table route and followed the Sanquhar coach road. A mix of underfoot conditions from the very dry to the boggy was encountered until we reached ‘the gate’ where a coffee stop was made.

A suggestion to do a ‘wee’ detour to take in the ‘Deil’s back door’ met with the response it deserved and so we marched on. The forest we were heading for soon came in to view and was eventually made with Davie warning us that the road through it would be the worst bit of the walk. Fortunately, although wet, It was not as bad as anticipated, and didn’t delay us at all. We were heartened to see the sign for Sanquhar saying 7 miles. 40 minutes later we encountered another one saying exactly the same!

Lunch was called for just after 1 o’clock. The spot was not very comfortable and we didn’t wait long before setting off again heading towards Fingland. Route markers were now being treated with disdain as we eventually reached the tarmac road and made our way up the incline and on to the point where the path to Kirkconnel deviated to the right. (We were not following the road to Sanquhar because 1. Jimmy said the long walk on tarmac was sore on the feet, and 2. Jimmy said it was shorter). By this time Johnny was suffering; his boots were hurting his heels again and he was generally feeling sore all over.

But we had a bus to catch and so we followed the path up and over the hill and saw what we thought was Sanquhar away to our left. Unfortunately it was Kirkconnel that we saw and it confirmed that we still had quite a trek in front of us. The descent down the hill towards Kirkland was done in good time and Jimmy pointed out - to some of us- the remains of St Connel’s Church . The tarmac road into Kirkconnel was to prove to be the straw that nearly broke the camel’s back as it seemed to go on and on. Light relief was had by watching Johnny jogging, jigging, bouncing his way down the long hill. He was so knackered that he hadn’t the power to slow himself down so he felt it easier to go with the flow.

Kirkconnel was reached at 3.35 and the bus stop thankfully was close by. As we confirmed on the noticeboard that the bus would be here at 3.45, lo and behold it pulled up 10 minutes early and six weary Ooters got on, went upstairs and had a well-deserved seat. How was that for timing? Mind you if we had got there at 3.40 and missed it, we wouldn’t have been so happy. Cumnock was reached at 4 o’clock and we made our way up to the Sun for FRT only to find our bus driver in for a pint, or two, or three. He was still there when we left despite this again for the Ooters being a three pint day.

Was the walk to Kirkconnel any easier or shorter than going on to Sanquhar? Jimmy assures us that it was and, since he’s always right, we’ll go along with him, this time anyway. One thing for sure is that the walk was longer than the signposts indicated. Hopefully Paul will be able to suss out the exact mileage.

Glasgow Group Exhibition in the Harbour Arts Centre

2011-08-04T07:40:00.003+01:00

The Glasgow Group Exhibition in the Harbour Arts Centre, Irvine.
Preview Thursday 11 August 2011 6-30 pm. All members of The Early Ooters are invited no need for a ticket. Cheers Peter

10 August Maidens-Dunure arrangements

2011-08-03T20:52:00.003+01:00

The plan was to leave cars at Dunure and get a bus to Maidens, walking back. The only fly in the ointment is that there are no buses from Dunure to Maidens timetables

Otherwise it was a very good plan.

I propose that we meet at 9.30 at the pub car park in Dunure and there we'll attempt to solve the logistical problems.

Arrangements for Wednesday 3 Aug

2011-07-28T08:13:00.000+01:00

Meet at Cumnock Bus station at 9:30 for the 9:45 bus to Muirkirk for a walk from here to Kirkconnel (13 mile approx). Buses back from Kirkconnel at 15:45 or 17:36 or train at 16:38 (£5.20 - discount)

20 July Luss Hills Once More

2011-07-26T12:22:00.004+01:00

Allan, Davie, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul & Robert

We are beginning to think somebody up there has it in for us for after such a super day on Arran, the situation reverted to the norm for this year. The best that can be said for it today was that at least the rain had gone when we gathered in Luss. Not so the midges though and the wee blighters bit ravenously as we changed into walking gear. How the boys with shorts suffered, we can only guess.

The intention of the day was to travel to the Bonnie Banks and do the Luss horseshoe that we have done a couple of times before, both in conditions completely different from each other, and from today. Despite the overcast conditions and the fog hanging down the hill to around the thousand contour, it was decided that since we were here, we might as well do as we intended. ‘Anyway’, said our weather man ‘it will clear up by eleven’. So off we set over the bridge that spans the main road and onto the Luss Glen road.

A style lifted us off the tarmac and over the fence onto the open flank of Craig an t-Sailich, our first top, if top you would call it. The climb started almost immediately. Though the hill wasn’t as steep as some remembered, it was sufficiently so for the slope to combine with the humidity in the warm air to give an uncomfortably sweaty climb. Allan struggled. Despite many ‘view stops’ and words of encouragement, he continued to struggle as the slope steepened and climbed towards the fog.

