Day 48: Tarbert to Rothesay (Isle of Bute) 32 miles with 2 ferries.
My luck couldn't last and next morning it was pouring down as I had my breakfast and got ready to leave. On other days it had stopped just in time but not today. I had been unsure right up until last night where I was going today but having studied the map I decided that instead of retracing my steps up to Lochgilphead I would go and have a look at Bute. Alison phoned for me and there were vacancies at the hostel in Rothesay.
Had breakfast with a couple from Bavaria who were using a hire car so that the steering wheel would be on the right but had bought their own sat nav with them so the language would be set in German. Had the usual discussion about midges and another about jam and marmalade. Apparently marmalade is not readily available on the continent with strawberry jam being favoured for breakfast-so now you know. For £21 this B&B had been excellent.
Donned my waterproofs and went down to wait for the ferry in the rain. It is only a small boat and the crossing was very lumpy today and on the other side of Loch Fyne at Portavadie it was just as wet. I had planned to go up the B8000 alongside the loch through Otter Ferry but the rain was just so torrential I decided commonsense must rule and crossed over to Kames and Tighnabruaich and then the A8003. I don't know what I missed on the B8000 but this was yet another beautiful ride. Even in the rain every corner produced another breathtaking vista. Kames and Tighnabruaich are lovely villages with big houses lining the bay and yachts moored just offshore. I cycled the little detour to Port Driseach and back. The road goes through the small shopping centre and down to a liitle harbour. There were several cafes along the road and so I stopped for a while but couldn't be bothered to take all my soggy gear off and had a takeaway in the bus shelter.
Had breakfast with a couple from Bavaria who were using a hire car so that the steering wheel would be on the right but had bought their own sat nav with them so the language would be set in German. Had the usual discussion about midges and another about jam and marmalade. Apparently marmalade is not readily available on the continent with strawberry jam being favoured for breakfast-so now you know. For £21 this B&B had been excellent.
Donned my waterproofs and went down to wait for the ferry in the rain. It is only a small boat and the crossing was very lumpy today and on the other side of Loch Fyne at Portavadie it was just as wet. I had planned to go up the B8000 alongside the loch through Otter Ferry but the rain was just so torrential I decided commonsense must rule and crossed over to Kames and Tighnabruaich and then the A8003. I don't know what I missed on the B8000 but this was yet another beautiful ride. Even in the rain every corner produced another breathtaking vista. Kames and Tighnabruaich are lovely villages with big houses lining the bay and yachts moored just offshore. I cycled the little detour to Port Driseach and back. The road goes through the small shopping centre and down to a liitle harbour. There were several cafes along the road and so I stopped for a while but couldn't be bothered to take all my soggy gear off and had a takeaway in the bus shelter.
From Tighnabruaich it is a steady climb up and up to a viewing point. The views down the Kyles of Bute are absolutely superb and some interesting facts on the information board. For example in 1913/14 Churchill gathered the home fleet in the sheltered waters herebecause of the outbreak of the troubles in Ireland but events moved on as the first world war broke out and the fleet was needed elsewhere.
From the top there is a very long descent and I quickly went from damp and sweaty to wet and cold. Eventually I met the A886 and again in good weather I would have been tempted to go left here and go up around Loch Fyne to stay in the youth hostel at Invarary. Today however turning right to Bute seemed a more sensible option. There are so many route choices in this area that you could spend weeks touring around here, jumping from islands to mainland.
From the top there is a very long descent and I quickly went from damp and sweaty to wet and cold. Eventually I met the A886 and again in good weather I would have been tempted to go left here and go up around Loch Fyne to stay in the youth hostel at Invarary. Today however turning right to Bute seemed a more sensible option. There are so many route choices in this area that you could spend weeks touring around here, jumping from islands to mainland.
