23 October - Portencross circular

Davie C, Andy, Paul. Robert, Jimmy, Gus, Alan.

Having studied his weather app, Robert had taken an executive decision on Tuesday evening to abort the proposed walk from West Kilbride to the Hayley Brae, and instead we opted for the wet-weather standby of the Portencross circular.

Since we have done this walk several times this is a very brief report.

Dark clouds loomed in the northern sky and within 10 minutes of departure, as we walked along the tarmaced road, badly flooded in places, the rain started.  Those who hadn’t already donned waterproofs did so and we were prepared for the forecasted day of rain.

However, the prognostication was wrong and the rain soon eased off. The remainder of the walk was done in the dry and we even had spells of sunshine.  Robert said something about his app having only given him a forecast for Ardrossan for Wednesday evening  but we all agreed he had made the right decision, since the planned route is very wet even when it’s dry and the recent rains would have made it extremely difficult.

Suffice to say we stopped for coffee and (early) lunch at the usual places. We all looked at the Latin inscription on the sundial and admired the gnomen. As the newcomer, Gus was invited to translate. His translation sounded plausible, but since Davie M wasn’t present no one could come up the Ooters’ official translation.

For a possible  first, we returned to the car park (not long after 1 pm) dry! In a rare display of Ooters’ positivism we all agreed it could have been worse.

Refreshments were taken  in Ardrossan at the Laurieston.

27 June Portencross Circuit

Allan, Andy, Davie C, David H, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Paul, Rex, Robert, Ronnie

We knew that the Ayrshire summer had arrived when we stopped on top of Goldenberry Hill for coffee. The sky lowered ominously, pregnant with rain, the air was thick and damp allowing no evaporation from sweaty bodies and the flies buzzed and tormented incessantly. Yes, summer had arrived.

            We were only on Goldenberry because of the weather. When we arrived at the gathering place for the walk on Irish Law the hill fog was down close to road level and the drizzle was heavy and wetting. And the forecast gave little in the way of comfort, predicting heavier rain for later in the morning. A quick revision of plan was in order and despite some protestations, we opted for an old favourite in this area, the Portencrosss circuit.

            The sky still lowered and the air was still damp as we left the car park at Portencross but at least the drizzle had gone for a while. We walked along the road for Ardneil farm eyeing the sky for impending rain. Nothing came. We climbed through the farm and on to the track for Goldenberry. Still there was no rain, but the damp air was hardly a help on the easy climb of the track. Sweat failed to evaporate and clothes were soon wet from the inside anyway. And, when we stopped on top of Goldenberry for coffee, the flies found the sweaty bodies much more to their liking than the young beasts in the field below us.

            The view from the hill was much obscured today, the damp air and lowering sky cutting out anything more than a couple of miles away. We could look out over Wee Cumbrae, Cumbrae and part of Bute but Arran stayed hidden in the gloom. Below us lay Hunterston Power Station and Fairlie, the Fairlie Roads running up toward Largs. Behind us the hills we should have been on were covered in drizzly hill fog. The view might have been better but at least the rain had stayed away.

            The rain might have stayed away but the flies were increasing in number and it was partly due to these that we started off again. We came down off the hill towards Goldenberry Plantation where we found an old track running beside the wood and turning along it came through a wood and found tarmac on the road from Goldenberry cottage. We stuck to tarmac for a while now, coming along this wee road to find a slightly bigger road to the south of Hunterston Castle. Now we were on very familiar territory and followed the road to the power station road and the shore.

            A wee, insignificant broon bird caught the attention of our birder. ‘Listen’ said he. And we did as the wee broon bird chirred like a bike wheel. ‘Grasshopper Warbler’, said he. We couldn’t argue, but it certainly sounded like a grasshopper to us so perhaps he was right.

The only other thing of significance on this part of the walk was to find a chap from SEPA sampling the water on the shore for radioactivity. This is apparently standard procedure around nuclear power plants and he didn’t expect to find anything out of the ordinary. We left him to his paperwork and walked on.

On the rocks on the shore just beyond the power plant we settled down for Lunch.  At least there were no flies now and the rain had stayed off much to our surprise. Lunch was a more relaxed affair than coffee. But there always comes a time when the itchy-footed start to fidget. This time came for us and we moved off again.

