Moonlight and dark, empty windows at Greenan.

As the last of the sunset faded to darkness we continued...

...paddling in the moonlight under...

...the grey walls and dark empty windows of Greenan Castle, which has stood...

...on this rock for hundreds of years, guarding the southern approach...

...to the town of Ayr .

We slipped silently and unobserved through the darkness and pulled our kayaks over the sands of Seafield.

Our wonderful short winter day had finally come to an end.

It ended in a blaze of glory.

Shortly after we left Drumbane, the skies grew darker and at first we thought that there would not be a sunset but...

...gradually a little chink appeared on the horizon to the SSW.

At first it was only a few embers but it grew...

...until the short winter day ended in a blaze of glory.

The delights of Drumbane.

With Ailsa Craig on the horizon and the dramatic sky of an approaching cold front behind us...

...we paddled north past the magnificent headlands of the Carrick coast.

With the flooding of the tide we were able to paddle over the now submerged reefs...

...that guard the delightful tidal bay at..

...Drumbane with its...

..eponymous burn and falls.

What a location to toast the sunset with a snifter of The Singleton.

Keeping time at Dunure.

 We made our way back to the kayaks and...

 ...slowly got ready for our return trip to Ayr.

 The time had slipped by all too quickly and the sun was now fast sinking...

 ...behind the dark walls of Dunure castle. The empty windows of the keep briefly flashed with the full light of the sun as our kayaks slowly drifted past.

 The approaching cold front had made significant progress towards us and we were admiring the cloud strata when we spoted something wobbling about at sea. It was difficult to judge the scale but we thought it looked like a stand up paddler.

 We nipped out to investigate...

 ...but  it was Jennifer in the Taran 16 who got there first. It was a make shift buoy to mark the position of the Dunure Inn Christmas lobster keep.

Shortly after we left the lobster keep, the Dunure Inn landlord motored out to it in his boat.

One of his guests had either ordered a lobster for dinner or he was checking to see if we had nicked his lobsters!

All quiet in Dunure.

 It was high noon but the low winter sun had hardly made it above the hills behind...

 ...the former fishing village of Dunure.

At one time, the harbour would have been packed with herring smacks but nowadays it is very quiet: there are just a few small prawn and lobster boats.

 The villagers are very proud of their harbour but we were more interested in...

 ...their pub.

 After the passage of a little time, Phil asked the barman why the public bar was so quiet...

....

Between fronts at Fisherton.

We turned to the south once again and soon our attention was caught by...

...the swollen Drumbane Burn, which spilled out of its small gorge and tumbled over the rocks into the sea beside us.

 The breeze picked up as we approached Fisherton Point and the iconic silhouette...

...of Ailsa Craig dominated the empty horizon. Clouds building behind the Craig forecast the approach of the next front. We were making the most of the brief calm in a short winter day.

A torrent from a Taran.

 After our early repast...

...the sun finally rose over the hills as we were getting ready for the second stage of our journey.

 We paddled south towards the cliffs of Carlandcheek where the swollen Lagg burn...

...cascaded from the heights in a torrent to the beach below.