Category Archives: Bike around Britain 2013

Posts from 2013 tour around coast of Britain

Leg 55 – to Preston via Blackpool

Longer leg today covering 95 miles, average distance covered per day slowly creeping up. The wonders of Blackpool awaited me today.

25 June 2013

I don’t think I’ll spend another night at a Haven Holiday Camp. It was an experience, but at £22.00 for a basic camping spot, it really wasn’t worth it. And I still had several dubious songs going around my head in the morning!

Haven holiday park – beautiful morning after a dubious evening’s entertainment

Once I’d paid, packed up and checked my bike I was on the road by 09.30, pedalling under sunny skies from Flookburgh to Grange-over-Sands, and on around Morecambe Bay. The wind had a bit of a chill to it, but the day looked promising weather wise. I followed a bit of a bendy route to begin with, avoiding the main roads, through some lovely countryside.

Cycle track running parallel to A590 – nice view

I crossed over the River Kent on the A6, turning south, and stopped at Levens Hall for a hot chocolate and flapjack break in their cafe. It’s a lovely Elizabethan country hall, with a great old steam engine that they’ve restored, and a fantastic topiary garden. Of course the hall also has its fair share of ghosts and associated curses, and apparently appeared in an episode of Most Haunted years ago. I mostly liked the steam engine, which they still get up and running on a Sunday. Apparently it used to run fairground attractions, and eventually passed into the hands of the hall who’ve kept it in fine nick.

Levens Hall – well worth a visit if you’re in the area

Refuelled on flapjack I continued down the A6 for a bit, before turning off at Milnthorpe and following the River Kent down to Arnside.

River Kent and Arnside

I noticed several fishermen out along the banks of the river, and stopped to see how they were doing. Looking down at the river I saw 4 grey herons in a group, also intent on fishing, and completely unbothered by their human counterparts. They seemed to be having more success.

Herons fishing in the River Kent

From Arnside I rode down through Silverdale, passing and waving to several other cyclists out for a ride. Bolton-le-Sands and Hest Bank followed, as I continued to follow the coast around Morecambe Bay, before arriving in Morecambe itself at about lunch time. At one point I did have a near miss as a car tried to overtake me around a dustbin lorry. I slammed on my brakes before trying to pass the lorry as I realised the car was going for it, and thought it safer to let them though. In their haste they still managed to prang the safety struts on the truck, which flicked back into one of the workers. He wasn’t badly hurt but quite a bit of swearing ensued! Thankfully the driver did the responsible thing and stopped to check no-one was injured.

Morecambe Bay

More of Morecambe – think the tower was a Polo tower

Morecambe really is typical British seaside town, complete with promenade, a multitude of fish and chip shops, amusements, bars, beach and baring-nearly-everything-holiday-makers, even though it still wasn’t that warm. I had lunch at a Weatherspoons, cheap and cheerful, whilst watching aforesaid holiday makers stroll about in unwise choices of outfit, with some disastrous tattoos. Far too many overweight people, that’d be lobster like in coloration by the end of the day, but it was quite fun people watching.

Cormorants – statues thereof – Morecambe

I’d quickly had my fill of Morecambe, so rode down the coast towards Heysham where you can catch a ferry to the Isle of Man. I stopped to call Lauren, one of the Latitude management crew, to talk to her about joining ‘Le Tour de Latitude’. We agreed I’d try and join up with them from either London or Colchester, to ride up to Henham Park near Southwold in Suffolk. It’s 125 miles from London, so I’d rather have joined them from Colchester, but it depended on how far I got around the coast by then. One bonus is that they’d carry my panniers to the festival, so I’d have the luxury of a lighter weight bike. Whatever happened I’d have to come back and finish off the rest of the coastline back to Norwich post the festival, so I’d didn’t regard it as cheating! Got my ticket reserved too so all good.

En route to Heysham

From Heysham it was a short loop inland to Lancaster, another place I’d never been before but needed to tackle to cross the River Lune. Lancaster was the most impressive city of the tour to date, architecture wise, with a great looking castle and nice streets with lots to see.

Lancaster Castle

You could really see and feel why Lancaster was such a powerful city in the Middle Ages, and it got me wanting to learn more about the War of the Roses when Lancastrians fought Yorkists for control of the country, in another of Britain’s bloody episodes.

Lancaster streets

Wheeling my bike around the cobbled streets, and then through the pedestrian zone, I chanced upon a Cycle Awareness event and had a chat with Mickey, one of the people running it. He’s an ex-London courier rider and we talked about cycling on British roads, and encouraging more people to get on a bike. Safety is an issue but not as much as some people think, it’s often a confidence thing. Mickey pointed out the only person he has ever known who’s been killed on a bike was a courier rider who got hit by a car in the Welsh countryside. They’d survived being a courier rider in one of Europe’s busiest cities, but got nobbled by someone driving too fast on a country road. Very sad.

Mickey, who is one of those people you can instantly get on with, had several bikes for people to try out, including a Penny Farthing and a Recumbent; it looked as if a lot of people were interested in learning more. Hopefully this sort of activity will get more people cycling. It would also help if people signed up to the ‘Get Britain Cycling’ petition, and dropped a note to their MP to ensure they attend the debate in the House of Commons – see the link below:

http://www.sustrans.org.uk/getbritaincycling

Really worth while supporting, and keep an eye out for Mickey and the Cycle Awareness event if it comes to a town or city near you.

I could have spent more time in Lancaster, so it’s gone on the list for a return visit, especially as my photos really didn’t do it justice. There awaited a long ride down to Blackpool, so I had to get on my way. The next stretch started off alongside the Lancaster Canal.

Lancaster Canal

In gorgeous weather I slip-streamed two water treatment lorries down a country road, before turning on to a cycle track to Glasson, alongside the Lune Estuary. For once the cycle track was great, not leading me astray, with a good surface and no bumps.

Cycle track alongside the Lune Estuary

I passed a couple of good looking pubs near Glasson, with holiday makers and a few cyclists enjoying a pint in the sunshine. As usual I was sorely tempted to stop, however I managed to resist and pedalled onwards, down to Cockerham, and then continuing on the A588 through flat farmland to Hambleton. The countryside reminded me a lot of Lincolnshire, being flat with lots of waterways and dykes, and similar crops being cultivated.

Sandy coastline and estuary

After crossing the River Wyre I turned north up to Fleetwood, on the B5412, riding around the coast and turning south back down to Blackpool. Fleetwood was not particularly inspiring, and the toilet cost me 20p which I wasn’t overly impressed with.

Fleetwood coastline

I made it to Blackpool at about 18.00 and had a great ride down the promenade, which goes on for miles and is very cycle friendly. Lots of people were out of their bikes, which had been the case all day with the good weather. There were the serious cyclists on their lightweight road bikes, mountain bikers, families with children either strapped to various parts of the bike or cycling behind, commuters, shoppers, and the odd tourer. All were generally friendly and said hello, and gave a wave or a nod. Cyclists are a good bunch.

Blackpool Beach

I was also quite taken by the Blackpool trams, which run regularly and are quiet and clean. I reckon more cities should have them, although cyclists have to be careful not to get their wheels caught in the tracks and go a tumbling, or get run over by them as they can sneak up. I think a lot more cities used to have trams but they were scrapped with the advent of the car, d’oh.

Blackpool trams

The promenade runs all the way from Cleveleys down to practically Lytham-Saint-Annes. I cycled past the ‘attractions’ of Blackpool, including the Tower, Illuminations, and various other monuments and buildings. The sound of cabaret singing was coming from the pier as I passed by, and there was still the odd donkey or horse and cart plying their trade along the beach.

Blackpool Beach 2

Hotel taking Christmas bookings – shocking in June!

Blackpool Pier

Blackpool Tower

The pier cabaret was belting out some classic numbers, which were being appreciated by the people drinking on the promenade, however I rode swiftly on not really wanting to partake of their Diamond White.

Interesting mosaic type affair on the Prom

Interesting floor picture thingamy on the promenade

The above contained much wisdom…

Bike around Blackpool

I’d noticed one of my spokes had come loose again, probably due to bumping about on Lancaster’s cobbled streets, so I’d need to have a wheel straightening session again that evening. Nothing new there though!

Blackpool Tower again

I believe Lu’s Dad, Norman, was born in the shadow of Blackpool Tower, although that might have been a dream, I’d best check.

Pony and carriage ride anyone?

In general I found the Illuminations pretty unimpressive, although I’m sure they’re better at night. The Tardis was quite cool though.

Doctor Who Illuminations

And who can go wrong with big shiny balls. All that was missing was a bit of ‘Road to Amarillo’.

Blackpool glitter ball

With Blackpool finally behind me, and not on the list to return to immediate future (aside from the great long promenade), forgive me Blackpool, I pedalled on towards Preston. It was a good last 10 miles with a bit of a tailwind, so I got my head down and the miles flew by. I rode along the A584, with the River Ribble on my right, and stopped just on the outskirts of Preston, quite by chance next to a nice looking pub; the Lea Gate Inn. Rather handily I had been in touch with Sue and Adrian, who live not far away in Bolton and had offered to put me up for the night, and collect me too! I gave them a call and settled down for a pint whilst Adrian drove out to meet me. Awesome after a hot day’s ride.

Before long Adrian arrived and we loaded my bike and kit into the back of Sue’s Mondeo. It was a bit shiny and new and I was worried my dirty bike would sully it, although thinking about it I was probably just as dirty so there was no hope really. It was a bit weird being in a car again after so long – the world seemed to zip past too quickly.

It was great to spend the evening with Sue and Adrian, post a superb 95 mile day, and a wonderful roast chicken dinner courtesy of Sue. Adrian has lots of IT kit and managed to find me a new cable for my Power Monkey, so I could get that up and running again; he has a treasure trove of useful bits and pieces, although I’m not sure Sue would agree. Sadly the Garmin wasn’t so easy to fix, I still needed to phone them. Sue’s Dad also has lots of biking contacts in the area and could probably get me a discount at the local shop if I needed any repairs post my bike checking session in the morning, very handy. After a good catch up I was quite happy to collapse into bed, and slept very well, although I did have to share!

One of Sue and Adrian’s cats – a Maine Coon

Maine Coon cats are much larger than most other domestic cats, and very fluffy. Whilst not very clever they’re more talkative and companionable that the usual breeds, and more dog than catlike at times!

Another fluffy cat picture

Tomorrow I’d be riding on to Liverpool, after negotiating Preston, and intended to pedal around to Frodsham to visit the Duffys, after dropping in to see a couple of other people along the way. I’d need to put in some long legs to get round to Latitude, but planned a shorter day tomorrow to catch up with friends and rest my legs a bit.

Stats and general update, by the 25 June:

I’d covered 3,457 miles
Been on the road for 57 days
Had lost about half a stone, roughly
Had a niggling calf injury that was irritating more than anything else
Had an achy right wrist due to all the riding and juddering about. I probably hold my handlebars too tightly
Was feeling fit and healthy, aside from the above, although I could do with stretching more
Was feeling mentally strong and starting to seriously think about other future tours…

…although Wales was coming up!

