On the twelfth day of the twelfth
month of the twelfth year of the century twelve Ooters gathered for their
Wednesday walk. What a great introduction to today’s walk this would have made
but even as yours truly was composing it, Andy arrived to swell our number to
thirteen and destroy what would have been a great introduction. Anyway, we hung
around in the frosty sunshine at the Gogo Burn car park in Largs until we were
sure that nobody else was arriving then we set off for a walk that was new to
most of us, to Rowantree Hill and back.
A new walk it might have been to
most but the first section was very familiar. We crossed the railway bridge,
came through the car park to the main street, crossed this and came by Frazer
Street and Flatt Road to Bellsdale Street. The road steepened as we left the
town and the tarmac still held some of the morning’s frost and care had to be
taken on the slippy surface. Then tarmac gave way to a track and we were on
more secure footing again. The sun still shone on us but behind us, to the
south-west, a dirty grey haar was gathering over the sea, edging its way
towards us. Would we be lucky and remain in the sun or would the haar fulfil
the forecast of fog for this area? We would see.
Our track took us high above the
glen of the Gogo Burn, heading to the bridge and dookin’ hole in the Greeto
Water. But we never made the bridge for a signpost on our left at the height of
the track showed that we should take a pad climbing steeply up a grassy slope.
A rocky scarp rose before us and Ian, whose walk this was, told us to take to
the top of it. This we did, and arrived at a mast on a top above Largs where
coffee was called.
It has been said before but I will
say it again: What marvellous views can be had from these wee hills above the
Ayrshire coast. Today we looked out over Largs with Cumbrae spread out like a
map below us. To our right the Clyde turned round the Tail o’ the Bank and
Innellan was bathed in sunshine over the water; the Cowal valleys were filled
with fog as the forecast suggested our area should be; the Rothesay ferry
ploughed its way over the Firth towards Bute and the Cowal hill looked good in
the sun. But to the south-west that haar was still creeping towards us
obscuring anything behind it. Better to sit facing north-west and take in the
sunnier view.
That this was the season of goodwill and
generosity was obvious from the goodies passed around during coffee. Davie C
started it with his German Lebkuchen but other sweeties were soon on the go. Is
there no end to this Christmas spirit? We were not only re-caffeinated but
sugar-charged as well. There would be no holding us back now. And the sun still
kept that haar at bay.
Thank
goodness for that sugar boost for there was no path between the mast and the
next top, Wooy Hill. Nor to Rowantree Hill itself. But the sugar did the trick
and the overnight frost had solidified the peaty soil so the going was a lot
easier than it might have been. At least Paul, Jimmy and Rex thought so for the
set a fair old pace over the moorish hill. But we were not too far behind when
we eventually reached our objective of Rowantree Hill.
By
this time the sun had gone and the haar was creeping along the snow-patched sides
of the hills to the east, Irish Law and the famous Hill of Stake. We had no
cause to hang about on Rowantree Hill. Ian
planned a ‘go and come back’ walk. So, after the traditional ‘summit photie’ we
carried out his plan by coming back to the mast above Largs. But this time quad-bike
tracks eased the way and we came back quicker than we went. Some were calling
for lunch for it was a long time since breakfast for them. But the leaders didn’t
stop here and the hungry had no choice but to follow them back down to the
track towards Greeto Bridge. Then they turned us the two hundred metres of so
up to the bridge and the dookin’ hole. Lunch was taken here. And the sweeties
did another round.
As
we came down from the mast a shower of rain dropped from the now overcast sky
and we thought it best to waterproof. It came to nothing, though, and we were
able to take lunch in the dry. But barely had the last sweeties been handed
round than the rain came in earnest. We came down the track from the Greeto
Bridge at a fair old lick, Allan (Allan?) and Robert setting the pace trying
not to get the first soaking in five outings. And we managed to avoid that
soaking for the rain went before we reached the outskirts of the town again.
A
gentle amble through the town brought us back to the Gogo Burn and the cars
where poor Holly was deposited before we made our way to McCabe’s for FRT
No comments:
Post a Comment