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I’ve been walking the Ayrshire Coastal Path my entire life. I’ve walked it in the height of summer with busy promenades and a sun-filled sky. I’ve walked it deep in winter as winds threw me off sand dunes and rain soaked my clothing.
I’ve done sections quickly, racing to beat a December sun that slips rapidly from the sky. Yet, I’ve done sections at a slower pace too, content to wander along familiar routes whilst in conversation with family and friends.
A smaller version of me would ride a scooter or push a miniature pram along small, flat sections of the path. A slightly taller version walked sullenly, absorbed in a self-indulgent bubble of early adolescence. An older version walks peacefully, at ease with the scenery all around.
Yes, I’ve been walking the Ayrshire Coastal Path my entire life but only now, at the age of twenty-seven, have I finally completed it all.
Somewhere in my twenties, I set myself the goal of walking this route in its entirety. It was something to do. It would fill a few quiet weekends. It also, more pressingly, fulfilled my deep-rooted need for adventure. So, I set off purposefully on what would be a largely solo ramble.
Despite its proximity and familiarity to me, I found myself making new observations and discoveries along the length of the route. In fact, walking it was like opening my eyes wider than I ever had there before. I’d gaze around, surprised that the area I called my home felt so new to me. The towering cliffs that dropped into the sea and the deserted winding trails made me feel like a stranger. The wildlife, in its multitude, did too. Startled foxes, deers, seals, seabirds and even a snake disappeared quickly as I neared.
Elsewhere, though, I felt very much at home. The constant sound of waves lapping the shore was mediative in its effect. Meanwhile, the islands I was taught to name in childhood were by my side throughout. I looked forwards, and then behind me, and felt in awe of the familiar peaks of Arran, the Holy Isle and the Ailsa Craig.
My need for adventure has always lingered. The small girl with the toy buggy would crave the thrill of new activities, be it crawling spider-like up a climbing wall or diving head first towards an outdoor pool. The taller adolescent sought out adventure in trips abroad and heart-jumping tasks such as sky-diving. Now, though, this adult seeks a little sense of adventure wherever she can, even if it’s just around the corner from her home.
With the 100-mile route now behind me, I find myself reflecting on the results of this desire for adventure. There’s an undeniable sense of satisfaction. I have a feeling of accomplishment. There’s also an understanding that I’ve seen and experienced a little corner of my country that not everyone will. It may have taken twenty-seven years but, for this, there’s a deep-rooted feeling of gratitude.
