30 November Carrick Hill from Greenan Shore

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.