Written by: Anne Gavin
After the longest day, I woke up to some sunshine and a new – albeit guarded – outlook on the day ahead. My blisters were raging. My feet and legs had been throbbing most of the night. But, besides all that, I felt pretty good and just decided that walk on, I must. I double Compeed-ed both feet, wrapped my right foot with tape, and waited until the last moment before we left the cottage for our start point to gingerly slide on my hiking boots. We were walking from Blackwaterfoot to our cottage at Lagg, which sat just above the Coastal Way. How convenient! I wasn’t entirely sure how I would fare given my blisters, but was anxious to get started and enjoy this beautiful, sunny day along the coast. So, I laced up my boots…
Our start point was the Kinloch Hotel in Blackwaterfoot – where we had ended the day before. Starting off, I felt very much like the hapless Redcoat courier in Episode 14 of Outlander Season 1 (“The Search”) after Jenny Fraser Murray administered some Highland justice. Outlander fans will know what I mean! It was like red-hot pokers were stabbing my feet each step I took. But, it was a nice day. The sun was out, low clouds were clearing and we were walking on the beach again. The little dogs – the Cavalier King Charles Spaniels – were walking with us today. Also, my friends, Melvyn and Barbara Ingleson, gamely decided to join our group for this part of the Coastal Way. The more the merrier, I always say!
As we snaked along the coast we came upon yet another very boggy section. Carefully stepping to avoid the sinking slurp of an unseen hole in the earth, I actually managed to remain out front of the group for a short bit. I found myself really concentrating on the path in front of me just to keep my mind off my feet. Today was all about boggy coastal walking and lots of trekking through farm fields. Unfortunately, what we found, is that markers for the Coastal Path were few and far between on this particular section. It was confusing to say the least. At one point, we did pass a marker directing us up a steep set of crude stairs and back to the road above the cliffs. We took a vote as to whether we should return to road-walking. My vote was “absolutely not!” – primarily because I enjoyed being seaside, but also because I really didn’t think my feet could take the punishment of a hard surface after our 17 miles of road-walking the day before. The unmarked coastal route won the day amongst the group, so onward we trudged.
At some point, Dave made an executive decision (supported by all) to make a break for it up a seemingly benign hill in the distance. As the group started to slowly make their way up, the realization that this was a hill entirely made of SHITE started to sink in. And, my Lord, the odor. I seriously laughed the entire way up the hill thinking to myself that, indeed, this was definitely going to be one of those memorable Scottish hill-walking experiences that I shall never forget. I was also laughing because sweet Doreen lost one of her boots in the shite. After gingerly retrieving her boot from the muck, she actually seriously considered continuing on without putting the boot back on. I screamed back at her, “NO!!!!! Put on your boot!” It was a delicate balancing act – you know, standing in poop, while putting a hiking boot back on. But, she managed and we continued on.
Upon reaching the top of Shite Hill, we were informed by young Gary not to touch the metal fencing above and besides the wooden gate because one of our other walkers was just *electrocuted* when they accidentally touched it. What? After being assured that our group member was still upright and not in need of a defibrillator, we moved on. As we emerged on the other side of the poop hill, we all noticed the distinctive odor each of us was giving off. My boots and bottom part of my trousers were caked in…well, poop. Again, all part of the hill-walking experience. As we emerged on the roadway and started walking, I noticed a few landmarks I recognized in the distance. We had traveled the two-lane road around this part of the island numerous times so I thought I knew where I was. I was excited thinking we were probably an hour or so from the cottage.
Road walking requires a little extra vigilance when it comes to approaching vehicles. On such narrow roads, you oftentimes have to step up and off the pavement into the grass in order to safely allow cars to pass. So, while keeping half an eye on the route ahead, I was also sneaking peeks across the farm fields on my right. I have never seen such shades of green than I have on the Isle of Arran. Beyond the green was the sea and lots and lots of blue sky with just a few lazy clouds hanging about. Truly breathtaking.
