Dailly 5 July

Alan McQ, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Dougie, Gus, Ian, Jim, Johnny, Kenny T, Paul, Robert

It was pleasantly warm as we assembled in Dailly for today’s walk, so much so that shorts were the chosen attire of the brave. Moving out of the village, we followed the marked path until we took a left and over a style into Lindsayston Wood. It was here that the first nettles of the day were encountered, but undaunted we moved on and soon left the canopy of trees to emerge into an area that had been felled. We could see the way marker ahead and the style further up at the fence, but finding any sort of recognised path was difficult. No matter, our pathfinders led us with aplomb. (Given Gus’s account of how his garden is doing this year, he might lead us with a plum later on in the summer).

Negotiating the debris

Coffee stop

Making our way up to Lindsayston Farm, we followed the road until we cut off to the right towards Whitehill Farm. The steady pull up past the farm and beyond was made in good time and before too long the right turn was taken across the field to the old ruin. There seemed to be less of it left since our last visit, at least in your scribe’s opinion, and so coffee was taken further down at the style adjacent to the wee burn. By this time the shorts brigade was being attacked by clegs and all manner of beasties, so we didn’t delay and made our way on to the hillside for the trek up to Barony Hill (1049ft). The going underfoot was soft but, at this point, not an issue. Uncle Davie reminded us that there were a couple of false tops on the hill, but two hours after setting off, the trig point was reached, which afforded us some excellent views over to Ailsa Craig, Arran, the ruins of Dalquharran, and the Ayrshire countryside in its verdant finery. Allan took time to thank his minders for staying with him, at least he would have done if he had any breath left.

Ailsa Craig

The first to arrive got a seat

Dalquharran from a distance

A few minutes later we made our way down from the trig point towards the quarry and the lime kilns beside the Toddy Burn and it was here, as per custom, that lunch was taken. Before we knew it, it was time to move on as the midges were assembling. The track down to the entrance to Glengee wood was in poor condition, given the recent rain, with mud making progress treacherous in places. Having entered the wood, we followed the track for ten minutes before taking the sharp left up the muddy slope and into Poundland Wood, following the path to Falfarrocher Glen and out towards the main road again. Now the Ayrshire Paths website states that ‘It is a joy to walk through Falfarocher Glen following the burn downstream through a marvelous woodland which is the haunt of roe deer, badger and fox’. Well it would be if the path was maintained. The path was overgrown with bracken, brambles and contained many booby traps like hidden holes and tree stumps, not to mention the wooden bridges that would not last another couple of years. This should have been the easy part of the walk but, in essence, concentration had to be kept at all times. Our Austrian correspondent drew unfavourable comparisons with his recent experiences in the Tyrol.
Having crossed over the road we made our way towards the Water of Girvan and into bright sunshine. Forty minutes later we were back at the cars, four hours and forty minutes or so after having set off. The gizmos were averaged out at 8.3 miles, but it felt a lot longer. Overhead conditions had been very good, but underfoot had been challenging.
A very well deserved FRT was taken at the Maybole Arms. Special mention goes to Jim for taking all the comments about a certain team’s exit from Europe in good humour. As Paul said, ‘This is what is meant by a hard Brexit’. One gets the feeling that Jim has not heard the last of this. As for Malcolm, there was no need to leave the country! Mind you….

For those who were involved in the conversation about Lawrence of Arabia our Barassie motor cycling correspondent informs us that he died whilst riding a Brough Superior SS100, the Rolls-Royce of motor cycles:

‘At the age of 46, two months after leaving military service, Lawrence was fatally injured in an accident on his Brough Superior SS100 motorcycle in Dorset, close to his cottage, Clouds Hill, near Wareham. A dip in the road obstructed his view of two boys on their bicycles; he swerved to avoid them, lost control, and was thrown over the handlebars. He died six days later on 19 May 1935. The location is marked by a small memorial at the side of the road. One of the doctors attending him was neurosurgeon Hugh Cairns, who consequently began a long study of the unnecessary loss of life by motorcycle dispatch riders through head injuries. His research led to the use of crash helmets by both military and civilian motorcyclists.’