Gogo Burn 24 April

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

Twelve of us left our parking spot just after ten o’clock and made our way up to Douglas Park. The morning was bright and dry, but there was a chill wind blowing (more of this later) meaning that some of us decided to start off wearing jackets. As we moved through the park, we were met by Kenny T accompanied by Freya the spaniel who was desperate to get off the lead and go for a run. Kenny wouldn’t let her though, as he wasn’t sure he would ever see her again. The initial climb up to the steps gets the heartrate going before the steady slog up the steps and on to the moor. The wind up there was gale force and we only hung around for a few minutes to draw breath and get the obligatory picture taken. At this point, Kenny left us with Freya as the big walk would have been too much for her.

As we followed the path further up into the hills the wind seemed to strengthen and, as it was directly in to our faces, it made for difficult progress. Nonetheless we reached some shelter by eleven o’clock and sat down for a wee-deserved cuppa. Ten minutes later we were once more into the breach making steady progress until the path ran out. At this point we normally turn left and head for the open moorland, but this time, Davie Mc, Gus and Rex decided to go straight on up the hill and see if that was to be a better option. The rest of us took the normal route over the rough grass, skirting the hill, and trudged on until the bridge, our turning point, came into view. By this time, we were well scattered and made our individual ways down, Alan even going direct and crossing the burn. As we hit the road at the end of our descent the three others appeared saying that their route was to be recommended as, once you are up top, there is a quad-bike track which can be followed right down to the access road. It is then a simple matter to follow the road down to the bridge. Just after twelve o’clock saw us all assembled again and the wind-assisted walk down to our lunch spot at the Greeto Falls only took us half an hour. Lunch was idyllic, sunny, warm and sheltered, but too soon and it was time to move on down the road and into Largs, passing the rubble, which is now the old Largs Academy, and back to the cars.

The outward journey had been a real challenge today and more than the cobwebs had got blown away. However, the 8.1 miles had been done in three and a half hours, possibly our quickest time.
The Hard Walk Café was eschewed in favour of the dog-friendly Drouthy Neebors for FRT. On this occasion we sat down outside but agreed within minutes that it was just a tad draughty and went indoors for drinks and chips.
There were some tired bodies, but all agreed it had been a good day out. The wind had been an issue but the underfoot conditions, mercifully, had been the best i.e. the driest, we had ever encountered on this walk.

Footnote

The Largs Thistle v Troon Juniors football match was abandoned later in the evening due to high winds.

Sanctuary for lunch

Continuing the series on exposed parts of Gus's anatomy

Davie retrieves Malcolm's piece bag from the burn

Largs to Fairlie (and back) 28 March

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

Parking was at a premium at the Gogo Burn when the Irvine duo arrived, but Allan demonstrated his driving skills, honed after many hours at the dodgems, in getting parked close, no, very close, to Paul.

The weather was a bit dreich and, as we had another twenty-five minutes to wait for the bus to Seamill, it was decided to amend the walk and simply go to Fairlie and back.
By the time the Pencil was reached the light rain was easing and, as it dried up, good progress was made towards the marina and on into Fairlie. The tide was in and we had to negotiate some scaffolding (erected to enable some building works) on the stone path, but soon we were passed it and stopped for coffee at the picnic tables on the Hunterston side of Fairlie.
Since the weather was now distinctly pleasant, we continued on to the headland before coming back and within about half an hour we had returned to the same tables and benches for a leisurely lunch.
By the time we started the return leg, the tide had gone far enough out for us to negotiate the scaffolding without any difficulty, and the walk back to the cars was uneventful.
It had taken three hours and forty minutes for nine and a quarter miles, give or take. A good step out in what turned out to be excellent walking conditions.
FRT was taken at the Paddle Steamer, aka Wetherspoon’s, where not only was it a tpd for some, it was a three plates of chips day.
A guid day oot!
Footnote. On the way home there was no sign of the Police traffic camera encountered earlier. I’m sure you don’t need to worry Alan!

Pencil cases!

Beginning to get good views of Arran

Is the port now redundant?

