At Jimmy’s insistence, we went the ‘wrong’ way round the walk today. Perhaps this is an attempt to shake us out of our ‘sameness’, a sort of New Year’s resolution imposed on the group. Whatever his reason, and despite the ‘We always go this way’ brigade, Jimmy set off in the ‘wrong’ direction, back toward Seamill and we followed, though some did reluctantly.
We had gathered at Allan’s place in Irvine this morning and slipped and slithered our way along his still iced-up path. We suspected that the ice might still be lying on our proposed walk and dreaded another Auchincruive escapade. And a raw wind blew making the day feel cold. It seems since the big freeze finished and the temperature’s risen, it’s got perishingly cold. However, we are nothing if not adventurous (stupid, some would say) so we set off, car sharing, to the car park at Portencross castle for what we call our Portencross Circular.
No ice lay on the Portencross peninsula and the only hint of the previous week’s snow lay on the hills behind West Kilbride, and in the cold wind that blew off these. It was into this wind that Jimmy led us the ‘wrong’ way round. And it was a lazy wind, one that couldn’t be bothered going round us, it just cut into us. Jimmy was getting his blessings from those who would rather have gone the other way and had this vicious wind on our backs. But he, and we, plodded on into it, taking it in the face like men. Well, the front of the group did but the sensible like Jimmy walked in the middle of the group and were sheltered from the brunt of it. On the plus side for everybody, we hadn’t encountered any ice yet.
A few hundred yards of the cruel wind and Jimmy was feeling justified. As we turned off on a wee road for Thirdpart Farm the wind was on our backs and walking with it proved relatively warm. The road is deteriorates after a while as the council has relinquished maintenance, and ice-filled potholes pitted the breaking surface. These were easily negotiated, though, and hardly hindered our progress. Then we found real tarmac at Thirdpart and that was the last we saw of any ice. And the wind was still on the back and appeared to be dropping as we came into the shelter of the hills.
For some reason, the pace was brisk and we covered the ground to the main A78 in good time. Poor Holly was leashed, a thing she thoroughly detests, for this is a busy road. But she wasn’t tethered long for we turned off the main road on the old drive for Hunterston House.
It was then we heard the geese. At first a small skein of around twenty caught our attention. Then as we stood and watched, more and more drifted in from the south, cackling to maintain contact with the flock. ‘Barnacles, by the look of it’, said our expert, ‘They’re probably coming to feed on the stubble fields here’. We watched the geese, hundreds upon hundreds of them, turn and wheel and honk their way into the fields beyond the trees and out of our sight. Then we walked on.
By now, we were approaching Hunterston Castle. And, by now, the clock was approaching eleven - coffee time. Some of our Ooter ‘sameness’s’ are that for very good reasons. The best place for coffee on this walk is where we always stop. That is just to the south of Hunterston Castle for it is here that we are sheltered from any wind, there is a reasonable view to the heights of Goldenberry and there is a low drystane retaining wall for us to sit on. It was here we sat and had coffee.
(Hunterston Castle, Doors Open Day 2005)
A lot has been said of Ian’s capacity for food. He was still eating when the rest of us had long finished and were ready to walk on. But we promised him another food stop further round so he packed up and walked on with us.
We came quickly to Hunterston Castle. Davie, the linguist memorised the Latin motto on the clock there, promising, for once and all, to find the definitive translation. We wait with baited breathe. (Ed: LATET ULTIMA CURSUM PERFICIO -the end lies hidden I complete the course. Could be the motto of the ooters!)
By the time Davie had committed the Latin to memory, the non-linguists (and the non-interested) were past Hunterston House and approaching the road for the nuclear power station. Here, they waited for the classicist to catch up. Then we all walked down to the shore of the Fairlie Roads at a place called on the map Gull’s Walk, part of the Hunterston Sands. This, apparently, is a super place for bird watching and our birders were in ecstasy. Wee broon birds were separated into, redshank and dunlin; big broon yins were apparently curlew; what looked like to us like ducks were, it seems, widgeon, mallard, teal and shelduck. We think they just make it up at times. However, it kept them amused as we walked along the shore to the power station.
As we walked along the road through the power station complex, people with bright yellow jackets came and went through a door that we suspect led to the cafeteria. Ian suggested that if Davie had worn his yellow jacket, he might have been able to pruch a free meal. He reckons it’s something worth considering for the next time. And the talk of food reminded Ian that we had promised another eating stop. His call from the rear brought us all to a halt, and just where the road gave out onto the raised beach of Portencross barely a mile from the cars, we sat down for lunch. It wasn’t a particularly long lunch stop and once again we were ready for the off before Ian had finished eating. He needn’t have worried though; he could have eaten on the hoof for we took our time on the last stage.
We sauntered along the raised beach under the Ardneil cliffs, the birders watching for movements on the crags. We were split into two groups, the saunterers and those who were even slower. When we came to the village of Portencross, the advanced party were for keeping to the road but were shouted back by the others to leave the road and come round to the castle. ‘We always visit the castle’, said they. Oh dear, here we are reverting already. So much for resolutions, imposed or otherwise. But they leaders returned to the fold and we all walked round to the castle.
Portencross Castle, December 2009
The castle was covered in scaffolding and men in yellow jackets and hard hats came and went into it. We stopped a pair who came in our direction to make inquiries. (Not that we are nosey, we just like to know.) It seems that the castle is being restored to its former glory and will house conference rooms, function rooms et al. The money comes partly from the public purse and partly from a French donor with local connections. The public money, European as well as Scottish, is because of the historical importance of the castle. The French oak beams are part of the contribution of the private individual. The whole project is due to be finished by the end of February so we look forward to seeing the results. Bet the advanced group were glad we called them back now.
