Paddy's Milestone

"Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats."

Wind in the Willows -Kenneth Grahame

We don’t know much about sailing. However, over the course of our travels these past few months we have come to the realisation that sailing is an unfettered joy, and spending a prolonged period out on the water is beautiful and relaxing, as long as it’s on someone else’s boat.

When the weather is right it has to be the most rewarding mode of transport available to man. It’s slow, to be sure. Taking seven hours to go 25 miles isn’t exactly efficient. But you aren’t strapped in your seat like you are in an airplane, a bus, or a car. You can get up and move around like you can on a train and assuming the boat isn’t tiny; you have more room to sprawl out in than a first class sleeper carriage.

The usual means of transport between the Scottish Islands is by the state subsidised Caledonian MacBrayne. For our journey today we have gone private as our end destination is an uninhabited volcanic plug out with Cal-Macs route itinerary.

This meander over water takes us across the Firth of Clyde to Ailsa Craig which lies nine miles offshore from Girvan on Scotland’s south west coast. Standing proud at 1,109 feet the islands sea cliffs are home to the third largest gannetry in the UK - comprising 36,000 pairs - with a supporting cast of guillemots, razorbills, black guillemots and increasing numbers of puffins.

Arriving at Girvan harbour at 11am we have no time to obey the usual parking protocol procedures as we quickly abandon the car on the pier and rush aboard the old fishing trawler (our cruise ship for today) which has a full accompaniment of passengers on board awaiting our arrival. As we leave the safety of the harbour the gentle breeze created by our slow passage through the flat calm sea offers a welcome respite from the intensity of the sun. Slowly the Ayrshire coast opens up behind us and ahead of us the island begins to grow larger as the gentle putt-putt of the engine aids us through the deep blue waters creating a marble effect across our bow supplemented by the suns polarizing assistance.

As we circumnavigate the island, evidence of the islands redundant mining industry looms large with the rusting decay of abandoned rails and bogies. Geologically, the island was formed through volcanic activity and boasts large quantities of granite, which for a time was mined and shipped back to the main land where it was shaped and polished into curling stones. Mining began sometime in the early 19th century and ended in the early 1970s.

Ailsa Craig is also known colloquially as "Paddy's Mile Stone" as it lies halfway between the cities of Glasgow and Belfast is a well known marine navigational hazard giving home to a solar powered lighthouse. Initially, the lighthouse used oil-burning lamps, but by 1911, these were replaced with incandescent lighting. Fog signals were discontinued in 1987. Then, in 1990, the lighthouse was automated, and a refurbishment took place in 2001, when it was converted to run on solar power.

Coming back to the mainland it becomes apparent that some of the elderly trippers on the boat are beginning to feel a tad uncomfortable under the unforgiving sun and absence of the expected comfort stop on the island. These feelings of discomfort pass without notice by the skipper and his mate who has sprawled his carcass out on the bow of the tiny vessel while blowing out more smoke from his countless cigarettes than the boats old engine can muster under a full head of steam. Clearly these two pirates of the modern age are lamenting the decline of the local fishing industry by trawling the pockets of visiting tourists. They offer no interpretation facilities as the customers are left to share information and stories amongst themselves and damningly they offer no toilet facilities on a 4hr boat trip populated by elderly customers. The tricorn hat, long coat, trusty cutlass and obligatory parrot on the shoulder would have been more suitable attire for these two as we look on with sympathy at the seniors’ discomfort.

As we arrive back at Girvan, the harbour closes around us like embracing, welcoming arms and we ponder on Kenneth Grahame’s enthusiasm for all things nautical and wonder if some of the elderly passengers who shared this trip with us would agree with his musing.