Today's walk was a long one - much longer than I had planned however. I parked the van on the beach at Troon making sure it wasnt going to sink into the sand and I would be able to drive away again. That happened to me on a beach on an earlier walk and I didnt want to repeat the experience.  I caught the first train back up the line to West Kilbride Station and headed down through the lovely park that led down to the main coastal road. The walk along the road that ran along past Seamill towards Ardrossan reminded me of when I was a young lad and came down here for my holidays. Everything had shrunk in size. When I was a young lad Seamill was a magical place seemingly filled with exquisit rock pools and what I remembered to be a beautiful sandy beach. It wasnt any of those things now - just a sad scrap of sand next to a car park.  The world is certainly more magical when your too young to know any better.

I headed in Ardrossan and on towards Saltcoats. I was sure when I was a lad there was sand on the beach but there disnt seem to be any here now. Something to do with the Council's health and safety policy perhaps? Perhaps sand was deemed to get into people's eyes and it had been removed for our own good.

I had intended to walk towards Irvine and cross the footbridge that went over the mouth of the river Garnock. I had read in David Cotton's blog that the footbridge had been built to connect the new museum called the Big Idea. However on double checking I found that the museum was closed due to funding issues and the bridge was kept open permanently to allow shipping to travel up the river Garnock. I was extremely pissed off with that news as not only would I have to detour inland towards Stevenson adding about 5 miles or so to my journey, it would also mean missing out on a great beach walk along the coast. I couldnt do anything about it and therfore followed the Sustrans cycle signs inland. The journey was not a memorable one - as  the route ran behind old industrial estates where I had to navigate an underpass where three of four Yoofs were quaffing Scotland's other National drink. No - not Irn Bru but Buckfast. That had me slightly on my guard as I passed them, but they were fine and said hello as I passed.

Eventually the route turns back towards Irvine and eventually I reached the harbour area which had been given a make over. It did look quaint with its street lamps - it reminded me of Sheidaig for some reason but obviously a modern attempt at making a place look older. When I enquired about the bridge being closed they said that it might open again as there were moves afoot to create a golf course complex on the other side of the bridge. Now where have I heard that before?

I had a coffee in a little coffee shop then headed out into heavy rain for the final walk along Barrassie beach towards Troon. I caught absolutely soaked through - my jeans and feet were sodden and I collapsed into the campervan and was really exhausted at the end of this walk.

While hunting down some information on Largs, one respondent pointed me towards recent videos relating to the disaster which befell HMS Dasher, an Archer class aircraft carrier which exploded and sank on March 27, 1943, during World War II flight training exercises being carried out just off the island of Arran, in the Firth of Clyde, with the loss of 379 lives.

While the discovery of the memorial alone would have been worthy of mention, the value of the film was to increase significantly when the latter part led into the relatively recent story which we had found, and which revealed the true identity of "The Man Who Never Was". The name refers to a film which told the story of Operation Mincemeat, a British deception plan carried during World War II intended to convince the German High Command (OKW) that the Allies were planning to invade the Balkans and Sardinia, rather than the island of Sicily, their real target. The plan involved the planting of false documents containing details of the invasion plan, and these were to be given credibility by being found on the body of a dead courier, killed in an aircraft crash at sea. The one problem with the plan was finding a suitable body to carry the documents, and which would not be an obvious hoax when subject to medical examination. The tragedy of HMS Dasher occurred at the right time, and with Churchill's approval the plan was implemented, one of the bodies recovered from Dasher was appropriated, and a veil of secrecy was thrown over the incident. While the reason for the secrecy is now clear, many still do not know the whole story, and are openly critical of the authorities and make much of the fact that those who survived the sinking were warned never to speak of the incident. The memorial film includes a contribution from the grandson of Jack Melville, who was recently identified as the real "Man Who Never Was", and shows his gravestone in Ardrossan, in the memorial graveyard where many of those who died in the explosion were laid to rest, and also features the memorial ceremony in Cyprus, where he was actually buried, and where the Royal Navy publicly acknowledged his identity and the part he played in the operation.