Not long after turning right a little back road takes you along the shore of Loch Riddon before rejoining the main road just before the ferry. Another short but beautiful crossing and a lovely ride alonside the Kyles of Bute into Port Bannatyne and Rothesay. Colintraive apparently means swimming narrows as it was here that the cattle from Bute were swum across on their way to market in the Scottish Lowlands. It was all flat riding now and once over the ferry I was at last able to take off the waterproofs as the sun broke through..
The hostel in Rothesay has recently been opened and is a superb place. Slightly more expensive than most but excellent facilities and views right out over the sea. I had a room to myself and would recommend a stay here, a great position and only a matter of yards from the ferry to the mainland at Wemyss Bay.
www.butebackpackers.co.uk
The hostel in Rothesay has recently been opened and is a superb place. Slightly more expensive than most but excellent facilities and views right out over the sea. I had a room to myself and would recommend a stay here, a great position and only a matter of yards from the ferry to the mainland at Wemyss Bay.
www.butebackpackers.co.uk
There was a good Somerfield supermarket in Rothesay so went up there and bought myself a piece of steak and a couple of bottles of beer and did a bit of cooking myself tonight. Also developed an urge for cornflakes and so bought a box of those as well.
Only a few other guests in- a family up from England for a funeral and a couple from New Zealand spending a couple of months touring Britain, France and probably a few other places as well. Looking back at my diary it's brilliant to remember the amazing variety of folk I met from all over the world. When your in hostels everyone talks about where they're from and where they're going. If you do a trip this long write it all down each night because you'll forget otherwise. Everyday as I write this I come across things I'd totally forgotten about.
Only a few other guests in- a family up from England for a funeral and a couple from New Zealand spending a couple of months touring Britain, France and probably a few other places as well. Looking back at my diary it's brilliant to remember the amazing variety of folk I met from all over the world. When your in hostels everyone talks about where they're from and where they're going. If you do a trip this long write it all down each night because you'll forget otherwise. Everyday as I write this I come across things I'd totally forgotten about.
Day 49: Rothesay to Girvan 71 miles
Bute Backpackers
Cornflakes for supper followed two more bowls for breakfast- with sugar which I'd normally find disgusting but my body was asking for it all the time. Left my New Zealand friends having breakfast and set off for the 8.45am ferry.
Quite a choppy crossing and was surprised how busy this route is as two large ferries ply back and forth all day so you won't have to wait too long. This would be a good and very different end to end route and miss out Glasgow completely.
Once on the mainland the A78 hugs the shore and is flat but a bit busy. The main problem today was the headwind. At times I was blown to a complete standstill especially as squalls of rain came at regular intervals. At Largs the ferry to Great Cumbrae was just leaving, another possible detour if you had endless time on your side. Stopped for a coffee and cake in Largs and then set off under blackening skies to Ardrossan. By the time I got there the rain was teaming down again with the wind blowing it straight in your face. Sat in a bus shelter on the seafront and chatted to an unemployed youngster from Liverpool. He was a bit sketchy as to why he'd moved up here but was bored and decided suddenly he'd like to cycle Lands End to John O Groats especially as someone my age could do it. Cheeky bugger!
Quite a choppy crossing and was surprised how busy this route is as two large ferries ply back and forth all day so you won't have to wait too long. This would be a good and very different end to end route and miss out Glasgow completely.
Once on the mainland the A78 hugs the shore and is flat but a bit busy. The main problem today was the headwind. At times I was blown to a complete standstill especially as squalls of rain came at regular intervals. At Largs the ferry to Great Cumbrae was just leaving, another possible detour if you had endless time on your side. Stopped for a coffee and cake in Largs and then set off under blackening skies to Ardrossan. By the time I got there the rain was teaming down again with the wind blowing it straight in your face. Sat in a bus shelter on the seafront and chatted to an unemployed youngster from Liverpool. He was a bit sketchy as to why he'd moved up here but was bored and decided suddenly he'd like to cycle Lands End to John O Groats especially as someone my age could do it. Cheeky bugger!
