A saltire of colour on the slopes of Ailsa.

The upper slopes of Ailsa Craig were covered with a profusion of bluebells and sea campion.

The dazzling display of blue and white matched the colours of the Saltire, the Scottish flag.

Continuing upwards we came to the source of the castle well. Traditionally, it is called the Garry Loch (though the OS map calls it Garra Loch). It had nearly dried out and was surrounded by a profusion of marsh marigold flowers.

Above the Garry Loch we came to a bluebell covered slope that I found one of the toughest on the ascent. The bluebells hid a maze of rabbit burrows, many of which had collapsed. My walking poles not only provided stability they were excellent probes.

As we perspired our way upwards we emerged onto the upper slopes which were covered with short grass. There were many rabbits which hopped away as we approached. My brother Donald and I had started our mountaineering days together in the 1970's so I was very pleased to accompany him on this return to a small hill after a break of 8 years.

As we ascended the sea fog began to lift revealing a clear view of the south end of Arran and its mountains beyond.                 

 Then at last, the trig point on the summit! I literally clutched it for support and...

...caught my breath enjoying the view of our landing spit some 340m below.

I felt elated at being on the summit.  Although I might not look too happy in the photo, that was because my right knee was by now rather sore. Donald's photo shows me standing with my weight over my "good" leg. I really must try to  improve my posture.

Now we just had to get back down!

Bluebells, NSAIDs and guano on Ailsa Craig.

I had brought two walking poles and I was determined to get up to Ailsa Craig castle which is about a third of the way to the summit. After a steep climb the final approach was through this field of bluebells.

The lighthouse and the spit we landed on gradually receded as we gained height (somewhat painfully in my case).

 The temporary spit is a remarkable and beautiful feature of this side of Ailsa Craig.

On reaching the castle I took another couple of NSAIDs for the pain in my bad knees and decided to try and make the summit. I had to give up hillwalking in 2004 but I had spent 5 days a week in the gym during the last winter and was determined not to let all that effort (and the pain of knee surgery) go to waste. Donald gave me a punt up the steeper bits and my shoulders heaved on the poles and took the strain off my quadriceps. Eventually...

 ...we arrived at the well, which...

...supplied water and guano to the castle. The inhabitants might have needed a rather different type of medication than NSAIDs.

In spitting distance of Ailsa Craig

On approaching the east corner of Ailsa Craig, we saw that a spit of fresh gravel had formed since we were last there only 6 weeks before. This spit often appears after strong NE winds.

We decided to land here as the stones were smaller than those on the main beach and were not covered in evil green slime.

 We enjoyed our luncheon on this stunning ...

 ...location before Donald and I set off...

 ...along the spit for the path to Ailsa Craig's summit.

At first I thought this was an eider duck's nest  on the stones beneath the lighthouse.
However, I thought their eggs were a uniform pale colour so I am not sure.

Once on the Ailsa Craig mainland, we left Phil and Jennifer to mind the boats and have a swim.

I lift my eyes to the isle of the birds.

The bank of fog slowly slipped away revealing Ailsa Craig in all her glory. As we approached this great rock in the Clyde...

 ...we felt a sense of increasing wonder, both at the cataclysmic volcanic event that created it and and at the teeming bird life that was swirling in the skies round it. Donald had taken the opportunity of the good weather and our company to make the crossing in his little boat.

 As we drew closer we could not help but lift...

...our eyes as the island and...

...its birds towered above us.

We paddled steadily on but with a readiness to duck.

After our wonderful meeting with Alistair Wilson, founder of Lendal Paddles, Phil, Jennifer, Donald and myself set off across a glassy sea in our respective craft and...

 ...soon left the Ayrshire coast behind.

Jennifer was enjoying the Cetus MV and was just about to streak ahead when all of a sudden, the VHF burst into life on Channel 16:

"Sécurité, sécurité, sécurité. All vessels, all vessels, all vessels, this is the Royal Navy. Live firing will commence at 0900 BST until 1100 BST in exercise area 73, Ailsa."

This generated some alarm but I knew that "Area 73 Ailsa" lay to the SW of Ailsa Craig and we were approaching the isle from the SE. However, a bank of sea fog rolled in, blotting out Ailsa Craig from view. We paddled steadily on but with a readiness to duck. All of a sudden, rounds of heavy automatic fire echoed out of the fog, Yikes!

Then at 1100 the firing stopped and HMS Mersey emerged from the mist to pass behind...

...Ailsa Craig where she reappeared with a surfaced submarine alongside. We continued on our way undisturbed by further shell fire.

Getting the Lendals out at Lendalfoot.

On the 24th of May we convened at Lendalfoot in Ayrshire. Jennifer, Phil and I were in kayaks and we were joined by my brother Donald in his little fishing boat.

 Donald had arrived long before the kayakers to give himself time to get to the water.

 Our destination lay beyond the reefs of Lendalfoot...

 ...we were bound for Ailsa Craig, about 14.5km offshore. Jennifer soon set off with her Lendal Kinetik Wings.

Suddenly we were joined by another paddler. It was Alistair Wilson who lives nearby. Alistair was the founder of Lendal Paddles, which he ran with his wife Marianne, until they recently retired to Lendalfoot. He was paddling a 36 year old K1 kayak with a modern Lendal Kinetik Wing, on a cranked shaft at about 45 degrees feather.

I first heard of Alistair in 1964. I was at primary school in Ayrshire and we were all so excited that we had our own local Olympic athlete. I remember the whole class drawing Alistair in his "canoe"!

Alistair represented the UK in both the 1964 and 1968 Olympics. In 1964 he came 8th in the men's K1 1000m race. Almost 48 years later, he still has fine style. With the 2012 Olympics nearly upon us, it was a really great privelege to meet Alistair on his home turf!

The pleasure of weighing anchor in your own backyard.

As we waited at Brodick pier for the ferry back to Ardrossan, there was a change in the air. High cirrus clouds streaked across the sky...

...and at lower level, thick clouds from the NW spilled over the rocky ridges of Arran.
 

The MV Caledonian Isles arrived bang on time and...

...we trollied our kayaks onto the car deck. Before we left Brodick, we were in the cafeteria enjoying chicen patia, rice and nan bread washed down with some Arran Blonde Ale.

We had just not long left Brodick, when the forecast wind suddenly got up with a vengeance. We were very glad we had left Kildonan early that morning. This NW wind also explained the increasing northerly swell we had encountered after leaving Holy Island.

As we approached Ardrossan, the ship's Tannoy announced "Would all drivers and their passengers please return to the car deck." We assumed that this included kayakers.

All too soon we were back in the car park and our Arran adventure was well and truly over.

136km may not sound much as great expeditions go, but for us it was a wonderful escape. It was one of the best holidays we had ever had and all the sweeter as it was in our own backyard. It was also in the land of our ancestors!