No doubt there is a superb view from the ridge that runs round to the top of Luss Glen but for various reasons we have still to see it. Today was not going to give us the opportunity either. And to add to our miseries, when we stopped for coffee, the rain came. Still, it would clear around eleven. It was now five to eleven and, though the rain was brief there was no sign of the fog clearing. At this point Allan had had enough and decided to turn back. While he, probably sensibly, returned to the flat of Luss village, the rest of us sweated on upward into the clag.

The rain went but the clag stayed. We could have been on any hill anywhere for all we could see. Still we plodded upward. On top we found two chaps of our own age perched on the wee cairn that marks the summit of Beinn Dubh. They, like Allan, had had enough and were for back down the way they, and we, had come up. But we are made of stronger stuff – we would finish the horseshoe. So we left the two and walked on along the broad ridge seeing nothing but each other and the fog.

At one point there came a gap in the fog that allowed us a brief view down northward into a deep glen. But a brief view was all it was and the clag closed in again. We plodded on. Jimmy and Robert led most of the way, finding paths through bogs and across grassy slopes. We could tell only from the slight brightness that indicated where the sun was that we had turned from a westerly direction to a more southerly one. Then we turned south-easterly and found the grassy slope that took us to the top of Mid Hill, our last top for the day. (Is it not strange that in a country where all the place names are in Gaelic, only this one is named in English?)

As the ground sloped steeply away from the top of Mid Hill there came a call for lunch. Well down the slope our leaders found a wee sheltered gully out of the breeze and we settled down to take the peece. That’s when the fog cleared. Eleven o’clock, huh! Yes it cleared but only below us for the tops still held the cloud. But as it cleared, it gave us our first real view since the climb this morning. Below us Luss Glen ran down to Loch Lomond still lying slate-grey and dismal under the overcast sky. Still it was a view and we were grateful for it.

It was into this view that we descended after lunch. The slope is steep and unrelenting. We came down it, each in his own fashion; some jogged down, some walked smartly, some strolled and Davie of the dodgy knees took his own time. No matter how we came down, that slope took its toll on thigh muscles. Still, the fast waited for the slow at the fence that cuts across the hill at this point. The style was broken and it was amusing for those already over the fence to see the different techniques employed by the rest to get over. But get over they did and we continued down the slope.

The path decanted us onto tarmac at Glenmallochan farm and once again the fast waited for the slow. Now there were only a couple of miles of tarmac back to Luss. Near the village we came across a picture shop and Robert and Jimmy went for a nosy. The noise of the alarm when they opened the door reverberated up the glen. We can only hope that the pictures were worth the noise for we didn’t wait for any reaction from the house next door. While the two examined the pictures, we walked on.

There was no sign of Allan when we got to the cars. But when Jimmy and Robert came down past the school, there was Allan strolling casually along the road. ‘What was the view like from the top?’ asked Allan. ‘Wonderful’ they lied and walked on.

Thinking of the rush hour in the city, it was decided that we should return to the King’s Arms in Fenwick for FRT today.

27 July: Pinwherry to Ballantrae via Stinchar Valley

2011-07-20T19:46:00.003+01:00

Meet at Girvan Harbour at 1015 for ~~MV Glorious~~ 1030 bus to Pinwherry (Newton Stewart bus operated by King of Kirkcowan (is that Johnny?)). Arrive Pinwherry 1057.

Easy walking - 11 miles.

Return bus from Ballantrae is at 1604. If we miss this we will have to find something to do in Ballantrae until the next bus at 1800.

13 June Arran – Laggan Cottage Walk

2011-07-19T18:56:00.003+01:00

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Peter, Robert

Despite the seeming chaos surrounding arrangements for today’s outing, eleven of us turned up at Johnny’s for bacon rolls and coffee before heading to Ardrossan for the quarter to ten ferry for Arran. And even on the ferry there was a bit of debate about what walk we would actually do when we reached the island.

The day had dawned unpromisingly; the overcast skies that scattered overnight showers, still hung about in the morning and dark clouds to the west didn’t promise too much for the day ahead. But, by the time we sat on Johnny’s decking enjoying his hospitality, - for which we thank him once again - the day had turned pleasantly clear, sunny and warm. That was the cause of the debate on the ferry; some were for the high tops on such a glorious day while others preferred a level and less exhausting day in the sun. The debate ended with the decision to be first off the ferry, get the bus round to Lochranza and have a leisurely walk over the hill to Laggan cottage. (See 09/09/2009) So that’s what we did. We took the bus round to Lochranza.

