A Date With Storm Dennis. Ayrshire Coastal Path in Wild Conditions.

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A view of Saltcoats above. The two big named storms this winter have occurred within a week of each other. As I've been flooded myself, many years ago, by burst pipes, after -15 below temperatures, when I was off exploring elsewhere, I can understand first hand some of the misery, and ongoing fear of re-occurrence these storms have left in their path, with widespread flooding, destruction, and ruined homes and business properties across the UK on the news currently. On a much smaller scale I've lost several fences to the storms in past years but that's more of an annoying inconvenience rather than a soul destroying blow. I've also helped in past decades with year by year house clear-ups after flooding as part of my old job, moving families to temporary accommodation then disposing of damaged furniture, ruined carpets, and electrical equipment all over the city, although that was caused by empty unheated houses bursting pipes in the various half deserted council estates in extremely cold winters. Weather/Nature at times can be cruel... and the ultimate top predator.

However, as a keen amateur photographer I still find big storms exciting and compelling. Like rock climbing, fast cycling, or skiing they can make you feel intensely thrilled and alive. So it was down to Helensburgh on a Sunday morning I journeyed to meet the first elemental force of the winter- storm Ciara, posted last week. And a week later, another Sunday, I motored down to this place, Saltcoats, to meet storm Dennis. The Harbour area here.

The 'Castle'. Saltcoats. My intention was to park here then walk a small section of the Ayrshire Coastal Path, a long distance coastal route running from Gen App (near Ballantrae) to Skelmorlie (near Largs) - a distance of 100 miles approx (160 km) It usually takes under a week for experienced, fit, fast walkers putting in 20 mile days or around 10 days at a gentler pace. I've done most of it in handy day sections- either in late Spring or early Summer, when it's at its most beautiful and abundant... green fields rich with happy lambs, cliffs, coves, and valleys covered in yellow gorse, white blackthorn, or a myriad display of fresh green leaves unfolding on the trees. And miles of hopefully hot golden beaches.

As a contrast to that though it's also very impressive in wild weather- a magical alchemy of brooding skies, wind, wave, and passion mixed together in a tall glass. A heady drink for the bold. Flat rocks near Saltcoats here.

Although a seen better days, down at heel, coastal resort- like many throughout the UK no longer attracting the two week stay holiday tourists of old, Saltcoats still has its attractions and enthusiasts. I'm definitely one of them. Not as a child in a family group in the 1960s- it was too crowded back then on sunny days- we/I preferred Bute, Girvan, or Largs for summer holiday outings but certainly now when it's quieter but still used. A large free car park and nearby toilets for one thing. Great beach and pleasant coastal walks/ cycling routes in both directions leading from it. This is looking across Saltcoats towards Ardrossan, gulls hunkered down by the wind strength. As you can see here, after the beach walk you find a small hilltop castle, a monument, good views, several inland paths/cycle routes, and back street mystery allure.
So I did this section first.

More open to a larger expanse of sea than Helensburgh the wind gusts here proved stronger by at least ten miles an hour and it was harder to walk in a straight line. Luckily, over the years, I've put on some helpful ballast, so although rocked and shaken, frequently blown sideways along the beach and pavements, I stayed upright at 14 stone, dead weight on both paws, while small pitiful dogs took to the air, at the end of elastic leads.

Even Saltcoats car park looked frisky under the onslaught of wind... spray blasting well inland at full high tide. Luckily, I picked a sheltered spot for my own vehicle. With experience comes wisdom. A truer word was never spoken. Fly little doggies and tiny children- always liked Peter Pan. Real life wind speed instead of fairy dust lifting them upwards towards the heavens, frantic parents pulling them back down again. Spoilsports!

Next, I went in the other direction, past the car. heading for the railway line and the concrete esplanade beside it. I was intending to follow the beaches here past Stevenston and Ardeer to the mouth of the River Irvine but the wind was so strong it would have been an epic. Also high tide was around 4pm and as as you can see here coming back then would have meant a real soaking. A few years ago they renovated the concrete esplanade here and poured many tons of washing machine sized boulders onto the sands below it but it doesn't seem to have made any difference to the amount of spray at full high tide.

If anything it seemed worse, more widespread now across the whole area... but maybe that was just the strength of the wind. Storms do seem to be getting more powerful with the seas heating up, giving them more energy.

I found myself fascinated by the various gulls on this walk. Most birds avoid flying in winds as strong as this but certain gulls seem to relish the challenge, just like certain humans love wild weather. Extreme weather really does make you feel alive. Grey, listless weeks of day long rain find me sofa bound during weekends in the house unless I have to go somewhere but conditions like this find me buzzing and motivated to get out- keen to do my 10,000 steps in a day. Admittedly, half of them were sideways or braced against a pole. Where's that rope when you need it!

When you see gulls in a city park they always seem greedy scavengers, first to the bread, but then you realise many of them still travel back out to the coast every evening, a long procession a hour before dusk, heading over the Erskine Bridge, using the River Clyde for navigation back out to sea. Daily long distance commuters travelling into the city to survive as gull numbers worldwide have almost halved- a combination of pollution, fish stock numbers decreasing,  and loss of habitat.

When you see them down the coast in a storm however, gliding, almost effortlessly, in 70 mile an hour winds you appreciate how graceful they are, skimming enormous waves to dip down and catch a meal, or hovering like a kestrel, stationary in the air, to enable them to pick out any small crabs or tiny fish broken by the sea. Like recessions or upheaval for humans, tempest weather can also be an opportunity for predators hoping for a meal, rich pickings for some, able to ride them out in comfort from above, in gleaming towers or on the wing, swooping down when the opportunities arise.

Although alone on my walk you are rarely alone in nature as the gulls kept me company the whole way along the coast. This has always been my church. The natural world around me my only religion in life.

Gulls on the storm.

Both of us enjoying the conditions. Although there must come a point where even their acrobatic flying skills are outmatched by sheer wind strength.

A life on the wing is not without risk, as the old, the sick, or the plain unlucky can pay a heavy price during storms.

An old wire fence on the way to Stevenston beach. If this was in a modern art gallery as an installation piece it would probably be worth thousands of pounds but here its free. I call it 'WIND POWER.'

Around a dozen separate panels next to the railway line adorned with 'stuff'. Slightly disconcerting when I noticed several items of flat metal stuck to the fence as well, like flattened beer cans and a thin flat lightweight rusty spike. Not good things to meet in the air at 80 miles an hour if your head just happened to be in the way. It's certainly one method to clear plastic and rubbish off the beach.

Other seabirds were also out scavenging for food. Three small waders in this photo... perfectly camouflaged to blend in with their surroundings.

I never made it as far as Ardeer Beach this time as it was hard work fighting the wind and I wanted to return and get past the concrete esplanade section before full high tide as then it would be impossible to avoid getting wet. I was still dry and wanted to stay that way.... just for a change.

Juvenile black headed gull keeping me company along the coastline.

And back to the ancient walled town of Saltcoats, named after the sea salt extraction beds which became a strong feature of this coastal resort during the 1700s and at one time a major local industry along with fishing and boat building. (a town walled off from the rages of the sea that is- a potential monster on the doorstep as big as King Kong... a liquid asset historically beneficial throughout the UK along the coastal margins and in river towns and cities for centuries ...but increasingly now viewed with distrust and trepidation thanks to increased rainfall levels and bigger storms. But another cracking day out.
 A history link here... and apparently Ayrshire is making sea salt again. You learn something every day!
https://www.saltcoats-salt.co.uk/our-history.php