Barely had we started again when Rex stopped and looked into some scrubby bushes. Another grasshopper warbler. The birder was delighted that somebody had been paying attention earlier.

The walk along the raised beach under the cliffs of Hawking Craig and the Three Sisters is always a delight and today was no exception. Despite the gloomy weather there was much to appreciate on the crags. A large brown falcon swept across the face just above the trees, a female peregrine. A group of folk hung with binoculars met us. Just as our birder was mentioning the peregrine to them there came a screeching from the cliffs. ‘That’s the young peregrines screaming for attention,’ said the chap who seemed to be the leader of the group and though we could hear plenty, we couldn’t see where the young birds were. So we left them to it, the birds to their feeding and the group to go in search of the grasshopper warblers. We can only hope they saw one or the other.

Fifteen minutes later we came to Portencross Castle. The door was open and we, being of a nosy disposition, went to investigate. A chap was upstairs setting up an art exhibition but said we could have a look around the lower floor. This we did and found out a little of the history of the place since replacing the Iron Age fort on Auld Hill. As we made our way back out of the castle we met a man coming in. ‘Have you been on the roof?’ he asked. When we replied in the negative he invited us to do so. We accepted his invitation enjoyed a further exploration of the castle. We offer our thanks to the two for their kindness.

From the castle it was only a few minutes' walk back to the car park. We had been unlucky or lucky today depending how you look at it. We had been unlucky in as much as we didn’t get to the walk that we had planned but we were lucky in that we got a dry walk, a walk that, according to the forecast, should have been done in heavy rain. Still, as they say, God’s good to his own.

The Laurieston in Ardrossan provided the FRT for today.

9 November Portencross and Goldenberry Hill

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

Hill of Stake, that mysterious top that lies on the Ayrshire-Renfrewshire border, a top that we have tried and for various reasons have failed to find, remains a mystery. The plan to walk there and prove for once and for all that it really does exist was abandoned today again for the weather forecast was anything but good and we have had enough of walking in the rain this year. So where to instead?

After a bit of head scratching in the pub last week, we opted for a wet weather alternative of the Portencross circular. (See 5/01/2011 inter alia) So, four cars decanted eleven Ooters onto the car park at Portencross in North Ayrshire.

The forecast was for rain arriving sometime during the morning but at the moment it was dry though overcast. It was dry yes, but a raw sea breeze kept the temperature down and we were glad to be walking to stir up the blood and raise the body heat.

Most of us thought that we would be doing the usual circuit but Ian had other ideas. "Since we’re here and it’s dry at the moment, why don’t we climb Goldenberry and make the walk different?" His suggestion was accepted gladly, even by those with an aversion to climbing, for we have done this circuit so many times that we welcomed anything that would make it different. So we set off back towards West Kilbride. Robert spotted a path leading up the hill and proposed that as a route but the consensus was that this might be mucky and we should perhaps stick to the track through Ardneil Farm barely half mile further on.

That’s where Johnny stopped. Just as we were about to turn off the tarmac onto the farm track, Johnny met an old colleague and stopped for a blether while we walked on. But are we not compassionate people? As the track left the farm steading we stopped to wait for Johnny. And we waited. And waited. And waited......

Eventually Johnny arrived and we could walk on.

We might have stayed on that track and taken a direct route for the mast on top of Goldenberry but there was an interest in viewing the dun on top of Auld Hill, a top rising immediately on our left. This entailed coming through a field gate, rising slowly along the edge of a turnip field, through another gate, climbing steeply in a gap through the bracken and then more gently up the southern ridge of the rise. This sounds long and arduous but in fact it was easy, the distance to the top being nearly half a mile and the total rise somewhere around the eight hundred mark. And the effort was worthwhile. Why the ancients chose this point for their defensive farmstead was obvious as we took in the view from the top. Even on this dull day it was remarkable: from the heads of Ayr in the south to the hills of Cowal and Argyll in the north and from the hinterland of north Ayrshire to the islands of the Clyde and with the steep slope on one side and the cliffs of Portencross falling steeply to the village and its harbour on the other we could see why this was such a strong defensive position.

To add to our enjoyment of this wee top, shafts of sun broke through the cloud spotlighting the firth and surrounding landscape. Those with an eye for such things tried to capture the scene with their cameras.