My new friend told me about a cafe up the road and so eventhough I'd sandwiches made at the backpackers I went up and had toast and jam and warmed up a bit as the teperature had taken a dive. As I often did I found a local bike shop and was told about the recently created bike path out of Ardrossan. It's brilliant. I was able to cycle miles down to Ayr, largely following the sea and almost totally traffic free on tarmac paths. Just cycle along the seafront in Ardrossan and you will see the signs. In 2007 I'd cycled along the main roads but this is so much better. Cycle shops proved again and again to be useful sources of information.
Once through Ayr which was much larger than I expected it was onto the lovely A719 coast road but today the wind, rain and hills were very difficult. It's on this road that you come across a stone marking the famous Electric Brae where the road appears to be going uphill when it's actually going down and vice versa. I'd seen it on the television but never in real life. It is fascinating and derives it's name from early beliefs that the phenomenon was caused by the mysterious powers of the newly discovered electricity. American soldiers and General Eisenhower came here during the war. It is of course just an optical illusion and apparently there are several others in Britain.
Having crossed several championship golfcourses I was looking forward to Turnberry where the British Open was being staged in a few weeks. Preparations were well advanced with stands and marquees up all over the place. The weather was getting worse by the minute and as I followed the coast from Turnberry to Girvan the sky over Ailsa Craig was black as night with curtains of rain and it was heading straight for me. I peddalled like mad hoping to beat the storm but halfway the wind became a full gale and the rain was blinding. I took cover in a bus shelter and what an adventure that was. The roof was loose and the wind so strong that it kept lifting it up and dropping it down. It was like thunder and I stood there laughing at my predicament and wishing someone was videoing the scene. It makes you think what it must be like in a real tropical hurricane. By the way, just in case you didn't know Ailsa Criag is where they get the granite for curling stones.
After half an hour the storm eased and I made my way to Girvan where tonight I was staying with an old friend Rosie. She and I had taught together in Cornwall where she lived overlooking the sea in Mousehole. Rosie and her husband Derek had moved away before eventually settling in Girvan. Alison had phoned her a few days ago to say I'd be passing through and she insisted I come and stay the night. Rosie was the first person I had spoken to that I knew since leaving Alison in East Anglia nearly two months ago. I was wet through by the time I arrived but as well as cooking me a meal Rosie also did a pile of washing for me and dried everything overnight. After an evening looking at old photographs and with no disturbances and clean sheets I slept through the whole night.
Once through Ayr which was much larger than I expected it was onto the lovely A719 coast road but today the wind, rain and hills were very difficult. It's on this road that you come across a stone marking the famous Electric Brae where the road appears to be going uphill when it's actually going down and vice versa. I'd seen it on the television but never in real life. It is fascinating and derives it's name from early beliefs that the phenomenon was caused by the mysterious powers of the newly discovered electricity. American soldiers and General Eisenhower came here during the war. It is of course just an optical illusion and apparently there are several others in Britain.
Having crossed several championship golfcourses I was looking forward to Turnberry where the British Open was being staged in a few weeks. Preparations were well advanced with stands and marquees up all over the place. The weather was getting worse by the minute and as I followed the coast from Turnberry to Girvan the sky over Ailsa Craig was black as night with curtains of rain and it was heading straight for me. I peddalled like mad hoping to beat the storm but halfway the wind became a full gale and the rain was blinding. I took cover in a bus shelter and what an adventure that was. The roof was loose and the wind so strong that it kept lifting it up and dropping it down. It was like thunder and I stood there laughing at my predicament and wishing someone was videoing the scene. It makes you think what it must be like in a real tropical hurricane. By the way, just in case you didn't know Ailsa Criag is where they get the granite for curling stones.