I had fallen to the back of the pack again. But, eventually I caught up to what appeared to be a confab gathering amongst Coastal Way walkers, including my group. This was really the first leg of the Coastal Way where we had noticed other groups of walkers. We had passed a few groups on the beach and several had passed us. The groups had converged at the top of a dirt road that appeared to lead to the sea. As I came up upon the group, I noticed several were chatting – our leader, Dave Lawson, amongst them. Almost as soon as I walked up, I noticed a flurry of activity and then several started yelling and whistling very loudly. It would seem several walkers had continued down the dirt road mistakenly thinking that this was the right way back down to the coastal path. One of our walkers was among this group, having decided to move ahead on her own. The very loud whistling and yelling had no effect. At this point, our leader decided he needed to go after our stray walker. Given this would be a major delay, I decided to walk on knowing that with my slow pace, the group would most likely catch up to me very quickly. Doreen joined me still stewing about her “poo shoes” but cheery about the lovely weather. Actually, it was nice to have someone to walk alongside.
Remarkably, we were able to spot the Coastal Way markers on this stretch of the path and eventually did find ourselves headed back up toward the road. We walked for a bit, past the Lagg Hotel, which we knew was less than a mile from our cottage. But, we remembered what Dave had said about a wooded pathway that would direct us once again toward the beach and to our cottage and the day’s end point. When we found it, we were thrilled and it was very beautiful. It lead us straight to the back cliff where our cottage sat. The entire walking crew we had left earlier was already there plus the support crew. It was clear that Doreen and I had been the cause of some concern given we ended up about 30 minutes behind the rest. I am guessing the reason for this is because we did a couple of stints down on the beach path while the other group stuck strictly to the road after the incident where one of our walkers had taken a wrong turn. I was actually quite surprised at the level of emotion that greeted us when we got back. It would seem that Doreen and I were persona non grata for “leaving the group.” To this day, I don’t quite understand this, especially since the day before, I was left in everyone’s dust on the final five miles or so before arriving at our end point. There didn’t seem to be the same level of concern then. It was an island coastal path. How lost could we actually get? But, all that said, we had arrived safe but not quite sound. My eye had really begun to swell and I knew the morning was likely to bring some colorful bruising. But, it had been a beautiful day of walking and enjoying our seaside commune with nature – yes, even the poop!
We continued the scramble over yet more boulder sections. I got quite frustrated at this second section of boulders – as evidenced by my audible cursing. I could only assume this was our walker friend’s “feasible” section. In fact, it was not particularly feasible. It was dangerous and exhausting. The physical aspect of the scramble wasn’t too bad, but the mental energy required to pick your path carefully as to avoid a slip and a fall was the most difficult part for me. Slip and fall I did. Several times. But, fortunately, none of the falls resulted in any serious injury. Just more wee bruises!
After making it through the most difficult of the boulder sections, we found ourselves back on the beach. As we neared an area with several rocky outcroppings, we heard the most incredible sounds. There were groups of common seals sunning on some of the rocks ahead of us. They were actually singing. It was plaintive yet melodic crooning back and forth between the nearly dozen seals we saw on the rocks or swimming back and forth to scramble awkwardly atop the nearest rocks. It lasted for only a few minutes but the sounds of their conversations were so haunting.
As we neared Whiting Bay, we pushed back up off the coast and walked along some farm roads. We stopped for a quick look at Kildonan Castle. Such an odd shaped ruin, covered in ivy and teetering on the edge of a cliff. Small farm houses surrounded the ruin including the world’s smallest art gallery – appropriately named “the Wee Gallery.” There was only enough room for two people to take a look around inside and view the lovely paintings of Arran landscapes. I would guess there is no other place on earth quite like this wee place.
As we worked our way back to the main road into Whiting Bay, we had some incredible views looking back out towards the beach and across the sea. It was a steady climb and heart-pumping, but as we reached the top of the farm road to make our turn onto the main island road, we could see Whiting Bay in the distance. Our support crew had promised us a barbeque at Dave’s cottage. After so many hours of walking and eating protein bars and energy gel, a real honest-to-goodness cook-out sounded divine. We were definitely NOT disappointed. Our support crew had gone all out. There was grilled chicken, sausages, burgers and every type of side dish you could think of. There was wine, beer, cocktails and all our dog friends excitedly running to greet us as we trudged up the beach to the cottage. It was truly the very best ending to another glorious day on the Arran Coastal Way.
I looked around and counted myself so lucky to have the support and love of so many wonderful people including our four-legged friends. Just one more push tomorrow – another 12 miles – and we would complete the Coastal Way trek and then move on to my next few weeks in Scotland and more adventures. But, for now – time to eat, drink, be merry and enjoy the sounds of the laughter coming from our own little paradise on the back patio of our friends’ wee beach cottage. Survived another day… happily.
The Scotland Diaries: Trekking up Goat Fell
The Scotland Diaries: The Arran Coastal Way, Part 1