We left the dun, clambered down the steep slope to the north-east and carefully stepped over an electric fence into a stubble field that sloped gently up towards Goldenberry. Some kept to the top of the sea cliffs above Hunterston and others made a more direct route for the top. But, no matter which route was chosen, we all arrived at the mast on top at the same time. Here coffee was called and we settled down in the shelter of the mast buildings for a caffeine boost.

After coffee some were for following the quad tracks towards Hunterston but Ian directed us in a more northerly and steeper line to find a track among the trees above the power station. This track took us gently down to the tarmac at Hunterston Castle. Now we were in very familiar territory and followed the tarmac to the power station road.

So far the rain had stayed away but the first spots were felt as we walked along the shore towards the power station. Rex and Robert, fearing that they might dissolve in the rain, picked up the pace leaving the birdwatchers little time for their observations. This was maybe just as well for the rain came seriously when we got to the power station. However, compassion compelled us to stand in the rain and wait for Ian who was seen to be sitting some hundred metres behind, but when we discovered that he was not medicating as we thought but just donning waterproof trousers, we were somewhat less than compassionate. Ian’s ears burned and we walked on into the steady dribble.

Nearly back at Portencross we came across a motorist with a predicament. Somehow he had managed to squeeze his car between two boulders to get into the old pier but couldn’t quite negotiate his way back through on his exit. Despite the rain we stopped to offer our advice and assistance, even trying to move the boulders for him. But when it became obvious that it would take time and a great deal of shuffling back and forth and the rain was constant now, we left him and his mate to it and came back to our cars parked in a more sensible place. We can only hope that he is not still stuck there shuffling back and forth between the boulders. We will find out next time we are this way.

Given the forecast, we had been lucky to get a dry walk at all. Yet, on the whole, the day was good, only marred by the rain on the way back.

FRT was taken in the Laurieston, a place that is rapidly becoming our howf after walks in north Ayrshire.

12 October - Cumbrae

Nine Ooters (Robert, Johnny, Allan, Ian, Macolm, Rex, Paul, Davie x 2) gathered at Allan's for scones and coffee and to make a decision on the day's walk.

The original plan to walk from Largs to the Hill of Stake had been more or less ruled out for fear of it becoming another Black Craig walk. Muirshiel to the near-mythical hill was the proposed alternative, but the day had dawned grey with low cloud, and after a vote(!!!) the decision was taken to go to Cumbrae instead. The vote had been 5-4 in favour of Cumbrae .... but the waters were then muddied when Allan tried to switch his vote from Cumbrae to Hill of Stake (Allan doesn't often vote for anything with "hill" in it) but his intervention was deemed ultra vires.

At this point Robert opined that what we needed was a "benevolent dictator". A few nodded sagely, but all opined that, by definition, Robert would obviously be ruled out from holding such a position.

Rather than the two men and a dog we expected to be waiting for the Cumbrae ferry, the slipway area was mobbed with scores of university students (budding biologists going to cut up fish) waiting to board the ferry. Strangely they were all lined up in twos, with a few holding hands. Whatever happened to the student anarchists of yesteryear? Some of the Ooters chose to line up behind the students, not holding hands so far as could be seen, whilst the erstwhile anarchists just stood at the top of the slipway, and consequently got the best seats.

Ian had a plan.

At the Water Sports Centre we were to leave the road around the island and cut overland towards the Glaidstone road. There was a track. We climbed to the top of Broomy Knowes (89 metres asl) but then the rains which had fallen in recent days all seemed to have accumulated on the path below Broomy Knowes and we had to pick our way around deep puddles and clawing red mud to get back to tarmac. Some were more successful than others in avoiding the perils of the track. In the best traditions of the Ooters, Ian got pelters. However, his retort that he had voted to go to the Hill of Stake soon silenced the critics.

Morning coffee was taken at the usual spot, atop the Glaidstone, now embellished with several new seats.

The rain which had stayed off so far now put in an appearance, but it was no worse than light drizzle. It transpired that Ian didn't have his waterproof jacket with him, but using the skills he no doubt learned in the BBs he created a fetching little black number out of a bin liner he had with him.

Millport resembled a ghost town with hardly anyone out and about. We decided to call in at the golf club for a refreshment but we were thwarted in our ambitions. Like Millport, it was shut.

