The Whithorn Way isn’t marked, although some of the paths it follows are, and despite our instructions I anticipate wrong turnings. We have OS maps which ought to help. And Google Maps, too–depending on reception.
I neglected to charge my camera, unfortunately. At least I can take photos with my phone. Christine is still jet lagged and hasn’t slept in days. She’s having a nap now as the train speeds towards Ayr.
John Henderson, one of the folks working to revive the Whithorn Way, drove to Glasgow from Melrose yesterday to meet us and explain logistics as well as the history of this path. His explanation of OS map references is going to come in handy.
Later: We’ve stopped for lunch beside the Irish Sea. It smells like kelp and salt. There’s a holiday camp behind us, and a dog came to visit–not because he wanted our sandwiches, but because he wanted someone to throw his slobbery ball. We’re about to set off to climb the Heads of Ayr. Wish us luck.
Later: We didn’t climb the Heads of Ayr. We missed a way marker, or the way marker was missing, and we ended up walking along the beach beneath, over boulders and through deep sand. I hadn’t realized how slippery deep drifts of kelp on the shore would be. How could I know? I live thousands of miles from the ocean. Had the tide been in, though, we wouldn’t have been able to make our way through.
Eventually we found the trail again, which led us into a cow pasture. I noted how many wildflowers here have been introduced in Canada–silverweed and thistles and sow thistle–but also how many plants are completely unknown to me. The way out took us back down to the sea again. But we could see the village of Dunure in the distance, where we are supposed to head inland.
We are in the tea shop in Dunure now, deciding whether to call a taxi to Maybole, where we’re staying, or keep walking. My phone says we’ve already walked as far as we had planned, although we did get lost a couple of times and we wandered around in the Robert Burns museum for a while.
I think the decision is to take a taxi. Just as well: it was a very hard walk today, and we have more walking tomorrow.
My camera, surprisingly, still has a little juice left–but I will have to charge it tonight.
Irn Brus are finished; time to move along–in a taxi.
Later: Our B&B is in a Charles Rennie McIntosh-designed Arts and Crafts-style home, and the town boasts a pub and a restaurant–hopefully side-by-side. Today’s walking is more or less finished; tomorrow’s is the work of another day.
Still later: We had stout at the Maybole Arms, where the landlord kindly let us bring in fish and chips from the chippy across the road (his kitchen was closed) and gave us treats to give to his handsome dog, Loki. Then back to our lodgings for wine and fantastic British cheese as a dessert. Now it’s time to turn in; the full Scottish breakfast at eight o’clock requires a good night’s sleep before it can be faced with courage and appetite.