29 August Another Great Arran Day

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Paul, Robert & Ronnie

The weather forecast was reasonable which, given the unsettled pattern and the rains of yesterday, was as much as we could have hoped for. Yet, this less than brilliant forecast didn’t prevent nine of us gathering on board the ferry, Caledonian Isles, for the trip across the firth to Arran once more. The northern hills of the island still held a blanket of fog when we left the harbour at Ardrossan but it was a fog that appeared to be breaking up as we neared Brodick and this break-up was encouraging for our intention for the day was to tackle the island’s highest peak, Goat Fell.

It was also the intention to take the easiest, the ‘tourist’, route up the mountain but Jimmy had different ideas. On board the ferry he outlined his plan: We would take the bus to Corrie and climb from there. This he said would provide a shorter but steeper ascent and those who wished could climb the ridge to find the ‘tourist’ path to the top while those who felt like it could continue to North Goat Fell and come along the Stacach Ridge to the summit. This seemed to all like a good idea to all so in Brodick, we boarded the bus for Corrie.

Around the half eleven mark the bus dropped us at the bottom of the Goat Fell footpath in Corrie. Jimmy had told us that this route was steeper but he didn’t tell us just how steep, or when the steepness started. Almost immediately we left the coast road the ground rose, and rose much steeper than we expected. Still, the first section was on tarmac and the footing was excellent. Then, at High Corrie, we left tarmac, took to a track and eventually found a narrow path signed for Goat Fell. And still the ground rose steeply away in front. It was heart-pumping, leg-burning stuff as we climbed with the path and a break was called for by those already feeling the effort. Just beyond the second fence gate, around the thousand foot contour, we stopped for a cup and to take in the view behind us.

Below us lay Corrie, bathed in sunshine despite the generally overcast sky. Across the firth lay Bute and Cumbraes, Big and Little, Millport being seen clearly. And the Ayrshire coast appeared to be in sunshine as well, all the way from the hills above Largs to the Byne Hill at Girvan, the towers of Hunterston power station gleaming in sunshine.  Yet in the other direction, above us yet, the peak of Goat Fell still held its cloud. Would we be lucky or unlucky on the summit? Would the sun break up the fog or would this persist and spoil our day out? We would see.

How we enjoyed that coffee break but there came that time again when we had to move off. Suitably rested and refreshed we set off, steeply upward again. And how that slope was steep! Then the steepness eased as we gained the lip of Corrie Lan and heart-rate returned to something approaching normal. We had been climbing beside the Corrie Burn, watching its rain-swollen water rush over great granite slabs and gush into dark pools and some doubts had been expressed as to whether we would be able to cross it further up. To find this out, Robert went on ahead though why we couldn’t all find out together was beyond us as we struggled on up the slope in his wake.

We caught up with Robert at the split of the paths where the North Goat Fell one ran on up the corrie and the Goat Fell one crossed the burn by a series of huge granite boulders. Those of you who follow this blog regularly will be aware that we have in our number a few who find burn crossing difficult. We had the choice at the burn as to who would walk on up the corrie and climb on to North Goat Fell and along the Stacks and who would cross the burn and take the path to Goat Fell itself, but by the time we had encouraged and cajoled the hydrophobes over the burn with only one wet foot, the enthusiasm for the Stacks had evaporated from most and, as Davie Mc said ‘we should all stay together today’. So we would all climb directly for Goat Fell.

And stay together we did, at least as far as the steeper climb on the Meall Breac ridge. While most of us kept together as a party that was the last we saw of Davie Mc and Paul until we reached the summit. On the ridge, a relatively level and easier section, we came to the ‘tourist’ path coming up from Brodick Castle. At the path junction Davie C and Allan decided they had had enough for the day, especially as the summit still stubbornly held its fog, and were for down the Brodick path. The rest carried on upward. Goat Fell is one of those mountains that don’t make it easy to climb, saving the steepest part for the last few hundred feet on to the summit. We came up through the boulders and into the fog every man for himself as different levels of fitness showed. But we all made it and found Paul and Davie Mc ensconced in the lea side of some granite boulders having lunch. We were only too happy to throw down the rucksacks and join them. And to thank Davie Mc for suggesting that we all stay together today!

