Cumbrae and Largs

Millport

Friday 28 September 2018

A fine autumnal day was forecast so we decided to make a trip to Cumbrae, a small island reached by ferry from Largs. We could not remember whether we had taken the children there, we had cycled them round quite a few islands. If not it must have been 40 years since I last cycled round this former holiday resort in the Firth of Clyde. There is a good ferry service every half hour and the crossing takes only ten minutes. The ferry is met by a service bus for the short 5 mile trip to the town of Millport. It has a faded seaside charm, a red sandstone framed beach and a large number of sizeable stone villas. It is a ten and a half mile cycle ride following the coast around the island. Several bike hire companies provide for the visitors and after coffee at the Round Island Cafe we hired bikes and began an anti-clockwise loop of the island. Apparently, 68% cycle this way around the island, my justification was so we could be looking at Arran when riding down the west coast.

The roads are flat and mainly well surfaced, well certainly in comparison to most of Scotland. Gregor had run around the island in 55 minutes when coming 2nd in the annual race earlier this year. There is virtually no traffic to impede progress and you can stop anywhere to admire the views, pick brambles or watch the birdlife. The first things you observe as you approach the disused Keppel Pier are the massive industrial developments across the Fairlie Roads at Hunterston. As well as the Nuclear Power Stations there is also the Ore Terminal, where until recently South American and Polish Coal was imported and sent by freight train to the coal-fired power station at Longannet that has now closed. The nuclear power stations are due to close in 2023 as well. The nearby Kelburn Wind Farm looks down on these dinosaurs of electricity generation that have done untold damage to the environment.

The wind that had been forecast had blown itself out so cycling was easy and we stopped to enjoy the brambles that formed a tasty hedgerow along the roadside. We passed a man carrying a hedgehog and a two-litre bottle of cider. Apparently, he had been hit hard by the Scottish Government raising the minimum price of alcohol. There were several other cyclists and two sisters on an electric scooter and we played leapfrog with each other as we took breaks to walk on the red sandstone rocks and beaches or to scan the horizon.

An exposed rock face had become the canvas for what looked like a face of an American Indian. There is a cafe at Fintraybay but we cycled on to West Bay at the southern tip of the island where the Westbourne Caravan Park has dozens of permanent holiday caravans lined up as a regiment. They command the best of views towards Arran and illustrate the changing face of tourism. Hotels cannot get the staff and have priced themselves out of the market, whereas rented accommodation provides a better income with less running costs.

We turned back towards Millport, the yachts were in a fenced-off compound that was more of a yard than a marina. A long stretch of detached villas ran down to the centre of the town. Millport had quite a few shops and cafes open and there were ferryloads of baby boomers enjoying the quiet ambience of the town. We returned the bikes, it had taken 1 hour and 40 minutes, and retired to the friendly Round Island Cafe for a late snack before catching the bus back to the ferry. Back in Largs, we watched the Friday charge of the secondary school children for the ferry home to Cumbrae before sauntering over the road to Nardinis for the best ice cream of the year.

Largs and The Knock

Arran from Kames Bay

Millport across Millport Bay

Hunterston Ore Terminal from Keppel Pier

Largs from Cumbrae Jetty

Arran from Wine Bay

Looking north up the Firth of Clyde

Empty Roads

Arran from Skate Point

Indian Rock Art on Bell Crag

Arran from Sheriff's Port

Millport Marina

Hunterston Power Stations

Millport Harbour

The narrowest house in the country next to a good cafe

Schools out for the Cumbrae Ferry

Dunoon and the Clyde

Dunoon

Sundays in Glasgow were always frustrating when I lived there. I had a yearning for open space and the great outdoors. Nothing has really changed over 30 years and with bright skies and autumnal fresh air, I decided to escape the city and take a trip down the Clyde. My original intention was to go to Cumbrae but driving through Greenock I was captivated by the scintillating mixture of sea and hills on the Cowal peninsula, so stopped at Gourock and caught the ferry to Dunoon. I met an older couple on the ferry who lived in Greenock and eeked every pleasure from their locality. They had owned a small yacht until recently. She had swum in the open air baths at Gourock that morning and they were off to a musical concert in the Burgh Hall in Dunoon. We chatted non stop for the entire 25-minute trip as the Force 5 wind reinvigorated us on the deck. All other passengers had stayed below deck and missed this high of nature.

It had been 33 years since I last visited Dunoon to help develop a preschool facility. Dunoon was still surviving with the adjacent nuclear submarine base in the Holy Loch about to depart. Since then the town has suffered like so many small Scottish towns from the exodus of its young people, an economic downturn exaggerated by the collapse of local tourism and the massive decline in public services. I was told by the couple that there had been a bit of an upturn since the opening of the Burgh Hall as a contemporary Arts Centre. This was not apparent in the main street that had a tired look with a smattering of closed shops, charity shops and others up for sale. Despite it being a bright sunny day and the Glasgow September weekend holiday, the street was deserted.

