Brown Carrick Hill 23 March

 

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Dougie, Iain, Malcolm, Rex, Robert

The car park at Greenan was busy with walkers and dog-walkers on a beautiful spring morning as we assembled for our walk to Brown Carrick Hill. With the tide being well out, progress was good along the beach, under Greenan Castle and on to Craig Tara, formerly Butlin’s, Holiday Park. By the time we got there, layers had to be disposed of as the temperature had risen and it was more like a warm summer’s day. Anyway, the first climb of the day was up the road through the holiday park, a climb that got the heartrate going and the sweat pouring. From the park it was a walk on the pavement down past the farm park (not open yet) and on along the verge beside the not-very-busy road until the turn-aff, not to Ga’ston, but to the Carrick Hills!

 

It had taken us an hour so far and we were in reasonably good fettle as we continued up the road to our traditional coffee spot. Some suggested that we just stay there for a couple of hours and enjoy the weather rather than climb the road to the imposing-looking masts above us. Sense, or the lack of it, prevailed, and off we went on the steep road in front of us. The hill had definitely got steeper since the last time we did this walk and, given the temperature, and after some view stops, it was a group of weary and sweaty Ooters who reached the masts just before midday. Our lunch spot on a knoll was a wee bit exposed to a fresh breeze but it cooled us down after our exertions.

 

The fitter amongst us suggested that, after lunch, we go on to the trig-point at the top of the hill, but the majority gave short shrift to that idea in favour of retracing our steps from there. As to be expected, the walk down the hill was so much easier, and down through the holiday camp was a doddle. The only slight obstacle was the tide, which had come in and meant that on one wee part of the walk we went up and over an outcrop rather than walk round it. We were back at the cars after three and three-quarter hours having covered eight and a half miles, and it felt like it.

 

FRT was taken in the beer garden patio at the Abbotsford where the merits of the Bayeux Tapestry and medieval history were promoted by Davie. The mind boggles! See us, see culture! Anyway, after the first pint half the company ordered coffees whilst the others had another drink. Those drinks had been demolished before the coffees arrived, something about the hotel being under-staffed, meaning that, for some, it became a three-pint day. A grand way to end a good, if tiring, day out in the sun.

The kitty is down to the bare bones and, with ever-increasing prices, the merits of raising the weekly contribution to £10 were discussed. It would be easier to deal with than the £7, and any extras left after two drinks would go to the next curry night. Watch this space!