An incident occurred even before we left the bus, an incident that involved us only as witnesses. When the bus drew up at the Lochranza distillery to let the tourists alight, it drew up at the wrong entrance; it drew up at the car entrance, the one with the cattle grid, and not the pedestrian one. An Aussie woman who had ‘Ooohed’ and ‘Aaahed’ at the scenery all the way over in the bus was still taking it in as she approached the cattle grid. Looking skyward at the surrounding hills, she never saw where she put her feet. Her first step saw her left foot slip into the space between the round spars and her weight thrown forward bringing her shin into harsh contact with the metal spar. We last saw of her was being lifted out by companions, an ugly bruise already apparent on the injured limb, for that’s when the driver chose to drive on. We could only hope for her sake that the leg wasn’t broken.

We got off the bus at the golf course much to Davie Mc’s surprise for he had expected a visit to Lochranza Castle. But we did get off the bus there – sorry Davie, no visit to the castle today – and started walking along the tarmac that lead to the other side of the river. As usual, deer grazed on the golf course though more distantly than on our last visit. But the cameras were busy anyway while the non camera men strolled casually on. We turned right off the tarmac at the sharp bend, took to a farm track signposted for ‘Laggan Cottage – 3 miles’ and climbed the glen side with it. At another sign pointing out the path to Laggan Cottage we stopped for coffee for this, after all, was to be a leisurely stroll in the sun.

The path rises gradually up the side of the hill and affords splendid views into the high northern hills of the island. Pangs of regret stirred in the hill men as we climbed for these hills looked splendid today. We looked into the northern face of the Castles ridge, rocky and serrated and looking splendidly inviting against the blue sky. But we were on the path for Laggan Cottage and we continued to rise with it.

Near the top of the climb we came across a young lady from Aberdeen University, a geology student doing a six week field study on the island. In days gone past her rucksack would be full of samples but now sample collecting has been stopped and the best the soul could do was photograph anything that she found interesting. We left her to it and came to the top of the rise, a shallow col between two hills.

No matter how often you come this way, the first sight of the sea is always superb and for those doing this walk for the first time this was a dramatic and awe-inspiring change from the green of the glen we had just left a few minutes before. We came through the gap in the hill and stood high above the blue firth, looking north-eastward over the sun-drenched Isle of Bute to the hills of Dunbartonshire and northward along Loch Fyne to the blue distant hills of Argyll. Landscape features were pointed out and named but, try as we might, none of us could remember the name of the wee island off the west coast of Bute, the one with the old monastery on it. (Inchmarnock – Ed.)

The view over the sea was to stay with us, changing subtly as we dropped down the path towards the cottage. Below us, on the shore, a larger party of geology students could be seen examining the rocks. We would meet them later. But for now we continued to drop down to sea level at Laggan Cottage.

We chose to lunch at the cottage – it’s as good a place as any and better than most. The author (see 09/09/09) was in residence in the cottage and stuck his head out to acknowledge our presence but was unable to interest us in his book. The group of young students we had seen earlier came by with one or two older folks that we took to be lecturers and leaders. Two minutes later they came back by and asked us if we knew the whereabouts of a path over to Lochranza. Being obliging souls that we are, we set them off on the right path. There you go ,wives; we old boys come in handy for some things.

We spent some time at the cottage while Jimmy sloped off with his new camera and Davie Mc entertained Holly with sticks in the sea. Such antics looked far too much like exertion to the rest of us though and we were content just to laze around in the sun. It’s not often we’ve had the chance to do that this year. But the time came as it invariably does, and we had to move off.

The walk was now along the raised beach and in keeping with the day we set off at a leisurely

pace examining the landscape, the flowers, the birds and the butterflies and blethering about nothing in particular. But leisurely strolls seem to be anathema to some of us and the pace was gradually picked up. The group split once again. Peter and Jimmy and Robert and Allan and Johnny seemed to have the smell of ale in their nostrils already and shot off at a fair old lick leaving the sensible to come on at a reasonable pace. By the time we reached the fallen Rocks they were a hundred metres in front and by the time we came into the forest at Sannox they were out of sight completely. So much for leisurely stroll in the sunshine!

When we reached the car park at Sannox bay we fully expected to find the fast lot having another break for coffee but there was no sign of them. We walked on. There is no direct route from the car park to the path on the other side of the river and we know from experience that the river can be high here so we took to tarmac and crossed the water by the road bridge and took the path down the other side. This path took us through the trees, under the old sea cliffs, over the ‘steppies’ in the river and out to tarmac at the bus stop. That’s where we found the fast lot waiting for the bus.

We had fully twenty minutes to wait for the bus and when it came it was nearly empty. It carried us as far as Mac’s Bar in Brodick where FRT was taken outside in the sun for the first time this year. Here we must thank Davie C for in gratitude for his recent retirement and now becoming a full member of the Ooters, bought the first round. Thank you DC.

In the summer time Calmac lay on extra ferries and it was the six o’clock one that brought us back to the mainland.

6 July Cairnsmore of Carsphairn

2011-07-15T08:49:00.001+01:00

Allan, Davie, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Rex & Robert

There’s Cairnsmore o’ Fleet,
An’ Cairnsmore o’ Dee,
But the Cairnsmore o’ Deugh,
Is the highest o’ the three.