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Leg 54 – to Flookburgh via Barrow-in-Furness

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Before starting to recount Leg 54, here’s a link to the latest fun sketch from It’s A Trap:

It’s A Trap are a Norwich based group of friends who create entertaining film and audio shorts, check out our YouTube channel. I wasn’t involved in this one, so it was a nice surprise!

24 June 2013

I woke up in good time, keen to get down to Barrow-in-Furness where there’s a good bike shop I’d found on the net the evening before. The wind had dropped a bit but was still blowing, however it was a nice bright day.

Morning in St Bees

Breakfast consisted of sausage rolls due to a slight lack of other supplies, although I wasn’t complaining, beats cornflakes. I had a quick check of the bike ably assisted by Lobster; my temporary spoke fix was holding up well, although my carapaced friend was somewhat dubious as to its potential longevity.

Post a shower I was ready to hit the road by 09.00, and got on my way after bidding goodbye to the lads starting their coast to coast, as well as Dave the dog walker, who donated a quid to the Big C – thanks Dave, it all helps!

I stopped just outside the campsite to take another look at the bay and beach in the daylight.

St Bees bay

I quite fancied spending a day on the beach, however bike mending was required.

St Bees beach

St Bees beach looking south

St Bees village looked nice, with several promising pubs.

St Bees village, I crossed the level crossing with care, nervous of more spokes going

I pedalled along the wriggly country roads out of St Bees, the scenery proving to be a lot more entertaining than yesterday, with dramatic hills, and the wind being mostly behind me making for easier riding. It was a great ride down past Sellafield, near Seascale, where I was hoping I might benefit from a gamma ray or two to give my legs some Hulk like power, sadly it appears the plant is too well shielded for such things.

Sellafield – the nuclear reprocessing site

Next up was Ravenglass, another village which sounds like it should be in a science fiction or fantasy novel, with it’s Roman Baths and the castle of Muncaster just next door. By the looks of it there’s lots to do in the area, and I’d have to add it to my list of places to come back to, along with a visit to the Lake District which I was mostly missing by sticking to the coast. Sticking to the coast did have some benefits in that I missed the steepest of the hills, however I still had to deal with my fair share on the way down to Barrow-in-Furness.

Looking East into the Lake District – ominous clouds

I was slightly concerned about the numerous dark clouds lurking over the a Lake District, making it look a bit Mordor like, however the coast looked mostly clear. I stopped at a garage in Holmrook and bought a chicken and leak pie for second breakfast, just in case the weather turned and I needed the extra energy – that was my excuse anyway. It was homemade and tasted excellent, so I bought another one for later, then phoned the bike shop to let them know I was coming and to make sure they could fit a quick wheel repair in. I ended up having quite a long chat with Simon, their wheel builder, who gave me a few pointers on my route down to Barrow. I was looking forward to meeting the guys at Topmark (108 Greengate Street, Barrow-in-Furness).

Riding down the A595

The hills looked impressive, and of course were called Fells now, rather the Braes or Munros of Scotland. Scarfell Pike lurked in their somewhere, which I’d climbed one early morning several years ago, starting when it was dark and reaching the top as the dawn broke. We were doing the 3 peaks challenge at the time, and I remember leading our group up a rather dubious looking path, using my head torch to pick out the stone cairns that marked the route. Thankfully we avoided any steep drops and saw the sun rise, before charging back down for bacon rolls at the minibus, happy days.

Muncaster Castle

The signs said Muncaster Castle was allegedly haunted, however in the sunshine it didn’t look very spooky. I had fun whizzing down the hill through the trees from it, and then across the flood plain towards Bootle.

The great countryside continued, accompanied by a few significant hills which got my legs and lungs going, as I looped around through Millon and down to Barrow-in-Furness. The last bit alongside the Duddon Channel and through Askam seemed to take an age, with lots of ups and downs, however I made it to Barrow at about 13.00, after a good session having covered around 50 miles.

I headed straight for Topmark, sort of, via a slightly roundabout route really, and met up with Simon who quickly got to work replacing my two broken spokes, and straightening out my wheel. This was a bit of a tricky task as I’d had to make a lot of tweaks to make it here (I’d done a bodge job really), and essentially involved slackening all the spokes off and starting again.

Wheel straightened and reattached I picked up some spare spokes in case any more broke, and Simon gave me a few tips on wheel maintenance, and on my route over the next couple of days. I could only deal with non-drive side spokes, as the drive side are harder to get at and you need a tool I wasn’t carrying with me, so I was hoping it would only be non-drive side that broke, if any. It wasn’t surprising I was encountering spoke breakages, the rear wheel wasn’t exactly right for the bike, and I was carrying a lot of weight over some pretty rigorous terrain. My worry was that now they’d started to break they might all go, a bit like Velcro undoing. I also got my chain checked – it was still well within limits, so I hoped it would get me back to Norwich.

Full marks to Topmark for friendly and efficient service, and going that extra mile to help me out and offer advice. I was getting to really enjoy dropping into bike shops along the way, you learn a lot as things break! Here’s a link to the Topmark website – http://www.topmarkonline.com/ (they also do lots of water sports equipment)

Post bike repairs I grabbed a quick cheeseburger from a McDonalds, because sometimes it’s just nice to eat dirty food, and they have free wifi, then had a quick look around Barrow-in-Furness.

Barrow-in-Furness – statue commemorating engineering that goes on it the city

It’s a quite a big town, and not very touristy being quite industrial. I had a look at where they build submarines from the bridge over to the Isle of Walney (BAE Systems).

Submarine building sheds – they were huge

Post Walney Island, which is essentially a large sand spit that been built on over the years, I followed Simon’s suggested route which took me along the cycle track from behind Morrisons, around the bay to Rampside. I passed a few frigates on the way.

Cycle path along bay

Frigates 1 – Barrow-in-Furness

I was a bit confused as to which navy the frigates belonged to, however the mystery has been solved by the Interweb! Apparently the 3 frigates have been moored there since 2007, after BAE built them for the navy of the Sultan of Brunei. Although the Sultan paid for them, he decided he didn’t want them anymore and was looking for someone else to sell them to. It doesn’t look like he’s had any luck, despite them being ‘lovely little runners’, with only one previous owner who has effectively left them boxed. At least the port is benefitting from harbour fees whist they’re moored there.

Frigates 2 – Barrow-in-Furness

Cycle path through the mudflats

I had to dodge around a group of kids drinking beer, who thought it would be fun to throw empty beer cans at me, and then met some police trying to find another group of kids who were running amok, nice area. Despite the local flora and fauna I made it around to Rampside and to the end of the road where a ferry runs over to Piel Castle.

Piel Island and Castle

A nice couple offered to take my photo, so here’s a rare shot of me and my bike in totality.

Jetty to ferry to Piel Island – me and my trusty steed

Of course then Lobster wanted to be in the photo too.

Me and Lobster – Piel Island

I decided against taking the ferry over to the island, it being a little windy out on the water, as demonstrated by my hair.

Ship ‘moored’ off causeway to Roa Island – not sure it was going anywhere in a hurry

A lovely ride along the western side of Morcambe Bay followed, up to Ulvertson, past the big sand flats which are so dangerous to the unwary, with people getting trapped on them by the tides and sinking sand.

Morecambe Bay

In 2004 twenty one Chinese immigrants were unfortunately drowned whilst collecting cockles out in the bay, when the tide came in. They were here illegally, and being paid £5 for a 25kg bag of cockles. They should have never been out on the sands, where they got cut off by the incoming tide despite a group of British workers trying to warn them. I guess desperate people will go to ay lengths to earn a crust, and unfortunately there are always people around who will take advantage. No one ended up getting prosecuted for any wrongdoing, which seems an injustice. I’d have thought those organising and paying the work gangs should be held accountable in some regard.

Morecambe Bay 2

In Ulvertson I rode past the Hoad monument, which commemorates Sir John Barrow, a founder member of the Royal Geographic Society.

Hoad Monument, Ulvertson

Again following Simon’s directions, and with my bike performing well, I rode around the top of the bay and down to Flookburgh, via a cycle path that avoided the worst bit of the A590. The cycle path took me over a footbridge traversing the River Leven, which flows from Lake Windemere into Morecambe Bay.

River Leven

The slightly bumpy cycle track eventually deposited me on the B5278, for a very pleasant final stretch through woodland.

Country road down to Flookburgh

I stopped at a local shop to buy a few provisions before heading to campsite; I’d decided to try a Haven Holiday Park, how bad could it be? The shop owner let me know the holiday park shop was a lot more expensive, he having worked there, so I stocked up on essentials, and enjoyed a cold bottle of banana milk before going any further.

It turned out to be an ‘interesting’ choice for a stop-over, but I thought I should at least experience the holiday park sensation once. I probably should have chanced it and found a spot to wild camp but the lure of a hot shower trapped me. The holiday park is massive, with it’s own small supermarket, restaurants, bars, and swimming pools, as well as of course the entertainment complex. There were lots of caravaners and campers there for a holiday, but after 30 minutes in the live lounge I realised it wasn’t exactly my sort of place. Agadoo and Road to Amarillo aren’t my favourite choices of music, but seemed quite popular amongst some of the punters. I had a chat with one of the bar staff with whom I sympathised for having to listen to the same music night after night. He said the worse thing was when he found himself singing along without realising it.

I retreated to a quieter bar where I could use the wifi, charge stuff, and write up my journal and blog in peace, over a pint. It had been a good days ride, with excellent progress made covering 87.5 miles, so I was keeping up my average. I wandered back to my tent at about 23.00, humming the Spice Girls and Ace of Base; if you can’t beat them join them.

Full moon again – maybe that explained things

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Leg 53 – to St Bees via Gretna

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Back into England!

23 June 2013

For the second morning in a row I lay in my tent listening to the sound of rain, and not really wanting to get up. The persistent drumming turned into a more gentle pitter-patter, so I made a dash to the toilet block for a shower and a shave; I’d make it back into England today so thought I’d better smarten up. The rain stopped and the sun appeared whilst I was washing, drying off my tent a bit, so I had a bite to eat and packed up whilst further evaporation took place.

Morning in Annan

A slightly eccentric American couple in their late sixties were camped up next to me, having also retreated to their tent early yesterday evening due to the weather. They were in the process of a UK tour on their tandem touring bike, and I had a chat over breakfast. They were veteran tourers having travelled all over the globe on their bike, including to Australia and New Zealand, as well as all over Europe and down to Greece. It was interesting to hear about their experiences and relate some of mine. I think I learn something useful every time I meet people like this on the road. They’d had trouble with wheels in the past, which is common on tandems due to the weight, but had had no issues since they got hand built wheels – no spoke breaks in about 5 years. This was their first tour including a mobile phone, having foregone all technology in the past, and were finding it quite handy but a pain to charge – I recommended my solar charger, but only if you had plenty of sunshine.

Lobster and I ready to hit the road, England beckoned

I hadn’t been able to pay for the campsite last night, and tried to phone the warden several times to ask where I could leave them some cash, but got no response. In the end I ended up stashing a fiver in a video case in the gents, and leaving them a message to let them know where it was, hoping it was sufficient. I couldn’t afford to delay any longer, as it looked like the weather might worsen and I had quite a lot of miles to get done; the American couple had already sped off on their tandem.

