Gogo Burn 6 September

 

Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Gus, Malcolm, Paul, Rex, Robert

Derval Davie was first to arrive in Largs, a feat never-before achieved, and probably not to be repeated! Nevertheless, he was soon joined by the rest of the guys for our walk up beyond Largs to the bridge over the Gogo Burn. We were promised another glorious day but, with a wee breeze coming from the sea, most started off with a light fleece. It had been four years and five months since we had done this walk, and it showed, as we missed the gate that would lead us on the correct path when we were leaving Douglas Park.

The error was soon remedied, and the relentless climb began as we moved up to the final flight of steps. By this time layers had been removed and, before too long we were atop and, for the second week running, were looking down on magnificent views of the Firth of Clyde. Moving on to the next top to the right of us, we found the path which would ultimately lead us to our turning point. We were going uphill relentlessly but underfoot it was dry (there were a few soggy bits later) and progress was good meaning we had reached our coffee spot at the wee cairn an hour after having left the cars. The views around us were excellent and we relaxed and drew breath.

Continuing our upward journey, we could soon see the rockface of the hill that we usually skirt to the left side of, over some rough stuff, and then down to the bridge, but we could see a track to the right, which we didn’t think had been there before, and which would take us over the top of the hill and avoid the aforementioned rough stuff. A possible explanation was the path was put in to aid tree-planting, which had taken place, but it led us to the top of the hill and onto a faint quad bike track. We could see our destination down below us but some, you know who you are, became impatient on the track, wondering if it was taking them away from the bridge, and went downhill into the boggy, long stuff. Those who had faith continued on the track, which very quickly met the road down to the bridge. A result! Those without faith met us at the bridge and admitted that they should have gone the other way. Gus, in particular, had gone down into a soggy hole, witnessed by his soaking boot and trouser leg.

We took stock here, noting it was midday. It was another twenty-five minutes to our usual lunch spot at the Greeto Falls and all were in agreement that we should not break with tradition, and why should we? as it was idyllic. Gus even used the ‘heeling’ power of the waters to soothe his nagging Achilles tendon whilst the rest bathed in the warmth of the early afternoon.

It got steadily warmer as we took the road back down to Largs and to the cars to get changed before heading to the Drouthy Neebors for well-earned FRT. At least, all but one got back to the cars. Robert had managed to get himself detached and had gone to the pub directly, a surprise for the Killie boys, as it was Robert’s car they had come in, and they had already started to ‘strip’ before realising that the bold Boab was nowhere to be seen. The walk had taken three hours and forty minutes from start to finish, including stops, and the consensus was that the distance was between seven and eight miles. To Derval Davie’s relief, Drouthy Neebors is now dog-friendly and, as we relaxed in the beer garden, tired bones were eased accompanied by the usual standard of banter. Say no more! A very fine day out!