Cairnsmore of Deugh, now known as Cairnsmore of Carsphairn, is one of those hills that are part of, yet separate from a range. As such it gives magnificent views in 360o, views that we looked forward to. The range it is part of is the Carsphairn/New Cumnock hills of north Kirkcudbrightshire and south-east Ayrshire but it is separated from the bulk of its neighbours by the deep Clennoch valley and more or less stands as its own massif with only the lower Beninner as companion. The most direct and most popular ascent is from the Green Well of Scotland just north of Carsphairn on the Ayr to Castle Douglas road. This is the route we intended to take this morning.

Once again this year the weather was to play a part in proceedings. The gloriously summer spell that came in with July had gone to be replaced by overnight rain, a rain that lingered into the morning and some were less than enthusiastic about walking the hill in such weather. Yet seven of us dragged ourselves through the deluge to the meeting place at the Green Well. And when we arrived at the starting point it looked as though our luck was changing for the better for the rain had gone and there was a brightening in the sky and even a patch of blue could be imagined. And the morning was warm. All we need worry about now were the midges that had already started to bite as we changed into walking gear.

‘Why is it called the Green Well of Scotland?’ asked Allan. Jimmy pointed out the well beside the farm track we set off along; a deep rocky bowl some twenty metres broad with slimy looking, reed-fringed water covering the bottom. ‘That’s the Green Well’, said he ‘But why Scotland? I don’t know.’ Allan was satisfied with the little information forthcoming.

In the sheep shed further along the track, a shearer was at work. The freshly clipped ewes literally sprang and jumped and cavorted as though spring lambs – minus their heavy woollen overcoat, they must have felt a light as lambs and jumped and sprang to join the flock lined along the bank like Indians in an old western movie. A collie, nearly the same colour as the sheep, rounded up the unshorn ewes. ‘Good job he went to Specsavers’, said Davie causing hilarity (We are easily pleased!). But more of the shearer later for we had a walk to do.

The track crosses the burn by a new bridge – well new to us anyway – and climbs gradually on to the hill. As the track climbed, we met the breeze, just the gentlest of stirrings in the air but enough to let us know that it was there. ‘At least this might keep the midges away’ said one. (See03/06/2009) And with this in mind, we found some boulders near the top of the road and sat down in this gentle breeze for coffee.

The breeze didn’t quite keep the midges at bay. Before long they were beginning to bite, not many just enough to let us know they were still around. However we took no chances and set off again. Now came the steep bit.

When we reached the end of the track we clambered over the drystane dyke and down into the burn. (In retrospect this was a bad move for a new bridge is built over the burn a bit higher up but this was hidden from us at this point and we took the way we always go.) Then came the climb of the hill itself. We saw the weather coming in again and, whether it was this or something in the coffee we will never know but Jimmy set a fair old pace on the climb. Such was the pace that the group split into two even before the rain arrived. We sped up that slope to beat the rain to the top with the slow group watching the fast one disappear into the distance.

When the rain did arrive it brought the hill fog with it. This was the last straw for the slow who decided to turn back (Anyway Allan was feeling ill and discretion won the day over stupidity.) Three turned back leaving Robert to slog on behind the fast trio.

The fast lot, meanwhile, sped on upward into the fog and rain to arrive at the summit in time for a bite of peece, and in time for the rain to go. Robert arrived ten minutes later with the news of the returning trio. ‘We’ve seen better views from here’, said Rex and we had to agree for the fog still swirled around us. But it wasn’t cold and we could take our time over lunch just in case it cleared. ‘Is that a new cairn?’ asked Davie pointing twenty metres to the east. ‘Not at all’, replied Jimmy, ‘I’ve got a picture of my bike leaning against that cairn taken nearly thirty years ago. And it wisnae a mountain bike either’. We always suspected Jimmy was slightly daft but to bring a bike to the top of Cairnsmore of Deugh was stretching it a bit, even for him. Still, we know Jimmy and believe him, even without his photographic evidence.

We sat and reminisced for a while in the hope of the fog clearing. But after half an hour it was still around us so we set off for the descent.

What a difference a clear day makes on the hill. As we strolled down the Black Shoulder the clag slowly began to break up revealing tantalising vignettes of a land beyond. Loch Doon was revealed first then hidden again; then the north end of the Kells range; then south towards Loch Ken. Then the clag went completely and the whole landscape opened up to us from Criffel and Screel in the south to Loch Doon in the North-west. And the sun even shone on the distant Cairnsmore of Fleet. This was turning into a pleasant day out. We ambled down the slope enjoying the landscape and looking forward to the approaching sun.

As we dropped over the shoulder we could see the returning group making their way casually towards the top of the track. Rex tried his old aborigine ‘Cooooooooooo-ee’ and the others halted briefly to acknowledge the call. Then we carried on down to the fence that would take us to the end of the track.