Then, wonder of wonders, the fog broke and blew away and the sun made an appearance. We were lucky on the summit, lucky enough to have some superb views. Jimmy wandered around the rocky top with his camera. Ian wandered around taking in the views in all directions. And what magnificent views are to be had from this peak on a day like this. As the sun started to light the landscape there was Glen Rosa directly below, running upwards to the Saddle. Beyond this and not too far away, rose the ‘Three Bens’ horseshoe ridge and coming round from this ridge is the jagged ridge of A’Chir and the pyramidal peak of Cir Mhor rising above the saddle; then rocky top of The Castles lowers above the gap of the Saddle; then the ground rises from the Saddle by a sharp ridge to North Goat Fell – all summits above two and a half thousand feet above the surrounding sea. From the height of Goat Fell the Stacach ridge between the two Goat Fells loses some of its grandeur, looking rather flatter and less rugged as it rises to the higher summit and it was suggested, rather belatedly, that this would have been an easier ascent than the one we had just done. Away from the immediate outlook, the distant prospect includes the Paps of Jura in the west, the hills of Cowal and Argyll in the north and Bute, and the Ayrshire coast to the east. Brodick lies below to the south with Paddy’s Milestane prominent in the middle of the firth and the high hills of Galloway fill the distant horizon. All this was revealed to us today as the sun spread its brightness to the landscape.

We lay in the sunshine and enjoyed the view as long as possible but the thin blooded were beginning to feel the chill of the altitude. It was now time for the descent. To say that the descent was a lot easier than the ascent, would be the understatement of the year. Well, it was a lot easier for most of us but some of us have joint problems (It should be remembered that we are hardly in the first flush of our youth and joint problems are becoming more and more common in the group) So it was two groups – Alan, Jimmy, Paul & Robert making up the lead one and Davie mc, Ian & Ronnie bring up the rear - who came down the ‘tourist’ route to the Brodick Brewery.

The day was now hot and the effort had taken its toll on body fluids so, when the first group reached the brewery, it seemed like a good idea to replace some lost fluid while we waited for the trailing group. Half an hour and a refreshing pint later the two groups were united and a casual stroll across the golf course brought us to Brodick around five. The two summit renegades were found sitting in the sun on the patio of The Douglas Hotel having their own version of fluid replacement. So that they wouldn’t feel alone and bad about missing the summit, we joined them. A very convivial couple of hours were spent taking FRT while waiting for the Caledonian Isles to return for the last trip of the day.  

This was a hard but well worthwhile day on the island with some fabulous views from the top. We should visit Arran more often.

