By train to Ludlow and Hereford.

Rail Trip 17th to 20th August 2026 

 

Monday 

By train to Ludlow. All three trains ran on time which might be a first. My forward facing reserved seat on GWR from Reading to Newport (South Wales) turned out to be neither forward facing nor indeed reserved. Fortunately the train wasn’t too busy. Lots of people waiting at Newport on the station platform, I hope they’re not all getting on the train to Ludlow. OK, just stand around the door to the toilets and pile your luggage against it then dickheads. No trouble getting a seat on the train in the end. Transport For Wales having all the announcements in Welsh then repeated in English makes for double the noise pollution.

Wedi sylwi. Wedi sôn. Wedi setlo.

The slightly bewildered looking man across the aisle had a transparent G4S branded backpack and was travelling on a Rail Warrant. I guessed he was just out of gaol. I was right. His welcome back to the world outside included being unable to buy a coffee from the refreshments trolley because “it’s card only, we don’t take cash for security reasons”. I suspect that excuse isn’t strictly true. Also in a world where cash may not be accepted should perhaps the prison service provide part of the discharge grant on a pre-loaded card rather than just an envelope of cash? I stepped off the train at Ludlow to find that although it was a little cooler it was still very humid. 

It wasn’t far to the Feathers Hotel but the last bit was uphill.

The Feathers is very old and a bit of a labyrinth inside, very characterful but you feel like you should leave a trail of chalk marks to find your way back out from your room. It was a nice room mind you, with a fine view of the car park and a good selection of teabags. I unpacked and chilled for a bit then set out to explore Ludlow and find some food.

Ludlow is very photogenic. There are so many half timbered buildings, including the Feathers Hotel which has an ornate frontage constructed in 1619 over an earlier core building - which explains the higgledy-piggledy nature of the interior. There are narrow streets with Tudor buildings, also wide streets with Georgian fronted buildings, and a wide market place in front of a Norman castle. In the centre of town it would be easier to count the buildings which don’t have blue plaques provided by the Ludlow Civic Society! Ludlow contains more than 420 listed buildings, nine of them Grade I and 25 of them Grade II*

It is also quite hilly, especially if you walk down to the River Teme and back as I did. There’s a nice walk along the far side of the river between Dinham Bridge and Ludford Bridge with views of the castle and town. Just enough distance to build up an appetite.

I dined at Pietro Lounge, a modern cafe bar located on the Market Place in what used to be The George pub. A pint of Henry Weston’s Vintage Cider and a very tasty Nasi Goreng set me back £15.40 and though it did not occur to me at the time I think maybe they forgot to charge for the cider. Maybe it was some happy hour deal, I was certainly happy 😀. 

I went to walk some of it off around the outside of Ludlow Castle and then through the streets and little lanes of Ludlow. I stopped for a hydration break at the Church Inn and sat in the beer garden which is actually part of St. Laurence’s churchyard. This proved to be a bit of an error. The church bells immediately commenced with a bloody loud and largely tuneless peal. It was lovely when they stopped. Trouble is after a pause they started again. And again. And again. I don’t know if they were ringing them or throwing them down the stairs and carrying them back up again - hence the pauses. I retreated to my room at the Feathers and slept like the proverbial log.

Tuesday

On Tuesday morning I spent a couple of hours exploring Ludlow Castle. £10 admission is very reasonable these days considering there’s quite a lot of castle here. There are a lot of ruined nooks and crannies to explore, also many uneven steps. Ninety-six of these will take you to the very top of the Great Tower where you can see a lot of Shropshire because obviously that’s why the Norman occupiers built it here.