HMS Dasher memorial 2007:

Film dedicated to the event in 2008:

Opening credits of the 1956 film:

Ponieważ pierwszego dnia ciągnąłem przyczepkę praktycznie sam przez cały dzień zgodziliśmy się, że moja kobieta zapnie ją do swojego roweru i odda mi kiedy się zmęczy. Rozebrałem więc zapięcie i przełożyłem przyczepkę do jej roweru.

Kiedy już wszystko było spakowane zauważyłem, że złapaliśmy gumę w jednym z kół w przyczepce. Szybka akcja i ruszyliśmy w dalszą drogę jeszcze zatrzymując się na chwilę w supermarkecie na drobne zakupy i poranną toaletę.

Dalsza trasa przebiegała przez coraz ciekawsze i bardziej odludne tereny. Znowu zaczął jednak padać deszcz ale humory nam dopisywały.

Po południu trasa stawała się stopniowo coraz mniej interesująca. Zaczęliśmy wjeżdżać w zachodnią część Szkocji, gdzie sporo jest szarych, małych powojennych miasteczek, często zaśmieconych do granic wyobraźni. Najbrzydszym okazało się Kilwinning. Mnie to się kojarzyło z blokiem komunistycznym. Z jednej strony ohydne, ale jednocześnie w dziwny sposób interesujące.

W reszcie dojechaliśmy na wybrzeże, a konkretnie do Saltcoats, skąd już wzdłuż wybrzeża jechaliśmy dosyć długo do Ardrossan. Było w okolicach godziny 15, znowu zaświeciło słońce więc nam się nie spieszyło.

Już z daleka zobaczyliśmy ośnieżone szczyty gór na wyspie Arran (wtedy tego jeszcze nie byliśmy do końca pewni). Widok wyjątkowo imponujący. Najwyższy szczyt Goatfell (wietrzne wzgórze) ma 2866 stóp, czyli ponad 873 metry.

Pojechaliśmy prosto na prom, żeby mieć pewność, że jeszcze tego samego dnia dojedziemy na Arran.

Prom wpłynął, a właściwie wleciał do portu "na ręcznym". Wyglądało to mniej więcej tak jakby za sterami siedział Krzysiek Hołowczyc. Byliśmy niemal pewni, że ten ogromny (w porównaniu do naszych rowerów) statek sunący z tak dużą prędkością rozbije się o nabrzeże.

Ustawiliśmy się w specjalnej kolejce dla rowerzystów. Szybko okazało się, że o tej porze rowerzyści już tylko wracali z Wyspy na ląd. Byliśmy więc jedynymi zroweryzowanymi turystami na okręcie :) .

W trakcie rejsu wyszliśmy na pokład gdzie poznaliśmy jednego z mieszkańców Arran. Okazało się, że niedawno odwiedzał Polskę i bardzo mu się podobało, z tym że bardzo tłoczno było. Szkocja jest w końcu o wiele mniej zaludniona. Poza tym uświadomił nas, że na Wyspie jest sporo naszych sympatycznych i pracowitych rodaków.

Niedługo przed zmrokiem dopłynęliśmy do Brodick skąd udaliśmy się na pobliski kemping. Trochę czasu zajęło nam znalezienie drogi w to odludne miejsce, bo ze zmęczenia mieliśmy już spore problemy z czytaniem mapy. Ale udało się i po raz drugi w czasie naszej wyprawy rozbijaliśmy się po ciemku.

Nothing good will ever come out of that school, I'd suggest tearing it down and starting again but it's not the school, it's the students that make it the way it is.  Nobody when they are really honest with themselves actively enjoys school, it's just a fact of life, as is work, the issue is in Ardrossan Academy people try to make it an enjoyable experience for themselves by torturing others.

