UK ADVENTURE

Sanny and Marky Mark head off into uncharted trail territory as they take a trip down the Ayrshire Coastal Path. Do they find trail treasure or are their timbers well and truly shivered?

WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY SANNY

“Sanny, how do you fancy riding somewhere a bit different? We’ve not covered anything remotely coastal in the mag for a long time,” opined Hannah. “Have you any ideas?” As luck would have it I had just the very ride up my sleeve, if you’ll excuse my odd mixing of metaphors. Just prior to lockdown, Marky Mark and I had planned a trip along a section of the Ayrshire Coastal Path. At some 100 miles long, it is the latest addition to the growing number of long-distance trails that are popping up all over the UK. A search of t’interweb using our fruit-based browser device revealed precious little about the route as a possible biking trip. Although waymarked, the slightly antiquated website makes it clear that much of the route isn’t suitable for bikes, warning that it is “essentially a practical ‘route’ rather than a formal laid-out path. Consequently – and especially in the south – it is primarily a route for wellequipped agile walkers, since many stretches along cliff-tops, up gullies, and over rough rocky shores are not suitable for cyclists, horses, or slip-on shoes.” Red rag to a bull (and having opted for Five Tens over my pair of patent leather loafers) that sounded like a challenge to me. What with one thing and another, our seaside adventure had to be put on hold for a few months. However, with the First Minister giving us the OK to travel more than five miles for exercise, we were all over the ride like mayo on frites. The first day of lockdown easing coincided with a decent weather forecast, thus the game was finally afoot.

A different world

Although geographically close to Glasgow, Ayrshire has a very different feel to the Second City of the Empire. Sprawling urban expansion gives way to rolling hills, fertile farmland and mile after mile of unspoilt coastline. For many years, families would decant en masse ‘doon the watter’ for two weeks every July during the Glasgow Fair holiday. They’d head to the Clyde Riviera to get away from the smoke and filth-billowing factories of the Clyde shipyards and heavy industry of the east end of the city. Driving down the coast with the welcome sight of the Isle of Arran looming, it’s not hard to see why the area was so popular before the rise of cheap package holidays.