Tag Archives: Stranraer

Leg 51 – to Creetown via Portpatrick

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


Portpatrick lighthouse

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

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

Portpatrick harbour entrance


Frank and his trusty steed

Frank and his trusty steed


Me in Portpatrick

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

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

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

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

Riding around Luce Bay 


Pleasant country roads

Pleasant country roads


Road to Port William

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

Isle of Man off the coast


Lovely coastline

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

Burns Cottage

I hadn’t realised he died so young.

Burns Cottage in Alloway

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.

Burns mouse

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

Burns memorial – getting a facelift apparently

 

Tam o' Shanter

Tam o’ Shanter


 

Gardens and Brig a' Doon

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 1


 

View from Brig a' Doon 2

View from Brig a’ Doon 2


 

On the Brig a' Doon

On the Brig a’ Doon – no witches about


 

Brig a' Doon

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

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

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 memoria


 

Varyag memorial info

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

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

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

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

Around Loch Ryan to Stranraer


Stranraer in the distance

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

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

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.