We headed off through the fields to Fintray Bay where lunch was taken at the picnic tables by the shore. Today very few cyclists were out on the road, and cars were pretty infrequent too.

The walk ended, naturally, with a race to the ferry terminal.

FRT was taken at the Laurieston in Ardrossan.

This was a pleasant and relatively leisurely day out ... and we still have the Hill of Stake to look forward to!

5 January Portencross Circular

Alan, Allan, Davie, Ian, Jimmy, Johnny, Malcolm, Paul, Peter, Rex & Robert

Our first walk of the New Year could have been better; it could hardly have been wetter. Yet the morning started promisingly enough with our inland members waking to a keen frost and clear sky, a clear sky that extended to the coast. When we gathered in Allan’s in Irvine the sun had risen and was filling the landscape with a warming light. All of us had hopes for a decent day for a favourite walk.
We were pleasantly surprised to see Rex waiting for us in Allan’s, his recovery from surgery coming sooner than expected. But there was no Robert this morning. He was awaiting the arrival of the roof man for the second time this winter. And Ronnie was working. That left ten of us to car share to Portencross for what we expected to be a pleasant short walk to start our New Year.
It was on the high ground of the Ardrossan bypass that we saw the weather coming in; a great dark-grey swathe of rain-bearing cloud approaching from the north-west. By the time we reached the car park of Portencross the first rain hit. And there was a wind with it, a cold wind, and a wind that churned the sea and sent green rollers breaking against the rocks by the car park and throwing spray to join the rain. We donned waterproofs from the start, fully expecting to cast them off after the shower had passed and the sun had returned.
We set off into the weather taking an anticlockwise route round the circuit, the, now hail salted, wind driven rain stinging into exposed flesh. This was not a time for hanging about. Heads tilted into the weather, we walked on. A car tooted at us and, as we lifted heads into the weather, we recognised the missing Robert who had come to join us after all. It wasn’t a time for hanging about so we walked on quickly enough to build up the heat but slowly enough to let Robert catch us up. When a field of geese was seen opposite the Ardneil road-end we still walked on, even the birders, for though the hail had gone, the wind-driven freezing rain still stung into faces. It was not a time for hanging about even for a field full of geese. We would wait until the shower passed before we stopped. We walked on
In the lea of Goldenberry we lost the wind; unfortunately not so the rain, though this had eased to a steady drumming on the jacket hoods. Robert caught up with us as we turned from Thirdpart towards the main A78. Then all eleven of us walked on. And walked on. There was no point in stopping until the rain went.
Out on to the main road we went. Then onto Hunterston old drive. Past our usual coffee stop we went – we would have coffee when the rain went. Past Hunterston Castle we went – no stop to examine Latin inscriptions today. We walked on in the rain. We would stop when the rain went.
On to Hunterston Power Station road we walked. It was there that we noticed Paul was leaking. A white excrescence - that’s a good word, Davie – oozed from his black waterproofs and trickled down his arms and legs. Since none of us could identify the white ‘stuff’, Paul was given a wide berth for the rest of the day just in case it was catching for there’s no saying how bad ‘white excrescence’ can become. And we’re all at a delicate age now.
Still we walked on in the rain. Even the shelduck and the wee broon birds in the sheltered bay couldn’t tempt anybody to stop. We walked on in the rain. We did stop briefly; very briefly, in a bus shelter at the power station for Peter was now beginning to squelch, his waterproofing having succumbed to the constant downpour. While compassion is the Ooters watchword and we sympathised with the dripping Peter, there wasn’t a lot could be done at that time. He would have to thole the wet for the next mile or so back to the cars. We walked on in the rain.
From the raised beach we could see the brighter weather coming, again from the north-west. Arran began to appear and the rain began to ease. By the time we reached Portencross it had gone and the day was brightening. The wet Peter made a direct line for the cars through the hamlet. The rest of us though paid our usual visit to see the castle. Some would have had coffee/lunch at the castle but the consensus was that we join Peter at the cars, change into drier gear and have lunch sitting in the comfort of the cars. Well, we did say we would stop when the rain went.
This was rather inauspicious start to the year. Still, in the words of the fabulous D:Ream ‘♫Things can only get better♫’.
FRT Was taken in the Laurieston in Ardrossan for the Merrick in Seamill has lost its attraction now.