There was a roaring in the wind all night,
The rain came heavily and fell in floods,
But now the sun was shining, calm and bright,
The birds were singing in the distant woods.
William Wordsworth
Peter had a sare back so missed the walk today. This was a great pity for it was Peter’s kind of walk, it was in one of his favourite parts of the county and, for something of a change this summer, the sun shone and the air was warm. But he had a sare back and missed it. However, nine of us gathered at Annbank Bowling Green car park for an excursion by the River Ayr. (Ronnie was the other absentee, having had a better offer)
We have done this walk many times before as a group yet was still new territory for some of us and we looked forward to an easy and interesting walk in the sun.
Holly led us away from the car park down through a wee wooded area on a footpath still wet and muddy from the summer’s rain. She obviously remembered the route well for she took us down through the wood to the path beside the river, a river that ran deep and brown, swollen once again by another night’s rain. But the sun shone on us this morning and we enjoyed the walk down the river into Auchincruive policies.
We stopped as we cleared the trees, came through the perimeter wall and the river scene opened out to us. Some sat on the riverside wall, some stood around, but all enjoyed the view downriver and the welcome sunshine. Somebody mentioned coffee but Davie suggested we wait until we get to the Burns Monument for there were seats there. And, anyway, that’s where we always have coffee. We all agreed to wait but this didn’t stop Ian devouring his first roll of the day.
We came to Auchincruive House. Davie and Robert were for walking on but a shout from the rest brought them back for we were for a closer view of the old house. The original part of the house dates from the middle of the eighteenth and was built for the Oswald family to a design by Robert Adam. Though it has been extended and altered since then, the original facade is still obvious. A header on one of the rone-pipe bears the date 1767, possibly the date the house was finished. As Oswald Hall, it was incorporated into the Scottish Agricultural College as halls of residence but it now houses a banqueting hall, conference centre and various business offices.
We crossed Oswald’s bridge and came to the Leglen Wood and the cairn commemorating the area’s connection with both Wallace and Burns. Here, we took coffee.
After a longer coffee break than we have been used to these past few months, we left the cairn, crossed the road and took the fishers’ path up the river. Two herons flapped their lazy way downstream and a buzzard could be heard ‘meowing’ above the trees. The latter was seen as we started the climb to the old Ayr to Annbank railway.
The walk through the woods above the railway cutting was a delight. ‘The light is super’, said Johnny, our official photographer ‘almost spring-like’. He wasn’t wrong. The sun shone through the foliage turning it bright spring green and dappling the tree trunks with spots of summer light. His camera clicked as he tried to capture the scene for us. We look forward to seeing the pictures.
The woodland continued as we climbed above the river to Wallace’s Seat where, on the crag high above the water with superb views up and down the river, we halted again. Ten or fifteen minutes we sat there while the newcomers admired the view and the old-timers blethered in their usual manner. But, wooden benches are hard on auld bones and either sair bums or itchy feet began to tell. We were off again.
The trees gave way briefly and we emerged onto the road at Tarholm bridge. From path on the other side of the bridge appeared a man with a dog that barked furiously at Holly. The dog was reined in to be put into the car parked there and the man stood aside to let us past. In passing, Allan said to no one in particular, ‘That chap’s from Fenwick’, and walked on. Of course, the shy Jimmy and Robert had to make inquiries. By the time the inquisitors had done their stuff and found out once more that it was nice to have a dry day for a change; yes, the man was from Fenwick – forty-one years ago; yes, he remembered Allan when his name was mentioned - his sister and Allan’s were friends, the bold Allan was a hundred metres up the fishers’ path with the rest of the uninterested.
As the crags gave way to a broad grassy holm, the need to eat was felt. On a seat by a shallow sloping bank opposite the point where the Coyle adds its waters to the main river, we sat to eat, to eat and to laze in the sun. Holly was for none of this lazing about; she is far too young for that. Robert obliged by throwing a stick into the water for her. Playing water-sticks is one of Holly’s favourites. This ploy was successful until the time he threw it slightly too far and the puir dug was swept downstream in the flood making landfall some fifty metres below us. Robert gave up at this point, not so Holly. Johnny was next choice for games and stood by the bank while Holly showed him how to swim. And the rest of us lazed and watched. For a good while we lazed and watched.