We lost Holly when we reached the end of the track. The keen nosed collie had go the scent of the other group and sped off to join them (so much for faithful companions, Davie). But it wasn’t too long before we joined them as well and with the team reunited we wander casually down the track.

At the sheep shed we met the herd and, in our usual way, stopped for a blether. The herd stopped for a blether but the shearer kept going. ‘He must clip a few sheep in a day’, said one of our number. ‘He clipped fower hunner yesterday’ said the young herd, ‘He’ll dae aboot seeventy thoosan’ a year – seventy thoosan’ at a poun’a heid; no bad wages but it’s hard work’ While some left the track to have a look at the work, the rest of us took his word for the severity of it and walked on.

The group was re-united before we reached the Green Well. The day that had started out promisingly and deteriorated had now brightened up again and we reached the cars in sunshine. FRT in the usual howf in Dalmellington and we had forgotten about the fog on the top and looked forward to our next outing.

Pics from Muirkirk and the Green Well

2011-07-12T10:37:00.004+01:00

29 June Return to the Mysterious Lunky Hole

2011-07-05T18:18:00.004+01:00

Alan, Allan, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Peter, Rex & Robert

Robert and Jimmy turned up in shorts today. Well Jimmy turned up in shorts; we feel certain that Robert had just climbed out of bed and came wearing his pyjama bottoms, pale tan and stripy things they were. The reason they turned up in shorts this morning was that the recent spell of summer weather had given us a morning of gloriously clear sky and warm summer sunshine, a morning meant for T-shirts and shorts. Yet, by ten o’clock when we eight of us gathered at Kames in Muirkirk, the sun had gone, the sky was overcast and there was the usual Wednesday threat of rain in the air. Would this be another disappointing Ooters day?

Disappointing or not, since we were gathered, we decided that the planned walk should go ahead - we would seek out the lunky hole - and set off up the old Sanquhar road towards Springhill, following the River Ayr Way. That’s when the rain came. There was general rush of digging into rucksacks for waterproofs for by the look of the sky, the rain might stay for a while. But it wasn’t to last. By the time we had turned right off the Sanquhar road on the track for Tibbie’s Brig, it had gone and there was a general discarding of waterproofs and stuffing them back into rucksacks. By the looks of things this might be the pattern for the day.

We stopped on Tibbie’s Brig. The eighteenth century brig (recently restored) is named after Isabella ‘Tibbie’ Pagan, keeper of an inn of dubious repute here, and a writer of poetry of sorts. It was Tibbie who wrote the poem ‘Ca the yowes tae the knowes’, a poem that a much more famous Scottish poet took, discarded the bawdy verses, rewrote more of it, transferred the setting to Dumfriesshire and matched it to an ‘auld Scotch air’. It is Burns’ version that is familiar to us. Perhaps Tibbie’s version should be more widely sung – but not in polite company.

The site of Tibbie’s ‘inn’ is marked by a cairn near the brig. At this cairn we had a minor decision to make. The track rises up the west bank of the burn and disappears round a knowe but a pad runs down the side of the burn and rejoins it further down. We took the burn-side pad for Jimmy mentioned a fossil bank some fifty yards downstream. We think Jimmy’s whisky induced hallucinations are kicking in again for, search that bank as thoroughly as we might, we found no fossils. Jimmy’s reputation is in tatters again.

Five minutes after the futile fossil search we were back on the River Ayr Way heading towards the old Muirkirk to Ayr railway. What early summers treat greeted us on that old railway. The last of the spring flowers were giving way to summer ones. A profusion of orchids, Heath Spotted and Early Purples, and white Heath Bedstraw grew on the old track and a swathe of pink Ragged Robin clothed the bank of a cutting. Small Tortoiseshell and Argus butterflies flitted from flower to flower in search of nectar. An absolute delight for the nature lovers amongst us.

But we were to leave the old railway before long and follow the path down to the river side at Adan’s Cairn. This cairn commemorates William Adam who was shot here in the killing times of the late seventeenth century. Adam was a shepherd at Wellwood. On a Sunday morning he was waiting at this spot for his fiancée when he was approached by a party of dragoons. In their eyes the fact that he had a bible in his possession was enough to mark Adam out as a Cameronian and he was shot on the spot and his body left there for his fiancé to find. He was buried where he fell and a stone was later erected over him by Old Mortality. All of this is displayed on a modern information board erected at the opening of the River Ayr Way.

We left Adam's Cairn and continued down the riverside. The caffeine addicts were beginning to grumble that their habit needed a fix so, on a wee wooden bridge over a wee burn that emptied itself into the river, we stopped for coffee. While we sat at coffee, swallows old and young skimmed the river feeding on insects totally invisible to us. A buzzard ‘meowed’ somewhere above the Wellwood trees and brown Argus butterflies flitted. And the sun came out! What a pleasant coffee stop.

