May road trip journal, part 7

Day 9, Castle Douglas to Stoney Middleton via Nostell Priory. 228 miles.

When I departed Castle Douglas after breakfast my ETA at my next overnight stopping point was before check in time so I looked for somewhere to visit on the way. Nostell Priory, a National Trust property in West Yorkshire fitted the bill and I might as well make use of my NT membership for something other than free parking at Runnymede. The A75 got me to Gretna where I joined the M6 into England. At Penrith I left the motorway and crossed the Pennines on the A66 until joining the A1(M) at Scotch Corner and leaving it at Pontefract to head south west to Nostell Priory.

Nostell Priory is a Palladian house in West Yorkshire, on the road to Doncaster from Wakefield. It dates from 1733 and was built for the Winn family on the site of a medieval priory. The Winns were socially upwardly mobile textile merchants and the house was intended, as with so many such buildings, to show off their wealth and status. That wealth didn’t always match their ambitions. Robert Adam was commissioned to design additional wings but only one was completed so the frontage of the house is very obviously asymmetrical. Adam added a double staircase to the front of the house, and designed buildings on the estate, including the stable block where you’ll find the toilets, cafes, gift shop etc. The house has impressive interiors, Adam ceilings, lots of Chippendale furniture, lots of paintings, the usual stately home stuff. For me the most notable item was a longcase clock, with an almost completely wooden internal mechanism, made by John Harrison in 1717.

John Harrison was born but half a mile from the house and his stepfather worked on the estate as a carpenter. He developed an early interest in clocks and followed his stepfather into the carpenters trade, hence the wooden clock mechanism. Later he would become famous for developing accurate seagoing timepieces to solve the problem of determining Longitude at sea. Despite successfully producing such clocks he never received all of the monetary reward that was due (although he did eventually become a very rich man) and was badly treated by the establishment, the “gentlemen scientists” of which were loathe to acknowledge that a carpenter’s son had succeeded where they had not. Generations of sailors however have good reason to hold John Harrison in high regard.

Nostell kept me occupied for a couple of hours but I had to move on. I stopped for fuel near Wakefield and headed down the M1 towards Sheffield. For some reason known only to itself the sat-nav decided to go the “wrong” way around Sheffield which meant sitting in miles of crawling traffic before finally escaping into the Derbyshire Dales.

I arrived at The Moon Inn, Stoney Middleton at well past five o’clock, checked in and put the kettle on for a much needed cuppa. This time I didn’t need to put the kettle on the floor to plug it in. It was a nice room up in the first floor roof space, accessed by an outside door at the rear of the pub.

I had intended going for a chippy tea but it wasn’t open so ate at the inn instead. After dinner I’d planned on going for a wander around Stoney Middleton but looking outside saw that it was actually pissing down. Summer had arrived. Of course I had left my coat in my room. Since I’d have got wet going to my room I decided a better plan involved another pint and wait for the rain to let up after which I no longer felt the urge to walk around a wet Derbyshire village so I retired early.

Day 10, Stoney Middleton to Home. 181 miles.

I treated myself to a last holiday full English breakfast then checked out of the inn and since it was a fine sunny morning took a brief turn around the village.

It’s quite picturesque, lots of stone buildings including a church and a toll-gate cottage which is also the Fish and Chip shop with the disappointing opening hours. In a little garden nearby to the tollbar is a large circular blue plaque bearing the following text:

BOOT AND SHOEMAKERS’ STRIKE

1918-1920

In tribute to the women and men of Stoney Middleton and Eyam who were on strike for over two years and set up their own co-operative factory. They sought the reinstatement of sacked colleagues, shorter working hours, a war bonus and recognition of their trade union, the National Union of Boot and Shoe Operatives.

Their action inspired workers in other local industries to join unions, and paved the way for better wages and working conditions for later generations.

Good on ’em, I say.

It was time to go home. Once again I picked a route avoiding the M25 despite the sat-nav insisting that it would be a whole 8 minutes quicker. Except it wouldn’t, it never is. I got home mid afternoon, unpacked and started on the big pile of laundry. The cupboards & fridge were looking a bit sparsely populated so I got a Ruby Murray delivered, shopping could wait until tomorrow.