All packed up, and with the weather still dry, I set off east on the B721, avoiding the main road. Thanks to a tailwind and flat road I made good time to Gretna Green, my final stop in Scotland before crossing the border.

Gretna Green

I had a quick look around the Blacksmith’s Centre, where people get married after eloping across the border from England to get married under Scottish law, although I’m not sure if much of that goes on anymore.

Blacksmith’s Centre – Gretna Green

I didn’t pay to look at the Anvil upon which people get married, it was all a bit overly touristy, which whilst I’d expected was still a bit disappointing. There was of course a bag-piper present, who started up every time another coach disgorged its visitors, although I don’t think most of them realised he was a busker. I had a quick chat with the Blacksmith’s Centre attendant, mostly about my tour. I think he was quite relieved not to have to deal with more photo crazy Japanese tourists, of which there were a multitude. Whilst chatting I realised I’d been on the road 54 days, and in Scotland for 45 of those.

Horseshoes – Gretna Green

I grabbed a sandwich in the food hall, and visited the souvenir shop wincing slightly at the tackiness and stereotypical gifts on sale. They did have lots of swords and bits of armour on the wall, but I’m not sure what Lord of the Rings props have to do with Gretna Green. The Witch King’s sword as well as Aragorn’s blade were on offer alongside more traditional claymores and dirks, and the Black Prince’s sword, all a bit confusing. The shop did smell nice, with whisky fumes pervading the atmosphere and obviously having the desired effect with lots of tourists walking away with bottles of dubious looking liquor.

Next up I rode rode down through Gretna village, and approached the border, anticipation building. I’m not sure quite what I was expecting, a fanfare perhaps, but I was grinning when I finally crossed back into England. I’d loved Scotland, but had been there a long time, so it was a bit of a landmark to close off that part of the tour. I was also looking forward to seeing what Cumbria had to offer.

Welcome to England

I had to ride alongside the M6 for a bit, which wasn’t entirely pleasant, crossing over the River Esk before turning West towards the Solway Firth. I passed a few other tourers going the other way who waved cheerily.

Barrier between me and the M6

My good mood took a bit of a hit shortly after entering England, when I trundled over a level crossing. Bump… rattle… ping… squeak. Arse, two spokes had broken causing my wheel to immediately buckle and my rear brakes to rub. I pulled over, unloaded, and did a temporary fix by tightening the spokes either side of the broken ones. This straightened out the wheel sufficiently enough to allow my journey to continue, which was handy considering I didn’t have any spare spokes, and it would have been at least 10 mile walk into Carlisle to find spares. Once everything was loaded back on to the Ridgeback I pedalled on, doing my best to avoid any further bumps. I’d need to find a bike shop in the next couple of days to enable a permanent fix, lest more spokes break.

After wriggling around country roads for a bit, skirting around Carlisle, I joined the minor road through Burgh by Sands, out towards Bowness-on-Solway, the road following the last bit of Hadrian’s Wall. I passed several other cyclists and walkers going the other way, starting their coast to coast trips, including one man dressed in the full armour and garb of a Roman soldier, with all the kit. He was already looking pretty tired, but had a gaggle of supporters with him, most of them of the young, female and attractive variety, so I reckoned he’d be alright. The other end of the wall is around 84 miles away, in Wallsend just outside Newcastle, where I’d been several weeks before; I hadn’t really taken the most direct of routes to get here.

The next bit of the ride, alongside the Solway Firth, was pretty tough, into a harsh headwind that rivalled that which I’d encountered on Orkney. The coastline up the Firth is very exposed, with very few hills or trees, so I got blasted.

Riding up the Solway Firth

I passed lots of signs telling me that if the water reached this point, it would be a maximum of ‘x’ feet deep, where x was between 1 and 3 feet, so the road must flood sometimes. I could well believe this with the waters of the Solway Firth just off to my right.

Fishermen on the Firth

I stopped in Bowness-on-Solway, a little bit frayed around the edges, and found a pub serving Sunday lunch. Roast Beef considerably improved matters, my first roast in weeks, followed by gooseberry pie and custard, all washed down with a pint of ale. It all cost a tenner which I thought was a bargain. The Kings Arms proved a welcome stop, and would be a good place to start or finish the Hadrian’s Wall Trail. I think it does B&B too.

Re-energised I cycled on, sticking to the minor road following the coast, which unfortunately meant more cows and sheep on the road. It seemed this issue was not contained to just Scotland, and I had to negotiate my way through a couple of flocks and past a few frisky looking cows. There are also a couple of heavy gates you have to get through, instead of cattle grids, but at least they didn’t increase the risk of more spokes breaking.

Looking toward Solway Firth and Scotland beyond

I swung around Moricambe Bay, a particularly wild part of the Cumbrian coast with large sand/mud flats and lots of bird life, before pedalling to Skinburness. It was a somewhat convoluted route due to having to dip inland to cross rivers, but the sun was out and the wind wasn’t constantly in my face so it was enjoyable. I did have to laugh slightly when I passed a group of charity riders going the other way, in their Asda tops, all slightly overweight and struggling slightly, with the fairy wings they were wearing being whipped about by the wind. Good effort though.

Skinburness

From Skinburness it was a short stretch down to Silloth, where I encountered a strange road surface which got me worrying about my spokes again.

Silloth – strange road surface

Thankfully no further spoke breaks resulted, and I continued on to Allonby. There were a few kite surfers out in Allonby Bay, having a good time in the wind; wind good for them but bad for cyclists.

Allonby Bay – Kite Surfers

Back in England – no wild camping!

The next bit of the ride was fairly uneventful, it not being a particularly interesting bit of coastline, with quite a bit of industry in places. I passed through Maryport and Workington, piling on the miles, before arriving in Whitehaven. By this time the hills had started up again making things more entertaining.

Whitehaven

I stopped a break in Whitehaven and had a look around. There were a lot of people out and about, and the town had a bit of a party atmosphere, it being the end of a 3 day Maritime Festival. There were an awful lot of slightly merry people on the streets, and at least one rock band playing in one of the packed pubs I passed. A foot long Sub replenished my energy reserves for the final stretch over to St Bees, where I planned on camping for the night.

Ride out of Whitehaven – Cumbrian countryside

It was a short ride over to St Bees, albeit with a couple of big hills. It’s a nice little village right on the coast, with a caravan park that has a camping field, and a hotel next to it. The bay is lovely, with a nice beach that had waves crashing in against it, driven by the still fierce westerly wind.

Road down to St Bees

St Bees

After booking in I quickly pitched my tent, and had a chat with a group of lads just camped down from me who were about to start their coast to coast cycle ride – think they’d just finished their A-levels. They were a bit bemused by the amount of kit on my bike, but I explained it was actually more stable with panniers on the front as well as the back.

Feeling thirsty I headed to the hotel to get out of the wind for a bit, and recuperate after a hard day. I’d covered just over 85 miles, but it felt like further due to the weather. I enjoyed a couple of pints listening to other customers complain about the speed of the service, and the hotel staff complaining about being understaffed. It had a bit of a Fawlty Towers feel to the place, but the beer was perfectly acceptable. Thankfully I’d already eaten so I didn’t need to risk anything from the kitchen, and I spent a couple of hours writing up my journal and trying to catch up a bit on my blog.

With the wind continuing to grow in strength I retreated back to my tent, which was thankfully sheltered by a hedge. I did stop to re-peg someone else’s tent on the the way, which was in danger of blowing away – the owners weren’t present. I fell asleep with the wind howling about, whilst trying to write up more of my blog. Unfortunately I left my head torch on and the batteries ran out as a result. Whoops. First day back in England done.

Clouds and moon in St Bees

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Leg 52 – to Annan

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22 June 2013

Rain, lots of rain. It had been raining when I got into my tent the evening before, and was still raining in the morning when I woke up. I lay in my sleeping bag for a bit contemplating what to do, before eventually deciding it couldn’t be helped and I needed to get on. I wanted to maintain at least 80 mile a day legs for a bit to give me some leeway in getting around to Suffolk in time for the Latitude Festival, and had emailed them to ask if I could reserve a ticket, so the race was on.

I got up as the rain stopped, perfect timing, meaning I could breakfast, shower and pack up relatively quickly and with a mostly dry tent. It was my brother’s birthday so I sent him a message, and would call later assuming I find dry land; everywhere was a little soggy.

After visiting reception to pay up for last night, I was on the road by 10.00, pedalling from Creetown down the coast, under grey skies and into a rather blustery wind. The wind was supposed to be a Westerly, or South Westerly, but seemed to keep changing its mind during the morning session, buffeting me around a bit. The sea in Wigtown Bay was looking progressively rougher, with plenty of white horses and churning waters. There was definitely the possibility of worse weather to come, but it’s so unpredictable in Scotland, it could have been sunny again in a few hours.

Grey skies and slightly choppy sea – although this bay was relatively calm

I pedalled down the A75, past Ravenshall Wood, and Mossyard where I’d considered heading for to camp up last night; I was glad I hadn’t as it didn’t look as good as the Castle Cary Holiday Park and Lairds Inn. I made my way up the side of the Big Water of Fleet, crossing the river just below Gatehouse of Fleet, and turning off the main road on to the B727 down to Borgue. Imagine my ‘relief’ to be passing fields full of sheep again, phew, at least they weren’t in the middle of the road or ambushing me for a change.

Kirkcudbright Bay

Passing through more farmland I cycled up to Kirkcudbright, crossing the River Dee (I think there are a few River Dees around), another sticky-out bit of coastline done. There were several yachts of different shapes and sizes making their way up the river to the marina, including one nice looking catamaran, which I always have trouble spelling for some reason. The yachts were all using their engines rather than being under sail, the wind being somewhat unpredictable and feisty.

Kirkcudbright waterside – few dinghies out sailing

Kirkcudbright waterside – fishing boats moored up

I had a bit of a cycle around the town, dodging the frequent groups of OAPs on tour that seemed to gravitate towards my heavily laden and potentially lethal bike. People use their ears more than they realise for crossing the road, and don’t necessarily look both ways as per the green cross code! I’d have flattened a few people if it wasn’t for my bell, or hollering, or evasive manoeuvres learnt from tackling sheep infested roads.

MacLellan’s Castle – Kirkcudbright

Kirkcudbright is a pretty town, with its castle, marina, and several galleries, as well as the Belfry Cafe where I stopped for a bite to eat. The Belfry turned out to be a great greasy spoon, and I ordered the all day breakfast, after briefly contemplating the roast beef, all very reasonably priced at around a fiver. It proved to be a good choice, with lots of carbs for the ride ahead. I’d try and find somewhere for a roast tomorrow, when I’d be back in England, touch wood.

Kirkcudbright Marina – still a very grey day

Suitably refuelled, and after a quick chat with the mistress of the house concerning the merits of hearty Scottish fare, I got on my way again heading down the A711 along the coast. There are a few dead end roads you can take to get closer to the coast, however I ignored these pedalling all the way around to Dalbeattie. I’d considered visiting Castle Douglas, but that would have meant a detour inland which given the weather I wasn’t really up for, so it would have to wait for another day.