Gogo Burn 20 January

Alan, Allan, Davie C, Gus, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Kenny R, Kenny T, Rex, Robert

It was disappointingly wet as we met in Largs, at least most of us met at the correct location. Rex had failed to find Charles Street and was parked at the Gogo Burn, silly boy, but, by the wonders of modern technology, probably the same technology that got him lost, he made contact with Allan and met up with the rest of us. Jimmy proposed that, given the weather, we do the walk in the opposite direction and make our way up to the picnic area at the burn to take stock.

Looking back towards Largs

As we passed Largs Academy Ian had to avert his eyes and take a few tranquilisers but, with the usual Ooters’ compassion, he made it with our support. Moving out of the scheme and starting to climb we did see a sign saying that a construction company apologised for any inconvenience due to their works, but we carried on undaunted taking note that the path had been widened to take heavy machinery. Still we carried on. The path was becoming increasingly muddy and by the time the ‘picnic area’ was in view it was a river of glaur. We could see machinery up ahead and down below and a new road being dug out of the hillside. At this point we were stopped by a young engineer, who seemed to be in charge, and told we shouldn’t be there and that there was a sign stating the whole area was out of bounds. After a lot of negotiating he reluctantly agreed to lead us through the works as he had the hard hat and hi-viz jacket etc. Another big workman approached Jimmy in what appeared initially was a menacing mood only to ask “Do you come fae Cumnock?” The ice was broken and the big guy explained he had stayed next door to Jimmy for many a year.

Looking up the glan with the new road under construction on the left

Having led us through the diggers, we thanked the ‘boy’ for his help and made for the hillside before stopping for coffee twenty minutes further on. At this point Allan decided that he had done enough for the day and would return down the way he came up, risking the wrath of the workmen. In the event he had a convivial conversation finding out that the works were due to a private hydro sceme being set up by the Stakis Group and that the works would go on until October. On his way down he did find the warning sign which was placed behind an open gate and which could have been (and had been) missed. If we had seen it would we have taken heed and turned back? Knowing our record, what do you think?

The Guys continued up to the bridge to note that a temporary one had been constructed whilst a more permanent feature was at the foundation stage. Crossing over, the task was to get up the hillside and look for signs of the path. By now lying snow was a feature and the path was slippy, especially on the downhill sections. Robert held the record for most falls today, three at the last count. Fortunately he fell on the biggest and most padded part of his anatomy. On the trek back to the ‘steps’ a couple of sleety showers were encountered but, all in all, given the unpromising start to the day, it had been decent weather for the time of the year.

Honestly Mister, we didnae see the sign!

All were reunited at the cars, a tad over four hours from setting off.

FRT was held in The Village Inn at Fairlie.

Largs photos

Gogo Burn 19 Feb

Alan, Allan, Andy, Davie C, Gus, Jimmy, Johnny, Rex, Robert

The forecast was for the weather to clear by late morning so it was with a degree of optimism that we set off from the cars to walk past the Douglas Park Bowling Club and head for the hills above Largs. Although the morning was still a bit dreich, it was mild, and it wasn’t long before the jackets came off as we ascended the first of a series of steps. This is a walk which gains height rapidly and soon we were looking at the final set of steps, 111 the learned one advised us, which would take us on to the open hills beyond. We made the climb at our own individual speeds and immediately made for the close-by viewpoint for a breather. The air was ‘fresher’ here so we didn’t hang around following the track past the cairn and onwards towards our ‘usual’ coffee stop.

Spring has sprung?

Largs on a dreich day

We could see clearly the track back down the other side of the Gogo Burn and it was a question of how far up this side we should go before crossing over. Rolling mist also had to be taken into account as discretion has to be the better part of valour.

Allan, accompanied by Johnny, decided that he had done enough for one day and headed back down retracing his steps, as the others made their way not too far up the glen before crossing over and heading down the other side. Entertainment was provided by Rex who, inspired by the fallers on the half- pipe at the Olympics did a double backward somersault before landing on his posterior. He was heard to say “Oh dear me! What a silly boy I am, slipping on this mud!  And me with my nice clean trousers on!”  - or words to that effect.

A & J take a wrong turning coming off the hill

Now, where have I seen these before?

Allan and Johnny having got back to the cars and changed, then set off to meet the rest coming down, and did so as they reached Largs Academy.

FRT was taken at McCabe’s but, hold your breath, the ooters sat at a different table to their normal one. That was exciting!