9 September Arran - Laggan Cottage and the Sannox Coast

The seals sunning themselves on the rocks above the high tide provided some interest for the passengers on the bus. ‘Gets our seal of approval’ said our wag. We ignored him but it caused some amusement among the rest of the passengers and he was pleased enough with himself. We were pleased with ourselves as well for nine of us were on the bus travelling the coast road northward from Brodick towards Lochranza; we were for another day on Arran, this time for a lower level walk round the coast from Lochranza to Laggan Cottage and Sannox. And this time the sun was shining. (See 01/07/09)
We had taken the 9:45 ferry from Ardrossan and the connecting bus service in Brodick and found ourselves travelling along the coast, over the pass of Boguillie to Glen Chalmadale and disembarking at the golf course in Lochranza.
Apart from the seals spotted from the bus, we also saw deer, red deer, as we came over the pass from Sannox, groups of fours or fives browsing the heather slopes above us. But this was nothing to the numbers we saw on the golf course of Lochranza, not fours or fives in this area, but tens and dozens in different groups along the fairways completely undisturbed by the hackers trying to play through. An obliging stag came close to the road and posed for our cameramen. It will be interesting to see who took the best photo, that is if they don’t all turn out the same. We will wait and see.
The deer provided the topic of conversation for the next few minutes. The wildlifers extolled the beauty of the stag, while the golfers wondered about the ruling if your ball stuck somewhere on its anatomy.
Such conversation took us to a sign designated ‘Laggan Cottage’ pointed us up a gently sloping track. We wandered up the track leaving the floor of Glen Chalmadale and the golf course behind us but we weren’t on this too long. Another signpost saying ‘Laggan Cottage 2 1/2 miles’ directed us up a well constructed path, a steeper path but not unduly so and we climbed casually with it through the heather.
Our wildlife spotting continued with insect life. An iridescent blue damselfly darted across the road in front of Davie but remained unseen by the rest of us. Nobody could fail to see the butterflies, though such were the numbers. Red Admirals, Peacocks and different species of Whites flitted in the heather around us, landing to feed and sun on the maturing blossoms. We also felt the need to feed and sun ourselves. So, beside a wee bridge over a wee burn, on an outcrop of sunlit rock, we stopped for coffee.
We stopped, but the wildlife interest didn’t. A buzzard could be heard but not seen on the far side of the glen and a dragonfly, a Common Darter, dashed past us into some bracken as we sat. And we sat for some time; it was a day for that.
When we roused ourselves after coffee, we continued to climb with the path. It rose more steeply now and lifted us high on the side of Glen Chalmadale. The high, rocky peaks of the north Arran mountains began to show on the far side of the glen - Suidhe Fearghas (Fergus’s Seat), Ceum-na-Caillich (Witch’s Step) and Caisteal Abhail (The Castles) with the Goat Fell ridge behind. And the view improved the higher we got.
We rose beside the Allt Chailean. Some suggested we were rising in the allt for the path here ran with water. After the kind of summer we have had, this was less than surprising but that didn’t stop the hydrophobes complaining. However, this was to be the only wet bit of the day and we were on drier footing when we came through the pass of Tom a’ Buidhe and found ourselves high above the sea, looking out to the Isle of Bute and the north Ayrshire coast.
As the relic of a sea cliff of glacial times, the ground fell steeply away from our feet to the raised beach some seven hundred feet below but the path slanted much more gently down the flank of the steep. The path was narrow but well constructed and graded, and feet could be placed with confidence. This gave us ample opportunity to look about us. The view was mainly to the seawards for the ground sloped equally steeply above us but what a view it was to the seaward. The low-lying ground of Bute lay immediately across the water and to the south of this the cliffs of the Wee Cumbrae stood out; the coast of Ayrshire ran away southwards and in the north the ‘lum’ of Inverkip power station marked where the Clyde Firth turned towards Greenock. Superb.
Gannets fished just offshore and amused us no end by plunging arrow-like into the sea only to bob to the surface a few moments later swallowing their catch. They continued to amuse us, especially he with the binoculars, as we dropped down the slope towards Laggan Cottage.
A young couple came towards us up the path. Recognising one of our number as a former teacher of theirs, they stopped for a blether. While teacher and pupil reminisced, the rest of us walked on and waited out of earshot. The gannets kept us amused until the blethers rejoined us. Then it was downward yet, to the cottage at Laggan.
Three pinkish grey and black ‘hoodie craws’ lifted from the ground as we approached the cottage adding to our wildlife for the day.
Lunch was called at the cottage and we settled down in the sun once more. A man was already there when we arrived and a few minutes later he was joined by a woman*. ‘Did you find them?’ he asked her but she answered in the negative. Then she asked us which way we were heading. When we told her, she asked if we could keep an eye out for a brown leather spec case with a pair of specs inside. Being the obliging kind of folk we are we promised to keep a lookout for them. She thanked us in advance and left contact details with Allan who promised to leave them in the ticket office on the pier at Brodick. ‘They’re either beside a large boulder where I stopped to spend a penny’, said she, ‘or in the ladies toilet at Sannox’. There was no shortage of volunteers among us for a search of the ladies toilet. ‘Also, keep an eye out for the basking sharks’, said he changing the subject, ‘There’s two of them near the fallen rocks’. Then they thanked us once again and went on their way towards Lochranza.
We however, turned our steps southward along the raised beach towards Sannox and we were to stay on this raised beach for the rest of the walk. The going was level, dry and easy and we strolled along the path looking seaward, ever hopeful of spotting sharks. Holly played water-sticks with anybody who could throw the stick as far as the sea. Down the shingle beaches she ran, over the slippery rocks she clambered and all the time splashing into the sea and swimming to retrieve the stick. How we wished we had half her energy. But we had energy enough to wander along that path taking pleasure in a rare day of warm sunshine.
We approached the Fallen Rocks with still no sign of specs, or sharks. A sudden yell of ‘Shark!’ had us all stopped looking seaward at the blue-black dorsal fin slicing through the water. This disappeared and reappeared, shrank and grew according to the swell. It was occasionally joined by a tail fin. We estimated the distance between dorsal and tail to be around three metres, giving a total length of around five metres – a fair sized fish and, had Rex been with us, he would have been calculating how many shark steaks this would have made. Then another dorsal appeared some twenty metres away. There were at least two sharks patrolling that stretch of water.
Not only were there sharks here but, as we watched, a large salmon leapt from the waves adding another sighting to our wildlife list for the day. ‘We just need a snake or a lizard and we’ll have covered the five orders of the animal kingdom’, said the naturalist, but we felt this was just asking too much, considering what we had already seen.