Kirkcudbright Bay from the other side – bit of blue sky!

With quite a bit left to do today I crossed the Urr Water, and pressed on round yet another sticky-out bit, past Dundrennan and its Abbey, with my brakes squealing a bit too loudly down one of the few larger hills of the day; I’d need to adjust them later.

Dundrennan Abbey

Dundrennan Abbey was built in 1142, as a Cistercian Monastery, but fell into ruin following the reformation and the land passing to the crown. Mary Queen of Scots spent her last night in Scotland there, in 1568, before being imprisoned by the English.

There’s an MOD firing range and exercise area along the coast at Dundrennan too, and the red flags were up although I didn’t hear any bangs. I did see a few military helicopters flying about, hovering a bit, and then flying off, so some kind of exercise was going on. It would be fun to abseil out of a helicopter, as long as the rope proved to be long enough and the helicopter didn’t decide to ascend during the abseil.

I rode past Sandyhills and its big beach, which didn’t look very inspiring given the weather. There were still a few enthusiastic punters out on the sand, with kids building castles and people picnicking. Good to see other folks carrying on regardless of the weather, in that fine British tradition of forcing themselves to enjoy the seaside whatever the conditions.

At New Abbey I stopped for a break to have a quick look at Sweetheart Abbey, another Cistercian monastery, which proved to have a slightly morbid tale behind it. The Lady who built it was so devoted to her husband, that when he died in 1269 she had his heart embalmed and kept it in a casket of ivory and silver, as her ‘sweet and silent companion’. Lady Devorgilla lasted for another 20 years, keeping the casket close to hand, before she was buried alongside her husband, John de Balliol, with the casket clasped to her bosom. Call me conservative but that’s a bit odd if you ask me, reeking slightly of necromancy and lichdom. Their son was briefly king of Scotland, but met a tragic end, as so often seems to be the case with royalty of the period.

Sweetheart Abbey 1

The abbey is built out of distinctive local red sandstone, which looks pretty impressive.

Sweetheart Abbey 2

King Edward I stayed at the abbey one Christmas, and fought quite a few battles in the area suppressing the Scots in the Anglo/Scottish War. He spent a bit of time campaigning in the region, generally beating people up, before running out of money and having to retreat as troops and barons deserted. The pope had said his campaign was illegal anyway but he’d been trying to ignore that, obviously trying to route out all the necromancers! (this post might be going a bit odd)

Sweetheart Abbey 3

There’s also a handy toilet handy incidentally, which I was quite glad of, and lots of well marked trails for hikers and bikers.

With time-a-ticking, and the weather not really showing much sign of improvement, I rode on to Dumfries, passing some very muddy mountain bikers loading their bikes back on to their cars, after what must have been a good days off-roading. I’d being seeing signs for Dumfries for days, but found it to be rather unimpressive after a quick look around. Really I’d been expecting more after it being heralded for the last 200 miles or so.

Dumfries – the River Nith

Dumfries city centre

The coast road beckoned once more, so I cycled on through Glencaple, and round to Bankend before scooting along to Annan via minor roads that traversed the railway line several times. There’s a large area of marshland that doesn’t have any roads through it along that stretch, but no doubt has lots of interesting wildlife, and I passed signs to at least one more castle and a famous well.

Coast near River Nith estuary

I didn’t stop as I was enjoying the benefit of a tailwind for once, which had really helped with my average speed over the course of the day, once it had decided which direction to consistently blow from.

Some reeds, I think this was meant to be an arty photo

I arrived in Annan, which isn’t far from Gretna Green and the border, at about 19.00, and found the campsite just outside the town post shopping for dinner. I’d been noticing more and more English accents as I got closer to the border, which sounded a bit odd after so long in Scotland.

Unfortunately it started to rain in earnest as I pulled up to the campsite, having only been spitting for the last few miles. I had to put my tent up as it turned torrential, before diving inside and phoning the warden to let her know I was on site. I spent the rest of the evening cosy in my tent, feasting on pitta bread, cheese and peanut butter. I couldn’t be bothered to cook as I’d have got soaked, even if I’d sat in my porch area, and didn’t fancy one of my ration packs cold that were my back up meals.

Dry land had eluded me, but I gave my brother a call anyway to wish him happy birthday, celebrating with a can of beer which meant having to make a run for the toilet about 30 minutes later, and getting wet anyway. It was great to have a chat, a bit of a morale boost given the weather, and I was looking forwarding to getting back into England the following day.

Post a good days riding, having covered just over 91 miles, I drifted off to sleep pondering what it must have been live up here in the 13th century, during the Anglo/Scottish war. I can’t imagine it was an easy life, and the average life expectancy must have been low – perhaps that explained the suspicious signs of the dark arts being practiced at Sweetheart Abbey (I’m sure Lady Devorgilla was completely innocent really). Mind you I believe the average life expectancy in Scotland is still lower than in the rest of the UK, which needs to be rectified, so maybe there’s still the odd Lich about.

For those unaware of what a Lich is, here’s a picture, courtesy of Google. Also refer to the Witch King of Angmar from Lord of the Rings

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Leg 51 – to Creetown via Portpatrick

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21 June 2013

The tent was pretty hot when I woke up after a restless night, due to roosting oystercatchers making a racket for most of it. I had also awoken with a start at about 03.00 to the sound of something being set upon and probably eaten, hopefully it was just a fox getting a rabbit or pheasant, and nothing more sinister; I had thought the campsite felt a bit spooky. It took a while to get back to sleep after that due to a slightly overactive imagination. All this led to a slightly later start than usual, not getting on the road until about 10.45 post a shower, bike checks and breakfast.

It proved to be a lovely day as I rode west from Stranraer, over the top of the peninsula to Portpatrick where I could gaze over to Ireland and Belfast, only about 21 miles away. Portpatrick is a lovely small town, and a great spot in the sunshine, so I decided to stop for an early lunch.

Portpatrick

Portpatrick lighthouse

Selecting a pub, the Crown Hotel, by the enclosed harbour, I had a coffee whilst I waited for midday when they opened for lunch. There was a stag party indulging in a morning beer before setting off to play golf, wearing shirts that I think probably broke the Geneva convention; truly lurid affairs which required my sunglasses to combat. Thankfully they left after not too long.

Portpatrick harbour front

Frank, whom I’d met last night, also turned up on his bike having had a bit of a ride around the peninsula, and joined me for lunch. I tucked into a substantial lasagne verdi whilst we continued our conversation from the previous evening, also having a look at each others bikes.

Portpatrick harbour entrance

Frank and his trusty steed

Me in Portpatrick – note great tan lines from my gloves!

Frank didn’t have to catch his train until 14.15, but I still had a fair distance to travel, so had to get on my way whilst he enjoyed Portpatrick some more, and a pint of real ale. Good luck with your future tours Frank, I’ll keep an eye on your adventures via Twitter.

Portpatrick coast – you could just about see Ireland

Before leaving I had a quick read of the information sign at the end of the harbour, which recounted the tales of some of the shipwrecks around the coast here, some 70 significant ones in the last 150 years, attesting to the difficult waters of the Irish Channel, its rocks and sometimes violent weather. The Portpatrick lifeboat has helped many a crew and passengers in trouble, and is still moored in the harbour ready for action.

Portpatrick inner and outer harbours

After stopping at the town general stores I rode up out of Portpatrick, then south through scenic countryside, not without its hills, before finally ending up in Ardwell on the east coast of the peninsula. I’d had to navigate my way through a bit of a maze of country roads, avoiding dead ends and tractors, but it had been a pleasant ride so far.

View off the coast of Ardwell

I turned up to Sandhead from Ardwell, rather than cycle all the way down to Drummore and the Mull of Galloway, which was most definitely a dead end. I followed the coast all the way around Luce Bay, turning on to the A747, and stopping for a break and some ginger biscuits at Port William.

Riding around Luce Bay

Pleasant country roads

Road to Port William

The midsummer sun was proving pretty strong, so I topped up on the sun cream to avoid burning. It was a fantastic day weather wise, however clouds looming over to the west boded of less pleasant weather to come.

Isle of Man off the coast

Lovely coastline

Continuing on my way I passed a field of cows who either regarded me solemnly, started following me, or pegged it in the opposite direction, strange beasts. There are a lot of stone circles and old forts in the area, indicating the region has always been populated by various nations and cultures over the years, whose bloodlines have no doubt all mingled to an extent to give today’s residents. I was half tempted to seek out one of the stone circles, it being the summer solstice, to see if anything mystical was happening. There were a few sheep I could think of that could do with a damn good sacrificing, and it surely wouldn’t hurt to try and appease any gods listening and ask for nice weather; alright it might hurt the sheep but they had it coming after their antics on previous legs.

Unfortunately there were no sheep to hand, and the cattle didn’t look particularly in the mood for participating in any Druidic rituals, so I pedalled on, arriving in the Isle of Whithorn, which is a seaside village and not and island, where I stopped for a breather.

Isle of Whithorn

It’s a nice seaside village and harbour, and the site of the ruined 13th century Saint Ninian’s Chapel. It also had a couple of nice looking pubs that I was severely tempted to stop at, cycling being thirsty work in the heat. Pedalling around each ‘sticky-out’ bit on the coastline does culminate in a lot of miles. Tempting to stop as it was, I probably wouldn’t have got going again, so I gritted my teeth and pedalled on.

I rode on up to Garlieston, and then to Bladnoch after crossing the river bearing its name. The Inn in Bladnoch looked too good to pass up, and besides I needed to stop to decide where I was going to camp for the night, and they had free wifi. I had a quick half whilst checking my route and possible campsites. It was already 18.30 and I’d done about 70 miles. Whilst I’d been thinking about heading for Castle Douglas it looked like a bit of a stretch for today. Luckily there were lots of campsites to choose from before then.

The A714 took me north through Wigtown, where there was a disappointing lack of toupees in evidence, before I turned on to the A75 crossing the River Cree just below Newton Stewart, and cycling back the other way alongside it to Creetown. A cold South Easterly had started up so I was keen to stop sooner rather than later, as it looked like the weather was definitely changing. Just past Creetown I found the Castle Cary Holiday Park, which looked promising even if it might cost a bit more. I was therefore pleasantly surprised to find it was only £5.00 a night, and it had a pub/restaurant on site – The Lairds Inn. All in all a bit of a win with clouds closing in rapidly, so I pitched my tent and headed to the Inn for dinner, and to celebrate the Summer Solstice.

Castle Cary and the Lairds Inn

The staff at the Inn were very accommodating, and I dined on sizzling spicy chicken as the rain started to tip down outside, enjoying a few pints of ale. The Inn is converted from part of the old castle, which dates from around 1580, and looks great inside, with open fireplaces, stone walls and wooden beams abounding. The landlady did say she didn’t like being on her own in the place late at night, which didn’t surprise me, old buildings like this do sometimes have a weird feeling about them. She hadn’t actually seen any ghosts, but had had a few strange experiences by the sounds of it.