Post coffee we continued down the ‘Way’, crossed the Cumnock road (with extreme care as suggested by the sign with the River Ayr Way icon on it) and came to the unclassified road for Dalfram. This road has recently been resurfaced and the walking up it was smooth and easy. We crossed the Sorn road (no ‘take care’ signs here!) and came over a moorish tract to Netherwood in the valley of the Greenock Water. Whaups and buzzard and oystercatcher all made themselves known to us as we walked along the moorland road in search of a place for lunch. And the haunting cry of the peesie accompanied us finding a suitable place.

As we sat with our backs against a drystane dyke listening to the birds and watching the changing patterns in the sky (auld romantics, we), the sun went and an ominous charcoal grey cloud, pregnant with rain, crept over us. And it wasn’t long before the expected rain came. Waterproofs went on. But the intensity of the rain and its duration were as before. Waterproofs were on and back off before we had finished the peece and peece-stops are notoriously brief in the Ooters. The sun had returned by the time we set off again.

We left tarmac at Burnfoot Farm and took to a forest road. This took us through the forest and towards the houses of Smallburn. But we didn’t want to go there. When we found a road coming from the left we took this, came past a pond with an island full of resting gulls (seagulls!!!) and on to the Glasgow road at the cemetery. Then we crossed the road and came to a small car park.

Round this car park are built examples of different types of drystane dykes and information boards describing them. This is where we found the lunky hole. For the uninitiated, a lunky hole, according to the blurb, is a hole left at the bottom of a dyke for hares to get through but as our expert* pointed out, any form of wildlife would get through. So perhaps the blurb should reflect this.

We might have gone straight down the Glasgow road into the town but we didn’t. We found a path through the Kirk Wood and followed this to the Kirk. In the kirk-yard are buried the great and the good of Muirkirk past. Had we time to spare we might have investigated this but time was at a premium today for some had appointments to keep so we walked on down to the Douglas road and back into the town that way. That’s when Alan mentioned his Muirkirk connections. His wife, Ann, is a Muirkirk body and one of her relations was Professor Tom Symington BSc, MB, FRSE etc. etc. who is commemorated by a monument on Main Street. We admired the monument on the way past. And we admired the garden at the corner of the Glasgow Road as well, a garden commemoration the mining heritage of the town and the many famous people who were born, lived and worked here. This is well worth the visit.

Now we were only half a mile or so from the starting point. We turned up Furnace road and came back to Kames and the cars.

This is a good walk in mixed terrain, one that is worth doing again.

FRT and entertainment were taken in The Coachhouse on the corner of Furnace Road.

*The Early Ooters is full of experts on all subjects under the sun. If only the authorities would consult us, we would be able to put them right on so many things.

22 June Ayrshire Coast – Largs to Skelmorlie

2011-06-28T16:15:00.001+01:00

Allan, Davie, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul & Robert

Burns was right: The best laid schemes o’ mice and Ooters gang aft agley. The scribe has lost count of the number of walks that we’ve had to change at the last minute because of the weather this year. Here was another such. The plan for today was to walk from West Kilbride to Largs over the hill (See 28/04/2010) but once again the weather forecast was poor and the ground on the hill was likely to be saturated with the week’s rain. A change of plan was called for when we gathered in Johnny’s in Irvine. (Call us softies if you like but we prefer the word ‘sensible’.) Paul had the answer – and the guidebook for he had come prepared. We would walk the coastal path from Largs to Skelmorlie taking the low route or the high depending on overhead conditions, new territory for all and easy access to an escape route should the weather turn really nasty.

So it was that we left the cars by the side of the Gogo Burn and walked through Largs. Funnily enough, the weather in the extreme north of the county was better than it had been further south. In fact the sky was beginning to lift and the air was considerably drier here. Some set off jacketless and two even wore shorts for the morning, though far from June hot, wasn’t particularly cold.

Johnny stamped his authority on the group right from the off. As we walked briskly along the prom (tiddlie-om-pom-pom) Johnny spoke. ‘Would you kindly slow down please? This is not a race and we have plenty of time today’, said he, using much more colourful language than I am permitted to write; those who know him best can fill in the blanks. So we slowed the pace down.

Brisbane Glen road was found easily enough and we turned up this, following it out of the town.

Then we found the Ayrshire Coastal Path sign directing us up the farm road through Brisbane Mains Farm and on to the open moorland around the base of Knock Hill. Coffee was called and we stopped on a dry-ish bank beside the track for refreshment.

The ground rose after coffee and the temperature did likewise. A halt was called for Jackets to be removed; a halt called at just the right place for looking back there was a super view over Largs to the Firth and Cumbrae beyond. Somehow there was only one camera today so Ian was designated official photographer while the rest acted as advisers on what to take and how to take it. We hope his pictures (with or without the posing Robert) are worth waiting for. Then, with jackets removed and Ian’s photo-shoot finished, we walked on.