I began to explore the backstreets, they were full of fine Victorian and Edwardian stone built houses, most of them built to enjoy the spectacular views of the Clyde with light conditions that would be venerated in most former seaside resorts. As it happened it was the Cowal Open day for artists and I managed to visit some of the studios, otherwise known as living rooms. A Manchester-based academic had recently moved to Dunoon to set up a studio and had discovered a small colony of similarly minded artists. He was now taking classes at the Arts Centre, accepting commissions from China and extolling the merits of Dunoon as the new St Ives. We will see.

I walked to the edge of the town before enjoying a stroll back to the centre along the stony beach, which was littered with perfect skimming stones. I soon refound my technique and the playful zest of yesteryear. Returning to the pier, I had 30 minutes before the next ferry so popped into the Rock Cafe on the pier for a mug of tea and couldn't resist a haddock fish supper to complete the day at the Clyde resort.

The return crossing conjured up every light condition on the Clyde. Arran went missing in the cloud, the Arrochar Alps and Cowal hills displayed their late summer colours and shapely profiles, the yachts formed isoseles triangles as they keeled over at 45°. Gourock and Greenock looked attractive coastal towns, massive container cranes, open-air swimming pools and villas with views. The decadent town centres of Greenock and Port Glasgow have been virtually eliminated and replaced by half a dozen retail parks that look like warehouses and line the main road back to Glasgow. New housing schemes have been built on former shipbuilding sites along the waterfront. The myriad of church steeples and towers that punctuate the skyline remain and tell the story of godly, tightly knit communities and more enlightened times.

Looking acroos the Clyde to Dunoon

The Clyde, Loch Long and Arrochar Alps

Towards Arran

Robert Burns' Highland Mary statue in Dunoon

Dunoon from Highland Mary

Top of Ferry Brae

Primary School being refurbished

Beachcombing for skimming stones

Villas with views

Dunoon 

Firth of Clyde towards Arran

Gourock seafront

Gourock Outdoor Pool

Greenock Ocean Terminal

Greenock: Victoria Tower behind yet another  retail shed

Speirs Wharf and Canal

Speirs Wharf

After Storm Ali, we were treated to a recovery day with a fresh breeze and sunny skies. I had been meaning to visit the Forth Clyde canal that extends to the city centre at Speirs Wharf. It is thirty years since I had last been here since when the efforts of the Forth and Clyde Canal Society have created an attractive green wildlife corridor through Maryhill to Port Dundas. The former grain warehouses have been converted to loft-style flats and the towpath provides a quiet route for walking, running and cycling.

Richard Davies, the secretary of the Society in the 1980s, had been a work colleague; he devoted enormous energy and was dedicated to restoring the canal so that it could be used by boats and become a city attraction. Like many other regeneration projects in Glasgow, following its eventual reopening in 2002, it has been bedeviled by funding difficulties and is now suffering because bridges can no longer be opened to allow the passage of narrowboats. Dredging problems are also emerging and boats can no longer travel along certain sections. Ideally, the investment should have released pockets of vacant land for housing and small businesses but developments have been mainly for blocks of student accommodation and larger offices including the headquarters of National Theatre of Scotland, known as Rockvilla.

Speirs Wharf has a cafe and a number of houseboats line the canal. The impression is that it should have far more of a buzz as it would in other UK cities that celebrate their canals. Towards Maryhill and the Firhill Basin, there were almost no other people taking advantage of the towpath. Some locals were fishing at Firhill Basin and I spoke to a man who was stationed at his pigeon doocot. He lamented the decline in the number of pigeon doocots, particularly in the housing schemes. There had been over a thousand in the 1980s when unemployment in Glasgow had soared during the Thatcher years. I passed Partick Thistle's Football ground at Firhill basin, amazed at how the pitch was so green but it is only September. Whatever happened to the grassless muddy penalty areas of yesteryear?

Continuing the walk towards Ruchill, the only others on the towpath were students making their way to and from the university. Apart from the noise of Maryhill Road below, you could have been deep in the countryside. Several herons were perched on tree stumps, swans and mallards were lazing in the afternoon sun and moorhens were scooting about at the edge of the canal. The debris from Storm Ali, including broken branches from Ash trees, were scattered with the early fall of leaves. It was the fag end of a good summer.

