Day Seven: Girvan to Culzean

For the second day in a row I woke on a real mattress. I don’t want to disparage my camping mat or sleeping bag, which both do an excellent job giving me the best night’s sleep they can do in a tent. Still, a mattress that is wider than you shoulders and is located in an actual room is a genuine luxury when you’ve been camping for a few days.

The room at the Southfield Hotel also had an en-suite bathroom - no tramping across the campsite to the showers, and no heating water on your stove to do essential ablutions when wild camping.

Breakfast was great, and I was out of the hotel by about 9am. It was a good morning’s walking, with a sun that gave a more gentle 14 degrees centigrade than the record-setting hottest day of the year so far in the south of the UK. The path wound its way through the harbour side and past the Girvan golf-course before heading through a local farm to rejoin the shore that would be the main feature of most of the rest of the day.

I’m not sure if I’ve commented on just how much beef cattle farming there is in this part of the world. The Rhins of Galloway is famous for its beef, and the trend seems to continue up the coast into South Ayrshire. Most farms seem to involve cattle of some kind, and the majority of those are beef farms rather than dairy. There have been plenty of sheep, and even the occasional goat, but not an even spread by any means.

Along the shore today I was again aware of the large number of oystercatchers, who are often patrolling the edge of the water in flocks or calling as they fly in ones or twos. Ringed plovers tend to also move in pairs, usually running ahead of me into the shallowest waters of gentle waves.

Unfortunately I also came across dead wildlife today. A northern gannet, not dramatically diving for fish, but washed up on the high tide line. A seal, probably juvenile by its size, lying only a few yards beyond where I had stopped for my first break. Various smaller creatures. These may have all been natural deaths, as of course death is as much a part of life in the wild as it is elsewhere. It brought to mind, however, the fragility of shore life, especially when there is also clear evidence of human pollution: nylon ropes, litter, and even chunks of masonry.

As the miles passed on the beaches, Ailsa Craig began to lose its dominant place on the horizon as it gradually moved behind me, replaced ahead by the larger but more distance outline of the Isle of Arran, and the smaller pyramid of the Holy Isle.

After a few miles, the beach came to an end in a low but jagged rocky headland, and the path turned inland marked with signs saying ‘welcome to the world renowned Turnberry Golf Course.’ I’m a big fan of walking through links golf courses normally, and this one was very pleasant too, but the presence of the looming over-the-top hotel, massive flags, and sense of exclusiveness made this one somewhat uncomfortable. I kept up a brisk pace and exited onto the road, waiting to reach the small town of Maidens a mile up the road to take my afternoon break.

Maidens is a very sweet little town. I spent a very comfortable hour on the grass of the seaside park with a view over the little harbour. It was sheltered where I was, but the wind beyond the harbour was licking up the waves, which continuously broke over the farther, lower harbour wall.

It’s only a couple of miles from Maidens along the beach to the Culzean estate grounds. I heartily recommend it for a pleasant walk if you’re ever in the area. There are some signs on the beach itself, warning of soft sand and even quicksand in places, but they are not on the main path, and you would have to ignore the signs and go out of your way to find them.

The change to pine forest at the end of the beach is a welcome change to the last couple of days, but the shelter from the wind was even more welcome. There are lovely paths exploring the forest and small hill, and a clear and easy main path leading into the Culzean estate itself. Passing the swan pond, amazing adventure playgrounds, and walled garden, the estate gradually and continually builds up from managed grounds to something like Kew Gardens levels of beauty.

The Culzean Camping and Caravanning Club site is near the roadside exit to Culzean, inland and above the castle grounds, with wonderful views over the sea to Arran. I look forward to making my way down and hopefully catching a glimpse of the castle itself tomorrow. For now, I have my tent pitched in an excellent sheltered spot near the site facilities. This may not be a hotel, but it is certainly a luxurious camp site. I think I will sleep well again tonight.