Judging by the number of dismembered pigeons scattered about the castle I don’t think that the local raptors are going hungry. A round tower stands isolated in the middle of the bailey, the Chapel of St Mary Magdalene, the ground floor of which is set out with rows of chairs beneath a wooden roof. Nearly every woman who walked in said “Oh look you can get married here!” Which caused some worried expressions on the faces of some of the men 😁

Despite the proliferation of uneven surfaces it was on a wide level modern set of stairs that a little old lady went down like a sack of hammers, first drawing a small crowd and then much running back and forth by the castle staff. She stayed down for a worrying amount of time but eventually was able to sit up at least. An ambulance was sent for 😟

I completed a couple of circuits of the castle ruins and then sat on a bench between the castle and the market. You could tell that it was lunchtime even with your eyes closed from the number of folk with pungent takeaways. I noticed that Ludlow is very well provided for when it comes to benches to sit on, other towns should take note. An ambulance arrived at the castle, I estimate that it must have been about an hour since the fall down the steps.

I walked down to Mill Gate and the adjacent weir on the River Teme then back up into the town centre. Looking around inside St. Laurence’s church I found that they have the mechanism for a carillon on display although since 1989 a computer controlled electro-mechanical version has been used instead. I assume that wasn’t what was ringing the bells last night unless the computer had crashed.

What else to do on a Tuesday afternoon in Ludlow. All that walking around had made me thirsty. I found the Rose and Crown tucked away in a courtyard between the cheese shop and the pottery shop in Church Street. A Joule’s Brewery pub, not familiar to me so having tried a pint of very nice Blonde at only £3.90 I decided it would be remiss of me not to try the Pale as well (£3.80). From my window seat overlooking the courtyard I watched several groups stop and look at the pub, and a couple of times they came through the door, looked around, and then walked out again. I’m not sure what they were expecting to find. Not a traditional wood panelled pub interior with a large range of drinks obviously. I resisted the temptation of a third pint, went back to my room at the Feathers to chill and read for a bit until it was time for dinner again. Since it had been good before I went to the Pietro Lounge once more, I can recommend the Mediterranean grill washed down with a pint of Murphy’s if you're hungry.

After dinner I walked down Linney and across the fields to Burway, crossing the River Corve first on a footbridge in the fields then again at Corve Bridge and back up Corve Street past more half-timbered buildings, almshouses, the cemetery, and Tesco to The Feathers where I retired to my room to watch YouTube. Using the Pipe Pipe app because I’m not a masochist.

Around midnight there was an unfamiliar sound drifting in through the window from outside. It was actually raining.

Wednesday

I had time to kill after checking out of hotel so got a Tesco sandwich and had a last wander around Ludlow. I went through the cemetery and up Linney, which was much harder than it had been walking down it. The sun was out, last night’s rain had dried, it was still humid. My phone said "20 degrees, feels like 25, 67% humidity". I returned to the station in good time to catch the train to Hereford.

The train was showing as “delayed due to overcrowding”! This did not bode well.

When it eventually arrived it wasn’t actually crowded. Also it was a real train with a locomotive 67 010 at the front drawing 5 carriages! Alas the sort of carriages with sod all legroom between the seats so just as well it was only a 25 minute journey.

I arrived in the ’ford. I’ve not been back since I think 2014. They’ve had the builders in, I stepped out of the station and didn’t recognise anything.

I killed time before I could check in to The Green Dragon hotel sitting by Elgar and his bike trying to book something on the Open House London site. Failed, by the time the site loaded what I wanted to visit (BT Tower) was fully booked 😡 By the way Elgar is the only cyclist in Hereford who obeys the signs saying to dismount when passing through Cathedral Green.

At The Green Dragon. Quickest check in ever, key issued (actual real key) and in my room in about a minute from walking through the front door. So all the multiple emails saying check in online (having first registered an account on a third party website? - no thanks) to “save time” was bollocks. Single room, recently decorated. Ideal for an overnight stay. It must be over 20 years since I last stayed here, I had a bigger room then but my little brother was the manager at the time.

The new shopping development on the old Cattle Market site has hollowed out the city centre a bit as I expected when I came here not long after it opened. Many empty shops now, my former go to cafe, The Matabeau, is long gone. Plenty of barbers and nail/eyebrow bars of course. Money has to be laundered somewhere.

