What makes this little jaunt special is not so much the Kilwinning to Irvine bit which, let's face it, is a little bit tired and industrial, but the sandy stretch from the point at Irvine to the train station at Barassie.
The path follows the sustrans route as marked on the OS Map through the 'lang grey toon' (as the Kilwinning born Klondike poet Robert Service called it) and past the abbey and onwards to Irvine. It's straightforward enough and as usual, this early March mid-week morning, devoid of people. Once we reach Irvine the salt air opens the mind up. There's nothing quite like the great expanses of sky, sea and sand to pacify the mind. The self is launched into space (quite the opposite effect from the city which always reflects it back onto itself). This assimilation of the self into space, into the elements is a wonderful thing, and the two miles or so cycling along the beach (surprisingly easy, the sand is harder than you think) is a nutritional experience for the mind like no other. Granted, today, we were blessed with a slight jump in temperature and a blazing sun, but no matter the weather, it is always an enormous experience. Incidentally, to get to Kilwinning, I took the 11am train from Glasgow Central (the express whose first stop is Kilwinning) which arrived at 11.25am. A return ticket to Barassie, though not the cheapest in the world at eight pounds, is worth every penny. The journey itself, time-wise, took a relaxing two hours with the train from Barassie at 1.19pm, and so is one of the shortest routes on this blog, but by no means any less for it. Naturally, in the lighter months of spring and summer, you could extend the route to Troon or even Ayr, or equally, start the route at Glengarnock with the hills over Dalry to oxygenate. To be honest, I hadn't planned anything, and so this route was entirely spontaneous (some of the most memorable journeys are). I just found myself in the concourse at Central Station gazing up at the big black board with a flurry of destinations to choose from.
What'll it be today? I thought to myself. The hills, the coast, the moors, the sea?
And then:
God bless the trains! and all those who tend to them.
Approaching Irvine...
The Sherlock within tells me that the Americans are running this place.... The Harbourside Hotel in Irvine.
The sea... the sky.... a selfie of an altogether more subtle sort.
The brain blazing at the point....
The snowcapped peaks of Arran in the cloudy distance...
Barassie, with its white-washed villas and manicured greens has a slightly holiday-camp feel to it. Nevertheless, there are some lovely seafront villas with views...
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