It does really end with Ardrossan Academy, Ardrossan has the potential to be beautiful nice place to live it's just the fact that people have come far and wide to shit all over what with driving through the parks with mopeds and ripping them to shreds, junkie gathering in childrens playparks and worst of all polluting the air with the god damned phrase 'Yer maw,' and other such abominations of the English language.  It's ridiculous that this is not only socially acceptable, but, the general way you are suppose to act in the West of Scotland.

Of course I shant just be bitching about Ardrossan I expect myself to bitch far and wide about all this BS.  Not that I expect anything to get done about, I just like to whine.

Part1 | Part2 | Part3 | Part4 | Part5 | Part6 | Part7 | Part8

The Electric Brae

I left Dunure at the first sign of morning light which announced itself with a dark bluish tinge of the sky. It is an absolute privilege afforded by nature to have the sun, its light and its warmth. Soon after leaving Dunure, I came across a stone slab etched with these works:

'THE ELECTRIC BRAE'

On this walk, which only yesterday I had termed as "pointless", I had not expected anything interesting or different from what I have already seen elsewhere. Yet, Scotland has offered me one more interesting facet of its landscape. Indeed, while walking on this road I found that the road appears to drop down when it is claimed to be uphill in that direction. Perhaps, this reality of optical illusions is something architects can use to create interesting buildings and landscapes.

Culzean Castle and Country Park

It had been a night of some rest but little sleep. I was tired and not in any best form to appreciate Culzean Castle or its gardens. The sun was slow in warming up the land this morning. It was a cold day to begin with. It started raining even before I had entered the grounds of the castle. Overall it was not a pleasant day for walking. Suddenly, I felt tired of travelling. I felt it was just silly to be travelling from place to place without rest or comfort, seeking something material that is not going to last, seeking some form of completion when as humans we will always remain incomplete and mortal.

All such thoughts were quickly despatched into oblivion when scene after scene thrilled me on the approach to Culzean. Because I had been walking along the coast, I had a first glimpse of the castle from a distance. The castle rose from a canopy of lush woodland that clung to the outcrops of rock and cliff on a rugged coastline washed by the waves. I soon lost this view but the image remained with me. With each step towards the castle, the image gained a greater romanticism. The walk to the castle proceeded through woodlands. In one case, a neat row of pines underplanted with luxuriant growths of rhododendrons lead the way. This was quite a pleasant walk though the rhododendrons were not in bloom. Once I left this walk I approached a clearing. At the farther end it was bordered by an array of trees, their leaves coming out freshly to make a canopy that would be complete by mid-summer. Beyond these was a clean blue line of the sea in the distance. By now the sky had cleared and the sun was out. Walking further along a driveway, I passed daffodils carpeting the soft verge on either side. Tall trees complemented the curving perspective as I made my way to the castle.

The castle was not to open for another hour at least. I made good use of the time to explore the woodlands and the gardens. There is nothing fascinating in either of them. The only aspect of this estate, which is also a country park, is its stunning location. The castle is built on the edge of a cliff that drops steeply down to the sea. The sea flattens and simplifies the background. The background remains uncluttered and uniform, against which the elements of the foreground make a strong presence. This foreground could be parts of the castle buildings or groups of twisted trunks of woodland trees. Often I saw the sea through gaps in the woodland. The sea is always an important element here. It lends itself to everything that stands by it. It forms a common unifying element to every scene we stop to look at or study.

On this walk I met a gardener. He was busy replacing some turf bordering one of the lakes. He paused for a long chat. Thanks to him, I now know that Culzean is pronounced as "Cullean". I expressed an interest in gardening and although I have never made any attempt at it I do plan to begin in a small way when I return to India. He complained about the quality of produce we get in supermarkets these days. He complained that their garlic is dry and tasteless. He has a kitchen garden at home where he grows his own garlic. He can smell the aroma and the juice when he crushes them. He grows lots of other plants as well - cloves, rosemary, thyme, sage, tomatoes, broad beans, kidney beans, potatoes, cabbage... He taught me how easily one can grow garlic. Take some cloves of garlic. Plant them about half an inch below the level of the soil with the pointed ends upwards. They will grow on their own. You do not even need to water them.