Lairds Inn and sizzling chicken – with it pouring down outside it wasn’t cooking weather

Despite the solstice latterly turning a little soggy it had been a good day, with 85 miles covered through some nice countryside and coastline, gentle hills, lots of cows and thankfully very few sheep. I was getting some good legs in now so would soon be back in England and heading further south, with only abut 2000 odd miles left to do.

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Leg 50 – to Stranraer

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20 June 2013

Leg 50 proved to be a longer day mileage wise, helped by the fact it was considerably flatter than recent days – 87 miles covered in total, getting me a long way further south.

Light rain on the tent didn’t bode particularly well for the day when I awoke, so I stayed inside for a bit waiting for it to stop. It did eventually and the sun came out, so I rolled out of my tent, getting a bit tangled up with my sleeping bag in my haste, but finally managing to extricate myself along with several other bits of kit in the process. I stuffed down a breakfast of leftovers including pitta bread, houmous, a banana, and smoked sausage, a bit of a weird combination but I reckoned it would keep me going for a bit. I would however need to restock soon.

Lobster implying a shower was probably in order

Before having a shower I gave my bike the once over, not quite satisfied I’d got my spokes quite right last night, but they seemed okay – think I was just getting paranoid over my rear wheel. Nothing was rubbing so I left it alone.

I was finally ready to hit the road by 11.00, and rode back down the hill to Largs stopping at one of the sweet shops to get some energy boosts for the day ahead; they’d tweeted me so I felt obliged to respond…oh the power of targeted marketing.

With the sun out and the isle of Great Cumbrae just off the coast, I pedalled south through Fairlie down the A78. The road was reasonably flat and straight for a change, but a little bit dull compared with previous weeks, and the traffic was also heavier again with lots of cars and lorries steaming along in both directions. Everyone always seems in a hurry to get past a cyclist, and whist I realise they have work to get to etc is waiting an extra 30 seconds to pass safely really going to make that much of a difference. Still, the drivers were still relatively patient compared with those further south.

I got my head down and passed West Kilbride, before tackling Ardrossan, Saltcoats and Stevenston, which all merged into one another and weren’t very remarkable. You can get the ferry from Ardrossan over to Arran or Campbeltown. I’d been tempted by Arran but had been in Scotland since 10 May and figured I really ought to make some longitudinal progress. There was also the risk of me going native if I stayed much longer!

Coast off Ardrossan

Skirting around several golf courses I made it to Irvine, riding through the town and on to Troon avoiding the busy dual carriageway. I stopped in Troon for a break, grabbing a sandwich and slice of pizza from a bakers, as well as a birthday card for my brother which was duly dispatched. His present will have to wait until I get home, but rest assured the garden gnome is coming!

The next bit was a tad convoluted as I pedalled around to Monkton, followed by Prestwick, past yet more golf courses and an airport, before arriving in Ayr. I didn’t pause in Ayr, although if I’d been there a few days later I could have met up with Esko from Finland who has been following my blog, and has dropped me a few emails; thanks for the support Esko, will have to cycle to Finland to meet up instead, I’ll add it to my list of destinations.

The route got a bit more interesting and scenic post Ayr, and I stopped in Alloway to look at the birthplace of Robert Burns, celebrated Scottish poet.

Burns Cottage

I hadn’t realised he died so young.

Burns Cottage in Alloway

There’s a museum you can visit, but I contented myself with a walk around the gardens and memorial, as well as the Brig o’ Doon bridge. The late medieval bridge is pretty impressive, and the setting for another verse from Burns’ Tam o’ Shanter poem. Tam rides over the bridge to escape a witch, as apparently they can’t cross running water, which seems a little inconvenient as far as one’s toilet is concerned.

I found this mouse a bit ominous, a bit like the ghost rabbit from Watership Down that had freaked me out as a child

Burns memorial – getting a facelift apparently

Tam o’ Shanter

Gardens and Brig a’ Doon

After a deficit of pleasant countryside for the last few miles I seem to have taken quite a few photos in Alloway.

View from Brig a’ Doon 1

View from Brig a’ Doon 2

On the Brig a’ Doon – no witches about

Brig a’ Doon

Post a bit of a photo frenzy, and with the nice weather and countryside distracting me slightly after the morning’s urban sprawl, I took the wrong road out of Alloway. I ended up heading up the B7024 towards Maybole instead of taking the intended coastal route. I tried to correct my mistake a few times, but just ended up getting turned around and still finished up in Maybole. Never mind, it was still a pleasant route through forest and farmland, with a few hills to keep things interesting (and sweaty).

Random ruin

I passed a couple of tourers going the other way who gave me a wave which I duly returned. They looked more loaded than me and were struggling slightly up the hill I was coasting down; I assured them they had a nice descent coming up. Unfortunately due to my wrong turning I missed an ‘electric brae’ that was marked on my map, which I’d have liked to see. For those who don’t know that’s a hill which plays a trick on the eye, so you think you’re going up when you’re in fact going down, and vice versa.

I took the A77 from Maybole back to the coast, with a few accidental extra miles added on to my tally for the day. There were still lots of miles for me to get through, so I pressed on through Kirkoswald and past Tam o’ Shanter’s house, then pedalled through Turnberry and along the coast to Girvan.

Back on the coast near Turnberry

Just past Lendalfoot there’s a memorial to a Russian cruiser, the Varyag, which has an interesting history. I wasn’t expecting to find a memorial to Russian cruiser on the west coast of Scotland, which ran aground and sank just off Lendalfoot in 1925.

Varyag memoria

Varyag memorial info

In case you can’t read the info in the photo above, the Varyag was involved in the Russo-Japanese war, it’s crew refusing to surrender in the battle of Chemulpo Bay in 1905. She and one other Russian ship were blockaded in the Korean port by 15 Japanese ships, but refused to strike their colours when offered the opportunity. An unequal battle followed, with a heroic attack by the Varyag, however eventually both Russian ships were unable to offer continued resistance and their crews scuttled them, before returning to Russian aboard foreign vessels. The Japanese later raised the vessel and added it to their own navy as ‘the Soya’, before selling it back to Russia in 1916. The Russians sent it to Britain in 1917 for repairs, but then had a bit of a revolution and it was set adrift. From what I can gather we then nickedsalvaged it, before selling it for scrap, but it ran aground and sank on the way to be dismantled, a bit of an ignominious end for a ship with such a valiant history.

Coast off Lendalfoot

I continued down the coast with the island of Ailsa Craig off the coast. At first the island really confused me as I couldn’t see it on my map, and I wondered if it was a mirage, or perhaps a giant turtle (it was a hot day and I probably hadn’t drunk enough water). I learned later that Ailsa Craig granite is used to make Curling Stones, and the island is currently up for sale but no-one wants to buy it. I think the asking price is around £1.5m, however I’m not sure what you’d do with it, perhaps build a secret base from which to mastermind plans to take over the world. Other than that it’s a bird reserve, home to large colonies of gannets and puffins

Ailsa Craig off the coast

A few longer hills followed as I rode around Bennane Head and through Ballantrae, with a long climb up to Smyrton and Auchencrosh which left me very hot. I realised my arms had burned slightly as my sun cream and worn off, probably hours before, whoops. The road surface was pretty shoddy in places which made for tough riding, and jarring my wrists which were really starting to ache, however I was rewarded with a nice long descent down to Loch Ryan.

Loch Ryan

I made it round to Cairnryan, from where Stenaline ferries leave for Ireland now, instead of from Stranraer. The traffic was still relatively heavy so I hurried round to Stranraer, arriving about 19.00, and found the Aird Donald campsite.

Around Loch Ryan to Stranraer

Stranraer in the distance

I had to interrupt the campsite owner during her soaps, however she was very accommodating and we had a quick chat. Apparently she doesn’t get as many tents as she used to, with the ferries having moved and more people in camper vans. It was only £8.00 a night, and my only company on the camping field were lots of rabbits. For some reason it felt a little spooky.

Aird Donald – I just couldn’t decide where to pitch my tent

Post setting up my tent I cycled into Stranraer on a considerably lighter bike, and had a quick tour around looking for somewhere to eat. In the end I decided upon a Chinese at the Sun Kai, as well as a couple of cold beers to celebrate a good day’s ride, and to cool off a bit. It proved to be a good choice, with lots of carb loading opportunities, and I also met Frank Montgomery (@tr6fom) a fellow cycle tourer. Frank, who lives in Leeds but is originally from Glasgow, had just completed a ride from Leeds to Glasgow in one day, covering over 200 miles, a pretty phenomenal effort. At 64 he’s just about to retire and has a lot of cycling plans. We chatted about touring ideas (Pyrenees sound very attractive) and experiences to date, with the restaurant girls chipping in with a few tips on the local area. A great evening and before I knew it 23.00 had arrived.

Dinner venue in Stranraer

Another day done I bid Frank goodbye, although I’d very likely bump into him tomorrow in Portpatrick, and headed back to the campsite. It was too late to start a blog entry at that point, however I made sure my written journal was up-to-date before I nodded off, slightly concerned my tent was being surrounded by rabbits intent on mischief.

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Leg 49 – to Largs via Glasgow

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19 June 2013

I slept very well after yesterday’s long ride, and awoke to a bright morning feeling fresh despite having stayed up pretty late working on my blog. There just aren’t enough hours in the day, and I’d decided that whilst the blog was important, it had to take second place to anything else going on, such as places to visit or people to meet.

After breakfast I had a check over my bike which seemed in order, however I did need to get new rear brake pads, the current incumbents being down to the bare minimum. There followed a bit of faffing as I reorganised my panniers a bit, which had got into a bit of a mess with things like pairs of socks getting split between bags. I didn’t even have that many pairs of socks, it just doesn’t seem to matter where you are or what you’re doing, socks always get mixed up!

I tried to phone Garmin again to see about getting my Edge replaced, but as usual the line was busy and I ended up on hold. I didn’t hold for long, being on my mobile which costs me money. I’d probably have to wait until I got home to sort it out properly; their customer service is seriously overstretched and needs sorting, and I hope I haven’t wasted £400 – I’ll go down fighting! Using a map was working out fine anyway, and in many ways was a better option, it just meant people couldn’t track me online and I didn’t have an automatic mile counter. The Garmin website is good for route planning anyway, and from that I could tell how many miles I covered.

Everything loaded onto my bike I dropped off the toilet block key and got on my way at about 10.30, taking are rather more direct and less alarming route from Stepps back into Glasgow, via the A80. After being on quiet roads for so long I had to sharpen up a bit in all the traffic, and remember how it tackle traffic lights and roundabouts, Glasgow having a lot of both. It didn’t take me long to get into the swing of city cycling again, I just had to be slightly more aggressive and awake.

I rode into the city via the Cathedral Precinct, to my first stop at Cycling Scotland in Blythswood Square, a rather upmarket bit of Glasgow. Their offices are located at the top floor of number 24, and I thought it would be good to visit having been following them on Twitter. They were all in a meeting when I arrived, however William, their Comms Officer, ducked out for a chat. Cycling Scotland are a great organisation, promoting safe cycling, cycling awareness amongst drivers, and how to integrate cycling into modern life. They hold and organise cycling events, and generally promote cycling in Scotland, being funded both by the government and some businesses. It was good to learn a bit more about them, and I wondered if we had a similar organisation in England, I’d need to find out. I guess the CTC/Sustrans fill that gap.