‘Kingfisher!’ yelled Allan and all eyes turned towards the river to watch a dot of sapphire and orange streak up the water; all eyes except Robert’s that is. ‘Where, where?’ shouted he, but such was the speed of the bird that by the time it was pointed out to Bob, it had moved on. He missed it. He still hasn’t seen a Kingfisher and is beginning to doubt the existence of such a creature, accusing us of inventing it just to tease him. As if.
The birders were delighted though, for not only had we seen a kingfisher but five herons, two buzzards, a single kestrel and a grey wagtail had also been spotted.
Irrespective of the length of the walk or the warmth of the day or the luxury for this year of lazing in the sun, there comes a time when we have to move on. We had reached this time now. We walked on.
We were now on the sunny side of the river, on the fishers’ path that took us underneath the sandstone and shale crags that are a feature of this stretch of the water. The sun was warm and bright on our faces and edged the ripples of the water with silver. More than one of us took the opportunity to get some good pictures.
Then the crags gave way to another grassy holm. Two hundred metres or so upstream stood two men, blethering. When we got nearer, we could see a fine big salmon lying at their feet. One of them, Owen Clark, had landed it earlier in the day. An eleven pounder it was, and took some time to land according to Owen who was ‘seeventy-two' and had ‘been oot fae seeven o’clock this mornin’’ and was ‘knackered’. Like most fishers, Owen doesn’t eat the fish he catches but gives it away but despite pleas from the fish eaters amongst us, he refused to give it to us for he had somebody in mind for it. Johnny took his picture and gave him a blog card so that he could see the picture on the internet. Then we wished him well, left him to blether on to his companion and walked on upstream.
We were now barely a mile from the cars, a mile that was taken at a leisurely pace as befitted the day and we arrived at the cars around two o’clock.
Fluid replacement therapy was administered in The Tap o’ the Brae. We sat outside on the decking taking in some more sun and looking down the valley of the Ayr to the coast and Arran beyond. ‘A good day’, was the general opinion. ‘And nice to see the kingfisher’, said one. ‘Whit bloody kingfisher!’ exclaimed a frustrated Robert.
PS. The rain came back around five o’clock
The rain came heavily and fell in floods,
But now the sun was shining, calm and bright,
The birds were singing in the distant woods.
William Wordsworth
Peter had a sare back so missed the walk today. This was a great pity for it was Peter’s kind of walk, it was in one of his favourite parts of the county and, for something of a change this summer, the sun shone and the air was warm. But he had a sare back and missed it. However, nine of us gathered at Annbank Bowling Green car park for an excursion by the River Ayr. (Ronnie was the other absentee, having had a better offer)
We have done this walk many times before as a group yet was still new territory for some of us and we looked forward to an easy and interesting walk in the sun.
Holly led us away from the car park down through a wee wooded area on a footpath still wet and muddy from the summer’s rain. She obviously remembered the route well for she took us down through the wood to the path beside the river, a river that ran deep and brown, swollen once again by another night’s rain. But the sun shone on us this morning and we enjoyed the walk down the river into Auchincruive policies.
We stopped as we cleared the trees, came through the perimeter wall and the river scene opened out to us. Some sat on the riverside wall, some stood around, but all enjoyed the view downriver and the welcome sunshine. Somebody mentioned coffee but Davie suggested we wait until we get to the Burns Monument for there were seats there. And, anyway, that’s where we always have coffee. We all agreed to wait but this didn’t stop Ian devouring his first roll of the day.
We came to Auchincruive House. Davie and Robert were for walking on but a shout from the rest brought them back for we were for a closer view of the old house. The original part of the house dates from the middle of the eighteenth and was built for the Oswald family to a design by Robert Adam. Though it has been extended and altered since then, the original facade is still obvious. A header on one of the rone-pipe bears the date 1767, possibly the date the house was finished. As Oswald Hall, it was incorporated into the Scottish Agricultural College as halls of residence but it now houses a banqueting hall, conference centre and various business offices.
We crossed Oswald’s bridge and came to the Leglen Wood and the cairn commemorating the area’s connection with both Wallace and Burns. Here, we took coffee.
After a longer coffee break than we have been used to these past few months, we left the cairn, crossed the road and took the fishers’ path up the river. Two herons flapped their lazy way downstream and a buzzard could be heard ‘meowing’ above the trees. The latter was seen as we started the climb to the old Ayr to Annbank railway.