Food service seems to stop at 3pm in the pubs in Hereford - again the Cattle Market development has the usual chain restaurants present. Co-incidence? The Imperial had no cask ales on either, what is the world coming to? I gave up and I resorted to a quick Burger King before walking to the concert venue, The Courtyard Theatre, or rather the big tent surrounded by people in hi-vis in the car park behind the Courtyard Theatre. This trip away initially started off as just a plan to come to Hereford to see Elkie Brooks in concert, I expanded it to include Ludlow afterwards. Ticket scanned and passed through the cordon of tabard-wearing stewards with a little more than an hour before the show start time. The Stowford Press was £5 a can and if you wanted a re-useable plastic “tankard” they’d be happy sell you one. I observed that it was mostly only the women who felt the need for a glass.

Elkie Brooks is amazing live. What a voice and a talent that she’s been honing longer than I’ve been alive. Lots of classics were performed especially from the Pearls album. But also covers including Jimi Hendrix (with an anecdote about him chatting her up in the Speakeasy club in London), Prince (Purple Rain), and Rag’n’Bone Man (Human). Elkie can hold a note for a very long time. Also there was more jumping about on stage (in heels!) than you might expect of an eighty-one year old. The crowd went wild, or as wild as a big tent full of geriatrics gets. My advice would be if you get the opportunity to see Elkie Brooks live grab it while you still can, you won’t regret it.

After a couple of very enjoyable hours we were discharged through the waiting “chuggers” into a night which was much cooler but not quite chilly. I considered going to see if the Black Lion was still open but in the end settled for another Stowford Press in the hotel bar.

I was woken in the night by some machine, possibly an a/c unit on another building being very loud and then again later by loud dripping water sounds outside somewhere echoing in the space between the hotel and the adjacent building. I had to close the window in the end, not ideal.

Thursday

I got up, checked the trains. Oh dear. I went to the station and got the 1036 to Newport which actually arrived in Hereford at 1150 and reached Newport at 1236. If I’d waited for the 1208 as originally planned no way would I have made my 1304 connection.

From Newport to Reading I had a seat reservation again, carriage H seat 09. The train arrived, it comprised carriages A to E. GWR is a bloody joke.

I had 6 minutes scheduled for the connection at Reading, if I missed it I’d be hanging around for an hour at least. I came off the train from Newport like Mick The Miller out of the traps. Made the connection with a couple of minutes to spare. The Giant Suitcase Cult were much in evidence on the train home, making their way to the temple at Gatwick. A woman with two large suitcases she couldn't control, couldn’t find anywhere to stow, and was trying to manoeuvre without her phone leaving her hand. Must be the high priestess. Or a blithering idiot 🙄

Home at last and I didn’t even get wet walking back from the station 😀

Lots of photos on Flickr, mostly of Ludlow. Opens in a new page or as a slide show below if your viewer supports it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Day in Cornwall

As I was going to St. Ives…

No, we’re not getting into that argument. Having arrived in Penzance on the overnight sleeper train I had all day to explore a bit of West Cornwall and 5 hours before I could check into the Western Hotel in St. Ives. My plan was first to take a walk along the coast to the picturesque harbour village of Mousehole via the fishing port of Newlyn. It’s a pleasant 3.6 mile stroll. At least it would be in nice weather. Unfortunately this morning the weather wasn’t nice. Grey skies emitted a fine drizzle into a light breeze making it just wet enough to need a waterproof coat while at the same time being warm enough to make wearing a waterproof coat uncomfortable. I set off trying to convince myself that it would brighten up imminently.

Organic Maps routed me out of Penzance centre via back roads and alleyways which at least kept away from any traffic before returning to the coast where the Larrigan River meets the sea, near a desolate looking and weed filled Mennaye Boating Lake. From here I walked along the causeway above the beach to the outskirts of Newlyn and passed the fishermen’s memorial statue “Throw Me A Line”.

Newlyn is a working fishing port and has more wet fish shops than I’ve ever seen in one town centre. It hadn’t brightened up yet. I climbed out of Newlyn via Fore Street which at least afforded a good view of the busy harbour, the many boats injecting the only colours into the scene.