12 December Rowantree Hill, Largs

Andy, Allan, Allan, Davie C, Davie Mc, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Rex, Robert & Ronnie

            On the twelfth day of the twelfth month of the twelfth year of the century twelve Ooters gathered for their Wednesday walk. What a great introduction to today’s walk this would have made but even as yours truly was composing it, Andy arrived to swell our number to thirteen and destroy what would have been a great introduction. Anyway, we hung around in the frosty sunshine at the Gogo Burn car park in Largs until we were sure that nobody else was arriving then we set off for a walk that was new to most of us, to Rowantree Hill and back.

Rowantree Hill Largs.

Here are a couple of pictures of the Ooters before the weather began to deteriorate.

West Kilbride to Largs 16 May

Allan, Andy, Davie, Davie C, Malcolm, Paul, Rex

Seven ooters met at West Kilbride station in bright, dry but ‘fresh’ conditions for the now familiar walk to Largs via Blaeloch Hill. The route has been described previously so no great detail will be made here but suffice it to say that coffee was taken at the usual stones overlooking the fishery before any serious climbing was done.

It has to be mentioned that Holly was kept on her lead for those parts of the walk where we were in any close proximity to sheep. Well done to Davie who couldn’t accept our congratulations as he had been gagged before we set off – gaffer tape is a great thing.

One change to the route took place when we reached the path leading to the top of Kaim Hill. We couldn’t remember whether to take the right hand path or the left and despite his better judgement Paul was persuaded to take the left. This was not the route to the top but allowed us to skirt Kaim Hill and approach the ‘bog’ further down than we usually do. This was a good move as underfoot conditions were much better than encountered previously. Before we knew it we were climbing towards the cairn on Blaeloch Hill where lunch was taken in the lea of the hill as the wind had a certain edge to it. When we did this walk a couple of years back there were no windmills, last year there were some and this year the Kelburn Windfarm was all around us.

The views today were excellent as Arran, Bute, Cumbrae, the Argyll Hills could be seen to the west whilst we could see over beyond Dalry and up to Glasgow to the east and north.

We didn’t wait long for lunch due to the snell wind.  In fact hats, jackets and gloves were retrieved from rucksacks before setting off on the downward trek past the remains of the air crash and down the windfarm road before crossing over towards the burn (past a group of RAMblers who were looking rather sheepish) and making our way through Kelburn Estate towards the Haylie Brae.

Having weighed up our options a decision was made to walk down to Scott’s at the Yacht Haven for FRT, and very pleasant it was too sitting in the sit-ootery* sheltered from the wind. It had taken us a full 5 hours to get there and having rested our weary bones we got the 4.45pm bus back to West Kilbride – at least it would have been the 4.45 if it had been on time, 5 o’clock more like!

*Not to be confused with a shit-ootery which is an outside toilet!

West Kilbride to Largs 31 Aug 2011

Allan, Davie C, Ian, Jimmy, Malcolm, Paul

Six Ooters met at West Kilbride Railway Station at 9.30 on a dry, warm but overcast morning to start the walk to Largs via Blaeloch Hill and down through Kelburn Estate. The route was well documented when we did this walk for the first time on 28 April 2010 so mention here will be made of the big change to the landscape that has taken place over the last 15 months, namely, the groundworks and accompanying road network that have been installed in order to construct yet another windfarm . The view from Blaeloch Hill inland towards Dalry and Kilbirnie is now dominated by the aforementioned works but, on the positive side, it meant that another group of walkers, the West Kilbride Ramblers, had an easier walk up to the hill from Dalry as they now could follow a road for a fair part of the way. Lunch was spent blethering to our new friends.

Our descent towards Kelburn was also made easier for part of the way as we joined the access road for half a mile or so until we turned off towards the burn and the path into the estate before descending to the bus stop at the foot of Haylie Brae. Fortunately we did not have long to wait and we were soon heading back to West Kilbride but as we passed through Fairlie we stopped to pick up the WK Ramblers who had made their way down via Fairlie Glen.

This was a good walk (5 and a bit hours) with only one really boggy part to contend with despite the rain that had fallen on previous days.

FRT was taken at the Lauriston in Ardrossan.

