An Arran adventure
Sunday, September 3rd, 2006Last Easter, when a plan to explore Northumberland and the Scottish Borders hadn’t come to fruition, I came up with another idea: Scotland’s Isle of Arran. About this time last year, I fashioned a plan to head there on a Friday afternoon and stay until the following Sunday but nothing ever came of it. The whole idea of exploring Arran was planted in my head in the first place by friends cycling all around it. In the light of what I now know, I have to say that that would be a major undertaking.
Holy Saturday saw me catch the overnight National Express from Manchester to Glasgow (my first ever use of this service!). After breakfast at Buchanan Bus Station, I caught a Stagecoach Express service to Kilwinning from where I caught a connection to Ardrossan. From Ardrossan, I took the regular ferry to Brodick on Arran.
After dropping some of my things at my accommodation, I then started to make tracks towards Goatfell without knowing if I was going all of the way to the top: I would have been happy to go just part of the way. While Ardrossan had been basking in glorious sunshine, Arran was being subjected to showery rain and cloudy conditions and Goatfell was clagbound at times. Nevertheless, it was dry for most of my walk. While the weather was one source of concern, my hill fitness and vertigo were other concerns.
As it happened, I did make it to the windswept summit of Goatfell, something that supported one possible origin of its name. The only other weather issues were the amount of cloud about and the hail shower I got near the top. I also managed to lose the path and ending up clambering over rocks, scaring myself in the process (I didn’t mention my vertigo for nothing). A helpful fellow walker set me right (I’m a little ashamed to say that I went wrong in the first place) but the challenge of a snow-covered path presented itself and was overcome: it was more of a challenge on the way down but I steeled myself and got down. Apart from these and the encounter with a drenching shower on my return to my accommodation, the walk was an uneventful combination of road walking to Brodick Castle and the National Trust of Scotland path to the summit.
Next morning, glorious sunshine drew me out for a photography session on Brodick beach before breakfast, with Goatfell and its fellow hills acting as beguiling subjects. Tired legs and another heavy rain shower convinced that a bus trip around the island before my departure was a good idea. Ironically, the south of the island was basking in glorious sunshine: this is where most visitors go, apparently. It was the mountains that were inducing the showers and the north-south split of the weather was more than apparently. From Arran’s west coast, showers could be seen perambulating along the Mull of Kintyre; I wonder if some were crossing to Arran.
After my circumnavigation, the time came to return home. The return ferry to Ardrossan was packed, as the train from Ardrossan Harbour to Glasgow Central. Things became a little quieter from then on. A rail replacement coach got me to Carlisle and it was the railway that got me home to Macclesfield, with changes at Preston and Manchester Piccadilly.
After what was admittedly a flying visit, it should come as no surprise to you for me to say there remains more for me to see on Arran. The mountains are the main attraction for me but the west coast of the island also holds possibilities. Let’s see what happens.