This walk follows the route of the South West Coast Path long distance trail and for a while diverts from the motor road along a foot and cycle path next to the sea below the cliff. At the entrance to which I was nearly hit from behind by a lycra-clad bell-end-on-a-bike determined to get through the entry point before me. There are probably some good views along here but they were hidden behind the worsening drizzle on this morning. Thankfully at least some philosopher with a ladder and a pot of yellow paint had been out to brighten up the scene 😀

The path climbed up and rejoined the clifftop road with fine views along the coast and I could even see St. Michael’s Mount in the distance. When I say see it I mean there was a slightly darker shade of grey where it was located. See if you can spot it 🔍

Past Penlee’s disused Lifeboat Station the drizzle eased off a little so I could clearly see St. Clement’s Isle and intermittently unzip my coat to cool off a little on the way down into Mousehole, which I reached at about a quarter past ten.

"Mouseholians" it seems are not early risers. The only places open at that time of the morning were an upmarket looking restaurant and a twee tea room, the latter was full. This despite the fact that the village was busy with visitors most of whom had had the good sense not to walk there. At least the drizzle had stopped so I could take off my coat and steam gently by the harbour. I had a mooch about the village, laughed at what I assume was a joke about Mousehole property prices (the blackboard against the lean-to building reads "Compact + Bijou Home with lots of potential. Offers over £100k")

and joined the queue for the bus back to Penzance.

The M6 bus between Mousehole and Penzance runs every twenty minutes during the day. It was not a pleasant experience because they use vehicles not much bigger than a mini-bus with seat spacing that appears to be designed only to accommodate children so I was jammed sideways into a seat on the back row. The bus was almost full leaving Mousehole and picked up more passengers on the way resulting in some juggling of people, seats, and baby-buggies along the way. I was hot, damp, and the windows didn’t open. Even the little old lady next to me remarked on how unsuitable the vehicle was though she said occasionally they go completely to the other extreme and you get a double-decker. Which must be very interesting when they have to turn it round in the centre of Mousehole. I was relieved to get off that bus in Penzance Bus Station I can tell you. I went and found a bakery and had a very large coffee and a sit down. Then since breakfast had been 5 hours ago I went hunting, I got a large Cornish Pasty because when you are in the county why wouldn’t you? This I took to the railway station platform and ate it while waiting for my next train. A big yellow thing started to appear in the sky and a big feathery greedy bastard appeared on the platform nearby. The sun was welcome, the seagull could bugger off. Also it is still a mystery to me how they get Cornish pasties so hot and how they appear to get hotter while you’re carrying them so that when you come to eat it it’s like biting into a volcano? It was a very nice pasty though - the very antithesis of a Ginster’s 😁

As I arrived at Penzance station so did one of GWR’s Intercity 125 HST “Castle” trains. These are soon to be retired and I can remember them when they were first introduced on BR’s Western Region in the 1970s. I was tempted to skip a departure to have a brief ride on it to St. Erth for old times sake. In the end I got the next boring Hitachi IET instead which gave a shorter wait for the St. Ives train at St. Erth.

I was glad to see that summer time four coach train arrive into the crowded platform at St. Erth (outside the summer there are only two coaches). Anxious to get a good seat I forgot that the views were on the right hand side and indeed that side of the train quickly filled up with people, although not the polygamous, sack of cats carrying kind. Anyway, as we rode down the branch line the weather finally improved and we arrived at St. Ives in bright sunshine.

St. Ives was very busy. I walked from the station to the harbour and from the harbour to the Western Hotel, located in the town centre. What can I say about the Western Hotel? Here’s the review that I posted on booking.com which I think sums it up:

Good location, comfortable, not cheap, not very organized.

Liked · Nice big room, comfortable bed. Good central St. Ives location.

Disliked · Arrived to check in at reception, reception is a phone on the desk. Call was answered and waited for receptionist to come and complete check in. I was handed keys and given directions to my room. On finding my room it was immediately obvious that it was already occupied by someone who was fortunately out at the time. Return to reception, call, wait, wait, wait, eventually allocated a different room and given keys. No explanation other than “the booking system made a mistake”. Inconvenience aside this error has security implications if they are giving out keys to rooms already occupied. And of course when I went for breakfast the restaurant staff had not been advised of the room change.