You can visit the Cycling Scotland website at http://www.cyclingscotland.org

William pointed me in the direction of Rig Bike Shop and Cafe just around the corner, as well as the Velodrome which would be worth a visit. I passed on my blog details in case they wanted to link to it, seeing as I’ve cycled around most of their coastline and think it’s pretty amazing. Could be useful for other cycle tourers thinking of doing the same.

After getting slightly lost trying to get out of the building by using the stairs, I cycled the few hundred yards to Rig Bike Shop on West Regent Street (141), which has the Luke Monaghan’s Cafe attached to it.

Rig Bike Shop

I spoke to Brian who runs the shop, and is an ex Glasgow bike messenger, and bought some new rear brake pads to fit later. The front brake pads were nowhere near as worn. He checked my tyres and agreed they both had a few more miles left in them. I’d been getting concerned about the rear one which was starting to wear a bit, but the front was fine still. They’re Schwalbe Marathon Plus’ so they should be fairly indestructible. Great bike shop and staff, with lots of bike messengers popping in and out for snacks from the cafe, or repairs, or just to chill out for a bit. Being a bike messenger in Glasgow must be a hard vocation with all the hills and traffic, and something of an extreme sport. Was good to say hello and have a chat with a few of them.

Before leaving I had a panini and excellent strawberry smoothie at the cafe, all for £4.00 so great value, and was also able to swap out my loose change of which I’d seemed to accumulate a fair amount; good to get rid of the weight, even if I was only fractionally lighter as a result. Brian did warn me to make sure I locked my bike and to keep an eye on my stuff whilst in Glasgow, so despite all the regeneration it’s still like most big cities and you have to watch out for theft.

Luke Monaghan’s Cafe

If you’re passing through Glasgow on your bike I’d thoroughly recommend Rig Bike Shop and Cafe, but they’re likely to be busy so you might have to book anything more serious than a tweak in advance. Thanks for the tip Cycling Scotland.

Post the bike shop, and a quick cycle around the city centre, I rode alongside the river front and out to the Commonwealth arena, which was in the wrong direction really, but I wanted to visit the Sir Chris Hoy Velodrome. I passed through a lovely park by the river before turning inland to the arena.

Glasgow river front – excellent cycle paths

There were no tours of the Velodrome for another hour so I just had a quick look around. A few super light bikes were whizzing around the velodrome on time trials, which looked fun. I’d have loved to take the Ridgeback on it fully loaded, however I’d have probably crashed, and it was closed to the public at the time anyway.

Sir Chris Hoy Velodrome

Curiosity satisfied I rode back into the Glasgow, again long the river front, passing a few marquees with cycle type people around them. I stopped to find out what was going on, and met The Bike Station Glasgow. They’re a Glasgow based charity who were holding an event to promote cycling in the city, and performing free bike checks. They were just finishing up but were kind enough to give my bike the once over, finding nothing untoward aside from a slightly smelly lobster. They did adjust my gears, which had been sticking a bit – thanks guys and good luck.

You can check out their website here – http://www.thebikestation.org.uk They recycle old bikes for the community, promote cycling, teach bike maintenance and cycle confidence, and offer bike services via their mechanics. All great stuff and a great bunch of people. Must be working as there were certainly a lot of cyclists out and about, and lots of cycle paths to take advantage of.

In possession of a new freebie water bottle, and needing to get some miles done, it was time to leave Glasgow. I was somewhat reluctant as I really liked the feel of the city and its residents, more so than Edinburgh which I was surprised about, and would have liked to explore some more. I think the city has had a lot of money spent on it in recent years and has blossomed as a a result. Another place to come back to and visit again, and great launch pad for heading further north into the Highlands; I wonder what the job market is like in the city.

I rode alongside the Clyde for a bit, before crossing over near BBC Scotland and the Science Park.

Glasgow and the River Clyde

BBC Scotland

Seeing BBC Scotland reminded me it was nearly midsummer and that the Midsummer Watch programme would be airing soon – I’d met Mark Beaumont and a BBC team filming some of it earlier on my tour. I thought I really ought to do something for the longest day, I might even be back in England by then!

Leaving Glasgow via the A8 I passed through Renfrew again, and then swung onto Old Greenock Road to avoid the M8. I had to rejoin the A8 at Langbank, to stick close to the coast, passing through built up areas all the way along to Gourock. There was quite a bit of heavy traffic about, there being a lot of shipping arriving or leaving from Port Glasgow, but at least the road was mostly flat, and there were cycle paths available on some bits. One cycle path led me through a ferry port and literally through a train station which was a bit odd, but I remained on track, as it were.

I could see across the Firth of Clyde to where I’d been yesterday, and the day before. I could have easily jumped on the ferry across the short stretch to Dunoon.

Firth of Clyde

Firth of Clyde near Gourock

Gourock

Dismissing thoughts of ferries I rode around the point to Inverkip, taking a chance on following the route 75 cycle track, which went in the right direction and looked in good condition.

More of the Clyde coast

It started off well but the track rapidly deteriorated leaving me swearing somewhat as I was bumped about, and had to negotiate flooded areas. I was certain I’d be wheel straightening again that evening!

Route 75 deteriorating

One of the smaller puddles

I got back on to the road at the Kip Marina, which looked nice but expensive, and pedalled south through Wemyss Bay in the sunshine, with a slight south westerly wind slowing me down a bit. I passed various ferry ports pedalling on to Largs, with Bute just across the firth, and the isle of Great Cambrae even closer. The road was flat again so it was fairly easy going, and I arrived in Largs in good time.

After a quick look around Largs, which was alright for a typical seaside sort of town with amusements and the normal array of shops and bars, I made my way to the campsite I’d spotted earlier on the Web. South Whittlieburn Farm is about 2.5 miles north east from Largs, and I pedalled there via a climb up Brisbane Glen. It’s a nice little campsite, with limited wifi and a small unisex shower block where I was also able to charge up everything which was handy. The farm also offers B&B, which I was almost tempted by after missing out on a bed last night, but in many ways I prefer my tent, and it’s cheaper.

Whittlieburn Farm campsite

After a quick chat with the campsite owner Tom, who was running the site solo with his wife away which he seemed in a bit of panic about, I pitched my tent and cooked up a meal of pasta, smoked sausage, cheese, and tomato and chilli sauce.

Whittlieburn Farm – tent pitched and cooking in progress

At the same time I was changing my brake pads and tweaking the spokes on my rear wheel post the bumpy ride up route 75, which resulted in me slightly overcooking the pasta.

Sausage pasta in progress

My meal was a bit of a soft pasta mess, but tasted delicious with the addition of Tabasco sauce – a staple of my cooking on the road it seems. It was a bit like eating pizza topping, and there was lots of it to refuel on.

I spent the rest of the evening finishing bike maintenance, as well as planning my route over the next few days and updating my journal and blog over, a can of cider. I tried to sit outside to enjoy the countryside and sunset, but unfortunately the midges arrived as the sun set, and I had to retreat to my tent. Some noisy arrivals about 22.30 seemed to spend an age parking their camper van, however they didn’t stop me falling asleep, after planning out tomorrow’s leg; a long one down to Stranraer.

Only 58 miles covered today due to time spent in Glasgow, a very worthwhile visit.

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Leg 48 – to Glasgow

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I made it back to Norwich completing my Bike around Britain tour yesterday, post 86 days on the road, and covering around 5,451 miles. Great feeling to have made it ahead of schedule and in one piece, and great to see friends and family again. Now to catch up on my blog, and plan my next adventure. Oh, and I’d better go back to work next week!

18 June 2013

After a late night at the Whistlefield Inn I was a bit bleary first thing on Tuesday morning. I was still up relatively early, and after swatting a few midges that had made it through my tent airlock system into my inner sanctum, I got up, and had a swift breakfast. It had to be swift as there were still midges swarming about, leaving me feeling pretty itchy. Apparently they’ve taken the chemical that repels midges out of the Avon Skin So Soft product I’d been using as a repellent, which explains why it hadn’t been working very well. In fact it had probably just been making my skin nice and tender! I’d need to find an alternative if the midges were going to continue. It seems a bit short-sighted of Avon to remove the midge repelling bit of lotion, as it’s on the shelf throughout Scotland not for its moisturising qualities, but for its ability to keep the little blighters at bay. I imagine their sales will reduce massively as a result, so sell any shares you have in the company now!

Whistlefield Inn pitch

Post a bit of wheel straightening, which was a bit tricky whilst being attacked by midges who insisted on trying to crawl up my nose, I packed up and was on the road just after 09.00, foregoing a coffee at the Inn as I had a long day’s ride ahead of me, and I might have just ended up staying!

View from Whistlefield Inn down to Loch Eck

Whistlefield Inn, built 1663

I pedalled slowly alongside Loch Eck for a bit, letting my legs warm up as the sun came out, through the Argyll Forest Park which is really worth a visit. It’s a brilliant landscape with lots to see and do, although you have to watch out for the midges. I was somewhat sad to leave it behind, this being my last day in the Highlands, having seen some superb places and met some fantastic people.

At Strachur I turned left onto the A815 and rode up to Ardno, where I turned onto the B839 to make my way through the mountains. It was a great but challenging ride over to ‘Rest and be thankful’, the apex of the old drover’s pass, that was named by soldiers making there way along the military road. A lot of military roads were built in the area, to help with quashing any anti-government sentiment or rebellion.

Hill climb up from Ardno

Road winding through forest

I was slightly jealous of a fellow cyclist who passed me without panniers, seen in the above photo whizzing off in front of me.

More of the Argyll Forest Park, near Ben An Lochain

On my ride across to ‘Rest and be thankful’ I stopped by one of the fast flowing and clear mountain streams for a break, and decided it was time for a wash to rid myself of some grime, and to cool off a bit.

Mountain stream washroom

This was another tick on my list of things to do, and the water tasted wonderful. I really wasn’t worried about it having anything nasty in it up here, and felt thoroughly refreshed after the rigorous climb, even though I was about to get very sweaty again with the next ascent.

Bathing on a cold Scottish mountain stream, another great experience

Bathing in a cold Scottish mountain stream, another great experience

B828 over to Rest and be thankful

I stopped for a break at ‘Rest and be thankful’, as it seemed appropriate and timely, from where you have a great view down Glen Croe and towards The Cobbler.

View down Glen Croe from Rest and be thankful

View down Glen Croe from Rest and be thankful 2

Rest and be thankful marker stone

Bidding farewell to the Highlands for now (in the words of Arny – ‘I’ll be back’), I had a long and speedy descent down to Arrochar, which went on for ages and was thoroughly enjoyable despite the traffic. I stopped in Arrochar about 11.30 and had second breakfast at a local cafe, consisting of a very large and tasty fry-up with black pudding, eggs, bacon, beans, Lorne sausage, potato pancakes, and toast. It was nearly a case of my eyes being larger than my stomach, but I managed it all, and left feeling rather full but with plenty of energy to get me to Glasgow.

