Backpacking Ayrshire Tussock Territory

It's not a huge distance between Lochwhinnoch and Largs, but the bit of random wilderness in-between is as rough as a badger's bum, not to put too fine a point on it. Three of us (Me, JJ and Margaret) plus LTD made the journey, probably possible in a day for a fit local who knows the way, in just three , or was it four, days. Let's call it three overnights and two small parts of two other days.

We began well with a sunshiny walk from the station into the fleshpots of Lochwhinnoch, the first and only of which presented to us as "The Corner Bar". We investigated. It was occupied by some quiet locals and a friendly landlord who let in the dog and served us with jinkies. But there was no time Toulouse. We had to press on. So we did. For about four miles into the tussocks and found, on a small but dry ridge, a nice little camping spot, quite close to some nice water. The night was quiet.....

 ......   but the day had dawned drizzly. We braved the wind and mist and bashed on up the track, bagging Misty Law a bit later and then, into bigger, better and badder tussocks for East Girt Hill, Stake Law and West Girt Hill. We couldn't help but notice the use of the Yorkshire dialect in the hill-naming system; "Yongerthill" of course, being the name of almost any biggish hill in the Yorkshire Dales....

We bashed on bravely becoming wet. LTD expressed his disgust at being dragged out in such conditions by sheltering himself in any patches of juncus available at all opportunities available. He began to look quite fed-up. As rufty-tufties, though, we complained not  but soaked up some more contours. Hills fell beneath our soggy boots - High Corby Knowe, Long Hill and Box Hill. It became three o'clockish. We sought out  the Gogo and found a flat and green spot next to Gogo Lodge, a disappointing circle or two of stones, but adjacent to nice water and the only really untussocky spot for miles and miles and mi....

The morning was better. It was now dry but perishing cold. The real pre-TGO training experience kicked in. We had to bash on into the mosses bogs and general rough-stuff before us. We bravely breakfasted not considering the efforts ahead. These were: Feuside Hill, and, after a chat with a man in wellies with a small dog, Paton Hill, Rigging Hill the A760 and the local crematorium which we first identified as a visitor centre, probably selling bacon barms and cups of steaming hot tea. I expect that there were indeed hot spots within, but nothing for us. We joined wind-farm city and bagged, with aching legs, Brown Hill and Blaeloch Hill, identifying a pitch or two for the tents beside a very small and unnamed beck. Me and Margaret climbed Kaims Hill after a brew whilst JJ attended to whatever he attended to within his akto. We had a misty view of the Isle of Arran. The weather improved and LTD managed to luxuriate in the warmth of the sun-lit tent whilst I attended to reducing tomorrow's pack weight by finishing off the scotch.

In the morning sunshine, we descended to Fairlie and wandered along the Ayrshire Coast Path to Largs where we met the brother of my first NHS boss from between 1970 and 1975 (ish). How we came to this information seems unlikely, but it was , in fact, the result of JJ's habit of talking to strangers. We repaired to the Douthy Neebours pub where LTD had a sleep by a radiator and I had a steak and sweet-potato fries. And some liquid carbohydrates.

We eventually parted at Glasgow Central Station after catching the train from Largs, with a promise to do it all again soon... my plans for which are going a bit awry at the moment...  Cracking company, though, thanks to JJ and Margaret,  and personally, I had a whale of a time, although LTD experienced some periods of abject misery in the driving drizzle. He never remembers these for long, though. I can recommend these hills for a taste of wilderness, though and there appeared to be lots more hills to be bagged and routes to be done. I can't think why these lumps don't appear in more walking mags...