8-11 September
On Wednesday 8th September 2021 we woke to blue skies and midges. We paid the £10 charge into the honesty box just before a friendly owner came around to ask the handful of campers for their contributions. Then trundled around to the Arran Brewery briefly, which wasn’t running tours so we left our bikes locked up outside and took the back entrance into Brodick Castle on foot. Happily our English National Trust cards were accepted, and we spent a delightful morning wandering around the grounds, past giant rhubarb even bigger than we had seen in South America, and with views down the sloping lawns to the sea.
Our ferry was at 1.30, so at 12.30 we set off to the ferry terminal to collect our tickets and some food from coop to eat on board. It was a bit of a rush at the end as Hannah got rather carried away by all the treats available in store but we made it on board, secured our bikes and wandered up to the top deck to relax in the sun over lunch, watching Arran slowly drift astern.
The crossing was only an hour and at 2.45 we were collecting our bikes and cycling up the ramp into Ardrossan.
We saw only a glimpse of the town before turning along the coast down south beach and its row of Victorian/Edwardian houses overlooking the bay. Route 73 took us down to Saltcoates, along the start of the Ayrshire Coastal Path and then inland towards Stevenston and Kilwinning, across the A78. We knew that today would be a town to town tour, with some busy roads to cross, but as we turned onto Route 7, which runs from Inverness all the way to Sunderland, we found a series of pleasant off-road stretches past rivers, woods, fields and railways. We also found some of the friendliest cyclists to date, all of whom were fascinated by our tour and desperate to gives us help and advice.
Skirting Irvine, we arrived at the mouth of the river by the same name, and the Scottish Maritime Museum. We detoured half a mile off down the river to seek refreshment in the heat, and found ice cream and sprite in a cafe, sitting on a cobbled street built when the Irvine was at the centre of Glasgow maritime trade, now backed by a large factory.
By 5pm we were back on our way south along Irvine Bay and then inland across the A78, past a paper mill, then back over the main road along a railway to the coast and Barassie Beach. Glorious cycling around into Troon in the afternoon sun and then out along South Bay, paddle boarders gliding along the placid sea.
Route 7 took us inland at the entrance to Royal Troon golf club, and then along a railway skirting the edge of the course, but parallel to the holes so no need to avoid flying balls. 2km along, we joined the edge of a main road briefly, and then a few backstreets down into Prestwick, back to the coastal path and more paddle boarders and people playing games on the beach. It felt more like Santa Monica than Scotland.
The route into Ayr was not particularly scenic, past old warehouses and terraces, but it is clearly a town with much history, with some enormous limestone houses south of the centre. We found the AirBnb we had treated ourselves to easily enough, and the friendly owner guided our bikes into the courtyard garden as we tried desperately not to knock over any pot plants.
We had the whole top floor to ourselves, and the rainfall hot shower was glorious. The owner proudly showed off all the house restoration, new doors and cast iron radiators, as well as his baby son, and recommended we try the fox and willow for dinner down the road, which did not disappoint.
The next morning we headed into town to post back 6kg(!) of gear with DPD: the first aid kit and second solar panel did not seem worth it as we continued south! Robbie also splashed out on a haircut and we were good to go. Back at the AirBnb we were surprised to be introduced to three giant poodles, the ultimate pride of our host. The whole family sent us on our way, energy renewed for Southern Scotland.
Today was time for a bit of culture, as 2km south of our stay, we arrived at Robert Burn’s Cottage, and even more surprisingly, the Prince of Wales, on tour.
We waited patiently for him to move on and then found our way into a cafe for cake and coffee. 5 minutes further on we parked up at the Burns birthplace museum.
At 2pm we set off west to return to route 7, in the hope of beating the weather, with an hour of heavy rain forecast before long. A tunnel took us down to views of the coast, just as heavy rain started pouring down.
To a Mouse
BY ROBERT BURNS
On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785.
Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickerin brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!
I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
’S a sma’ request:
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
An’ never miss ’t!
Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary Winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.
That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld!
But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!
Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e’e,
On prospects drear!
An’ forward tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!
We decided that retreat was the better part of valour, scanned into waterproofs and back to the museum for lunch of scampi and chips to wait out the rain. We met another cycle tourer and after a brief chat set off once more. Now with less of a rush, we took a detour via Brig a Doon bridge.
