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A train station on the sea

Taking the last train possible in order to give us enough time to pack, we arrived in the dark in Stranraer at 10:20pm, way out on the pier at the terminal station. A black expanse stretched out to our right, which we identified as the sea, and a cool, calm night greeted us, as we headed towards Stranraer and past the ferry, soon to set off to Ireland, bustling with activity and the recipient of artic-lorries.

Aird Donald Caravan site, one mile along London Road, took pity on us, especially in our car-less state and were kind enough to let us camp, though we were still a bit early in the season and the ground would still be drying out. It was a beautiful conifer-lined campsite, and Alan enjoyed an hour outside the tent taking photos of the area bathed in moonlight before we settled down for our first night. It was a chilly night, and we found that our sleep was broken due to the cold. Showers available for 50p, but having showered on departure, we didn’t give them a test run. Besides, as the first campers, we’d probably have contracted Legionnaires Disease (knowing our luck with ticks from the West Highland Way anyway!).

A very local ride over the hammerhead Rhins

Good intentions as ever fell flat on their faces, and we did not arise at 7am as planned, but got up at 9:30 thereby getting a later bus than planned for Portpatrick, some 7.5 miles further West on the true West coast of the country – and where we shall start our epic tramping for the next 3 weeks. We gorge our cool new integral-hosepipe water bottles with clean water head back to the pier were the train came in last night, and on into Stranraer town centre, catching the 11:05 bus, from the coast road opposite the pier. The exceedingly local-feeling bus winds along narrow roads through lovely undulating countryside, skirting the edge of The Rhins heading north, before crossing over to Portpatrick on the West coast. Everyone on the bus knew everyone else including the driver, and passengers were dropped off at individual houses along route. Of course, we were a dead giveaway with our outlandish garb and packs, and it was nice to make conversation with these folk. As usual, it was pretty damn obvious we were going to attempt to walk across the country.

The Rhins – it used to be an island a long time ago is now connected to the mainland via a narrow low strip of land. On a map the area resembles the head bit of a hammerhead shark. If the sea level were to rise this area could become an island once again. Stranraer nestles in the neck between the Rhins and the mainland, on the coast of a narrow sea inlet; therefore being an ideal haven for a port, and the ferry to Ireland.

Portpatrick – an invigorating and airy cliff-top start to Scotland’s longest National Trail

Portpatrick was originally the main sea port for the Irish crossing, as it is the second nearest to Ireland on the British mainland, the closest being the remote Mull of Kintyre.  We alight at the harbour with it’s attractively painted houses, and Black Guillemot birds nesting in the sea walls. At the head of the harbour stands the old Portpatrick lighthouse.  We work our way round to the North side of the harbour, where the Southern Upland Way (SUW) starts. It is marked by an information shelter which tells you about Portpatrick, the wildlife, and the local shipwrecks you can see in the area. Some public bogs (toilets) provide a last opportunity for connection with civilisation before we embark. We turn to the stepped path up the cliffside, with its Juniper bushes.

The steps are inscribed with the story of the history of the earth and the mass extinctions. On the cliff-top, a slab of stone intones “Cockburnspath 212” with “Portpatrick” upside-down for those walking in the other direction! The cliff-side path takes in a hotel, a BT telecommunications plant and lastly, a golf course. Our views are somewhat obscured by a sunny haze – though on clear days you can reputedly see right over to Éire. Passing some dog walkers, we descend steeply through a pair of coves. The first, Port Moria or Sandeel Bay as it’s known locally, has a stony beach littered with large quantities of brightly coloured plastic pieces, including bottle tops. We climb steeply out of the littered cove by an adventurous-feeling little path which mounts the steep-sided rim of the bay, traverses the strip of land between and drops to the second cove, Port Kale.

On this beach are a pair of young scallywags throw stones at the sea, and a little building with a conical roof, which according to our guidebook is the landfall for a submarine telephone cable across the Irish Sea. Inland of the coves lies the lovely old wooded valley of Dunskey Glen, with, seawards, the the blue-green lagoon-like waters of Port Kale. On reaching the other side of the bay, we wonder how we are supposed to scale the steep cliff ahead. Soon the answer becomes clear – some very steep steps with a chain railing lead up a narrow break in the cliffs, with sharp drop-offs in places. This path is not afraid to live dangerously and we certainly appreciate that! The grassy summit of the cliffs above Dunskey Glen make a great spot for a first camper’s picnic. Chauvinistically enough, Jo prepares some carbohydrate-rich pasta on the Trangia, while Alan heads to the rocky cliffs for the delicate job of creating a 360° photographic panorama (check it out on the right!). Britain is dishing up an uncharacteristically hot and sunny Spring for us – a great start!

Post-luncheon, we follow the coastal path through sheep pasture; on a muddy section Alan’s legs fly out from underneath him, and he gets a good caking of mud on his arse and bag! This trail is wasting now time in showing us who’s boss Sea stretches out to the horizon. This cliff-top opening to a national trail is the best and most beautiful we’ve seen, and we’ve seen a few now. The wonderful narrow path winds on.

Killantringan and a sad departure from the West coast

Over a bump and we catch our first views of Killantringan Lighthouse, a very picturesque structure, painted in white and gold with outbuildings (these are now private homes, but the lighthouse is still operational and in use). Up and down the attractive spurs of coast, we comment to each other on how our new water carriers with straws are a big improvement – it’s refreshing and we don’t have to stop every 15 minutes to haul heavy water bladders from our rucksacks. At Killantringan Lighthouse we are going to head inland, which is quite a disappointment but it does bring us to the realisation that we must do a coastal trail at some point (e.g. The South West Coast Path National Trail). The next part of the trail is going to be on road, and we’re not very enthusiastic about that, but we are hopeful that other parts of the SUW trail are going to be as beautiful as this. The lighthouse rises above another lagoon-like cove, and we reflect that it would be nice to take a swim, but our laziness in getting up this morning has put a certain amount of time pressure on us.

