Lochranza, Wild North of Arran, Scotland by Motorhome

The sun has continued, weirdly, to shine on Scotland in mid-May. The air is still, no sideways wind blasts to be felt. And the midges have failed to materialize (maybe, last night a few campers were sporting fetching head nets). The red deer and otters on the other hand, have chosen to reveal themselves!

The path into ‘town’ from the campsite crosses the golf course where the deer live, apparently, so they’re are easy to spot. ‘Town’ is in inverted commas as it’s mostly a few houses strung around the bay. Not that the deer appear welcome in said houses, most of which are surrounded by high fences like a low-budget Jurassic Park.

The otters are a tougher nut to crack. We’ve spent a few days scanning the coastline for them. It took almost a 10-mile run for Ju to get a sighting. Running along the coast road she kept almost catching a group of cyclists who’d periodically come to a half. When she finally did come level, they pointed into the sea. They were keeping pace with a trio of otters. Ju got to enjoy these beautiful animals, catching fish and generally fooling about in the sea (the otters, not Ju).

Feeling chastened by Ju’s running efforts I headed out for what turned out to be a full-on fell run on the sea path around the headland to the ‘Cock of Arran’. On the way you pass Hutton’s Unconformity, a curious area of rock where the age of the world was revealed to almost certainly be more than the accepted 4,000 years gleaned from the Bible.

A sign marks the spot, as anyone other than a geologist would walk right on by. Two slabs of rock rise at angles to one another. The lower one is older. The 18th century geologist Hutton realised it must have been laid down, tilted sideways, eroded and a new set of rock deposited on top. Something which probably took quite a while to happen. There are a few unconformities across the UK, this one isn’t unique. But it happens to be all of two miles from where we’re camping so we went for a look-see.

The ‘Cock’ it turns out, is so named as it once resembled a chicken. I was expecting some deeper rooted Gaelic meaning, but no. There was no sign for it, but I’m guessing it’s a slab of wind-sculptured red stone standing just above the sea.

Before arriving here, the path had decided to become a non-path. A 300m-long stretch of huge boulders threatens to steal your desire to continue existence. Passable but slow going as you seek safe footing, no-one wants to turn an ankle out here.

A couple of miles further on through fern and occasionally boggy bits, the route turns inland and heads relentlessly upwards. I could barely run this part, hands on knees as the views over the Sound of Bute become increasingly superlative.

I met a few groups of hikers out enjoying the sun and scenery before starting to descend back to Lochranza. The road back towards Corrie and Brodick comes into distant view. Running through Glen Chalmadale, it’s one long strip of rough-looking tarmac climbing up and up over the glacier-cut landscape. I wonder how hard these roads were to build in the first place, in such an isolated spot.

We’ll probably be heading that way in a couple of days. I say ‘probably’ as we’re still clueless as to our itinerary. A small ferry leaves from here in Lochranza from spring to autumn. It cruises off every 90 mins, increasingly miniature as it approaches distant Kintyre. £20 for our motorhome and us and no need to book.

You just turn up and queue in the numbered parking spots above the dock. So, we could very easily head west. A sign near the ferry dock remembers the lost lives of submariners in HMS Vandal, which sadly sunk off the coast here.

Lochranza itself is an idyllic spot by the way (although the internet is proving frustratingly rubbish, suggesting we should wean ourselves off it). The campsite is busy but well-managed, quiet and pleasant. The 20-minute walk to the sea is along grassy paths. The ruined castle is photogenic and carries lots of information plaques, bringing it to life. There are a couple of restaurants, although one apparently suggesting book two whole months ahead. A sandwich shop stands handily next to the ferry queue.

Other than that, there’s nowt but scenery. While we’ve enjoyed it massively, we’ve not managed to eat it. I’m very glad we’ve stocked up on the way here at Pirnmill. Oh, and there’s a distillery. Neither of us drink whiskey (it’s proven my downfall in past times), but if you’re into the peat-coloured nectar you’re in luck here.

Lochranza might not hold us for much longer but Arran is proving hard to leave. We’ve not quite circumnavigated it, that’s our excuse to snub the ferry. Glen Sannox, more hiking and possible Golden Eagles are calling us onwards. The mixture of campsites and off-site parking suits us. Although the island is busy, and the campsites are hard to get a place in, there are several service points and we’ve managed fine so far. 

Maybe we’ll head around the rest of the island, park up in Brodick, restock the food cupboard and come back this way. Or get the ferry back over to Troon. Hmmmm. We’ll need to decide at some point. Our copy of Slow Road Scotland isn’t helping, as nowhere Martin describes looks as enticing as here. The outer Scottish islands excepted, with their Caribbean-but-cold beaches, but they’re a right job to get out to.

If you’ve any suggestions on areas of Western Scotland we shouldn’t miss, feel free to give us a nudge.

Cheers, Jay