Cumbrae 10 January

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Dougie, Gus, Ian, Johnny, Kenny R, Kenny T, Malcolm, Paul, Rex, Robert

It was a rather dreich morning that saw us assemble in Largs for the 9.45 sailing to Cumbrae. However, the forecast was for a steady improvement, so the only issue was whether we would do the walk clockwise or anti-clockwise. Most assumed that the latter was the preferred option, but since the pull up to the Glaid Stone was less strenuous going our usual route and given the fact that it would get the climb out of the way first, Davie and the dug led us clockwise.

There was little breeze, but it was still cold enough for most to keep all layers on as we marched up to our coffee stop at the top of the hill. The eagle-eyed spotted a submarine being escorted up the firth, too small methinks to be a Trident boat.
Ten minutes later we were on our way again and before long we were in Millport, a bit of a ghost town at this time of the year. Lunch was taken at the benches overlooking the still waters of the bay, not at the shelter further along.
Allan and Johnny were the first to move since they were beginning to get chilled, and as they passed the afore-mentioned shelter, they noticed that it had been refurbished, at least all of it except the benches, very strange! The rest caught up within a mile and overtook them for the chase up the far side of the island. The weather had picked up and we had some winter sunshine as the tarmac was pounded. A mile and a half from the slipway, Davie, having consulted Holly, declared that we would not make the 1.30 ferry, so we could ease up and take our time, and thus the remainder of the walk was done at a more casual pace. Not that some of us noticed of course.
The slipway was reached at 1.40, three and three-quarter hours after having set off.
Those of us who were listening to the announcements on the ferry realised that they were going to do a man-overboard drill on the way over, so when the alarm went off we were not concerned. A dummy was thrown into the water and we watched as it was retrieved by seamen with a large pole and then hauled aboard. The drill seemed to satisfy those who were observing from the bridge and no doubt the H&S box could be ticked for another year or so. It took Robert a wee while to get dried off and he was glad that they didn’t try the kiss of life on him.
FRT was taken at the Paddle Steamer in Largs aka Wetherspoon’s, where, for some, this became a TPD. The hour and a half spent there was a good laugh and the chips were good! By the time we left the weather had turned damp and dreich again.