28 April West Kilbride to Largs Over the Hills

The clear cool clear weather of last week went sometime over the last few days and left us with a mixed bag of rain and showers and sunny intervals. The wind was in the south today and the sky was overcast and ominous but at least the overnight rain had gone. When nine of us - Alan and Davie were the missing two, Davie for the first time this year - met in Johnny’s to partake of his usual hospitality, there was a general reluctance to move, and a questioning as to the wisdom of today’s proposed route. However, Paul, who suggested this walk and who is our resident weatherman, said that the day would clear up and the walk was not too high anyway, we should definitely go. We trust Paul for he knows things, so off we set for West Kilbride Station and the start of our days walk.
We set off north from the station, leaving the town by Meadowfoot Road and taking the B781. But we weren’t on tarmac too long today. In a little over half a mile we left it altogether and took the Avenue for Crosbie reservoir. The day began to brighten and the hill before us was clear. As the Avenue rose, we should have had a view behind us, but a haar hung over the sea restricting views in this direction. But our spirits were high for the hill before us was clear and brightening all the time we walked towards it.
Through Crosbie Mains Farm we climbed, past all the treasures scattered around – slates, stone sinks, old chains, rusting corrugated iron sheets etc. If we had just bought a JCB with us we might have plundered the treasure. But we didn’t have, we didn’t do and we walked on up the, now steepening, track. When the track swung down to Crosbie Dyke cottage, we left even this and took to the open hillside.
A green path took us through banks of bright orange-yellow whin, skirting the flank of Glentane Hill and paralleling a drystane dyke. On the other side of the dyke a man and a dog were working sheep. While we would usually pass the time of day with those met along our way, the tone the man addressed his dog suggested we would be wasting our time with him so we walked on.
We were now high above the power station of Hunterston, heading round the hill for Glenburn Reservoir. With the time approaching eleven, coffee was called. So, finding a spot behind a group of hillside boulders, sheltered from the freshening southerly and overlooking the waters of the reservoir, we settled down for elevenses. Paul was congratulated for the walk, the walking and the weather had been good. ‘So far’, said Paul promising some rough stuff to come. ‘Where does the path go from, here?’, asked one. ‘Up there’, answered Paul pointing to an outcrop on the skyline, ‘You can see the path climbing the hill’.

The path degenerated as we dropped down to Glenburn Reservoir after coffee and we had to find our own way over the waterlogged ground. Rex, with the skill of the true bushman and some encouraging words ringing in his ears, found a way through the mire and down to the burn. This had to be crossed but it was running too full for a clean jump. (Yes, we know that a couple of feet would be too much for us oldies to jump, but the burn was running full anyway.) The water was crossed with the aid of an iron frame suspended under a few strands of wire and it was crossed without unexpected plunges. Now Rex found a path that led us up to tarmac on the Dalry Moor road.
We crossed this slant-ways and were on Tarmac for fully twenty yards. Then Paul pointed us uphill on the abandoned service track for the old quarry on Kaimhill. This was the outcrop we could see from our coffee stop. The way steepened now. Though the climb wasn’t as steep or as long as some, it was enough to raise the pulse and shorten the breath and we strung out up that slope according to general fitness.
The quarry was a millstone one and great lumps of millstone grit still littered the ground. A few minutes were spent here while we examined the boulders and caught the breath after the climb. Then we moved on, upward yet but on a much gentler slope now.
We topped out of the climb on the scarp of Kaimhill, and ancient sea cliff laid down in some Silurian sea but now heaved high above, and removed from, the sea. Again we stopped, this time to look down on and out over the sea. The haar still hung there and restricted the view to a few miles. The Cumbraes, Great and Small, were visible with Millport easily picked out and Arran tried hard to show itself through the haar but all else disappeared into the greyness. We could only speculate on what the view would be like on a clear day, something we might like to find out in the near future. But the wind that was fresh on the lower ground was strong on the higher. Jackets were worn to cut its strength but it was chilling nonetheless. We moved on.
Now cam some familiar territory. We found the path on Kaimshill that we had taken on the Fairlie High Walk (15/04/2009) and followed it to the summit of the hill. Now came Paul’s rough stuff. No path took us towards our next objective, Blaeloch Hill and we took to the rough grass. And it was rough. Great tussocky doogals and mossy sheughs had to be negotiated. But the doogals weren’t all the same, some were grassy and some mossy. Thus was generated the Porter-Johnstone classification of doogals; hairy – those composed of course grass; spongy – great mounds of moss that give way when stood on; spiky – reeds and rushes that sometimes held the weight and sometimes gave under it. No doubt there will be more added in due course. But whatever type they were, at least three quarters of a mile of them had to be ploughed through to reach firmer ground on the slopes of Lairdside Hill.
That’s where we collapsed for lunch, sheltered from the wind behind a few rocks on the leeward of the hill.