However the room was pleasant, overlooking the Royal Square (bus stop) outside and I was glad to have a shower after which I had a nap for a couple of hours, dunno why I was tired. Later I went for a wander around St. Ives. It was still very busy. Hmm, that’s a lot of clouds and yes, those are spots of rain.

Cue retreat to hotel with snacks and a bottle of cider. Later: there is music downstairs let’s go and investigate (and get another cider). Ah, Tuesday Night is Jazz Club Night. 

Nice 👌

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The audience demographic was pretty much exactly what you’d imagine, the band was four old white men, it was heavy on the double bass, drums and trumpet. I caught the last half hour which in jazz terms means three tunes. What’s with the applauding half way through a song? Is it a jazz thing? At ten past ten they finished and most of the audience rushed across the road, bus passes in hand. I went to my bed and slept like a log.

The next morning I rose, showered, dressed and headed downstairs for a cooked breakfast which was pretty average and preceded by a discussion about why my room number wasn’t on the breakfast list.

I checked out, by which I mean left my key on the empty reception desk as instructed, and made my way to St. Ives station in hazy, humid sunshine with just a trace of fine drizzle. There was quite a crowd on the platform awaiting the train to St. Erth. I remembered to sit on the left side for the views.

 

 At St. Erth my train to Reading appeared on time and I settled down into my seat up the front in 1st Class. What? You can’t take it with you, you know. Anyway it was only eighty quid Advance Single with a railcard, half what the trip down had cost.

The Americans appeared. They seem to be travelling with everything they own, they put all their huge suitcases in the wheelchair space, whined when told they needed to move them and complained about there not being enough space for their luggage. There was plenty of space under and between their seats. As soon as they got aboard they started stuffing their faces and wanted to know when lunch would be served - it was ten-thirty in the morning at this point. Then they started spreading out the John Lewis tote bags of food onto adjacent seats because their table was full. As the coach filled up through the journey they had to retreat and at last went quiet and disappeared into their devices. Deport them to El Salvador I say 😉

For once the rest of the journey was unremarkable and I arrived home at four in the afternoon, about 46 hours after I’d left.

Would I do the night sleeper again? Well I’ve done it, don’t regret it, don’t need to do it again. It’s always nice to visit Cornwall though, however briefly so if you’re short on time it’s worth considering finding out if you can sleep on a train.

For anyone who avoided spoilers in the previous post here’s a FlickrAlbum of photos from my trip.

The Night Riviera

The Night Riviera is a sleeper train which runs from London Paddington to Penzance in Cornwall (and from Penzance to Paddington) 6 nights a week. I’d long fancied trying it to see what it was like so booked a brief trip to Cornwall to find out.

This is what I found out:

I booked just over a week in advance with a Railcard and paid £57.70 for a Super Off-Peak Single London Terminals to Penzance plus £89.00 for a sleeper cabin. You can forego the cabin and get an airline-style seat for no charge if you want to try and sleep in a chair in a room full of strangers instead. A cabin also gets you use of the lounges and showers at Paddington, Penzance, and Truro and a complimentary breakfast served to your cabin. Although the Night Riviera picks up passengers at Reading I opted to start at Paddington because who wants to hang around on Reading station at twenty to one in the morning, especially given that nearly everything on the station is shut by eight-thirty in the evening? That was another £21.20 for an off Peak Single with a Railcard but worth it. The 1st Class lounge at Paddington provided free hot drinks and snacks too.

As usual the train I intended to catch to Reading for a connection to Paddington was cancelled and the following one would just get me there in time - assuming it ran at all. Not wanting to risk it I left home early and got the previous departure, itself running twenty minutes late, and arrived in London with quite a bit of time to kill. So I went for a stroll around Tyburnia and had a pint before heading back to the station.

The lounge is located on platform 1 which is from where the Night Riviera usually departs but tonight we were directed to platform 8 instead.