Epilogue.

I’ve gone through the photos and got the album down to only 290 items. You can see them on Flickr here.

I drove a total of around 1,584 miles.

Accommodation cost was £962.31

Did I have a good time? Yes.

Would I do it again? Also yes, or at least something similar. I’d like to explore more of Dumfries & Galloway. I might stretch the driving to cut out the first and last nights stop overs although it’s a long way.

Should you visit Kintyre? If you haven’t already you certainly should.

Did I see the Beatle? No, I’m told he doesn’t live there anyway so there was no danger of that happening.

May road trip journal, part 6.

Day 8, Leaving Kintyre and driving to Castle Douglas.

I had to be out of the cottage by 10 a.m. got up early, showered, packed and in fact was away at 0930 by which time the cleaner was waiting outside in her car. I grabbed a picnic breakfast from the Co-Op in Campbeltown and stopped near Muasdale to eat it. I stopped for fuel at Lochgilphead, passed through Inveraray and had an uneventful journey until just after Cairndow where road works had closed the main A83 Rest And Be Thankful road. A one-way convoy system had been set up along the single track Old Military Road which wound its way through they valley below the A83 for a couple of miles. I think I was fortunate to time my arrival a few minutes before a southbound convoy started off so wasn’t delayed too long. There was a very long queue headed northbound at the other end of the works. It was a little adventure anyway along a road you wouldn’t normally get to see.

I’d opted to avoid Loch Lomond since there had been roadworks there on the way up and it’s generally a busy route anyway. Instead I took the A814 at Arrochar down the east side of Loch Long and once the idiot in a hired van doing 10 mph got the message and pulled in to let the queue he’d created get by I made good progress down past the naval bases at Garelochhead until I stopped at Rhu just west of Motherwell to stretch my legs.

As you can see the hot sunny weather had been replaced now with cloudy skies. I had to put on a jumper.

I arrived in Castle Douglas around half past four in the afternoon and having eventually worked out how to get to the car park of the Imperial Hotel I checked in. The Imperial Hotel. It sounds grand doesn’t it? It might have been once. Now it was a bit run down and a shadow of its Victorian splendour. The staff were doing their best in a place that really needs some money spending on it. An oversight by housekeeping meant that I had to wait because my room wasn’t ready. I was promised a free pint though in recompense for the inconvenience so that was a win. The room was basic but functional even if the few socket outlets were all located in the wrong places so the kettle had to go on the floor to be plugged in. I made a cuppa then went for a walk around Castle Douglas and got something to eat.

I had picked Castle Douglas as a convenient stop based on distance and nothing more than a little curiosity since twenty-something years ago I’d worked with a guy who came from the town. It’s a fairly ordinary sort of place with a good number of shops - someone in Garlieston had said she liked to go there shopping - and a smattering of interesting Scottish architecture.

I think it helped that the sun had come back out.

On my return I went to the bar and got my free pint, which was Tennents lager. Not because I’m a lager drinker normally but because it was suggested that it or the cider were probably the only two things that were fresh and drinkable. The bar was occupied by a few colourful local characters who had obviously started early and were responsible for keeping the Tennents flowing. One had control of the TV remote and was treating us to a selection from Youtube Music. They were friendly enough though. I couldn’t help but smother a chuckle at the guy who left because he “really, really had tae catch the bus” but reappeared about 30 seconds later for “just a wee vodka before ah g’ hame”. I had a second pint then retired early, making a mental note to myself to read the bloody reviews a bit more carefully in future. Actually though it wasn’t what I’d imagined it wasn’t awful and I slept really well. In spite of the location it was quiet at night. They did a damn good Scottish breakfast too which set me up for the next stage of the journey.

Next episode I leave Scotland, visit a big house, and get stuck in Sheffield’s bloody awful traffic.

May road trip journal, part 5.

