14 November - Loch Bradan

November

There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was. 
Walter de la Mare


Allan, Paul, Rex, Malcolm, Andy, Davie M, Jimmy.

Kilmarnockians were conspicuous by their absence from  this planned walk around Loch Bradan. Most, however, had submitted legitimate excuses.

See Wednesdays? See rain.

Rain, however, does not deter the  hardy Ooters, and we set off as planned from Stinchar Bridger for our circumnavigation of Loch Bradan.  From the start, Davie had made it clear he was not leading the walk, and no one objected to this.

We made our way along the metalled road to the Loch.  Davie threw a stick for Holly to retrieve from a swollen burn, which was flowing faster and deeper than had been anticipated.  Somehow she managed to clamber out.

The spelling of "Bradan" seems to be somewhat flexible and at the parking area near the loch the Forestry Commission sign announced "Loch Bradon".  Hmm.  There was some debate about which direction to go around the loch (boulders were mentioned), but before a vote could be taken Rex decided on our behalf that we would take the anti-clockwise route. To be fair to Rex, he is possibly unaware that Ooters actually take votes on important matters. He seems to miss them all.

We sped along the lochside path, which we are more accustomed to following in the opposite direction, and with coffee time approaching we sought shelter.  An old brick boathouse was investigated but it seemed no drier inside than out, so we continued on our way.

We were now approaching the dam and Davie was reminded of his aborted attempt, with Robert, to walk along the top of the dam on our previous circuit.  There was much mirth.

We clambered over the gate to the base of the dam to see the spectacular sight of  Loch Bradan's contents overflowing the top of the dam in a sheet of white water. "It's like a mini-Niagara" announced Paul, who has never visited said falls and might have been getting a bit carried away.

Shelter of sorts was to be found on the window ledges of the buildings at the foot of the dam and coffee and the odd sandwich were consumed.

No one  had any memory of how we had crossed the torrent flowing from the dam outfall when last we had been here.  "There must be a bridge" opined Jimmy. We retraced out footsteps a little and followed the cycle route sign down a track to the torrent. There was no bridge, nor had there ever been a bridge. It was a ford.  It was an impassable ford.  What must have been a benign crossing when we were previously here (Paul couldn't remember crossing it so it couldn't have been that daunting) was now an angry flood.

Defeated, we turned tail, there being no alternative but  to go back the way we came. However, we did stop to admire the monument to the good people of Troon, whose Burgh Council had the vision to build  the dam in 1912 so that Bradan would provide pure water for the virtuous folk of that town.

Davie informed us that there were once two lochs here - Loch Bradan and Loch Lure.  And  he was right.  The building of the dam created a superloch and at the same time submerged the ruins of Bradan Castle.

Ordnance Survey 1858

 Rex and Allan led the way back, leaving the rest of the party trailing in their wake (what was in Allan's sandwiches?).  But they kindly waited for the stragglers when they reached the metalled road, whereupon Rex, Davie and Paul tore off at speed.  "Not a bad pace for three auld yins" said Davie as they approached the cars. And it wasn't.  Oh, and Holly got a special mention for carrying the same stick all the way.

It was good to get into dry clothes.  Refreshments were taken at a new venue - the Kirkmichael Inn.  There, we received a very friendly welcome from both staff and clientele and it goes on to our approved list of hostelries.