Whether it was the conditions or whether it’s always like that, the scribe wouldn’t like to say, but Blaeloch Hill looked much further away than it actually was and we were on its top quicker and easier than we thought. ‘It’s all downhill from here’, said Paul. We hoped he was talking about the walk and not making observations on our advancing years. We noted, with some relief, that he meant the former and set off looking for an easy descent. But it was those damned doogals again! We stumbled and staggered our way down from Blaeloch top into the valley of the Clea Burn where we found a sheep fank. An afternoon break was called, for we were now out of the wind and, somewhere down the slope of Blaeloch, the sun had come out.
While most relaxed for a bit, Peter went to explore the burn. What he found there he didn’t say but he returned with a smile on his face. And now that we were reunited, we set off again.
A track was found just beyond the fank, a track that took us down towards Fechan Farm and the Kel Burn. We never made the farm. Coming through a gate, we crossed the field, came through another gate and found the track for Kelburn estate. We knew we were in an estate when we found the gates on the track, great ornate things about ten feet high supported by stone pillars. They were obviously Victorian things but they were well maintained and swung open easily to admit us into Kelburn Castle policies.
We followed the estate road down into the gorge of the Kel Burn. A nice wee waterfall greeted us where the road met the burn and a path made down the side of it. But we didn’t take this path; we followed the road we were on. It was now only a mile or so on the estate road before we found tarmac again. That’s when the infantile started their usual games.
The pace quickened, and quickened and quickened until five were racing on ahead. The sensible let them race on and took a more sedate pace. The fast arrived at the bus stop at the foot of the Haylie Brae some five minutes before the slow.
This was another good walk and one which is worth doing again in clearer conditions. Well done to Paul for his suggestion.

We came back to West Kilbride by bus and repaired to The Merrick for FRT. Please, nobody tell the Keeper of the Purse how much it costs for a pint of Italian lager.

11 November Cumbrae Again – Fifth Visit

(photo taken 27/12/2008)