After half an hour the storm eased and I made my way to Girvan where tonight I was staying with an old friend Rosie. She and I had taught together in Cornwall where she lived overlooking the sea in Mousehole. Rosie and her husband Derek had moved away before eventually settling in Girvan. Alison had phoned her a few days ago to say I'd be passing through and she insisted I come and stay the night. Rosie was the first person I had spoken to that I knew since leaving Alison in East Anglia nearly two months ago. I was wet through by the time I arrived but as well as cooking me a meal Rosie also did a pile of washing for me and dried everything overnight. After an evening looking at old photographs and with no disturbances and clean sheets I slept through the whole night.
Day 50: Girvan to Port Patrick 43 miles
'I've finished the ironing'
A long casual breakfast and lots more old photos before I left Girvan with the wind still blowing a gale. Rosie also insisted on ironing my clothes as they would not be aired. My wife is the same, often taking things off me that I am about to put on because they've not been aired, whereas I often, on the trip, put things on in the morning that were still wet in the theory that the wind would soon dry them. I bet the younger generation don't air their clothes before they set off on a binge drinking session. But thank you so much for your hospitality Rosie.
From Girvan to Ballantrae the wind was so strong I was having difficulty keeping the bike on the road but it did air my clothes even more. Rosie had told me that there was a cafe at the garden centre in Ballantrae and so I stopped here as a squall was approaching. Two coffees and two scones later I set off up a three mile climb as the A77 went inland. On the plus side this was followed by a three mile descent towards Cairn Ryan. Here I was faced with a similar view to Invergordon where a small village is towered over by a large ship. The P & O ferry terminal has moved out from Stranraer to here to save the shallow approach at the head of Loch Ryan.
From Girvan to Ballantrae the wind was so strong I was having difficulty keeping the bike on the road but it did air my clothes even more. Rosie had told me that there was a cafe at the garden centre in Ballantrae and so I stopped here as a squall was approaching. Two coffees and two scones later I set off up a three mile climb as the A77 went inland. On the plus side this was followed by a three mile descent towards Cairn Ryan. Here I was faced with a similar view to Invergordon where a small village is towered over by a large ship. The P & O ferry terminal has moved out from Stranraer to here to save the shallow approach at the head of Loch Ryan.
Loch Ryan is very deep and was an important wartime anchorage with many American soldiers arriving here. It was a base for flying boats and at the end of the war it is where all the surrendering U boats where brought before being taken out to be sunk.
I reached the head of the loch and turned, so the wind was side on, I was cycling with a 45 degree list and when I turned again with the wind behind I was flying along. There is an excellent cafe as you cycle around the head of the loch.
As you enter Stranraer you pass the Stenna Ferry terminal. This ferry is a huge catamaran that was just coming in as I past. Apparently this may also move to Cairn Ryan largely because of the wash it creates which the warning signs say can arrive 30 minutes after the ferry.
I reached the head of the loch and turned, so the wind was side on, I was cycling with a 45 degree list and when I turned again with the wind behind I was flying along. There is an excellent cafe as you cycle around the head of the loch.
As you enter Stranraer you pass the Stenna Ferry terminal. This ferry is a huge catamaran that was just coming in as I past. Apparently this may also move to Cairn Ryan largely because of the wash it creates which the warning signs say can arrive 30 minutes after the ferry.
After a wander around Stranraer I set off on the A77 towards Port Patrick where I was booked into a B&B for the night. I had intended to cycle the northern tip of the Rhinns of Galloway but the wind just made it impossible. I cycled down into Port Patrick and was then told my B&B was back up the hill again and then up another one and when I got there my room was on the top floor-but it was a very nice room and excellent value. Dunskey Guesthouse is highly recommended.
From the guesthouse a footpath takes you down to the harbour where I found a pub for a meal but I can never understand why so many have such loud music. No one is listening, everyone just shouts louder to be heard. A very popular and beautiful village, all the pubs were packed.
From the guesthouse a footpath takes you down to the harbour where I found a pub for a meal but I can never understand why so many have such loud music. No one is listening, everyone just shouts louder to be heard. A very popular and beautiful village, all the pubs were packed.
