Near Glen Luce (illegally).

When I stopped for lunch at Janets crowded tea stop just outside Gatehouse of Fleet I shared a table with John. His wellies and flexothane overtrousers were a giveaway, though he told me he’s retired. Recently enough to feel guilty for a lazy cuppa at Janet’s, and still getting up at 3 am to milk cows (‘just milking mind, not running the show’). He told me that the rain was forecast to get heavier and I was in for a rough afternoon. He was dead right, but it had started well back in Kirkcudbright.

Yesterday, fter a relaxing evening walk around the town, I had a very quiet pint and a lovely chicken fried rice, between which I had a two minute panic when I found I was missing my wallet. A sprint back to the pub and there it was under the stool I’d been on. Phew.

Great nights sleep and it was dryish as I left. The first hour was great. Seaside inlets and views with only a moderate wind. It rained at Bourge (11am) and didn’t stop all day. It’s still raining at 10pm. Wind was ok, so gloom but not all doom.

The best bits of todays long ride was the start and the final 10 miles from Port William - up the eastern side of Luce Bay. The wind was in my favour and I was zipping along (relatively speaking).
Despite a 30 minute circuit of a plantation single-track which brought me back where I’d started (bad Sustrans signage) that wasn’t the worst bit.Well ahead was a white-knuckle, slow-motion time trial along a 4 mile unavoidable section of the dreaded A75. Spray and wind-suck from articulated lorries hurtling to the Stranraer ferry is not what I was after on this trip.

Soon I was on a B road heading for Wigton. Drenched I stopped at a ‘book cafe’. No me neither. It was magnificently posh - no menu and every customer looked as if the average garden centre cafe would be slightly below them. The lady who showed me to my seat(!) took one look at me and just said ‘cake?’.

In an apricot flapjack sugar-rush of enthusiasm, I made a (rare) navigational error leaving Wigton which added about 8 miles to an already long day. Bad words were said.

For the last 10 miles or so I was on the lookout for somewhere to camp. Eventually I came across an mown area of grass next to the sea, with a toilet block, fresh water and even a length of wall to provide shelter. Perfect.

Soon the wet tent was up and I went to change into dryish clothes. The toilets were locked and there was an official sign ‘No overnight camping’. Well, I’m not moving now.

Say it quietly, but it’s possibly going to be brighter tomorrow…Read more