We left the fallen rocks and the fishes behind and came into the trees of Sannox Wood. Here, on the arm of a bench was the missing spec case complete with specs. Allan collected it, texted the owner and promised to leave them with the ticket office. Then, feeling that we had been of some use to humanity, we walked on though one or two were disappointed that we wouldn’t get to search the ladies toilet now.
A break was called when we reached the toilets and car park at the foot of the Sannox Water. A man with binoculars stood looking out to sea. We thought perhaps he was looking at more sharks but the two spots we could see turned out to be two more seals, heads up looking back at the man with binoculars. How disappointed we were that they were only seals.
Robert said, ‘We don’t need to go onto the road. There’s a path round the shore from here’. Yes Robert, there may well be a path round the shore but good as we are, we haven’t yet mastered the walking on water bit. We had to turn back a little, come up the side of the river for two or three hundred metres to find a bridge and come back down the other side. We were now only forty metres from where the master spoke but he was right - there was a path round the shore.
The path took us under high sandstone cliffs where some of our number learned the techniques of abseiling. But that was before time and beer added a few more pounds to their frames and we wondered if there would be an abseiling rope strong enough to hold them now. They chose not to hear this thought and walked on.
We emerged from the scrubby woodland surrounding our path at the bus stop. We had five minutes to wait for the bus back to Brodick. The five minutes was taken up by measuring the length of a basking shark in the gravel (there are at least three sizes for the same fish depending on whose stride length you believe) or by planning future outings on the high peaks. Two walks have been added to our ‘to do’ list - The Witches Step and The Castles from North Glen Sannox and The Ben Nuis horseshoe. Before any more could be added, the bus arrived.
The bus took us to Brodick in time for the 16:40 ferry to the mainland. We didn’t think it would so we got off the bus before the pier to take FRT in Mac’s Bar. But then we saw the ferry and made a dash for it. Such was our hurry that Allan very nearly forgot to leave the found specs and had to make a hasty trip back to the ticket office. But he managed the ferry just in time.
FRT was taken on the ferry on the way back to the mainland and next weeks walk was ‘planned’.

*The lady in question was Judy Angel and the man was Henry Ferris both of whom have placed a comment on the blog under arrangements for the next walk. All we can say is that it was a pleasure Judy and despite our appearance and misogynistic approach to women in our group, we really are nice people.