I pedalled down the A814 alongside Loch Long, passing several naval bases and MOD areas, shut off from the public by some fierce looking razor wire fences; think they are submarine bases. There were lots of other cyclists out on expensive looking road bikes, and a few tourers heading the other way into the Highlands with whom waves were exchanged. I briefly considered riding from Glasgow over to Edinburgh and starting the Scottish circuit again, being slightly envious of those just setting off.

Following a steep climb I made it to Garelochhead, and decided against pedalling down to Rosneath, it being a bit of a dead end, and needing to get on to Glasgow. Getting my head down and consuming a lot of water due to the heat, I rode down to Helensburgh alongside Gare Loch, past lots of military accommodation by the looks of it, and on to Dumbarton with the Firth of Clyde on my right. It was a nice and easy ride, the road being flat and with no wind to speak of. I stopped in Dumbarton to refill my water bottles and grabbed a cold lemonade for my parched throat – really hit the spot after the hot Highland pedalling.

I had to join the A82 for a bit up to the Erskine Bridge, which was a slightly alarming experience after being on quiet roads for so long. It’s a dual carriageway and had lots of heavy traffic on it, including logging lorries which have a tendency to shed bits of bark as they hurtle along. I pedalled over the Erskine Bridge, having decided to go that way in case I decided to skip Glasgow and head west to Greenoch; I sometimes don’t make my mind up on what route I’m going to take until literally the last moment.

In the end I did head across to Glasgow, getting a bit turned around in Erskine before picking up the right road, and trying desperately not to get funnelled on to any motorways, which road signs kept pointing me at – the M8 and M898. Via a slightly convoluted route, and with assistance from a few other cyclists with directions, I rode down through Renfrew and along the A8 to Glasgow itself, crossing over the pedestrian/cycle bridge.

Rangers Football Club

Pedestrian/Cycle bridge over the Clyde

I had a quick cycle around the centre of Glasgow, which wasn’t actually very quick due to all the buses, cars and traffic lights. I found the Cycle Scotland office but it was closed, it being 17.45, so I thought I’d pay them a visit tomorrow morning instead, having been following their tweets. Cycling seems to be very popular in Glasgow, and on the up in Scotland in general, which lots of promo activity going on to get more people pedalling which is great.

I’d had a cunning plan to gets a room in a hostel for the night, and pedalled to the Euro Hostel with this in mind. It’s one of the larger hostels in Glasgow, and very central, with loads of rooms. I strode up to the receptionist, looking forward to a night in a bed and going out for a curry…

Unfortunately my plans were thwarted by Bruce Springsteen who’d arrived in Glasgow for a concert, meaning the Euro Hostel, as well as all other hostels and hotels were fully booked. Just bad timing on my part as it’s usually easy to get a room or bunk for the night, but a bit selfish of Mr Springsteen I thought.

After a quick think I decided I really didn’t want to pedal all the way out to Greenock that evening, so I turned to my mobile and Google for help. I found a campsite not far away in Stepps, just East of Glasgow, which would do just fine. I rode there via a slightly bendy route again, but successful avoiding more motorways. I passed through some slightly dubious areas with gangs of teenagers hanging around drinking and smoking, looking at me with an air of speculation, and past one fight outside a pub.

I got a bit lost around the Red Road housing estate, which has some enormous high rise blocks that are in the process of being demolished. I was getting slightly concerned that several older and tougher looking kids were starting to follow me on bikes, but was heartened when a younger lad showed me the right road, realising I was a lost after I’d been staring at the map on my phone for a bit – perhaps not the wisest move in that neighbourhood but I might being doing it a disservice. I followed his directions, seeing him again on the other side of the tower blocks which he’d obviously snuck through, ignoring the ‘danger’ and ‘no entry’ signs as you do as a kid. The demolition site must be a paradise of a kids playground for the youth in the area! He gave me the thumbs up as I rode off to Stepps, getting there about 19.00 after stopping at a Co-op to get some dinner.

It was a relief to make it to the campsite, after a long 83 mile day which had begun in the mountains. The site had plenty of room for my little tent, and I pitched up and got some dinner on. I really like it when campsites have a picnic table I can use, both for cooking and writing on. It was a lovely evening with clear skies, but got a bit chilly so I headed for a warm shower to wash away the day’s grime. It wasn’t as nice as my mountain stream bathroom but was definitely warmer.

Stepps campsite

The campsite was a bit pricey at £14.00. There seems to be such a variation in cost, with prices ranging from £5.00 all the way up to £20.00, with no real difference in facilities. Some of the cheaper campsites often seem to to be better. I was going to have to be careful with more campsites getting booked up now, as I wouldn’t have as many wild camping opportunities; it’s not legal in England and Wales, although you can get away with it if you’re respectful and responsible.

I went to bed mulling over my time in Scotland, which would be coming to an end soon. I was sad to be leaving it and will have to plan a return trip to the West Coast to revisit a few places more thoroughly, and do some hiking and kayaking. I want to get to a few more of the isles and places like Fingal’s Cave – I wonder if you can get a sea plane there, as one of my Dad’s friends in the RAF once did. I think I could quite happily live up here, if I could find a job that worked out, and could put up with the midges, and sheep!

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Leg 47- to the Whistlefield Inn, Argyll Forest

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I’m in Essex as I write this, and miss my time in Scotland, which was amongst some of the best riding of the Bike around Britain tour. Leg 47 was another good day, with fantastic scenery and more places and people to revisit at some point in the future.

17 June 2013

There was was a splash from outside my tent, followed by another, someone throwing stones I thought? Maybe I’d annoyed some locals by camping here. I cautiously opened the tent flaps to a bright morning, peering out, and spotted the culprits of splashing. Rather than an angry mob there were two gannets fishing, flying up and down the shoreline and occasionally diving down into the loch, an amazing sight to wake up to.

Morning at Otter Ferry, Loch Fyne

Loch Fyne, gannets fishing – couldn’t catch them in a photo though

Unfortunately I’d camped in a shady spot and the midges were still out, so I packed up and breakfasted quickly, before setting out on what was probably going to be a long day, with lots of Scottish hills to cross, as well as some lovely National Park land.

Otter Ferry – The Oystercatcher

Bike loaded I rode down through Otter Ferry, not named after Otters, but after the Gaelic for sandbank (oitir), and past the Oystercatcher pub, before continuing up the B8000 towards Ardlamont Point. I passed a couple of cyclists going the other way looking rather sweaty, who warned me of impending hills. They weren’t wrong about the hills, which were a little feisty, however it was worth it for the views at the point. There was also a nice coach house cafe which I was tempted to stop at, but resisted in this instance.

Ardlamont Point 1

Ardlamont Point 2

Ardlamont Point 3

I turned back north towards Kames and Tignabruiaich, passing a few other cyclists with whom greetings were exchanged. A lot of tourists appear to frequent this area, also know as Secret Scotland, and I’m not surprised given the fantastic scenery and national park.

Road to Tignabruiaich

Following the coast alongside the Kyles of Butes, the Isle of Bute was just across the water. I think you can almost walk across to it at low tide, but they obviously want to keep their island status for the tax breaks!

Looking across to Bute

I stopped in Tignabruiaich for lunch at the Burnside Bistro, as several coach-loads of mostly the older generation turned up, quickly making there way to the few eating establishments who were obviously prepped for their arrival, springing into action; it must be a daily occurrence during the holiday season and I was glad I’d got in just before they’d arrived. I consumed my scampi and had a coffee, before escaping the hordes who were busy eating Tignabruiaich out of cake as far as I could see.

Tignabruiaich – panorama

Tignabruiaich – Kyles of Bute

Post lunch I had to tackle a long hill climb out of Tignabruiaich, which took a considerable amount of effort especially as it was getting fairly warm; it was all worth it for the views the top. Several loads of cake laden tourists passed me, the coaches labouring up the ascent, and filling the lovely clean Scottish air with fumes. A lot of those tourists could have benefitted from a bit of a cycle I reckon!

View from above Tignabruiaich 1

View from above Tignabruiaich 2

View from above Tignabruiaich 3

There was another one of Scotland’s handy information signs at the top of the hill, which educated me on the various Norse versus Scots battles that had taken place in the area, before the Norse were finally kicked out, and about Clan Cambell who dominated the area, with at times an equally bloody history.

I rode on alongside Loch Riddon, enjoying a nice descent on the A8003, before turning on to the A886 and then the B836 as I followed the coast. Another series of hills followed up to Loch Tarsan, several marked as serious climbs or descents which either made my brakes squeal or me perspire and grunt accordingly. I was almost tempted to jump in Loch Tarsan to cool off, but reckoned it would have been a bit of a shock to the system. Scottish lochs are not renowned for being particularly warm.

Loch Tarsan

There followed a nice descent down to Dunoon, where I did a quick circuit before heading back up around Holy Loch. I stopped to refill my water bottles at an accommodating cafe at the Marina, and stocked up on a few energy boosting supplies in the form of bananas and biscuits.

Dunoon waterfront looking over to Strone

I considered getting the ferry over from Dunoon to Gourock, which would have saved me a ride back up to Loch Fyne and round to Glasgow, but in the end decided I didn’t want to miss out on the Loch Lomond and The Trossachs National Park. I’m not entirely sure what a Trossach is though, perhaps related to haggis?

With it starting to chill off I rode through Strone and up to Ardentinny, alongside Loch Long, with more great views to absorb. I feared Scotland was going to spoil me somewhat, potentially overshadowing the rest of my tour! With it getting later I considered pitching up and wild camping for the night, but couldn’t find anywhere immediately suitable so I pedalled on, spotting the Whistlefield Inn on my map which would do for dinner.

Loch Lomond and The Trossachs National Park

Loch Lomond and The Trossachs National Park 2

Fishing boat on Loch Long

Loch Long – near Ardentinny

There were of course the usual caravan parks in evidence, but they don’t always accept tents, and I didn’t fancy paying over the odds to camp when I could just find a nice spot further into the national park.

With the end of the day looming there followed a massive and very steep hill climb up to Sligrachan, that seriously taxed my legs and lungs, and was probably the closest I’d come to having to stop and push in Scotland to date; reckon the hills and heat had tired me out somewhat. I was rewarded with a pleasant descent down to the Whistlefield Inn, where I’d already decided I’d stop for dinner. It proved to be a good decision.

Road to Whistlefield Inn through national park

I’d only covered 65 miles, but there’d been some serious and pretty constant hills along the way, so it was a relief to sit down in a comfy chair and stretch my legs out. The food was excellent and reasonably priced, although at this stage I would have eaten pretty much anything and thought it nice I was so hungry. I consumed my Cajun chicken meal pretty swiftly, followed by a ginger and date sponge pudding which was also excellent, all washed down with a pint of Sommerset Cider as recommended by Hannah, the most excellent barmaid/host who was running the place with the manager out poorly. Hannah let me know there was a good spot to wild camp just around the corner, or said I could just pitch my tent in the grounds of the Inn, so I was also sorted for a place to kip for the night.