Day 7, Last day in Kintyre

It being Sunday I decided on a day of relative idleness. After breakfast I drove over to Machrihanish near Campbeltown Airport which has two flights a day to and from Glasgow with Loganair. It takes 45 minutes (plus faffing around at airports obviously) so is much quicker than driving but so, so much more expensive at around seventy quid each way. A former RAF and US Navy/Marines base when it was called RAF Machrihanish. Because it was redeveloped in the 1960s to support United States and NATO operations in the Clyde area and wider Atlantic it has the longest public airport runway in Scotland at 3,049 m (10,003 ft), built to allow use by nuclear bombers such as the Avro Vulcan and other large aircraft. Also used for the storage and distribution of nuclear weapons and as a US Navy SEALs base it was certified as a potential emergency landing site for the Space Shuttle in the 1980s, which had it been needed would have been a sight to behold. Post Cold War the Yanks went home in 1995 and it became a civil airport. The MOD sold the site to the Machrihanish Airbase Community Company in 2012 for a quid and parts of the site are used for commercial purposes. That included a maker of offshore wind turbines until they went bust.

I wasn’t going to the airport anyway but passed it on the way to the beach. It’s a remarkably large area of flat land for this part of the world. Machrihanish has a remarkably long beach with a large golf course separating it from the airport.

I went for a walk along part of it and then headed towards Southend again in the car. From Southend I took the narrow winding Le’arside Road around the south east Kintyre coast to Campeltown, stopping at Feochaig to look out over the Firth of Clyde to the almost hemispherical island of Ailsa Craig.

I stopped again at Kildalloig just east of Campbeltown and checked the tide times but there wasn’t enough time to walk out over the causeway to Davaar Island and get back again.

After a quick stop in Campeltown to visit the Linda McCartney Memorial Garden, which was closed so I had to make do with a photo taken over the top of the railings.

I returned to the cottage and took advantage of the fact that the other cottages were now empty so the broadband speed allowed me to catch up with Youtube.

In the next thrilling episode I bid Kintyre goodbye and start heading for home via Dumfries and Galloway.

May road trip journal, part 4

Day 6, Campbeltown, a coast road, and a castle.

After a lie in followed by a leisurely breakfast I drove into Campbeltown for a look around. The few car parks which weren’t associated with the two supermarkets were full but unusually Campbeltown has hardly any parking restrictions and there was plenty of spaces on the streets. I parked up near the leisure centre and took a walk to the harbour.

To the left of the Old Quay was a marina with mostly pleasure craft and Lifeboats. To the right the working harbour, empty today save for a few smaller fishing boats, a large lighter, and a larger vessel which I thought might be associated with the large pile of timber on the New Quay but when I looked it up turned out to be a fish carrier, the Aqua Harvester. The New Quay is also the location of Campbeltown Ferry Terminal which has services to Ballycastle in Northern Ireland (Kintyre Express fast passenger ferry), Brodick on the island of Arran, and Ardrossan on the mainland of Scotland (Caledonian MacBrayne). Except the CalMac ferries aren’t running this summer “due to the lack of an available vessel to deliver the service”. I had a wander around the town centre which has some quite good architecture in places, got an ice cream because it was bloody hot by Scottish measurements, went shopping in search of a new car phone holder because mine had exploded in my hand the day before and was now held together with sellotape, and having failed to find one walked around the bay to the end of Dalintober Pier for the view back to Campbeltown. (As I write this a replacement phone holder is awaiting a flight from China.)

I briefly considered a visit to the whisky shop but decided the complete lack of any price tickets in the window display probably indicated that I couldn’t afford it. A couple of hours of walking around the town in the hot sun was enough so I retreated to the air-conditioned car and headed out of town to see what the east coast of Kintyre was like.

The main road to Campbeltown is the A83 which comes down the west side of the peninsula and is how I’d arrived two days previously. On the east side the B842 follows the coast north of Campbeltown until it ends at a junction with the B8001 which runs east to west to connect to the A83. The B842 is not a major road, it is quite ridiculously scenic though. Also narrow and steep in a number of places with plenty of blind bends and summits so it isn’t a fast journey either. Which is good, I recommend driving it. There are lots of views across Kilbrannan Sound to Arran though limited places to stop and take photos (don’t park in the passing places) but I stopped at the beach at Torrisdale Bay where there’s a layby and a small car park (unusually the latter requiring payment).