I decided to walk back along Maryhill Road and visit the Mackintosh Church at Queens Cross. I continued to St George's Cross recalling how when I had arrived in Glasgow in the 1970s, the tenements had been overcrowded, every close was occupied by children playing and most of the shops had extended their wares onto the pavement. Today the shops are no longer convenient but the usual medley of fast food takeaways, hairdressers, IT  and phone repairs, nail and tanning shops. The Land Rover dealership is a bit incongruous but all the better for that. I called in at the Woodside Inn in the hope of catching up with an old Councillor friend. The bartender told me that he called in every day for a "hauf and a hauf" but had not yet appeared, it was only 4pm. I could have waited but decided to save that for another day.

Loft Conversions in the former Grain Mills

Houseboat

A reminder of the Port Dundas Distilleries

The only activity on the canal

Above Maryhill Road

Corrugated Iron Pigeon Doocot at Firhill

Partick Thistle ground at Firhill

Fishing in Firhill Basin

Maryhill Sunflowers

Mackintoshes Queen's Cross Church

Seana Bhraigh and the Beinn Dearg Group

Inverpolly skyline from Seana Bhraigh

During my final Munro, I had been chatting to Gavin who was keen to complete the Munros. He had passed the 150 mark but had climbed only 10 hills north of the Highland Boundary Fault: the South Cluanie ridge and the Creag Meagaidh hills. I offered to accompany him on some of the more remote peaks and when he phoned to arrange a trip we agreed to a three-day window when we were both free. I then searched for some suitable remote hills that might be possible in the variable weather that was forecast. I suggested Seana Bhraigh, arguably the most remote Munro, and the Beinn Dearg group of four Munros. We could drive up on a Saturday morning, climb Saturday afternoon, wild camp below Seana Bhraigh before climbing the Beinn Dearg four munros on what looked likely to be a wet and wild Sunday.

Gavin picked me up at 8am in Glasgow and we reached the Tarvie snack bar before Garve at noon. As always it was inundated with cyclists and motorcyclists, many of whom were starting the North Coast 500 mile road trip. It serves a mug of tea and cake for £3 and meets my criteria for not being a coffee chain. It was only another half hour to Inverlael, where we parked by the red telephone box (what good markers they are). It took us fifteen minutes to sort our gear before starting the walk.

A young couple were parked next to us and had been cooking some Orange Birch Bolete mushrooms. They offered us some but we were slightly wary. The man's enthusiasm was infectious, he had a guidebook to edible fungi to convince us that we would not be poisoned by what were very tasty morsels. In return I advised them of the route to Beinn Dearg, they wanted a 6-hour walk so that they could be down before dark. It was probably a lot more dangerous than the Orange Birch Boletes.

Saturday 8 September 2018

Ascent:         1132 metres

Distance:       16 kilometres

Time:             5 hours 32 minutes

Seana Bhraigh         927m       4hrs 50mins  

The weather was pretty much as predicted, sunny periods with quite a lot of cloud and with high humidity. We were carrying larger and heavier packs than normal in warm and clammy conditions as we plodded up the interminable steep path from Glensguaib to the Druimna Saobhaidhe ridge. We stopped once for a drink and the chance to look back towards An Teallach that was visible in all its sawtooth glory. The burn was running full and we had to search for a crossing place that would keep our feet dry. Thereafter it is a gentler incline towards a series of attractive lochans that sit under the steep cliffs north of Eididh nan Clach Geala.

I was intending to camp at the head of Gleann Cadha Dearg but some walkers on the descent told us that there was a lochan that would be perfect for camping a couple of kilometres ahead. I remembered it from previous walks but we missed the lochan as the path ran south of it. We continued for another two kilometres over wild undulating pathless terrain to a hollow above the cliffs that contains a burn. I had become aware of the site on our first visit to Seana Bhraig when we climbed it on a long day that included the four munros in the Beinn Dearg group. An Australian was camping there and I have since used it on three previous visits.

We struggled to find a flattish patch to pitch the tent, the ground was boggy after recent rains so it took a while to get set up. After collecting water from the burn and unloading the rucksacks we began the short walk to the summit. Unfortunately, the sunny periods had given way to thickening cloud. It is a quick and easy ascent of little more than half an hour to the summit, made even more enjoyable by having dumped our packs in the tent. I was feeling a bit disappointed that the view of the magnificent inselberg peaks of the Inverpolly Nature Reserve would be compromised. I needn't have been for the peaks provided a frieze of sculpted beauty against the moody evening clouds.

We were in no rush, the tent was just below us and it was only 7pm. The grey cloud was ominous,  and by the time we had retreated to the tent to cook a meal the rain had started. Tomorrow was looking like a tough day in poor weather. We were tired from the long drive and from carrying heavy packs and became even more drowsy after a few miniature malt Solace whiskies that we had both brought along. Sleep was easy.

An Teallach from Druim na Saobhaidhe, the path to Seana Bhraigh

The string of lochans below Eididh nan Clach Geala

Seana Bhraigh looking across Glen Cadha Dearg

Looking south from Seana Bhraigh towards Cona Mheall and Beinn Dearg

The final leg to Seana Bhraigh

Creag an Duine from Seana Bhraigh

Start of the sixth round?