The track continued to rise, degenerating eventually into a grass path through the moor. Then there came a bifurcation in the path; the right hand fork heading directly for the Skelmorlie road, the left for the top of Knock Hill. A decision had to be made but really there was no contest; Knock Hill top won the day. Knock Hill – now there’s a tautology if ever there was one. It simply means ‘hill’ in two different languages, ‘an cnoc’ in Gaelic and ‘hill’ in English. But we decided to climb the hill-hill anyway. The grass path continued on its gradual ascent, contouring round the hill. Then it steepened for the last section to the top. Near the top we came on the ancient ‘roadway’ that spiralled to the iron-age hill fort that crowned the summit. We followed this and a within a few minutes we stood at the trig point in the middle of the ancient fortification to admire the view.

And a view there was today for the sky had lifted and patches of blue could be seen in the cloud – not enough to make a sailor a pair of trousers but enough for us to have a fine view. No wonder the iron-age peoples chose Hill Hill for their fort. The view is superb for such a low height: From the hills around Brisbane Glen, the Renfrew Heights, the turn of the Clyde round the Cloch, Ben Lomond and the hills of Dunbartonshire, Dunoon and Argyle’s Bowling Green, over Bute to the hills of Argyll, over Largs to the Cumbraes and south-westward to the high peaks of Arran. Even Ailsa Craig showed itself in the distant south.

As we have noted frequently in these pages, Ayrshire as a county is remarkable for having such fine views from such low eminences and we reckon we have seen most of them. This was another to add to the collection. We stood for a while taking it in but the restless in the company could contain themselves no longer and had to be off. We all followed.

Robert and Jimmy set the pace on the downward, jogging down the steep we had come up not so long ago. By the time we had reached the level grass path, they were seventy or eighty metres in front. Why they turned off the path we didn’t quite know but when we reached where they did so there was the Ayrshire Coastal Path sign pointing us down what might best be described as an animal track of sorts. We followed the leading two down this path.

Gradually the path narrowed and all but disappeared at one point. But our intrepid leaders pushed on, finding a sheep pad alongside a drystane dyke. This brought us into a wee glen beside a burn where we found the low grass path again. What a delightful wee dell this was with dozens of pale-purple spotted orchids decking the banks, more orchids than even our botanical friend had ever seen in one place. Ian was instructed to do the necessary with the camera again. Then we followed the burn down to find the road for Skelmorlie.

We were to stay on this road for the rest of the walk. And the rest of the walk went off without notable incident. We did stop for the peece but, much to Johnny’s consternation, not on the top of the first rise as suggested. We stopped where we had a view over the firth to Dunoon, a view that showed the rain showers sweeping the firth. We hoped they would stay on the firth and leave us alone.

After lunch we followed the road past a caravan park and into Skelmorlie. The rain hit us as we dropped down through the town but it was only spits and spots and we didn’t bother to waterproof. We carried on down to sea level again.

The Skelmorlie Burn marks the boundary between Skelmorlie and Wemyss Bay, the boundary between Ayrshire and Renfrewshire and the end of the Ayrshire Coastal Path. Today saw our completion, in various stages, of this path. Hooray and congratulations all round.

We took the bus back to Largs and took FRT in McCauley’s. One thing noted by Davie was the tattoo on the arm of the young barmaid. We noted her other attributes.

More Images from Ailsa Craig

2011-06-28T12:05:00.008+01:00

ACP Largs to Skelmorlie

2011-06-25T15:10:00.005+01:00

Knock Hill summit, wild orchids and Johnny nae pals

The birthday boy on Knock Hill

2011-06-25T14:52:00.003+01:00

All Ooters kept a close eye on Robert today just in case he got lost again!

Due to recent medical research, he is now to be called "Half-Pint Bob".

Tailor Craft - Literary Competition

2011-06-25T11:20:00.003+01:00

Our own Allan, twice a winner of the Literary competition, entered the following piece for the 2011 event held on Friday (24th June). Allan did not regain his title with this entry. He is too modest to post it himself. I know it will interest the Ooters. So here it is. Enjoy.

Are we there yet? – Allan Sim

So here I am at Ardrossan ferry terminal on a bright, dry October morning awaiting the arrival of the rest of the ‘team’. Having given up on the day job – or maybe the job had given up on me- I had been persuaded by Johnny boy to join this motley group of former teachers who walked each Wednesday. Ayrshire, Arran, the Galloway hills, in fact ‘anywhere we can get to and back in a day’ was the sphere of operations. I had done part of the Ayrshire Coastal path already with them and last week we had completed the Ness Glen walk down by Loch Doon. But this is to be more of a challenge particularly as I have no previous hillwalking experience.

Soon we were on board and enjoying the rolls and bacon from the servery.

Lesson 1: Don’t have two rolls prior to a big climb, but then nobody told me it would be a big climb.