A bit further on I spotted a turning to the right signposted Carradale Harbour B879 and on a whim took that road. I’m glad I did because a little over a mile and a half later I pulled into the free car park on the very photogenic harbour side at Carradale. Complete with a palm tree and public loos that weren’t locked up, both rare things in the UK. It even had one of those red and white painted sea mines which are charity collection boxes for the Shipwrecked Mariners’ Society.

Those are much less common than they used to be during my childhood when any seaside town of any note seemed to have one. There were over 200 originally donated by the Admiralty but now only around 50 survive apparently. Carradale Harbour looked glorious in the sunshine, giving definite “I could live here” vibes though I suspect the winter presents a different picture. Indeed a couple of plaques on the harbour wall remembering lost seafarers attest to the fact that the sea isn’t always as serene as it appeared that afternoon. I have out of idle curiosity just looked on Rightmove though :-)

I left Carradale Harbour and returned to the “main” coast road again and turned right following the coast northwards. My next stop was Grogport Viewpoint, another unspoilt spot with a beach and a view across to Arran where the white buildings of the hamlet of Pirnmill could be seen at the water’s edge. I sat on a picnic bench for a while listening to nothing but the occasional bird singing. Not another vehicle passed for 10 minutes. Lovely spot, still no idea why it has the unlovely name, which is an Anglicisation of the Scots Gaelic Gròb-phort, which doesn’t look much better. If you know what it means comment below.

I reached the end of the B842 at Claonaig and deciding which way to turn was very easy since the sign pointing right contained the word “Castle”. After 2.3 miles along a road past the terminal for the Claonaig to Lochranza ferry to Arran and an area very popular as a wild camping site on the narrow strip of land between the road and the sea I came over a wee hump back bridge, the end of the B8001, and arrived in a little car park under the trees signed as for visitors to Skipness Castle. The castle itself was a 600 yards walk along a driveway from the gate lodge by the road. It was a quarter past four in the afternoon. I had no idea if the castle was open but walked down there past the nosey sheep anyway. It was open. It was also free to visit. It was great.

Historic Environment Scotland says “Skipness Castle was begun in the early 1200s, probably by the MacSween family. It was acquired by the Stewart earls of Mentieth in 1262. It passed into the hands of the MacDonalds in 1325 and eventually on to the Campbell Earls of Argyll”. Much of it is in ruins but with still high standing walls but the 16th century four storey tower house still has a roof, internal floors and staircases, and and you can climb all the way up onto the roof for a commanding view across Kilbrannan Sound to Arran. Spot the Claonaig to Lochranza ferry.

Having explored the castle I followed the path down to the edge of the water and along to the ruins of St Brendan’s Chapel, Skipness. The now roofless 13th or 14th century chapel building stands within a stone walled graveyard on flat ground near the beach.

Within the graveyard are a number of recumbent intricately carved medieval gravestones. They’re protected by heavy hinged wooden covers which give no clue as to what lies underneath, just a little plate saying “Please keep this cover closed” and a handle. They reward curious investigation.

I said goodbye to the Chaffinch singing on top of a Celtic Cross with Arran behind and made my way back to the car, oblivious to the fact that through the next gateway was a World War 2 Bombing Range Marker which I only spotted on Open Street Map later. I drove back to Campbeltown the same way that I’d come because it’s just as nice a trip in the opposite direction and I wasn’t in any rush.

Next time more empty beaches and narrow roads.

May road trip journal, part 3

Day 4, Garlieston, Dumfries and Galloway to Kilchrist Castle, Kintyre, 241 miles.

To get from Garlieston to my holiday cottage in Kintyre required driving a long loop up through Ayrshire to cross the Clyde on the Erskine Bridge, up the west side of Loch Lomond, around the tops of Loch Long and Loch Fyne and south again via Inveraray and Lochgilphead to Tarbert and further south to Campbeltown. With traffic, a fuel stop, occasional pauses to stretch the legs and admire the scenery it took most of the day. Taking it at a fairly relaxed pace made for a quite pleasant journey through nice country. Final stop before reaching my destination was Tesco in Campbeltown to stock up on provisions for the next 4 days.

