This tilted world

9 hours ago , by Richard Lutz

The headland slants towards the sea (writes RICHARD LUTZ) as it heads to the harbour village of Ballantrae.

It is where the green earth ends and meets the ocean. The wind, always from the southwest, can bend a path marker as the Ayrshire coast marches northwards.

The landscape fills the sky. To the south is Ireland and its Antrim coast. Westward across the Firth of Clyde are the Kintyre peninsula, the volcanic plug of Ailsa Craig and the mountain ridges of the Isle of Arran. Northwest is a hint of the Highlands on the rim of the horizon.

Currarie Port is a stopover, a cut in the coast, a lunch spot, a stopover for seals. Above it sits a hill called Donald Bowie. No one knows how or why it acquired its name…

But look away from the largescale view. Look below and there’s plenty to see, such as scarlet pimpernel…

It goes by many names: poor man’s weather-glass, shepherd’s weather glass or shepherd’s clock. But whatever takes your fancy, leave this pretty wild flower alone. It is toxic.

Nearby on the boggy foreshore is a cinnabar moth….

It bounces and flutters low over the marshy ground. Its vibrant colours warn predators to stay away. It too is poisonous. The moth and its larvae munch their way through tons of ragwort weed. It helps farmers.

Also at your feet as the May world turns warm and the wind softens is lychnis flos-cuculi…

Now, that’s a name and a half. It’s better known as ragged robin and we can tell why just by peering at its unruly flowers.

Offshore, fulmars cruise the cliffs, cormorants patrol and gannets divebomb the blue sea.

It’s hard walking. The ground is uneven and rough. Gazing at the blue sea or remote smuggling coves can be treacherous…

One mis-step and an ankle is out of joint, an injury you don’t want so far from a road. The southwest wind, soft at our backs, pushes us and we sail northwards.

photo credits: Mary Hogg, Billy McCrorie, Geograph