Brodick is soon reached and I follow the guys to the bus stop, for today’s walk is to begin round the back of the island.

Lesson 2: I hadn’t reached bus pass age at this time, the rest had. It had been an age since I had been on a bus and the cost of the journey certainly wasn’t coppers and I was the only one paying!

The trip seems to take ages before Davie calls out that we are nearly at the stop at Thundergay which is to be or starting point. Davie and faithful (that’ll be right!) collie, Holly, had done this walk a few weeks previously and knows it like the back of his hand. More of this later. Up we go on a track straight from the stop, no time to loosen up or get run in, and the pace is swift, too swift for me. But I cling on and am grateful for a coffee stop at a lochan. Here’s where it begins to go wrong. A mist has descended on this part of Arran and anything above the lochan is obscured. Not for the last time do I ask, ‘Are we there yet?’ The answer is in the negative but there is just a wee climb to go.

Lesson 3: Never believe a word these guys say. No matter how many hills you do on a walk there is still one more to do and when they say ‘It’s all downhill from here’ it means it’s all downhill until the next climb.

The ‘B’ word is used at this point and is to be repeated at regular intervals during the rest of the day.

Onwards and upwards we go, knowing not where I am going because I can’t see more than a few yards in any direction and, in any case, I am concentrating on just putting one foot in front of the other. I am struggling big time by now and getting ‘advice’ aplenty from those in front. Johnny keeps me company and we start doing the climb fifty paces at a time before short stops. It has to be short stops as we can’t risk losing contact with those in front. Whoever said that the fastest man should bring up the rear?

Eventually the shout is ‘We’re here, the top of the hill’ and in the gloom we sit down for lunch. How uncomfortable can you get? Soaking from haar on the outside and from sweat on the inside. I’m so out of breath and miserable that I can’t face my pieces. Holly enjoys them.

However them that know are beginning to question whether we are here after all and after a debate between those who have GPS’s, those who have maps and him who knows the walk like the back of his hand, a decision is made that we aren’t at the top after all and that we have still some way to go yet. Wonderful! Even with all the expertise available there is a lively debate about the correct way to proceed. With thoughts of having to be rescued by helicopter, but how would it fly in this mist?, and of never seeing my family again, and beginning to panic, I help the debate along by intervening with the plea ‘Get me off this hill’. This seems to focus minds and after being promised that it is just as easy now to go on than to turn back –remember lesson 3- we follow Davie. After twenty minutes going in one direction it becomes apparent the he and the back of his hand are in fact very distant relations. So, we retrace our steps and come back to the point we had left ages ago. This time sense prevails and we follow the route dictated by the satnavs, climbing again over grass and rock until we reach the point where we will descend. What a relief! But just when I think that I can enjoy the walk down, it is announced that if we want to catch the bus at Pirnmill we have to get a move on. And so get a move on we do and make the bus by five minutes. And when we look up to the horseshoe that we had traversed, I could not have told you what we had done or in which direction we had been travelling, the mist has cleared.

‘ It’s a great walk in a good day’, I am assured. The B word in triplicate.

When I get home I am so knackered that I literally crawl upstairs and fall into a hot bath.

That’s it, never again, you can stuff your hillwalking!

The Great Outdoors. You can keep it. Well, until next week anyway.

Puffin pictures

2011-06-23T07:11:00.003+01:00

As requested, some of Jimmy's puffin pictures and a few others.

Living on the Craig

2011-06-22T22:44:00.002+01:00

Just watched the 2006 Dvd about the Girvan family of stone quarriers on Ailsa Craig. Fascinating stuff, well put together.
Living on the Craig
The link to ailsa craig online doesn't work though.

Walk on Wed 29th June

2011-06-22T17:30:00.002+01:00

Meet at Kaimes (Muirkirk) at 10a.m. The' Lunkey Hole' walk is the proposed outing.

Special pics of Ailsa Craig for Holly

2011-06-20T15:02:00.004+01:00

Her name was Col as she was born on the Island of Colonsay,and lives with her master in Sheffield,who also was a retired teacher(I know, you cant get away from them,even on Ailsa Craig). She loves visiting islands and this is her 51st. Next week she is going with her family to Arran.It was a pity you couldn't be with us today as your master thought dogs were banned from the Craig in case you started chasing all these black and white birds which I think are called seagulls. But we know that you only chase sticks and there were hunners of them on the beach, all shapes and sizes. You would have had such great fun picking up a large one and running to the top with it, hitting the Ooters neatly behind the knees as you passed them struggling to get to the top. Also your navigational skills were missed as Jimmy nearly had us all over a 400ft cliff.

Hope to see you next time.

Some Four Lochs Pics

2011-06-17T07:14:00.005+01:00

A few pics from the walk showing Loch Doon and Loch Finlas and a rare photo of Johnny minus hat( he left it in the car by mistake ).