Day 6, Campbeltown, a coast road, and a castle.
After a lie in followed by a leisurely breakfast I drove into Campbeltown for a look around. The few car parks which weren’t associated with the two supermarkets were full but unusually Campbeltown has hardly any parking restrictions and there was plenty of spaces on the streets. I parked up near the leisure centre and took a walk to the harbour.
To the left of the Old Quay was a marina with mostly pleasure craft and Lifeboats. To the right the working harbour, empty today save for a few smaller fishing boats, a large lighter, and a larger vessel which I thought might be associated with the large pile of timber on the New Quay but when I looked it up turned out to be a fish carrier, the Aqua Harvester. The New Quay is also the location of Campbeltown Ferry Terminal which has services to Ballycastle in Northern Ireland (Kintyre Express fast passenger ferry), Brodick on the island of Arran, and Ardrossan on the mainland of Scotland (Caledonian MacBrayne). Except the CalMac ferries aren’t running this summer “due to the lack of an available vessel to deliver the service”. I had a wander around the town centre which has some quite good architecture in places, got an ice cream because it was bloody hot by Scottish measurements, went shopping in search of a new car phone holder because mine had exploded in my hand the day before and was now held together with sellotape, and having failed to find one walked around the bay to the end of Dalintober Pier for the view back to Campbeltown. (As I write this a replacement phone holder is awaiting a flight from China.)
I briefly considered a visit to the whisky shop but decided the complete lack of any price tickets in the window display probably indicated that I couldn’t afford it. A couple of hours of walking around the town in the hot sun was enough so I retreated to the air-conditioned car and headed out of town to see what the east coast of Kintyre was like.
The main road to Campbeltown is the A83 which comes down the west side of the peninsula and is how I’d arrived two days previously. On the east side the B842 follows the coast north of Campbeltown until it ends at a junction with the B8001 which runs east to west to connect to the A83. The B842 is not a major road, it is quite ridiculously scenic though. Also narrow and steep in a number of places with plenty of blind bends and summits so it isn’t a fast journey either. Which is good, I recommend driving it. There are lots of views across Kilbrannan Sound to Arran though limited places to stop and take photos (don’t park in the passing places) but I stopped at the beach at Torrisdale Bay where there’s a layby and a small car park (unusually the latter requiring payment).
A bit further on I spotted a turning to the right signposted Carradale Harbour B879 and on a whim took that road. I’m glad I did because a little over a mile and a half later I pulled into the free car park on the very photogenic harbour side at Carradale. Complete with a palm tree and public loos that weren’t locked up, both rare things in the UK. It even had one of those red and white painted sea mines which are charity collection boxes for the Shipwrecked Mariners’ Society.
Those are much less common than they used to be during my childhood when any seaside town of any note seemed to have one. There were over 200 originally donated by the Admiralty but now only around 50 survive apparently. Carradale Harbour looked glorious in the sunshine, giving definite “I could live here” vibes though I suspect the winter presents a different picture. Indeed a couple of plaques on the harbour wall remembering lost seafarers attest to the fact that the sea isn’t always as serene as it appeared that afternoon. I have out of idle curiosity just looked on Rightmove though :-)
I left Carradale Harbour and returned to the “main” coast road again and turned right following the coast northwards. My next stop was Grogport Viewpoint, another unspoilt spot with a beach and a view across to Arran where the white buildings of the hamlet of Pirnmill could be seen at the water’s edge. I sat on a picnic bench for a while listening to nothing but the occasional bird singing. Not another vehicle passed for 10 minutes. Lovely spot, still no idea why it has the unlovely name, which is an Anglicisation of the Scots Gaelic Gròb-phort, which doesn’t look much better. If you know what it means comment below.
I reached the end of the B842 at Claonaig and deciding which way to turn was very easy since the sign pointing right contained the word “Castle”. After 2.3 miles along a road past the terminal for the Claonaig to Lochranza ferry to Arran and an area very popular as a wild camping site on the narrow strip of land between the road and the sea I came over a wee hump back bridge, the end of the B8001, and arrived in a little car park under the trees signed as for visitors to Skipness Castle. The castle itself was a 600 yards walk along a driveway from the gate lodge by the road. It was a quarter past four in the afternoon. I had no idea if the castle was open but walked down there past the nosey sheep anyway. It was open. It was also free to visit. It was great.
Historic Environment Scotland says “Skipness Castle was begun in the early 1200s, probably by the MacSween family. It was acquired by the Stewart earls of Mentieth in 1262. It passed into the hands of the MacDonalds in 1325 and eventually on to the Campbell Earls of Argyll”. Much of it is in ruins but with still high standing walls but the 16th century four storey tower house still has a roof, internal floors and staircases, and and you can climb all the way up onto the roof for a commanding view across Kilbrannan Sound to Arran. Spot the Claonaig to Lochranza ferry.
Having explored the castle I followed the path down to the edge of the water and along to the ruins of St Brendan’s Chapel, Skipness. The now roofless 13th or 14th century chapel building stands within a stone walled graveyard on flat ground near the beach.
Within the graveyard are a number of recumbent intricately carved medieval gravestones. They’re protected by heavy hinged wooden covers which give no clue as to what lies underneath, just a little plate saying “Please keep this cover closed” and a handle. They reward curious investigation.
I said goodbye to the Chaffinch singing on top of a Celtic Cross with Arran behind and made my way back to the car, oblivious to the fact that through the next gateway was a World War 2 Bombing Range Marker which I only spotted on Open Street Map later. I drove back to Campbeltown the same way that I’d come because it’s just as nice a trip in the opposite direction and I wasn’t in any rush.
Next time more empty beaches and narrow roads.
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