The Arran Coastal Way is a long distance walking trail that goes round the coast of the Isle of Arran in Scotland's Firth of Clyde. I walked (most of) it using the tent to camp wild for several nights and to stay in campsites a couple of nights. It's a circular route obviously so you can start anywhere on that circle but the natural start and end is of course Brodick, where the ferry from the mainland docks. There's a lovely sculpture here of the route on the promenade. I did use the bus to bridge a couple of sections. On the northwest coast south of Catacol there was a long road walking section of over ten miles and though it was a quiet road, I neither fancied that nor had enough time. Going to Arran had been a last minute change of plan the night before and I didn't quite have enough days at my disposal. I also used the bus for a section on the south of the island. For part of this, there was no other option for the trail than walking on the road and another part was tidal which I would be crossing on an incoming tide so possibly forced up onto the road anyway. I felt the roads on the south of the island were really not suitable for walking as they were more like B roads with large vehicles and faster traffic. Luckily, Arran has a great wee bus service that links up the entire coast and which made possible skipping these two sections. So this is more a tale of backpacking and bussing the Arran Coastal Way!
It's always wonderful to start a trip with a ferry ride as you feel you have traveled to distant lands even before you step off the boat. This sailing from Troon crossed a sea like glass. I was heading to Arran in a long, dry, sunny spell of weather and the ferry was busy. I was worried the island would be too overcrowded for me but I really have no idea where everybody went once the ferry docked because I saw very few people on the trail itself except at a few honeypots. Even then, it wasn't crowded. It was busy of course as I walked Fisherman's Walk along the waterfront at Brodick. Arran's famous mountain, Goatfell rose above the beach. It's actually on the Coastal Way as an alternative route option but I hoped I'd have time to climb it at the end.
Instead of going up Goatfell, I wandered north through Merkland Wood on forest tracks above the coast before dropping down to the beach at the pretty hamlet of Corrie. Somebody here has a sense of humour because the moorings of the old harbour had been painted to look like sheep.
The route continued north from Corrie to Sannox and beyond here was a wonderful stretch of walking. The trail passed through lush, green woods between the blue sea and a sheer cliff face. It somehow felt prehistoric here as the atmosphere was of being lost in time.
Further north the woods receded and the trail followed a track along the shoreline at the bottom of steep, grassy slopes. My first camp spot was along here near Millstone Point, a fabulous spot looking over to the islands of Bute and Cumbrae. The rugged hills of the Cowal peninsula filled the further away horizon and the incessant calls of cuckoos filled the evening air around the tent. They were to be everywhere along the trail.
Next morning, I continued walking north passing another interesting rock escarpment with a series of small caves. The first one was very habitable with seats made out of plastic pallets that must have washed ashore and a view out to sea. Had I come across it the night before, I might have stayed there.
Soon the whitewashed walls of the empty cottage at Laggan came into view. What a delightful spot this was to sit a wee while. Old stone walls enclosed pasture beside the house and led your eye along the path to the building itself. Two big trees stood behind the house and shaded a small burn that tumbled down from the steep hillsides above. It was lined by bluebells and the green spikes of yellow flag irises, just about ready to open their flowers. I dumped the backpack and sat here for ages, resting against the walls of the house and gazing out to the dazzling, blue sea. I loved the tranquility and beauty of this old place.
It was as well I took a breather. I had decided that I would take the old hill path from here over to Lochranza rather than stick with the coastal path as I thought it would introduce some nice variety to the walk. It certainly did and it was a stunning path to walk but my goodness it was steep as it climbed up the hillside above Laggan. I felt I dare not trip or drop anything in case me or it tumbled all the way down the slope into the sea far below.
Though it was steep, it was an old path so it had been built with the foot traveller in mind. It contoured up the hillside, easing the gradient as best it could. Eventually, it leveled out and crossed a high bealach where the view opened up to the hills of Arran's northwest. It then dropped in a most pleasant way into Lochranza on a farm track lined by hawthorn and flowering gorse which filled the air with its coconut aroma.
The onward route from Lochranza to Catacol uses what is known as the Postie's Path. This was a rough but beautiful path that clambered through knarly, old birch woods that clung at an alarming angle to the incredibly steep hillside. It required a fair bit of care, not just in foot and hand placements but also to not pick up ticks which seemed to be rampant in the coastal woods.
Eventually, the Postie's Path popped out beside the pretty cottages at Catacol. I detoured from the route here with a lovely walk up into Catacol Glen to find a camp spot for the night. The riverside path into the glen passed through woods and close to a sand martin colony where the birds had made nesting holes in an old landslip. Steep hills rose above my camp spot but I had a sliver of a view to the sea which turned pink later in the setting sun. Large, flat rocks at the riverside provided a place to sit in the evening and to cook safely with the camp stove. This was a period of extreme wildfire risk and I was careful to find places to light the stove where there was no risk of it catching the bone dry vegetation.