Then he critized the Inheritance Tax introduced by "this bastard Blair" as he put it. Places like Culzean Castle cannot be passed on from one generation to the next simply because of such a tax. Those who inherit have no choice but to sell the place in order to pay the tax. His wife works at a house nearby for the former owners of Culzean. They had grown up at Culzean, which for them is full of memories and relationships. Unfortunately they can no longer live there. Today the property is managed by the National Trust for Scotland.

Then he complained about the reality of increasing costs. In the 1960s and the 70s, there used to be a lot of work around Maybole which is a town close to Culzean. In those days, this was a mere village. People used to work hard for a living. They could afford to buy a house for only £1000. Today houses cost hundred times as much and there is no work to be had. Young people live on borrowed money without knowing the meaning of hard work. They lead a rich lifestyle until their debts catch up with them.

After visiting the castle I found out that this idea of credit and debt is nothing new to the modern age of idling youths. Culzean was built on credit. The owners had this idea of creating something romantic and grand but they had failed to live within their means. In the 1770s, David Kennedy embarked on an ambitious scheme of remodelling Culzean Castle into a fashionable country seat. Being a bachelor, he had no need for expanding it but it was a matter of prestige and status. So he hired Robert Adams to redo much of the building. He took to fancy along the way and decided that he wanted a view of the sea. Robert Adams' proposal involved demolition of existing parts of the building. These parts would have been comfortable living spaces but they were demolished at a considerable cost to make way for the whims and fancies of the owner. David Kennedy died in great debt. Today the nation is shouldering the burden. It is indirect contributions from the public that keep the estate going. Future generations have enjoyed his effort but for him was it worth the effort?

That is not all. Culzean also benefited from smuggling activities that took place right under its cliffs. Isle of Man was often a convenient point of departure for contraband goods coming into the mainland. Politically, Culzean had always been sympathetic if not supportive of the Jacobites. After the Battle of Culloden, their profiteering by the smuggling trade is seen as a clandestine defiance of the Hanoverian rule.

Speaking of the building itself, briefly, the castle is first seen through a broken archway that spans two crumbling towers. This is an aesthetic feature added deliberately to enhance the romantic approach to the castle. On the inside, the symbolism in Robert Adams' art can be seen in the plastered ceilings and friezes. The influence of the sea is seen in Archibald Kennedy's love of sailing. The painting titled "The Lion and the Mouse" by Frans Snyders gives us the fable's moral purport but also clearly emphasizes the great difference in the size and strength of the two characters. The Oval Staircase is spectacular and a masterpiece of the architect. Bold curves and sharp angles create a striking effect. The tall pillars accentuate the feeling of vertical space and grandeur. Let us not overlook the fact that this staircase came to be out of necessity because there was not enough room to build a normal circular one. From this staircase we come into the Round Drawing Room that opens out through French windows to a semi-circular balcony. From such elegance of 18th century style and living, we see far out to sea and the wild coast of Ayrshire. So many of these aspects of design are unique to Culzean. To quote from Robert Adams, "Rules often cramp the genius and circumscribe the idea of the master".

After being at the castle for the entire morning and part of the afternoon, I never again saw that first view of the castle or anything close to it. To look at the castle from the sea must surely be even more rewarding.

On the Move

It appears to me that the whole business of travel is to be on the move. The idea is to get from A to B, but once we reach our destination we are compelled to move on to further lands on an unending journey. This realisation came to me on the ferry from Ardrossan to Brodick, which in itself is coincidentally a perfect epitome of an A-to-B journey.

On the ferry there is a video that plays continuously. It reminds us where we are going and what that place has to offer. We are enticed into sampling the flavours of its many attractions. Then the video suggests that while we are on Arran, why not visit Kintyre which is only a short ferry ride from Lochranza? The video does the same when it introduces Oban. While we are at Oban, why not make a day-trip of the Isle of Mull? Or if we fancy a longer stay at Mull, why not visit the Isle of Iona or the Staffa Islands?