Late in the afternoon I arrived at Kilchrist Castle Cottages, about 10 minutes drive south of Campbeltown. The cottages are in a separate compound to the rear of the castle accessed down an unsurfaced track and set amongst open fields. The castle itself is a private residence so not open to the public and only glimpsed through the trees surrounding it. MacLeod cottage would be my home for the next few days, a wee detached single storey building with one bedroom, a sitting room with kitchenette, and a rather cramped shower room and toilet. All I’d need for a short stay and conveniently located to explore Kintyre. What was less convenient was finding the handwritten note next to a bottle of cheap plonk offered as an apology for the fridge not working and the suggestion that I could use a fridge in the laundry at the other end of the site. I’d really have appreciated knowing that before I arrived with 3 days worth of breakfast supplies and salad. Even a message in the morning would have allowed me to plan accordingly. Looking back at the previous reviews for the cottage later I saw that the non-working fridge had been reported to the owners by a previous renter in April so it’s not like it had just broken that day. At least the wine was red rather than white.

Other than the fridge issue it was a nice place to stay and when the sun eventually went down proved to have quite a dark sky with many stars visible to the naked eye. Quite a treat for someone from the light polluted south of England.

Day 5, Mull of Kintyre Lighthouse and the southern end of the Kintyre peninsula.

I had scouted out a couple of places on the map to visit. First was Mull of Kintyre Lighthouse. There’s a car park about 1.3 miles from the lighthouse and then you can walk down the private access road to the clifftop lighthouse site with views all the way to Northern Ireland. Getting to that car park is an adventure in itself along about five miles of narrow single track roads with steep hills, tight bends, obstructive sheep, and terrific scenery. Eventually the road ends at a small parking area before a gate with a sign that says “End of Public Road Turn Here”. From here on you’re on foot. The tarmac service road heads steeply down almost the whole way to the lighthouse gate, with several hairpin bends and the lighthouse appearing and disappearing from view. It was a gloriously sunny, hot day and much less windy than I’d expected as I walked down the steep road, all the while with the vague feeling that I was going to regret this idea on the way back up!

The views down to the lighthouse and across to Rathlin Island are very picturesque and occasionally a fishing boat would pass trailing a white wake on the deep blue water. It took around half an hour to get to the bottom, or at least the gate to the lighthouse compound. Apparently you used to be able to get right to the lighthouse itself but these days the gate is firmly locked shut.

I had the place to myself too, at least until I got to the bottom when after about ten minutes I was joined by two Dutch motorcaravanners, an English guy, and their Good Doggos. We had a brief chat and I let them start their ascent while I chilled out for a while. When I could put it off no longer I began my slow way back up the hill. It was still warm and sunny and there’s no shelter to speak of anywhere on the road so I took it steady, counting out 100 paces and stopping for breath, taking a few minutes rest and a swig of water every 300 paces or so until suddenly I was back at the top, a bit warm but not completely knackered. It took about twice as long to get up as it did to go down.

Off the road up on the hillside is a memorial for the RAF Chinook helicopter crash in 1994 which claimed the lives of all 25 passengers and 4 crew and spawned a few conspiracy theories since the passengers were all from the security services. There was also some controversy over the findings of the air accident inquiry, an RAF board of inquiry ruled that it was impossible to establish the exact cause of the accident but this ruling was overturned by two senior reviewing officers, who stated that the pilots were guilty of gross negligence for flying too fast and too low in thick fog. A later Parliamentary inquiry found the previous verdict of gross negligence on the part of the crew to be ‘unjustified’. In 2011, an independent review of the crash cleared the crew of negligence and accepted that the RAF had falsely declared compliance with regulations in relation to the aircraft’s authority to fly.

By complete coincidence when I arrived back at the car I fell into conversation with the occupant of a motorhome which had just parked in the car park who turned out to be an 80 year old former RAF helicopter pilot. Interesting chap with an informed insider’s opinion of the incident described above.