The walk through the woods above the railway cutting was a delight. ‘The light is super’, said Johnny, our official photographer ‘almost spring-like’. He wasn’t wrong. The sun shone through the foliage turning it bright spring green and dappling the tree trunks with spots of summer light. His camera clicked as he tried to capture the scene for us. We look forward to seeing the pictures.
The woodland continued as we climbed above the river to Wallace’s Seat where, on the crag high above the water with superb views up and down the river, we halted again. Ten or fifteen minutes we sat there while the newcomers admired the view and the old-timers blethered in their usual manner. But, wooden benches are hard on auld bones and either sair bums or itchy feet began to tell. We were off again.
The trees gave way briefly and we emerged onto the road at Tarholm bridge. From path on the other side of the bridge appeared a man with a dog that barked furiously at Holly. The dog was reined in to be put into the car parked there and the man stood aside to let us past. In passing, Allan said to no one in particular, ‘That chap’s from Fenwick’, and walked on. Of course, the shy Jimmy and Robert had to make inquiries. By the time the inquisitors had done their stuff and found out once more that it was nice to have a dry day for a change; yes, the man was from Fenwick – forty-one years ago; yes, he remembered Allan when his name was mentioned - his sister and Allan’s were friends, the bold Allan was a hundred metres up the fishers’ path with the rest of the uninterested.
As the crags gave way to a broad grassy holm, the need to eat was felt. On a seat by a shallow sloping bank opposite the point where the Coyle adds its waters to the main river, we sat to eat, to eat and to laze in the sun. Holly was for none of this lazing about; she is far too young for that. Robert obliged by throwing a stick into the water for her. Playing water-sticks is one of Holly’s favourites. This ploy was successful until the time he threw it slightly too far and the puir dug was swept downstream in the flood making landfall some fifty metres below us. Robert gave up at this point, not so Holly. Johnny was next choice for games and stood by the bank while Holly showed him how to swim. And the rest of us lazed and watched. For a good while we lazed and watched.
‘Kingfisher!’ yelled Allan and all eyes turned towards the river to watch a dot of sapphire and orange streak up the water; all eyes except Robert’s that is. ‘Where, where?’ shouted he, but such was the speed of the bird that by the time it was pointed out to Bob, it had moved on. He missed it. He still hasn’t seen a Kingfisher and is beginning to doubt the existence of such a creature, accusing us of inventing it just to tease him. As if.
The birders were delighted though, for not only had we seen a kingfisher but five herons, two buzzards, a single kestrel and a grey wagtail had also been spotted.
Irrespective of the length of the walk or the warmth of the day or the luxury for this year of lazing in the sun, there comes a time when we have to move on. We had reached this time now. We walked on.
We were now on the sunny side of the river, on the fishers’ path that took us underneath the sandstone and shale crags that are a feature of this stretch of the water. The sun was warm and bright on our faces and edged the ripples of the water with silver. More than one of us took the opportunity to get some good pictures.
Then the crags gave way to another grassy holm. Two hundred metres or so upstream stood two men, blethering. When we got nearer, we could see a fine big salmon lying at their feet. One of them, Owen Clark, had landed it earlier in the day. An eleven pounder it was, and took some time to land according to Owen who was ‘seeventy-two' and had ‘been oot fae seeven o’clock this mornin’’ and was ‘knackered’. Like most fishers, Owen doesn’t eat the fish he catches but gives it away but despite pleas from the fish eaters amongst us, he refused to give it to us for he had somebody in mind for it. Johnny took his picture and gave him a blog card so that he could see the picture on the internet. Then we wished him well, left him to blether on to his companion and walked on upstream.
We were now barely a mile from the cars, a mile that was taken at a leisurely pace as befitted the day and we arrived at the cars around two o’clock.
Fluid replacement therapy was administered in The Tap o’ the Brae. We sat outside on the decking taking in some more sun and looking down the valley of the Ayr to the coast and Arran beyond. ‘A good day’, was the general opinion. ‘And nice to see the kingfisher’, said one. ‘Whit bloody kingfisher!’ exclaimed a frustrated Robert.
PS. The rain came back around five o’clock
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