Day 51: Port Patrick- Mull of Galloway- Newton Stewart 68 miles
After over eight hours sleep in a lovely ensuite single room- wish I could take this room around the coast with me-I had an equally good breakfast with good company. A lot to see today so I set off down beautiful quiet lanes following signs to Ardwell. The Mull of Galloway was another of the highlights that I had so been looking forward to and it didn't disappoint but it's certainly quite a trek to get there. There is also the realisation that the further out you go the longer the return journey. At Ardwell I hit the A716 for a while before turning off to Port Logan. The village is really just a row of houses lining a small picturesque bay and harbour. Several anglers on the pier and I even saw them catch a coalfish.
From Port Logan it was the B7065 towards Drummore and then with more and more hills the B7041 out on to the Mull of Galloway. What a stunning place this is and only a few miles to Ireland. The wind was behind me on the way out but I was aware that the return journey was going to be no picnic. The last couple of miles is a real roller coaster but luckily there is a good visitor's centre at the end with cafe attached and what a viewing platform, accessed from the cafe. Again this is one of those out of the way places you see on maps and wonder what's out there and now I know. At this point I was further south than Carlisle but still miles to go before I reached England.
Lots of photos taken and a bowl of soup but not a puffin in sight and now up and down the hills but this time into the wind.
Lots of photos taken and a bowl of soup but not a puffin in sight and now up and down the hills but this time into the wind.
The five miles back and into Drummore was the hardest part of the day but I did get to go into the most southerly shop in Scotland. Went down to the harbour and then made a big mistake thinking I had to go back out the way I came in and climbed several hills eventually coming back down onto the A716 a short distance from where I was but at least it gave me an appetite. The route north was into the wind all the way but it was flat and the scenery lovely and when I got to Sandhead there was a cafe overlooking the sea. A lovely cup of tea and a piece of lemon merangue pie and then around Luce Bay on the B7084, with miles of golden sand and a huge airforce base.
I hit the A75 near Glenluce and after a mile or so took the minor road through the village which actually cut out a long steep hill on the main road. The village had the look of a place that had been by-passed with a closed hotel and the general air of being run down but perhaps I just came through on a quiet day.
Originally I'd planned to turn south now and out onto the Isle of Whithorn but another cunning plan had been devised. Alison at home had been phoning accomodation around Whithorn but they were all booked up or very expensive so I decided to head straight for Newton Stewart and stay two nights at the youth hostel then do a circuit of Whithorn tomorrow. As it turned out the plan worked perfectly. The main road to Newton Stewart was reasonably flat and the wind behind.
The hostel is in an old school and there were only two other guests. A lady photographer who got up at dawn the following morning and then came back for breakfast. She uses her photos to create abstract paintings.
The other guest was a lovely elderley cycle tourist called Tony from Skipton. All his clothes and kit was the original stuff. His trousers were tucked into his socks, he wore ordinary black shoes, had a canvas rucksack and a trusty old bike with very few gears that he'd had for years and years. He was off in the same direction as me tomorrow and was planning his trip with a 1963 Ordnance Survey map. As he said, the roads he was going to cycle on hadn't changed. Next day I saw him cycle off in a flat cap and using an old yellow cape to keep the rain out.
Originally I'd planned to turn south now and out onto the Isle of Whithorn but another cunning plan had been devised. Alison at home had been phoning accomodation around Whithorn but they were all booked up or very expensive so I decided to head straight for Newton Stewart and stay two nights at the youth hostel then do a circuit of Whithorn tomorrow. As it turned out the plan worked perfectly. The main road to Newton Stewart was reasonably flat and the wind behind.
The hostel is in an old school and there were only two other guests. A lady photographer who got up at dawn the following morning and then came back for breakfast. She uses her photos to create abstract paintings.
