Dunure to Doonfoot 22 November

 

 Alan, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Dougie, Graham, Hugh, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Rex, Robert

 

Jing and crivens, what a fuss

The day oor Davie got on the bus

Wan dug, wan bus was the cry

And oor diplomat just had to reply

His pleas, sadly, came to no avail

And common sense did not prevail

 

We were present and correct on an overcast windy morning at Doonfoot in plenty of time for our bus to Dunure, which arrived punctually. Most Ooters had piled on before the driver informed Davie that Isla would not be allowed on because there was another dog already on the bus. He stated that it was company policy not to have more than one dog aboard in case there was conflict between them, or something like that. Now, we are renowned for our diplomacy, are we not? and soon the debate got heated, but amazingly no sweary words were issued towards the ‘jobsmith’ of a driver who sat his ground behind his partition with Davie choosing to retreat and drive to Dunure. Funnily enough, Rex was allowed on, and Dougie forwarded a notion that, in line with current gender issues, Isla could have identified herself as a cat for the day. We were all too slow in explaining that Isla was in fact Davie’s guide dug hearing dug and that she should be allowed on.

No matter, the driver set off at a fast pace, undoubtedly getting rid of his anger, and, wait for it, let the wee dog and its owner off at the next stop. Sometimes you just cannot write the script.

Anyway, all of us started walking from Dunure harbour at ten to eleven and headed along the beach, following the markers, before leaving it for a spell and then returning to the increasingly slippy, rocky terrain. It had been some time since most had done this walk a and it seemed much more difficult than we remembered. Anyway, after nearly an hour we stopped for coffee just before the climb up the steps, and, as we sat, the weather began to pick up with patches of blue sky appearing. The climb up those steps certainly gets the heart racing, but we made it safely to the top and on to the fields which took us to the old railway line up to the caravan park where we deviated back towards the beach.

On the path downwards most stopped at a couple of benches for lunch whilst, there being no room at the inn, Johnny and Allan continued down to the beach where Allan sat down and had lunch. Johnny, however, decided just to walk on towards the Heads of Ayr and cut a solitary figure in the distance. Isla, however, had appeared from nowhere and acted as Johnny’s minder until the rest caught up. By this time the rain was falling, but, thankfully, the prevailing wind was behind us today and we were all reunited as we left the beach to walk along the grass at Craig Tara. Soon it was back on the sand again until just before Greenan Castle when we took the path over the field and up to the road which passes the new housing and on to Dunure Road and back to the cars at the Co-op.

We were pretty wet as we tried to get changed into dry gear before heading to the Balgarth for FRT. Three hours for about 6.3 miles were today’s numbers and most agreed that it felt more than that, probably because of the difficult underfoot conditions on some parts of the walk. Davie was encouraged to get the bus back to Dunure for his car, but he disrespectfully declined as Paul had offered him a lift. A convivial hour was spent in the hotel where Davie took the constant ribbing about his earlier altercation in good spirit. Mind you, it appeared to have affected him strangely as his second drink today was a coffee. One for the record books!