I walked up to the front of the train to get the obligatory photo of the locomotive and then back to find my cabin in Coach F. Once aboard a nice lady came and checked my ticket, gave me the low-down on the train’s facilities, and took my breakfast order and what time I’d like it delivered to my cabin. Once settled in I went to explore the train along the very narrow corridors to the Lounge/Bar coach. This was very busy so I didn’t stop longer than necessary to drink a Coke.I went back to my cabin just as we departed Paddington at 23.46

The cabins have two bunks but for single occupancy the upper one is stowed away. The bunk is fairly narrow but because it runs across the coach it is plenty long enough for someone 6’5” tall - hence the narrow corridor in the coach. There’s a bedside table that lifts up to reveal a sink with hot and cold running water (and it is hot too) and a rubbish bin beneath. Light switches, 240v AC, and USB power outlets are located by both bunks along with a room service call button. Yes, room service is available all night if you don’t fancy going down the corridor to the lounge car in the night. There’s a connecting door to the adjacent cabin that is locked unless a party of more than two books adjacent cabins. What you will need to go down the corridor in the night for is the loo. Two are located at the ends of the coach. The sign outside your cabin will point to the ones in your coach but if your berth number is above 15 it’s almost certainly closer to the toilets in the adjacent coach and the coaches are all walk-through connected.

I sat on my bunk with the window blind open and watched the night slide by. Quite slowly especially since there were some track works going on. Not that the Night Riviera is a fast train. It takes about eight hours including stops to reach Penzance, a daytime express will do it in around five. After the stop at Reading I closed the window blind got under the duvet put my head on the comfortable pillows and prepared to nod off.

I might even have done so for a few minutes at some points in the next six hours. I have discovered something and that something is that I can’t get to sleep on a moving train. I wasn’t uncomfortable or anything like that but sleep refused to come. I think a lot of the problem was the novelty of the situation which wouldn’t let my brain switch off. The train trundled on through the dark stopping occasionally at a signal raising the question “I wonder where we are now?” and of course the temptation is to check on the map on the phone or take a peek out of the window. The tracks to the West Country are mostly smooth but not always straight and lying horizontal across a train in the dark subjects you to some odd G forces, with no visual references you feel like you are first being gently pointed head down then a moment later feet down. Onward to Devon, occasional sections of jointed rather than welded track for traditional ta-tum-te-tum train noises. At Exeter the train paused and reversed, I heard the locomotive run around the train, passing my window before re-coupling to the other end with a jolt. Clumsy bugger, doesn’t he know people are trying to sleep? 😀 A consequence of this manoeuvre that didn’t occur to me until later was that my cabin window which on leaving London had been on the left side of the train was now on the right so wouldn’t get any spectacular sea views along the coast at Dawlish 😢

By 6 a.m. it was getting light outside (although the window blinds are very effective) and I concluded that I’d had any sleep that I was going to get so cancelled the alarm I’d set on my phone, got up, washed (blimey that water is hot!) and dressed. I opened the blind and watched a very grey Cornwall passing by. Because of course the bright sunny weather we’d had all month had vanished as soon as I set off travelling - payback for having such unseasonably good weather when I was in Scotland I suppose.

We stopped at Liskeard, we stopped at Bodmin Parkway, and as we approached Par the nice young lady knocked on the door bearing a tray with a very welcome pot of tea and a sausage bap on it. Also brown sauce, tomato ketchup, and for some reason some sweet biscuits which I kept for “Ron”. 😋

I watched stops at St. Austell, Truro, and Redruth pass by and resisted the temptation to pull faces out of the window at the few early morning commuters on the opposite platforms. At Hayle I tried to get a photo of the river but mostly got the back of Asda. The penultimate stop was St. Erth where I noted the way to the platform for the St. Ives Bay Line that I’d be on later. I also noted how wet the platforms looked.

Finally at ten past eight we arrived at Penzance - that was actually 15 minutes late so I might try my luck for Delay Repay 😄 I gathered up my luggage, which consisted of one 30l backpack, and alighted onto the platform with a lot of people who had obviously come equipped for a six month expedition to the outback. I headed directly to the coffee machine in the customer lounge and a seat on which to plan my next move.

