'Into each life some rain must fall.' – Longfellow. (Barony Hill walk blog, June 2008.)
Distance 12.5 km
Eight Ooters (Allan, Davie junior, Jimmy, Johnnie, Paul, Peter, Rex and Robert) gathered at Dailly for the fourth Ooter ascent of Barony Hill. The weather score thus far had been 2-1 in favour of good weather and although the forecast had been poor, glimpses of sun greeted us as we prepared for our walk .... but it wasn’t going to last!
Rex showed us his new toy – an all singing and dancing GPS with OS map and the ability to do all sorts of calculations and graphs. As Rex learned to master the controls we felt secure in the knowledge that we could do the walk blindfold, if necessary.
Lambs gambolled in the fields (a treat missed by Holly) as we made our way up to Lindsayton Wood and its burn. Peter remarked on the waymarker fixed into a substantial boulder – it was in the shape of a curling stone handle and a few of these attractive markers guided us through the wood. Close to the entrance to the wood is the site of an old curling pond ... but I only know this because I have looked at the guide to the walk.
As we came out of the wood and prepared to follow the old track downhill, Peter asked where the track went to in the opposite direction. As one, we replied; “Up there”.
At Lindsayton Farm we noted that Sty TV was still being watched by the porkers. Then our ascent began. Up past Whitehill Farm and along the coo keech covered track. The majority cut off across the field towards Machrikil whilst the virtuous kept to the path and were rewarded by the sight of the farmer driving into the field on his tractor. Sadly, he only waved at the miscreants.
Machrikil– supposedly the site of a cell founded by St Machar - is our customary coffee halt and today was no different. By now the weather had deteriorated with a strong wind blowing and a few drops of rain in the air, so what remains of the walls of this hallowed place provided welcome shelter.
Coffee, liquorice allsorts and fruit pastilles duly consumed, we made the run for the summit. What is a pleasant stroll on a fine day became a test of endurance in the strong cross wind which was now driving horizontal rain at us. The sandy ground looked remarkably dry whilst we were drookit.
This was not a day for taking in the fine view from the trig point on Barony Hill. There were no views. Girvan, Ailsa Craig and the wind turbines on Hadyard Hill were hidden in the mist and cloud. We lingered for a minute or so on top to identify the path to the limestone workings, with the big yins sheltering the wee yins and we hurried down into the lee of the hill. Within 30 seconds we wondered what all the fuss had been about. What wind? What driving rain?
It was an easy stroll to the lunch spot in the lime kilns (right hand one), where Allan provided the entertainment, although en route the more adventurous did take time to explore the impressive limestone workings at close quarters. Jimmy and Peter got closest to the edge and Paul held back just a little.
Some tree felling had been taking place lower down and Peter was suitably excited by the Dalquharran bricks which had presumably been put down on the track to prevent heavy logging equipment from sinking into the mire. They say you can’t see the wood for the trees – you also can’t see the path for the lack of trees. The left turn off the main path no longer rises through an arborial glade and we almost missed it.
The walk through Glengee Wood is always a delight, even in poor weather as it twists and turns alongside the Falfarocher Burn. Crossing the the Dailly-Crosshill road we passed over a carpet of wood sorrel (according to he who knows these things) and quickly spotted a dipper on the river bank. But there were no heron and this time there were no fishermen with whom to pass the time of day. And out in the open again we were at the mercy of the driving rain so it was heads down as we made our way to the river crossing.
Here the party split, and Jimmy, Paul and the walk’s two virgins, Peter and Davie headed for the remains of the older Dalquharran Castle. The inscription on the door lintel “ut scriptura sonat, finis, non pugna coronat” had us all puzzed and there was no Davie (senior) to help us out. Further research by this blogger shows that even google doesn’t turn up much to help with the translation. However the source was identified as a manual of Rhetoric by Boncompagno, a 12thC Italian Professor of Writing. I asked around and the best anyone could come up with was a paraphrase " To make the composition resonant, save your crowning glory for the conclusion, not the main discussion." This ties in with the Kennedy motto: “Avise la fin” – Consider the end.
So I’ve considered it, and here it is:
The End.
Postscript: A pleasant hour or so was spent at the Greenside Inn in Maybole where the locals are friendly and the beer is good.
Post postscript. The weather score is now 2-2
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