I returned along the road to the lighthouse, inevitably meeting a fuel tanker on the way at an inconvenient spot, and headed for the end of the Kintyre peninsula, the appropriately named Southend but without a long pier. I pulled into a car park by the beach at Carskey Bay and walked the short distance to Keil Caves, St. Columba’s Footsteps, St. Columba’s Well, and his church ruins. The footprints are carved into the top of a rocky outcrop, one parallel to the shore and the other at 90 degrees to it with the year 564 also incised into the rock. The history is a bit confused but likely one footprint dates from the 4th century and became associated with St. Columba who landed here briefly in 563. The second was probably added by a 19th century local mason called Daniel McIlreavie to boost the area’s association with the saint and he also added the (wrong) date.

Around 50 yards away St. Columba’s Well, a rocky bowl carved into the sloping hillside which collects not-entirely-wholesome looking water from a spring. This too may have obtained its association with the saint by way of 19th century tourism. Completing the St. Columba trio is the ruined church set along the landward side of a roughly rectangular graveyard and almost entirely overgrown so that from the footsteps it appears to be just a bunch of small trees.

The history of the caves is a little more matter of fact. Some have names such as the Great Cave, the Piper’s Cave - after the legend of a disappearing homeward bound piper who allegedly haunts the cave, and the Hermit’s Retreat. The caves were occupied on and off since prehistoric times until the late 19th century where the 1881 census records six members of the McFee and McCallum families as residents. If you enter the larger caves today you’ll find that the only residents are panicky pigeons.

From Keil I took the coast road to Southend and then the B842 back to Kilchrist for tea, dinner, and the Friday night Top Of The Pops re-runs on BBC4 with accompanying commentary on Mastodon.

Next time I go to Campbeltown, explore the east side of Kintyre, and find an unexpected castle.

May road trip journal, part 2

 Day Two, Laneshaw Bridge, Lancs. to Garlieston, Dumfries & Galloway. 199 miles.

After a full English at the Alma Inn I checked out, attempted to remove as much sap as possible from the car, and cleaned the dead things off the windscreen. Heading north in the sunshine on local roads through Pendle to pick up the A65 was a breathtakingly scenic drive and I think this area might need to be visited again. What followed once I reached the A65 wasn't so good though. Heavy and stop/start traffic all the way through Ingleton (been there) and Kirby Lonsdale all the way to the M6 motorway junction 36. It turned out that this was because we were following a huge quarry dump truck on a low-loader, escorted by multiple Police cars, and the only place for them to pull in was a layby just before the motorway. Bad timing really. Once I got on the M6 heading north I could finally do more than 20 mph. For the next couple of hours I cruised northwards on the motorway, stopping for a comfort break once I'd crossed the border and then taking the A75 to Dumfries before heading on the A710 towards the Solway Firth coast.

I'd put a couple of waymarks into the sat-nav to make it take this less direct route the first of which was a car park at New Abbey with a convenient public convenience. Which turned out to be beside the ruins of the Abbey of Dulce Cor, better known as Sweetheart Abbey. I guess the clue was in the name of the village but I hadn't expected it. I was a nice break from driving to walk around the outside of the ruins (currently behind a fence because bits keep falling off) and the graveyard. 

Leaving New Abbey I continued along the coast road, unfortunately for some way behind a large Dutch motorhome who felt the need to straddle the centre line of the two-way road and come to a halt every time something came the other way, before I eventually escaped and some way further on turned off to visit Rockcliffe, a wee village with a car park, a loo, a beach, and importantly an ice cream van. It would have been rude not to get a 99 and very good it was too.

I returned to the main coast road and followed it west, passing through Dalbeattie, Auchencairn, and Kirkudbright to reach Newton Stewart where I turned south past Wigtown to the harbour village of Garlieston. Although I've previously driven through this part of Scotland I'd not had the time to stop so I'd booked two nights at The Harbour Inn, Garlieston. That turned out to be an excellent decision. The Harbour Inn sits exactly where you'd expect, right on the waterfront and my larger than expected room looked straight out to sea across the harbour. 

I thoroughly enjoyed my stay here. Excellent food, good beer, a proper bar with a friendly atmosphere and the staff were lovely. No data gathering nonsense on the free Wi-Fi either. I could easily have lingered longer had I known what a nice place it was but I had a cottage in Kintyre to get to. After dinner I took a walk along the shore path to Rigg Bay and on the way back saw a hare in the field in front of Galloway House. I don't recall that last time I saw a hare.