The other guest was a lovely elderley cycle tourist called Tony from Skipton. All his clothes and kit was the original stuff. His trousers were tucked into his socks, he wore ordinary black shoes, had a canvas rucksack and a trusty old bike with very few gears that he'd had for years and years. He was off in the same direction as me tomorrow and was planning his trip with a 1963 Ordnance Survey map. As he said, the roads he was going to cycle on hadn't changed. Next day I saw him cycle off in a flat cap and using an old yellow cape to keep the rain out.
Day 52: Newton Stewart around the Isle of Whithorn and back again 61 miles.
Up at 7a.m. to be greeted by heavy rain so had several breakfasts and hung around until 10a.m. when you had to vacate the hostel. The weather was due to get better so I wasn't in a hurry-played for time a bit more by stopping to stock up with food at the Co-op in town. Started by heading back along the A75 towards Glenluce but then turned left onto the B735 before following a succession of B roads across the misty, wet and hilly countryside to the coast north of Port William. I'd cycled 20 miles and only really reached today's starting point.
Port William had a small harbour with people fishing off the pier. On a grass area nearby was a brilliant sculpture of an old fisherman looking out to sea, so I stopped for a chat. As I left on the main road I came across some steps that led up to Fort Barsalloch- a fortified farmstead from the iron age, lovely views from the top, I wonder if they had time to enjoy them.
Port William had a small harbour with people fishing off the pier. On a grass area nearby was a brilliant sculpture of an old fisherman looking out to sea, so I stopped for a chat. As I left on the main road I came across some steps that led up to Fort Barsalloch- a fortified farmstead from the iron age, lovely views from the top, I wonder if they had time to enjoy them.
After following the coast the road then goes inland towards Whithorn but I then took the B7004 out to the Isle of Whithorn- "the cradle of Christianity." St Ninian arrived here in about 500AD to convert the Southern Picts. This was 50 years before St. Columba arrived on Iona. At the Isle is St. Ninian's Chapel where pilgrims would come ashore and pray and offer thanks for a safe sea journey,before proceeding to Whithorn itself and then to StNinian's Cave along the coast a short distance. A huge cairn has been created here by modern day pilgrims. Many stones have names and requests on them and there are also crosses made of driftwood and although not religious myself the whole place did have a real atmosphere about it.
After an interesting stop it was up and down the hills to Whithorn village, where the visitors centre has a good cafe, and then back down to the coast and along the B7603 to Garlieston for another history lesson. The tide was out a long way and info boards told me that the sheltered bay here played an important part in the design and building of the Mulberry Harbours used after D-day.
As an angler my eyes were also opened by the miles of lugworm beds, a site I saw in many places on my travels in less populated areas of Britain.
As an angler my eyes were also opened by the miles of lugworm beds, a site I saw in many places on my travels in less populated areas of Britain.
From Garlieston it was now along the B7004 and A714 to Wigtown-"The Book Capital of Scotland". A very interesting looking town with a triangular town square and as the name suggests book shops everywhere. The other good news was that there was an excellent cafe open on a Sunday. As I went in Tony from Skipton was coming out and donning his cape as the rain returned. From Wigtown there is a brilliant route back to Newton Stewart. First of all I followed the minor road that more or less follows the estuary. This was absolutely flat and with a strong following wind I was flying. I assumed I would have to join up with the main road but as you approach it a new cycle path has been built that takes you along the river bank. It was a lovely ride and it even comes out in Lidl's car park so that was tea sorted as well.
Back at the hostel it was interesting to see Tony's tea-tin of soup, tin of corned beef and a tin of peas- all mashed up together in one saucepan-can't remember what I had now. A good hostel with plenty of surrounding cycle routes so well worth a visit. Nearly into England tomorrow.
Back at the hostel it was interesting to see Tony's tea-tin of soup, tin of corned beef and a tin of peas- all mashed up together in one saucepan-can't remember what I had now. A good hostel with plenty of surrounding cycle routes so well worth a visit. Nearly into England tomorrow.