Day Nine: Greenan to Troon

A non-stop nine miles through the urban centre of South Ayrshire.

Mum and Dad took me back to Greenan to begin this final day of the first chapter of my journey. They also accompanied me from the car park along the beach to the footbridge over the River Doon at Doonfoot.

Crossing the Doon, the path changed from a rural coastal path, to a route through Ayr, around its coastal industrial sites, and across the River Ayr. For much of its distance from here onward, the path also joined National Cycle Network route 7, which I’ll be switching to from Troon to take me to Glasgow.

After Ayr, the path follows a paved promenade along the beach until it returns to dunes and beach for a brief time to round the Bentfield headland arrive at Prestwick beach.

Prestwick is the town where my Grandparents lived for the whole of my life, and so I know it, and especially the beach there, extremely well. The promenade quickly resumes, and I had strong memories of walking along the sea-wall; past the toy-boat pond (now a little playground), the toilets (which sadly in Prestwick aren’t free to access. It’s only 30p, but I didn’t have my wallet, because I decided to walk with no pack: just a waterproof, snacks, and water bottle), and the adventure playground (which in my Mum’s day had been an open-air beach swimming pool).

Shortly after, the promenade ended, along with my knowledge of the area, and the path returned to the sandy beach between Troon and Prestwick. Half a mile on the beach led me to a turn inland to a nature reserve between two golf courses and a caravan park, and a bridge over the Pow Burn (which is the reason behind the detour inland: the burn is too deep to cross at the beach unless you are happy to wade).

Having crossed the burn, I returned to the beach and walked the final two miles along it to the turning to my brother’s house, which is wonderfully located only a few hundred yards from the seafront. Just as I reached Troon, I was loudly reminded that travel is an ever present reality, essential to how we relate to each other: a cargo Boeing 747 took off from Prestwick and flew right over me on its flight path, climbing slowly and noisily.

Troon ironically holds few memories for me, despite being the town where I’m from. I was was born at the hospital in neighbouring Irvine, and lived in Troon for a couple of years before moving north, but I have no memories of the place then at all. Everything I know of Troon has been from passing through on the train, being shown where my parents had lived, and from visit my brother since he moved here a couple of years ago.

With those last nine miles, so different in makeup and experience from the previous eighty miles, I have reached the end of the first chapter of this journey-cum-pilgrimage. It feels like a pretty big deal, to be honest. I’ve never walked a long-distance path alone before, and I’ve had to learn how to manage on my own, to manage my mental health, and crucially how to manage listening to my body and pacing. I hope I can keep up the lessons learned as I prepare to engage in the next chapter, which will be a very different experience.

Tomorrow I will start the first chapter of this journey where I will be swapping hiking for cycling. I’ll also be turning inland, not just for a mile or two to avoid a geographical feature, but for a deliberately long time. Until I reach Fort William at the end of the third chapter, a hundred and fifty miles hence, my route will be far from the sea.

My packing has been reordered into panniers, I won’t be camping for a couple more days, and I’m going to literally spend far less time on my feet. Significant elements will be different; yet some of the actual experience and time may be similar. I look forward to finding out.