We also decided to cut the corner off Route 7, as well as a sizeable hill, and went straight down the B7024 the 5 miles to Maybole. 100m climb still tested our legs but the road want too busy and we rolled into Maybole by 5.30. The poor little town had a castle but not much else and the A77 running straight through the middle was deafening at rush hour and plentiful logging trucks with high buildings reflecting the sound. We rushed a shop in co-op and headed south back on route 7 as quickly as possible.
The 5 miles to the walled garden campsite was fairly hard going as evening drew in, and we were relieved when the owner agreed for us to stay. Once inside, the pitch was very pretty and with our own table. Plenty of caravans were dotted about, but most seemed empty, presumably stored on site for the owners to use at weekends.
Friday 10th September dawned cloudy but dry and we were up and on by 10am for the journey into the heart of Galloway forest and the Southern Uplands. We backtracked 2km to route 7 and then started the steady climb south from 100masl up to the 337 m pass at Black Hill of Garleffin. A BBC costing the earth podcast helped pass the first half hour, but the scenery soon made distraction unnecessary, as we rose up into a land of vast rolling forests and moorland.
From Garleffin came a glorious sweeping descent down into Balloch where we paused to let a flock of sheep drive by, sheepdogs guiding them perfectly without instruction as the shepherds followed on quad bikes.
Having touched it briefly earlier we now properly entered the dark sky Galloway forest park, climbing once again, up Nick of the Balloch into Carrick forest and up to a 390 m pass. The low grey scudding clouds made it wonderfully atmospheric.
We were rewarded with another epic descent for the next 6 km gently down into Glentrool forest, pausing for lunch at Kirriereoch loch. Then down down again at last into Glentrool village where we forked off to visit the visitor centre, the starting point for various hiking and mountain biking trails – one of Scotland’s 7 renowned biking “Stanes”.
We also admired the Montane Garden project, illustrating typical plant species found along the side of a Scottish mountain from top to bottom. Here we met a camper van couple also big into cycling who proudly showed us they’re latest gear.
At 3pm we rolled into the Glentrool camping and caravanning site and pitched up amongst the trees. With time to spare we made use of the laundry on site and showered before walking down to the local pub along a path sprinkled with painted pebbles.
Sadly the pub was fully booked for food but we took away some beer and returned to camp to cook some mackerel pasta, just beating the rain. Our camping next door neighbour has the biggest Alsatian we had ever seen, a suitable guard dog for the night.
Saturday morning dawned bright with soft blue skies and we set off at 10.50 south through Bargrennan and along a track to rejoin route 7. Now in the river Cree valley for 9 miles, this morning could hardly have been more different to yesterday, but no less beautiful through the wood of Cree.
At 12.30 we arrived in the pretty market town of Newton Stewart, where we stocked up in co-op, before turning east of of town as the valley widened out. A short steep climb took us up the north side of the valley, and then east on a cycleway skirting the edge of Kirroughtree forest. We stopped for lunch at a bench with glorious views.
A steady descent down to the Palnure burn and then south along the valley to Creetown on the edge of the Cree estuary in the sunshine. We turned sharply northeast and headed up the Moneypool Burn valley, a gentle climb up to Gatehouse Station at 150m, following a dismantled railway past fields of saddleback cows. At the top we crossed into the Water of Fleet valley, with views of the old railway viaduct across the river, and a lovely descent down through wooded valleys turning east and then south in the afternoon sun.
We arrived into Gatehouse in Fleet at 4pm, wide open streets and white washed houses. We turned off down to the Mill on the Fleet, an old cotton mill now a visitor centre with an exhibition on local history upstairs, and a conference underway at river level.
The NCN convenienetly passed by the Cream O’Galloway dairy – excellent stop off for much needed replenishment. I don’t think we had come across so many different flavours since Sicily. If we could have bought a tub (or two!) we certainly would have done.
The trip into Kirkcudbright (pronounced kir – coo – bree) was one of the most beautiful cycles following our time in the Highlands. Kirkcudbright is on the banks of the River Dee, 4 miles from the Irish Sea and and was at one time an ‘artists colony’ due to the ‘light’ (which was was pretty impressive when we were there. The ruined castle and town were also heavily featured in the original Wickerman, giving it a little bit of a sinister element. After pitching our tent ona a council run campsite we found some much needed fish and chips and a gin bar with the most extensive list of gins we had ever seen. We barely made a dent in the menu but we decided this was a good location for a day off the bikes the next day!
Pedalling_Patagonia 