Taking advantage of the free wifi I caught up on the news, and enjoyed a few more pints, then spent the evening chatting to Hannah and a few other locals in the Inn. John and Lynne gave me some good advice on my route for the following day, round to Glasgow. John had cycled in the Outer Hebs, which I hadn’t managed to get to but sounded very much worth a visit – on the list! He also has at least one Uncle who’s won the lottery, and we talked about the effect this can have on people. I reckon it would be great to win, as there is so much I’d love to do with the money, but I might not tell anyone as that just seems to cause problems.

All in all a great evening, finishing up by chatting with Hannah about living up here, which sounded great but not without its challenges. For example getting anything done by employing workmen from Dunoon is obviously a bit of a chore, as they work on ‘Dunoon time’ and are very laid back. They’ll get things done, but might need reminding, and there’s no guarantee as to when the job will be finished. The pace of life around this neck of the woods is definitely completely different to for instance the South East, and there’s something nice and I daresay healthy about that, although it could be frustrating if you’re not used to it.

Post a bit of a late night, with probably a few too many beers and a whisky courtesy of Hannah, I rather blearily pitched my tent and crashed out for the night. It had been a great day’s ride, followed by a great evening in friendly company. I was looking forward to tomorrow’s leg and getting around to Glasgow, and heading South, but I’d be sorry to leave this part of Scotland and some of the people I’d met. Thoroughly recommend the Whistlefield Inn if you find yourself in the area.

The Whistlefield Inn

I’ll definitely be coming back to this part of the world sooner rather than later.

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Leg 46 – to Otter Ferry via Inveraray

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Just to confirm I’m not actually in Scotland anymore, my blog is just really behind due to more exciting stuff taking precedence. I will catch up, but no doubt I’ll still be doing so from home post tour end! Check out my twitter feed (@jam_har) if you want more up-to-date info.

16 June 2013

I woke up feeling a little woozy after the excesses of the previous night at the Argyll Inn, however I feel it’s important to immerse oneself in the local culture. It was a pretty dull day outside my tent, with no wind, and closer inspection revealed clouds of midges still buzzing around. I grabbed some breakfast from my panniers and retreated back inside for another hour or so, swatting at any midges that made it in.

Post a bit of writing, and some route planning (will wonders never cease), I spread out wet stuff to dry as the sun came out, and had a shower. I still had quite a bit of damp kit from the last few days, and didn’t want to wear wet kit again, or pack it away like that. My shoes were also still quite soggy, however after a bit of bike maintenance, packing up, and a call to my parents to wish Dad a happy Father’s Day they were at least comfortable to wear again, and on the road to being merely moist.

It turned in to a bit of a late start after deciding to FaceTime my brother and his family too. Still, it was Sunday and I was enjoying catching up with people. It was good to see my nephew Seb dashing about on his tricycle. He’ll be on a bike and challenging for the yellow jersey in no time, although he is only 1 and 3/4, so maybe a little bit of training required; no performance enhancing drugs though so I’d better hide the Haribos.

Lochgilphead campsite – sunshine!

Leaving Lochgilphead in the sunshine, I stopped at a supermarket for a few supplies and to get some lunch, expecting to have to wild camp for a night or two. I try to avoid going to supermarkets when I’m hungry, which is a bit of a challenge on this tour, so I ended up buying far more than I intended, mostly from the bakery section – pastries, fresh bread, and cookies.

Lochgilphead – low tide

I pedalled down the A83 round to Loch Fyne, following the relatively flat road along the coast through Lochgair, Tullochgarm, and past the gardens at Crarae, advertised as Scotland’s own Himalayan experience which sounded intriguing.

Alongside Loch Fyne

Alongside Loch Fyne 2

Post Furnace there’s a reasonably long climb up past the Aachindrain Township, before a nice long descent to Inveraray. The A83, thus far, was proving to be a pleasant road, being smooth, and passing through forest and farmland. I noticed quite a bit of logging going on again, leaving stark patches on hillsides, and piles of timber waiting for a lorry beside the roadside.

Lush vegetation next to mountain stream

The hills before Inveraray

One of the benefits of hills plus a high level of annual rainfall is Scotland can generate quite a bit of power from hydroelectric facilities, and I passed quite a few along the way.

Logging activity in evidence

More sunshine makes a nice change

After an altogether different sort of ride to yesterday morning’s, and feeling in holiday mode quite randomly, I stopped at the Loch Fyne Hotel on the way into Inveraray for a break. The hotel in run by a friend of a friend’s brother, and had been recommended (thanks Vikki) via Twitter due to good food, and spa facilities should I require them. I was sorely tempted to have a sauna and massage, but opted for a pint and food instead, sitting outside in the sunshine and chatting to a few other tourists. The tuna melt panini and wedges didn’t last long, and it was lovely feeling warm for a change, although with clouds in the sky and it being Scotland I was prepared for the weather to change at any given moment.

Bike having a break at Loch Fyne Hotel

The sign said the hotel couldn’t be held responsible for any damage to parked vehicles – I hoped my bananas were going to be alright.

Post the hotel I rode on into Inveraray, and had a look around. Even though it was Sunday everything was open, it being a tourist destination, and I nipped into the whisky shop as recommended by Dad. I could have spent a lot of money in there, but thankfully didn’t have room in my panniers, so instead chatted with the owner about some of the distilleries I’d passed. He, of course, had whisky from all of them. The shop smelt marvellous.

Inveraray Whisky Shop – Loch Fyne Whiskies

Inveraray Whisky Shop 2

I stopped for a look at the famous jail, and castle, but didn’t go into either. They were a bit pricey for the time I’d be visiting them for.

Inveraray Jail – thought about dropping lobster off for a stay given his lack of cycling effort

Inveraray Castle 1

Inveraray Castle 2

Inveraray high street

Inveraray is a nice little town and worth a visit. I joined the throngs in having an ice cream and relaxed on the green next to the loch for a bit, watching a bloke toss a cocktail bottle around pretty professionally (that sentence could have gone wrong). I think he was trying to impress a group of nearby girls so I was quite amused when he hit himself in the head, causing much giggling.

Inveraray waterfront

Inveraray Castle from bridge

I rode out of town over the bridge, continuing on the A83 alongside Loch Fyne. Everything was very green, with the road passing through forest and fern, and some lovely scenery. I passed a group of veteran cycle tourers going the other way, powering up the hill I was coasting down, all looking very fit and lean and probably in their 70’s, good stuff. Cycling obviously has massive health benefits, and must add several years on to your expected life span.

The Loch Fyne Oyster Bar/Deli/Restaurant was my next destination. This is the original restaurant of the Loch Fyne chain. I’ve been to the one in Norwich several times and really like their seafood, although I need to check if they use wild or farmed salmon now.

Loch Fyne Oyster Bar

I was tempted to grab a meal, however you no doubt need to book, and it wasn’t long since I’d last eaten (not that that seems to make much difference on this tour, mange tout) so I just had a browse around their shop looking at all their goodies, a lot of which I have ordered online in the past as gifts for people, vey handy. Unfortunately none of the produce would keep very well in my panniers, but I did recommend the Bradan Rost pâté to one indecisive shopper.

I finally made it around the top of Loch Fyne and rode down into Cairndow, and past the Ardkinglas Woodland Garden which claims to have the tallest tree in the UK; I wonder who goes around measuring them all. The village is ‘quaint’ and gas some pretty roads around it.

Verdant roads near Cairndow

More verdant roads near Cairndow

With it starting to get late, and still wanting to cover a decent number of miles, I pedalled on down the A815 to Strachur and past the apparently award winning Creggans Inn. There must be a lot of people and organisations giving out awards these days, having passed a lot of establishments that have won one award or another, but to be fair the Inn did look nice. Steeling myself I pressed on down the B8000 coastal route, passing through a few small villages, and hearing the distant strains of the pipes from down the road somewhere. It was a bit bizarre cycling down the quiet road with the sound of bagpipes gradually getting louder. I eventually passed their source – a man playing outside his caravan in a small caravan park. I wonder what his neighbours think.

I rode past the Kilmore Chapel where the Lachlan Clan chiefs are buried, according to the sign.

Loch Fyne – clouds suddenly made things go dark

Loch Fyne from on high

The road alongside the loch is really lovely, with just the occasional hill, dip and turn, and great scenery. I think I hit it at the right time of day with the light conditions making things look dramatic.

I made it to Otter Ferry at about 19.30, and stopped for a pint in the pub whilst considering where to camp. The owner advised there was a good spot just back up the road, next to the loch, that would hopefully not be too midgey. With that sorted I got chatting to the only other people in the pub, who turned out to be from Norwich too, living just down the road from me near Elm Hill; it’s a small world sometimes.

Me at Otter Ferry, shores of Loch Fyne

Kay and Peter Bemble were up on the West Coast of Scotland on hols, with Peter recovering from bowel cancer surgery and chemotherapy. We chatted for a while about my trip, and what they were up to, agreeing that when something like cancer happens to you, or someone close to you, it doesn’t half give you the motivation to try and live life to the max, and get out there and do stuff you’ve always wanted to but perhaps put off due to work etc. You never really know what’s going to happen so don’t put your dreams on hold for too long! Peter talked about having a fresh perspective on life, and appreciating things more such as Springtime arriving, blossom appearing on trees etc. Lu was the same, having had a big lust for life post her treatment. Thanks for the donation to the Big C, and congrats on your daughter making the Olympic fencing team! Good luck with your next scan Peter, and maybe see you back in Norwich. Lovely people, like a a lot of the folks I’ve bumped into on this tour.

Post a pint, and another courtesy of Kay and Peter, I rode back along the loch locating the spot next to the shoreline the publican had recommended. It was a great little patch and I pitched up next to the beach, quickly lighting a fire to try and discourage the midges, which duly arrived in numbers. I used the quick fire lighting method in this instance, rather than flint and steel, opting for fuel for my stove over driftwood. Needs must when midges attack.

Anti midge fire – sort of worked

Nice camping spot

I applied Avon skin so soft to try and further deter the midges but it didn’t seem to be discouraging them much, so I got the tent up quick, whilst watching a cormorant fish in the loch.

Wild camp on the shores of Loch Fyne

Tent up and fire smoking nicely

The light kept changing because of the clouds, but it led to a wonderful sunset which I watched from my tent, before turning in early with a big day planned for tomorrow.

Loch Fyne sunset 1

Sunset beach panorama

Loch Fyne sunset 2

Loch Fyne sunset 3

The colours just kept getting better and better.

Loch Fyne sunset 4

As I was shutting the tent door a grey heron stalked by at the water’s edge, obviously not quite sleepy enough to retire yet, unlike me. I keep meaning to do a count on grey herons, I’ve seen loads in Scotland.

Quick mileage update – with 60 odd miles done today, my total was standing at around 2720.

Edited with BlogPad Pro

Bike Around Britain

Blog on cycling around the coast of Britain

Category Archives: Bike around Britain 2013

Leg 55 – to Preston via Blackpool

Leg 54 – to Flookburgh via Barrow-in-Furness

Leg 53 – to St Bees via Gretna

Leg 52 – to Annan

Leg 51 – to Creetown via Portpatrick

Leg 50 – to Stranraer

Leg 49 – to Largs via Glasgow

Leg 48 – to Glasgow

Leg 47- to the Whistlefield Inn, Argyll Forest

Leg 46 – to Otter Ferry via Inveraray