After the exertions of last week, it was decided to have an easy day today, easy but interesting. Where better fits the bill than the Isle of Cumbrae? So, after sampling Johnny’s hospitality again, eight of us made our way to Largs for the short crossing to the island that is becoming one of our favourites. And a biting northerly wind greeted us at the ferry slip. We hurried onto the ferry.
It has been said many times that the Ooters are creatures of habit, old boys set in their ways. Davie had thought of going anticlockwise round the island and cutting up one of the footpaths to the top of the Glaidstane but for some reason the front party turned left and so clockwise when we left the ferry – for this is the way we always go. Davie’s plans were abandoned.
We walked southward to the Scottish National Water-sports Centre. While we were now sheltered from the wind, it continued to ruffle the water a few yards offshore. A few hardy souls braved the wind and took to the water on sailboards. Partly silhouetted against the southern light, they formed a picturesque scene and presented the photographers with an opportunity for more prize-winning snaps. Rex had the camera out while the rest walked on.
We weren’t by the shore for long. Just beyond the water-sports centre a road rose to the right, a road that rose to the highest point of the island at the Glaidstane. We went this way.
An indication of things to come was given on the rise to the Glaidstane. Both Jimmy and Rex had appointments to keep this evening. Not that Jimmy was in a particular hurry; as long as he got back to Largs by half-past three he was happy. But Rex seemed to be in more of a rush and he set the pace on the climb. By the time we gained the corner where the bucket lorry was stuck on the ice the last time we were here, the party was split into two - Rex, Davie, Robert and Paul to the front and moving away, Jimmy, Johnny, Ian and Alan, giving in to gravity and burning legs, bringing up the rear. At least the speedsters had the decency to wait at the Glaidstane for the rest to catch up.
Coffee was taken at the Glaidstane. Though the wind still blew cool, the heat of the effort of the climb was still with us and we sat for a wee while over coffee. The view was improving all the time. We sat and watched a watery sun break through, silvering the water to the south and lighting the immediate landscape. We sat and watched the ducks on the lochan to the south – widgeon said he with the binoculars - and a flock of gulls feeding on the sea to the north. We sat and watched the Rothesay ferry crossing from Wemyss Bay. We sat and watched as the day brightened for us. We sat and watched for a while but eventually the cold wind got to us and we moved on.
We came down from the top of the island to Millport, Rex continuing to set the pace. And the weather continued to improve, the sun getting as strong as it can at this time of year. When we got to the shore, Jimmy was discovered to be missing. He had stopped to take a picture of the Cathedral of the Isles while we walked on and was now way behind. We waited for him in a seaside shelter. Jimmy took his time to get to us, having stopped for more pictures en-route but get to us, he did – eventually. Then, together again, we walked along the promenade of a very quiet Millport.
Quarter of an hour later Jimmy was missing again. This time it was buzzard-watch that detained him. Once again, we waited in a seaside shelter. And since we were seated there, we had lunch. Who says we are creatures of habit? Here we were having lunch somewhere other than our usual place on the picnic tables further round the coast. Set in our ways? Huh!
It was quarter past twelve when we finished lunch and stood up to continue the walk round the west side of the island. We were aiming for the half past two ferry. Six miles in two and quarter hours – no problems there then. An easy walk would take us there in around two hours, no need to hurry. But obviously some didn’t believe this. We started casually enough and even had time to see stonechats perching accommodatingly on the thorns and reeds for us. But then the speedsters started.
Almost imperceptibly, the pace had picked up to a briskness that was fast but comfortable. Then Robert and Johnny started playing silly buggers and broke into a competitive jog. We all increased the pace to keep up. Allan stopped for a call of nature and found himself well off the tail. Davie likewise a little later. Ian and Jimmy tried to keep up with the racers for a while but the pace was uncomfortably fast for them and they eased up. The fast ones kept up the racing speed and disappeared into the distance.
Davie was first to join the slower pair, having taken the best part of a mile to get there. Then Alan joined them and they walked at a much more comfortable pace for the rest of the day, taking time to look at the seascape and the wildlife.
Meanwhile, there was no let up at the front. Onward they sped. Then realising that the others weren’t with them, they sat down at the monument to the drowned sailors barely two hundred metres from the ferry terminal to wait for the slow. For a good ten minutes, they waited. The slow arrived at the monument in time to see the half past one ferry leave the slip. Even the tardy group had covered the best part of six miles in a little over an hour and a quarter. Much too fast for an enjoyable walk.
We took the two o’clock ferry back to the mainland and took FRT in McCabe’s Bar in Largs

For at least one of our number the speed of today’s walk was too much. ‘If it’s going to be like that next week, I’ll no’ be there’, said he. Most agree.

18 February Gogo Glen again

Do ye like the burn, lassie,
That loups amang the linns,
Or the bonny green holmes,
Where it cannily rins;
Or the steep rocky glens,
Where the wild falcon glides?
Hew Ainslie

St.Valentine’s summer came late this year, two days after the big celebrations, but when it did, the warmer weather fairly shifted the frost and snows of the previous two weeks leaving us with soggy ground and high burn levels. And as is typical of this time of year, the mild spell was accompanied by overcast skies blocking out any drying sun. Yet, as we found out later, the visibility was remarkably good under this cloud cover.
Eight of us gathered at Largs today. Rex was still in foreign airts, Ian was off for a romantic few days with his good lady and Davie was laid up with thinuthitith*. Why Holly was absent we have yet to find out. However, eight of us gathered in Largs for another walk around the Gogo Glen.
We started uphill almost immediately, at first gently and almost imperceptibly through Douglas Park. Clumps of snowdrops under the trees of the park showed how early in year this was though the day was reasonably mild. It was a pleasant stroll though the park. But then we were pointed through a gate onto the open hillside and the slope steepened dramatically. Some person, in considerate mood no doubt, had laid railway sleepers to form steps. But these steps were small – women’s steps – and had to be taken two at a time for comfort. And they were greasy with the dampness of the morning. Care was taken.
We have the feeling that Peter’s reign as official group girn may be at an end for the one complaining most on the ascent was Ronnie. And his complaining got louder as the sleepers continued. Watch out Peter.