All these suggestions are no more than advertisements designed to fuel the tourism industry on which much of these regions depend. Nonetheless, there is an unworded realisation that perhaps the tourist's expectation may be far too high, that perhaps the weather is likely to spoil the mood, that perhaps the place has always been praised beyond deserve and that it will fall short of what it has promised to deliver. So visitors are lured deeper into this game by asking them to travel farther with further promises. That the grass is greener elsewhere remains uncontested in our subconscious, although by experience we may begin to see the real truth of the matter. While we are considering this matter rather vaguely, the video helps us with these final words - "Where could you go next?"

An Island Destination

I had precisely an hour to do some shopping at Ardrossan before taking the ferry to the Isle of Arran. I was to stay on the island for three days and three nights. I needed to buy enough food. Somehow I had imagined that I would find nothing on this island. Everything I needed for my stay had to be purchased on the mainland. There was no problem doing this because I was going to take a bus from the ferry terminal at Brodick to the YHA at Lochranza. I wouldn't need to walk with a fully loaded backpack.

When I arrived on the island, I found that there were many shops. The place was rural but had most things of everyday need. However, it had been a good decision to buy the provisions at Ardrossan where the choice was better and perhaps cheaper. Arrival into Brodick was delayed by an hour because of low tide. This caused me some concern because I had missed the last bus to Lochranza. One of the ship's stewards clarified that an extra bus would be arranged to connect with the ferry. I was informed that such delays are common. Anything that relies on the sea has to obey the cycles of the tide.

The idea of a holiday implies to many a flight to another country. A weekend break to a neighbouring county, say from Bedfordshire to Hertfordshire, isn't really a holiday and neither does the distance count for a journey. The modern tourist wants to travel great distances. The farther he travels the better is his sense of isolation. He wants to get away from familiar scenes. He wants to experience something new and exotic. He wants to forget his usual world and venture into something fresh.

It is important to note that although distances matter for the modern tourist, what he really wants is a long journey. It's like travelling in the London Underground. We may pass many stations, change from line to line, and finally arrive at a destination after an hour's ride. If you look at the street map, we may find that we haven't travelled more than a mile. Yet, if we are unaware of the real street plan of London, we may think that we have travelled far. This ignorance is a blessing to the modern tourist who wants to feel that he has travelled far for his holiday.

In addition, the modern tourist has a special attraction to an island destination. It gives that extra factor of isolation, cut-off from civilization as it were by great seas and oceans. A little speck of land in the middle of the Pacific Ocean is perfect. For those who can't afford it, a Grecian island in the Mediterranean will suffice. For others, something as close as the Isle of Arran will suffice. Many popular tourist destinations are either by the coast or islands - the Isle of Skye, the Isle of Arran, the Isle of Wight, the Canary Islands, the Isles of Scilly, Malta, the Carribeans...

This isolation is not real in today's world. The early Victorians may have had this isolation. They had to cross the high seas on ships over many days. Getting to the Carribeans from England was no small matter. They had no mobile phones with them. There was no television or radio then. They were merely following the charted paths of early explorers who had ventured out to discover new lands. To them, travelling to an island destination was even more special than it is to us. The modern tourist may have travelled easily and in comfort by a short flight. He may still sense some of that isolation but a short phone call on his mobile is likely to shatter it quickly. It will bring him back to reality that he has not left his own world after all.

There is something soothing about being next to the sea. The sound of the waves, the call of sea-gulls and the smell of sea air take us immediately to place far removed from the busy crowded towns and cities in which we work. The sea opens the landscape. We can stare for hours at the horizon with nothing except for an occasional passing ship. The sea has this ability to free us from our four-walled holes of an urban maze. It little matters if the weather is right, if the beach is sandy and white, if the waters are turquoise blue, if the corals are waving their colourful fans... These are secondary details. The real magic is of the sea and being next to it.
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