Uphill, inland and away from the glorious coast on the road serving Killantringan Lighthouse, over a cattle grid and into the immediate stench of manure – yes, it’s also a great metaphor to suddenly having to walk on tarmac again. Up through Killantringan Farm, through bland, ugly pylon-festooned farmland – ugh! Alan focusses inward and talks enthusiastically about how compositions contributes to making a good photo – but really, doesn’t he just enjoy playing with his camera? We have added long johns to our kit for this trip and we’re testing them out, but with the weather being more like summer than early spring they really do just get too hot and uncomfortable.  An occasional farm vehicle rumbles by.

We turn off the road! It’s onto a fence lined track that’s signed for High Auchenree. We find that we have a lucky habit of bringing the sun, but the midges which are usually inevitable, this time seem to be absent. It must be true that the midges are very mild in spring, and we wonder why we don’t walk at this time more often; after all it’s a great time to see nature in bloom.

Waymerk treasure to be found on the Southern Upland Way!

A leaflet box on a thistle-embossed post looms up with leaflets on SUW accommodation, wildlife and… Waymerks. This is a sophistication unseen on any other Scottish national trail! We hear that the SUW is the most unpopular of the Scottish National trails and that there is an ongoing effort to increase the interest of it. What we’ve seen so far – or at least the coastal section – is among the best that we’ve seen on any of the walks!

We attain the viewpoint cairn on the top of the small hump known as Mulloch Hill which offers some fairly expansive views over the sea. But for the haze, we’re told we would be able to see Ireland, Ailsa Craig and the Galloway Hills.

We find our first Waymerk! A number of themed “kists” or chests have been concealed throughout the various sections of the Southern Upland Way by a collective of Borders artists. If you find such a kist, you may take from it a specially stamped coin called a waymerk, embellished with a symbol which is in some way related to the area you are in. The Waymerks Leaflet tells  roughly-but-no-more on which section of the trail each kist may be found, and who made it. A clue – the word “ULTREIA” – alerts you that a kist is nearby, but the clues and the kists are not always obvious. This first kist was fashioned by a poet, and features a poem which talks of the waymerks. We’ve chosen not to show any photos of the whereabouts of the kists here on AdventureJournal.com, as the founding idea behind them is that you must walk and be observant of your surroundings to locate them. This first waymerk depicts a bronze-age axe, the image inspired from an actual bronze-age axe found in the area.

We descend off Mulloch Hill through a pleasant moor, with good rambling, and electric blue (in this weather anyway) Knockquhassen Reservoir on the left. Frequent waymarkers on the SUW, although many rather aged, mark the route very well. Alan stops for his first “outdoor bathroom experience” of the adventure, and we reflect that we really need to invest in a ceramic trowel.

Looking backwards, in the distance, we can discern the sea inlet that divides the North of The Rhins from the mainland, at the end of which will be Stranraer. Drawing closer, we circumnavigate Stranraer in its great crescent bay from a distance on farm roads. Unfortunately, this section is smelly, ugly, protracted and boring! We feel that a better route through Stranraer could have been devised. Running out of water, we examine our map and realise that the next river we are going to cross is called Black Stank! It sure doesn’t sound suitable for drinking – even with our sterilisation tablets! Yellow gorse bushes have a habit of obscuring our views back to Stranraer, and Alan struggles to get a photo of the place. The trail gets worse before it gets better by following a section of road parallel to the A716, which is – you guessed it – noisy, ugly and boring. We find that water is a bit of a scarcity up on The Rhins, so would advise you fill up well in Portpatrick. We decide that the Black Stank watercourse is rather aptly named and decline to sample it! With 3 miles to go we head to Castle Kennedy in the sunset.

Picture-perfect White Loch for the night on the East side of The Rhins

Finally we leave the farmland, and the roads behind and the SUW follows a muddy track through beautiful deciduous woods, the orange glow of the sun dappling the forest floor, and many species of birds singing. The daffodils are coming up – Spring is a choice time for an adventure like this – it really is. Soon we find ourselves amongst the modern-build houses of Castle Kennedy, glowing light pink in the sunset. Beyond this town, we come to the White Loch which is a lovely place, where we leave the SUW and meander through the woods by the loch shore searching for a suitable place to camp.

It’s evening and the usual sore feet, hips and shoulders of the inaugural day of long-distance walking have hit home. We pitch tent and walk to a filling station outside Castle Kennedy with an outdoor tap for drinking water, Spar shop and toilets. With things like cheesy pasta, the shop may be suitable for camping food the next day though being a filling station, it’s kinda pricey. Despite the pains, we feel hearty and healthy and vital – being in the outdoors with 17 days of hiking in front of us is so utterly ace and evokes strong feelings of adventure!

So far, The Southern Upland Way definitely has its crap parts, like today enduring the smelly, unattractive farmland on hard surfaced roads. It does however redeem itself with some assuredly good sections, like today’s West coast which was (mostly) sublime, despite a volley of litter in one of the coves. The moorland section was also picturesque and fun to ramble over. We’ve walked 14 miles!

July 26th, 2010 | Category: Southern Upland Way | Subscribe to comments | Leave a comment | Trackback URL

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