Approaching the view point on Castle HillBut these sleeper-steps did get us up the steep slope quickly and we were rewarded for the effort with a superb view, even under the overcast conditions. Largs lay immediately below us, spread out like a map; the Firth ran northward to disappear behind the headland of Inverkip; the hills of Arrochar and Cowal formed the northern skyline, running southwest to Knapdale and Kintyre; the Clyde islands shaped the nearer panorama, the low lying Cumbrae and Bute being contrasted with the alpine-like peaks of Arran, looking particularly rugged today with fangs of dirty-looking snow trailing down from the ridges; even Ailsa Craig in the far south-west showed clearly and, through a gap in the Knapdale hills, Islay could just be discerned. This was a superb view from so low a hill. Behind us, the yellow-brown grasses of winter clothed the moor as it sloped gently up to the hills forming the eastern horizon. And it was into these grasses that we turned our footsteps.

*We sympathised with Davie in his pain for some are fellow sufferers. While we were mildly disappointed that he was absent today, we were absolutely devastated when somebody pointed out that so was the kitty! We stopped sympathising.A grass path ran onto the moor and we followed it. Jimmy and Robert led the way, deciding which path to follow at each bifurcation. The gentlest of breezes blew but this is February and the breeze was cool. Coffee was called from the rear and the two sought a suitable place out of the wind. Robert thought he had found the perfect place in the lea of a knoll. But the wind could still be felt during coffee. Robert’s choice of stopping place was called into question and he was derided ceaselessly. In the face of this onslaught, he made a momentous decision. He would never to make a decision again. We won’t hold our breath.
Jimmy led the way after coffee, still following the green path as it rose genlty over the moor. Eventually the path disappeared and Jimmy was forced to find his own way through the tussock grasses. And we followed. He led us into a bog. This is the kind of stuff jimmy takes in his stride and today was no exception. This day he was joined by the long-legged Johnny. The pair strode out through bog and rough grass leaving the rest of us to follow in their wake. There was much mumbling and complaining as the rough terrain took its toll. Not that the advance pair took any notice for they still kept the pace up. Round the side of Rigging Hill (Frigging Hill, it was called at one point) they went; through the bog at the head of the burn they went; down through the rough flank of the hill they went and we followed. At last they reached the cleugh at the head of the Gogo burn and waited for us.
The burn had to be crossed. Some sought out stepping boulders. Jimmy, clad in gaiters, just ploughed through the shallows. He was followed by the gaiter clad Johnny. And, surprisingly, by Paul. (Is he overcomming his burnophobia?) The rest struggled over their boulders and in the cleugh, just above a waterfall we stopped for lunch. 11:30 and we stopped for lunch!
Just after leaving our lunch stop above the Gogo Glen. It was now we missed Holly. Johnny was at a loss, having nobody to throw sticks for. Try as he might, he couldn’t get any one of us to fetch for him. Hurry back, Holly. We were now at the extremity of the walk for the day and, as it was still early, the walk back down the glen was taken casually. We climbed a barbed-wire fence with only two casualties. Then we found our own ways down through some rough stuff, gathering at a sheep bucht. Here we found a grass path that took us to join a field road at a wee bridge. This is where we dined the last time we came this was and it was a sun trap then.
Not today though for the cloud cover persisted. So we only halted for a few minutes while the photographers recorded the place and the slow two caught up. We were to keep to the road now, ambling caually down to Largs.

This was a shorter day than some expected (13Km according to the cartographer) so an early finish was made. Yet it was a walk enjoyed by most despite the rough going at times. The Merrick in Seamill was the chosen refreshment point for the day

*We sympathised with Davie in his pain for some are fellow sufferers. While we were mildly disappointed that he was absent today, we were absolutely devastated when somebody pointed out that so was the kitty! We stopped sympathising.

Distance: 13.1 Km