There are limited facilities at Garlieston. There's The Harbour Inn, a cafe, a Public Convenience, a large touring caravan site (which ensures that booking a table at the inn is almost essential) and a garage with a small shop on the edge of the village. This has one pump on the forecourt, dispensing only diesel fuel. Best be prepared if heading here, although the larger settlement of Wigtown is not far away.

Day 3, In and around Garlieston

The next morning after a superb full Scottish breakfast eaten overlooking a sun drenched harbour I decided I should probably try to work some of that off so headed out for a walk around Garlieston Bay and Eggerness Point. During the Second World War Garlieston became part of the secret Mulberry Harbour project in preparation for D-Day. The profile of the beach and sea bed here was similar to that of the proposed harbour sites in Normandy and that coupled with the remote nature of the locality, led to Garlieston and the surrounding area being selected as the development region for the artificial harbours. There are parts of the prototype Mulberry harbours still in the bay and I wanted to take a look at them on my walk. The path around Eggerness Point mostly runs through the woods so finding the harbour remains required popping out of the woods onto the rocky beach a couple of times to locate the right spot.

 

I carried on around the coast through the woods to Innerwell. This Shore Wood Belt contained a fine show of Bluebells and some secluded little beaches just off the path. It also had a lot of blown down trees across the path to negotiate. I'm sure someone will get back up there with a chainsaw and complete the clearing of them that they've started. I didn't fancy clambering back over them though so returned to Garlieston via the roads. I chilled out until dinner time, had a very tasty seafood tagliatelle followed by a couple of beers, then retired to sleep like the proverbial log.

Next morning I rose, breakfasted as per the previous day, and took my leave of Garlieston. I'd definitely like to return.

In part 3 I take a long drive to Kintyre.
 

May road trip journal, part 1

Where to? 

I wanted to visit a bit of Western Scotland I’d never previously been to, Kintyre, the long strip of Argyll & Bute that separates the Firth of Clyde from the Atlantic Ocean. It isn’t blessed with a lot of public transport options, no railways, you can get to the main town of Campeltown by bus and there are a few limited local bus services once you’re there. So practically I was going to need to take the car and it’s a long way from home - about 562 miles in fact. I know some people would happily do that in one go. I’m not one of them, 5-6 hours driving is quite enough else it becomes un-enjoyable and this was intended to be a relaxing holiday. So I broke the trip up into sections and booked accommodation at convenient points which also meant not just pounding up motorways all day.

Day one, Home to Laneshaw Bridge, Lancs. 244 miles. 

I plotted a route that avoided both London and the M25, and Birmingham and the M6, instead heading towards Oxford then Northampton before going north towards Sheffield and Leeds and then north-west across country to Laneshaw Bridge (or Laneshawbridge on some signs) in the Borough of Pendle. The weather was warm and sunny, which is unusual for any time I decide to take a trip, and the journey easy until the last few miles where the closure of a local road near Stanbury resulted in the sat-nav becoming unhelpful and eventually finding a way through that involved driving over the very narrow road on the top of the Ponden Reservoir dam. I’m still not sure that was the official diversion route or whether there even was an official diversion route. Signs? What signs? Once I’d passed that obstacle finding my way to the Alma Inn at Laneshaw Bridge where I’d booked a one night stay was a comparative doddle.

 

The Alma Inn sits on a hill above the village, surrounded mostly by fields and sheep. The room was comfortable with a nice rural view. The food was good, the beer was good, the decor in the bar and restaurant very much in the modern corporate pub style so almost entirely devoid of any atmosphere, and the free Wi-Fi was free in the sense of requiring all your personal and device data, presumably to sell on to third parties (there’s no other reason they’d need it) so it was good that there was 4G data coverage. After dinner I decided to have a little stroll in the evening sunshine, which turned into a slightly longer stroll down to the village and then up alongside High Laith Beck and across the fields back to the inn. I slept well after that.

 

 Top tip: Don’t park under the tree in the inn’s car park, it drops sticky sap all over your car which is a bugger to remove.

In part 2 I get to South West Scotland.