Stac Polly to Suilven from Seana Bhraigh

Seana Bhraigh Summit ridge

 Sunday, 9 September 2018

Ascent:     1015 metres
Distance:   21 kilometres
Time:         9 hours 1 minute

Eididh nan Clach Geala    928m          1hr   46mins
t  Ceann Garbh                  967m          2hrs 56mins
Meall nan Ceapraichean    977m         3hrs  6mins
Cona Mheall                      980m         4hrs  24mins
Beinn Dearg                      1084m        5hrs 59mins

Sunday morning started with showers and they continued for most of the day. We held off starting so that I could pack the tent and rucksack between showers so it was almost 9am before we heaved our packs on for the slog over the boggy tricky ground towards Eididh nan Clach Geala. For the first time this year, it was gloves, hat, and waterproof jacket. In the low cloud, we had to stop on a few occasions to check our position by GPS as we negotiated the complex terrain. My optimism that the weather might improve meant I had left my waterproof trousers off. It was a bad mistake, it took a full ten minutes in freezing conditions to put them on in the gale-lashed rains at the summit of Eididh nan Clach Geala. Visibility was no more than thirty metres at the summit and as we began to follow some cairns down I realised that this wasn't the right direction so I had to retrieve the OS map on my mobile. We had to make a 90° turn to follow the ridge down and then had to make another adjustment before reaching the bealach to the south-east of the hill.

The climb up to the top of Ceann Garbh was a lot easier with a clear path cutting through the rock bands and even though steep we began to make better time. The cloud had cleared by the time we reached the top and from there it is a quick gallop across to Meall nan Ceapraichean, the Munro. Gavin was elated at progress but I looked across to the cloud covered Beinn Dearg and Cona Meall ahead and figured that this was going to be even tougher than anticipated. The rains had returned and we had slipped behind the notional schedule that I had set so that we could be down for 5pm. There is a narrow notch at the bottom of the gravity-defying wall that provides the route up Beinn Dearg. We went through the notch, dumped our sacks and had some food before starting to climb Cona Mheall. It is a hundred metres of ascent and, in the miserable conditions, it seemed a preferable climb to Beinn Dearg. Perhaps things would improve later.

Cona Mheall overlooks Choire Ghranda, one of the most impressive but foreboding corries enclosed between the rock walls of its two adjoining munros. The walk up is a steady climb with a path discernible most of the way, certainly a lot more so than twenty-five years ago when it was a case of hopping over the boulders to gain the summit. It had cleared by the time we reached the summit but the adjacent hills were still in the cloud. On the descent, we met a lone French walker from Alsace who was attempting to climb the Munros by taking a two-week vacation in Scotland every year. He preferred the wildness of Scotland to the pristine path overload of happy wanderers in the Alps.

We headed back to the rucksacks, moved them a couple of hundred meters to the bottom of the wall leading to Beinn Dearg and then followed the amazing wall ever upwards. What a monument to its builders, massive stones piled to a height of six feet and still mainly erect after well over a hundred years. It is difficult to see how it could be replicated today, it would be extremely difficult to get plant and equipment on site and there would be few takers for manual wall building of this magnitude.

We made reasonable time up and down to the summit, it was clear but again with the views were limited in the grey cloud that enveloped the northern highlands. We started the long descent thinking a couple of hours would see us back at the car. The path down Gleann na Sguaib is at a good gradient and runs alongside the rippling burn with an attractive lochan. It was tiring nevertheless and 6pm before we arrived at the car park. Needless to say, it was raining as we stripped off our waterproofs and shoes for the forty-minute drive to the Achilty Guest House now under new management and much improved. We were, hopefully, in time to head out for some decent food but the Strathpeffer restaurants were closed on a Sunday evening apart from the big hotel that serves canteen food to coach parties. We drove to Dingwall where we were found an excellent bar/restaurant serving good traditional food.

The two days had been pretty much as I expected but had I made the fatal step of climbing five Munros. This is the temptation that can prompt another round but I doubt it as I was hobbling for the next 24 hours with sore feet. Our intended quick sortie up Ben Wyvis on Monday morning was aborted by gale force winds, minimal visibility and -4°C on the summit, we didn't even bother attempting the walk, which was a welcome relief for my feet. The Munros are still there for the taking but the summer is over for this year and I doubt I will have much free time in the next six months as we move to a new house.

Day 2 Weather bleak at Grid Reference 270855

Eididh nan Clach Geala from Ceann Garbh

Cona Mheall from west

Coire Ghranda

Seana Bhraigh from Beinn Dearg

Beinn Dearg summit

Glen na Sguaib and the long walk out