It was only a five-minute walk from the castle to the car park. Another short walk to start the New Year but and interesting one.
The Merrick in Seamill was chosen for FRT today but the place has lost its attraction. Perhaps we will try somewhere else in future for we are beginning to change our ways.
We had gathered at Allan’s place in Irvine this morning and slipped and slithered our way along his still iced-up path. We suspected that the ice might still be lying on our proposed walk and dreaded another Auchincruive escapade. And a raw wind blew making the day feel cold. It seems since the big freeze finished and the temperature’s risen, it’s got perishingly cold. However, we are nothing if not adventurous (stupid, some would say) so we set off, car sharing, to the car park at Portencross castle for what we call our Portencross Circular.
No ice lay on the Portencross peninsula and the only hint of the previous week’s snow lay on the hills behind West Kilbride, and in the cold wind that blew off these. It was into this wind that Jimmy led us the ‘wrong’ way round. And it was a lazy wind, one that couldn’t be bothered going round us, it just cut into us. Jimmy was getting his blessings from those who would rather have gone the other way and had this vicious wind on our backs. But he, and we, plodded on into it, taking it in the face like men. Well, the front of the group did but the sensible like Jimmy walked in the middle of the group and were sheltered from the brunt of it. On the plus side for everybody, we hadn’t encountered any ice yet.
A few hundred yards of the cruel wind and Jimmy was feeling justified. As we turned off on a wee road for Thirdpart Farm the wind was on our backs and walking with it proved relatively warm. The road is deteriorates after a while as the council has relinquished maintenance, and ice-filled potholes pitted the breaking surface. These were easily negotiated, though, and hardly hindered our progress. Then we found real tarmac at Thirdpart and that was the last we saw of any ice. And the wind was still on the back and appeared to be dropping as we came into the shelter of the hills.
For some reason, the pace was brisk and we covered the ground to the main A78 in good time. Poor Holly was leashed, a thing she thoroughly detests, for this is a busy road. But she wasn’t tethered long for we turned off the main road on the old drive for Hunterston House.
It was then we heard the geese. At first a small skein of around twenty caught our attention. Then as we stood and watched, more and more drifted in from the south, cackling to maintain contact with the flock. ‘Barnacles, by the look of it’, said our expert, ‘They’re probably coming to feed on the stubble fields here’. We watched the geese, hundreds upon hundreds of them, turn and wheel and honk their way into the fields beyond the trees and out of our sight. Then we walked on.
By now, we were approaching Hunterston Castle. And, by now, the clock was approaching eleven - coffee time. Some of our Ooter ‘sameness’s’ are that for very good reasons. The best place for coffee on this walk is where we always stop. That is just to the south of Hunterston Castle for it is here that we are sheltered from any wind, there is a reasonable view to the heights of Goldenberry and there is a low drystane retaining wall for us to sit on. It was here we sat and had coffee.
(Hunterston Castle, Doors Open Day 2005)We came quickly to Hunterston Castle. Davie, the linguist memorised the Latin motto on the clock there, promising, for once and all, to find the definitive translation. We wait with baited breathe. (Ed: LATET ULTIMA CURSUM PERFICIO -the end lies hidden I complete the course. Could be the motto of the ooters!)
By the time Davie had committed the Latin to memory, the non-linguists (and the non-interested) were past Hunterston House and approaching the road for the nuclear power station. Here, they waited for the classicist to catch up. Then we all walked down to the shore of the Fairlie Roads at a place called on the map Gull’s Walk, part of the Hunterston Sands. This, apparently, is a super place for bird watching and our birders were in ecstasy. Wee broon birds were separated into, redshank and dunlin; big broon yins were apparently curlew; what looked like to us like ducks were, it seems, widgeon, mallard, teal and shelduck. We think they just make it up at times. However, it kept them amused as we walked along the shore to the power station.
As we walked along the road through the power station complex, people with bright yellow jackets came and went through a door that we suspect led to the cafeteria. Ian suggested that if Davie had worn his yellow jacket, he might have been able to pruch a free meal. He reckons it’s something worth considering for the next time. And the talk of food reminded Ian that we had promised another eating stop. His call from the rear brought us all to a halt, and just where the road gave out onto the raised beach of Portencross barely a mile from the cars, we sat down for lunch. It wasn’t a particularly long lunch stop and once again we were ready for the off before Ian had finished eating. He needn’t have worried though; he could have eaten on the hoof for we took our time on the last stage.
We sauntered along the raised beach under the Ardneil cliffs, the birders watching for movements on the crags. We were split into two groups, the saunterers and those who were even slower. When we came to the village of Portencross, the advanced party were for keeping to the road but were shouted back by the others to leave the road and come round to the castle. ‘We always visit the castle’, said they. Oh dear, here we are reverting already. So much for resolutions, imposed or otherwise. But they leaders returned to the fold and we all walked round to the castle.
Portencross Castle, December 2009
The castle was covered in scaffolding and men in yellow jackets and hard hats came and went into it. We stopped a pair who came in our direction to make inquiries. (Not that we are nosey, we just like to know.) It seems that the castle is being restored to its former glory and will house conference rooms, function rooms et al. The money comes partly from the public purse and partly from a French donor with local connections. The public money, European as well as Scottish, is because of the historical importance of the castle. The French oak beams are part of the contribution of the private individual. The whole project is due to be finished by the end of February so we look forward to seeing the results. Bet the advanced group were glad we called them back now.
It was only a five-minute walk from the castle to the car park. Another short walk to start the New Year but and interesting one.
The Merrick in Seamill was chosen for FRT today but the place has lost its attraction. Perhaps we will try somewhere else in future for we are beginning to change our ways.
Portencross Castle, September 2005
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