The next day was another fabulous day of walking. Up at the crack of dawn, I caught the first bus south to avoid that long section of road walking. It turned out it doubled as the school bus and several excited children got off at the primary school a few miles down the road. I had a reason to get going early. My walk would start that day with a visit to the Machrie Moor Stone Circles. It's one of the most popular spots on the island so I wanted to get there ahead of any crowds. I managed that and was also lucky with lovely morning light. Machrie Moor is dotted with stone circles and burial chambers. The photo below is of the most striking stone circle at the site which dates from 2000 BC. It's an incredibly atmospheric spot, a sort of natural amphitheatre bounded by Arran's rugged hills on three sides and by the sea on the fourth side. The stones were beautiful but the walk was to just keep getting better.
From Machrie, the trail climbed above the bay and looked down on a landscape of scattered farms and fields divided by hawthorn hedgerows. The sun was warm enough to scent the air with the aroma of the pine trees as the path passed into their shade.
After a while, the trail dropped steeply to the sea through a narrow, rocky defile and continued along the bouldery beach, passing by the King's Caves. The caves were formed during the last ice age when the weight of the ice forced the land downwards so the sea was higher relative to the caves. When the ice melted, the land rebounded and the caves rose to their present position above the beach. The king reference is related to Robert the Bruce though it's doubtful that he ever stayed here. Such are legends!
Just beyond the caves was possibly my favourite thing on Arran - fossilised dinosaur footprints. They were made 200 million years ago by a large reptile walking across soft mud. What added to their appeal was the short walk there which passed through dense trees and overhanging vegetation, a place where you could have believed the dinosaur was still roaming.
After more rough walking, rampant wildflowers, ancient rock features and a modern golf course, I eventually found myself walking along the sandy beach at Blackwaterfoot. The village is quite small but was the biggest place since leaving Brodick so it had an air of activity about it. It was pleasant to sit a while at its centrepiece, the old harbour where the stone arch of the road bridge crossed the gently flowing Clauchan Water.
This sense of activity was quickly left behind as I continued walking south on a very rough section of trail. A narrow strip of land between the sea and a rock escarpment provided a route for the trail through large boulders and stunted trees. It was slow going but had a real sense of rugged remoteness and beauty. Bluebells, red campion and ragged robin were dotted through the bracken, the sea sparkled and the long, undulating line of the Kintyre peninsula filled the western horizon.
Eventually, the narrow strip broadened out to livestock fields and a track cut up through these to Sliddery where I caught the last bus of the day to Kildonan to avoid walking the busy road. This was an added bonus because the campsite at Kildonan was stunning. It was right at the beach with a view to the lighthouse island of Pladda and beyond that the granite rock of Ailsa Craig.
Next day, my walk turned north back towards Brodick. There was a choice of routes to either stay at the coast or take a slightly higher, inland route. I chose the inland route as there were a couple of interesting things to see here and better options that night for a wild camp. A track climbed high above Kildonan through farm fields and scented hedgerows. Soon it passed into forestry for the next few miles until the trees opened up again above Whiting Bay. What a view. The pretty village hugged a crescent of golden sand and just offshore the rugged little island of Holy Isle drifted in the sea.
Above Whiting Bay the trail passed by the Giant's Graves, a series of neolithic burial chambers. I do think the ancient people who built them chose the locations of their ceremonial structures very carefully, much like they must have done at Machrie Moor. The chamber had a clear view to the prominent top of Goatfell which had reappeared in the view once the trail had traveled north.
Just beyond here were the Glenashdale Falls which were still a beautiful sight despite the recent long, dry spell. A platform above the gorge provided a vertigo inducing view over the drop.
North from here, the trail gradually passed from plantation forestry into dense deciduous woodland which was alive with birdsong. Evening light created beams and shadows on the path ahead and a pretty little pond made a camp spot for the night. It was patrolled later by a roding woodcock, a strange but now well known sound for me when in the tent at dusk at this time of year.
My final day on the trail itself started early with a walk down into Lamlash to rejoin the coast. The village looked pretty in morning sunshine stretched out along the pebble beach.
A walk along the waterfront gave way to a beautiful path onwards to Brodick. It didn't have much space between the sea and a wooded escarpment but it passed rock pools and a pretty, secluded beach. It was wonderful. It passed into Brodick by zig-zagging through the fields and I was suddenly thrust back into the busy activity of the island's main town. But not for long.
Although it was already afternoon, the days are long in May and the route up Goatfell fairly straightforward, so I decided to head straight up the mountain. Most people climb Goatfell from Cladach, just outside of Brodick. However, as I'd had a much longer walk in from Lamlash, by the time I was on the top, I had the place to myself. The iconic view across the Saddle, Cir Mhor and the A'Chir ridge was bathed in warm evening light. The sea sparkled all around and there was barely a breeze to ruffle a blade of grass. I was glad that I'd climbed Goatfell at the end rather than the beginning as what a great way it was to end the walk and my time on Arran.
All that was then left was a very pleasant descent in the gathering gloaming to the camp site in Glen Rosa then a short walk into Brodick next morning for the return ferry.
