23 March Around Ayr

Alan, Davie, Ian, Malcolm, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Peter, Rex &Robert Back in October we went in search of sloes to make sloe gin. This has become another of our traditions, as has the tasting competition that follows the making. While most of the brew was ready for drinking before Christmas, Rex’s was still in the creation so we’ve had to wait until now for our sloe gin night. This was the chosen night when we would all meet in Ronnie’s for the annual competition. With this in mind, today’s walk was to be short and easy. That’s why nearly a full register of Ooters gathered in Rex’s in Alloway at a fairly late 9:30. The absentees were Allan and Ronnie who had succumbed to different complaints. That this was to be a day for gastronomy was evident from the instant we walked in Rex’s door – coffee and bacon rolls were on offer. And we sat long over coffee and bacon rolls for this was also to be a relaxed day, an easy day, a day when all the rush and bustle of an Ooters walk was laid aside and we would have a casual outing. To that end we had been instructed to bring National Trust cards with us for we would have another cultural day. So, we left Rex’s around the ten mark and wandered down to Burns Cottage. But we didn’t visit the cottage; instead we found the new path towards the new Burns Museum for somebody wanted to show us ‘the moose’. This was Alloway, this was Burns country and the statue of the moose stood beside the new pathway, six feet or more tall, taller than us at least. And beside this huge, sleekit, lowering, tin or ferrous beastie, we posed for the record shots. All of us had brought our National Trust cards for a visit to the Burns museum and Jimmy led us across the road to the entrance. Davie started the mutiny. ‘Away ye go in’, said he, ‘and I’ll wait for ye here. I’ve been in twice this year already’. Then Rex joined him. ‘I’ve been in before as well’, he added. Then Robert joined. Then another, and another. One by one the mutiny grew until only Ian and Jimmy were left. Since they saw no point in splitting the group on such a pleasant, relaxed morning, the mutiny was complete. We walked on without using our cards. Back across the road then, and down on to the old railway footpath which we followed towards the Dunure road. Footpath/cycle track (Don’t get Jimmy started on this one!) it may be but driving towards us was a van, a cooncil van. And in the cooncil van were two collared and tied cooncil employees. We suspected this was their way of inspecting the footpath/cycle track. Through mumblings and mutterings, we stepped aside to let it pass. But this was not a morning to let things upset us and calm was restored to our merry band long before we reached the Dunure road. We crossed the road and took the track for High Greean and the shore. There came a split in opinion again; some were for remaining high and following the track to Greenan Castle while others would prefer the sand on the shore. This time the split was definitive with an equal number taking the route of their choice. The ruins of Greenan Castle stand on top of a rocky point some height above the beach. That’s where the assault took place. The high routers took umbrage at the poor defenceless beach walkers. Insults were thrown and missiles were thrown. (Well, banter and a light plastic ball were thrown.) The poor, innocent beach walkers had no option but to walk on and ignore the childish antics of those on the cliff. And walk on we did, they still on the high ground and we on the beach. We came together at the Millennium Bridge over the Doon and peace and harmony were restored. It was a day for peace and harmony for the walking was easy and now the day was turning warm as the March sun rose higher. Though the birders were in dispute - a distant group of waders were either redshank or dunlin depending on whose eyesight you trusted – nothing could disturb the amity of the group for long and we were back in accord before we reached the ‘Lang Scots Mile’ sign. We wandered casually along the promenade enjoying the warming sun on our backs. Then a group of seats was found on the Low Green and we sat to laze for a while in the sun, and to take coffee. Rex had suggested another epicurean delight for lunch and we were only too happy to fall into line with his plan. But it wasn’t quite lunch time yet so an extension of the walk was sought. This entailed a walk to the harbour mouth. While some would have liked a trip to the end of the pier, the leaders turned up the south harbour, through the new harbour side housing to what used to be called the swimming pool but is now called The Citadel. We crossed the road and stood in front of the walls of the real citadel, Cromwell’s Fort. Cromwell had the fort built between 16?? and 16?? to suppress the non-conformist natives of the south-west; this at a time when Ayr was a major port for the west of Scotland and much more important than either Greenock or Glasgow. It covered an extensive area stretching from the harbour to almost where Wellington Square stands now, and from Fort Street to the beach. All that remains of it now are parts of the north and west walls – sic transit Gloria Mundi. It was along underneath the western wall that we walked. The wall doesn’t run far though; the fort is demolished now and houses and streets fill the space. It was up one of these streets, Seabank Road that we turned for there was some interest in viewing St John’s Tower. The tower, the bell tower, is all that is left of St. John’s Church. St. John’s was the original parish church of Ayr until Cromwell incorporated it into his fort and used it as a gunpowder store, the congregation having to build themselves a new church on the site of the Greyfriars Monastery by the side of the river. It was in the church of St John in Ayr that Bruce held his first parliament after Bannockburn such was the importance of the ancient town during the Middle Ages. Here, abruptly, endeth the history lesson – before boredom sets in. History lesson over, we wandered up to the junction of Fort Street and Sandgate for Rex’s promised epicurean delight. The Wellington Cafe supplied the fish suppers and Wellington Square the dining area. We sat in the park in the sun and ate our fish suppers. Then we just sat in the sun. It was a day for doing this; a day of peace and harmony with the world; a day of easy and relaxed walking; a delightful early spring day. The town was busy but not exceptionally so. We wandered down Sandgate past Lady Stair’s House in which was born the road engineer John Loudoun McAdam, past the cross in the road that marks the site of the old tollbooth and on to the new bridge. (Funnily enough none of the Burnsians mentioned ‘shapeless cairns’ this time.) At the north side of the bridge we came to a halt for Malcolm recognised the cafe opposite as belonging to a former colleague and went in search of the same. A few minutes later the two emerged for it seems the chap was also a colleague of Johnny and Allan and came out to meet them. Only Johnny was there to greet him for Allan was laid up with flu. Still, we spent a few more minutes blethering before taking our leave of Malcolm’s colleague and turning our footsteps upriver. An ambulance screeched past and drew to a halt at the end of the auld brig. Some sort of accident had befallen a chap on the brig but by the time we got to it, the paramedics had the fellow on his feet and were well under control. We carried on upriver. It would seem that this side of the river was too sunny or lacked interest for some for we crossed the Turner’s Brig and came to the sunless south side. We came under the railway and the main road by an underpass to find the tarmac giving way for the first time since Doonfoot. But a pad continued so we continued with it. This appeared to be no more than a pad trodden by generations of schoolboys - it climbed up banks, along steep grassy slopes and over tree roots – but it took us eventually onto the path of the River Ayr Walk. We were again on familiar territory. We followed the walk up towards Holmston. That’s when we heard, but never saw, the drumming woodpecker, the first of the year. Up through the houses of Holmston we came and over the Cumnock road to Hillfoot Road. That’s when the easy day finished for, for some reason lost to all of us now, the pace quickened, quickened to march time. Along Hillfoot Road we marched to cross the Dalmellington road. Then along Belmont Road we marched, to cross the Maybole road and come back into Alloway and Rex’s place. At twelve miles, this was a longer walk than we planned but it was a day for getting in the miles. The day had been warm – easily the warmest of the year so far – and the pace of the last three miles had been brisk to say the least. Rex’s beer went down like nectar. Our thanks go to Rex for his hospitality both at the beginning and the end of the walk. That night we repaired to Ronnie’s in Kilmarnock for a curry evening and the Sloe Gin competition the results of which can be seen below. A good night of sangs and clatter followed and our thanks go to Ronnie for once again hosting the evening and for bringing out his guitar.