I was in Penzance at 8.30 in the morning with five and a half hours to kill before I could check into my hotel in St. Ives. What the bloody hell am I supposed to do now?

Find out in the next “exciting” episode!

 

 Spoilers: Flickr Album of my photos from my Night Riviera  trip to Cornwall

EDIT 4th July. Got £14 back in Delay Repay for being 15 minutes late at Penzance and £21.20 (the full ticket price) back for the delay caused by the cancellation on the Sandhurst to Reading journey. Result!

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 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.

Lincoln

A visit to Lincoln

 

When I was about 17 or 18 one of our Scout Leaders bought a plot of land in Lincolnshire where we used to go camping. I don’t recall the exact location but it was a few miles from the city of Lincoln so it’s possible I might have been there back then. I have no memory of doing so though so I’m calling September 2024 my first time. 

 

On Monday 2nd I took the train and to avoid Kings Cross and any disruption following the strike the previous day took the Elizabeth Line from Reading to Farringdon, then Thameslink to Peterborough and finally East Midlands Railway to Lincoln.  I rejected the suggestion of GWR from Reading to Paddington then changing to the #purpletrain to Farringdon because though in theory it would be 40 minutes quicker the GWR train would most likely be late and crowded and to change at Paddington would mean weaving through crowds of drunken sheep worriers and confused elderly couples on their first trips east of the Tamar. I wasn’t in that much of a hurry 🙂

As it turned out taking this route was much more relaxing, no tight connection times and plenty of empty seats on the trains. 

 

 

 

Lincolnshire has a reputation for being very flat but Lincoln itself certainly isn’t. The railway station is down near the River Witham, my hotel was up next to the castle. Between the two is the main shopping area of the city followed by a picturesque long narrow street lined with old buildings and shops called Steep Hill. It’s not mis-named. It didn’t get any easier to climb in the following 3 days. I stayed at Charlotte House, opposite the West Gate of the castle, a neo-Georgian building built in the 1930s as nurse’s accommodation for the adjacent lunatic asylum, The Lawns, now HQ of Stokes coffee and tea who also own the hotel. I got a good deal with a booking.com discount and a free room upgrade to a suite with a similar square footage to my house 😀 It was also convenient for The Victoria PH, The Castle, the historic area of the city, and the nearby Museum of Lincolnshire Life. Ideal place for a short break in fact. Although a search for cheap eats meant I did another trip down and back up that hill that evening. 

 

 

 

The Museum of Lincolnshire Life 

 

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The next day after breakfast I took a short walk north to the former barracks that houses the Museum of Lincolnshire Life. It’s open Friday to Tuesday so I had to visit today. The first of two Victorian brick wings contains recreated domestic rooms as they would have been in the 19th century which then leads into an area dealing with the history of  the Royal Lincolnshire Regiment (the barracks was built for the Royal North Lincoln Militia in 1857) and its previous incarnations since 1685, it’s part of the Royal Anglian Regiment now. They’ve a couple of VCs and an atmospheric bit of WW1 trench with appropriate soundtrack to scare small children. 

 

Next comes a large open hall containing farming machinery, railway and road locomotives (Ruston & Hornsby being a Lincolnshire firm), and the prize exhibit of a genuine WW1 British tank, the first tanks having been designed and built in the county. 

 

 

 

The next barrack block contains recreations of 19th and early 20th century commercial premises, chemist, post office, Printers etc. One some days they have the printing press working but today wasn’t one of them. In the yard outside there are two large Ruston-Bucyrus cable operated excavators (and the kiddies play area).

 

 

 

Above the shop and reception are some more recreated rooms - a Victorian school with essentially the same desks we had at school in the 1960s and 70s - and the temporary exhibition space which at the time of my visit was given over to “The Tank At Home” which they describe thus “This exhibition looks at a lesser-known aspect of the first tanks and their impact on the home front. Rather than concentrating on the battlefield, the focus is on displays of tank related items such as toys, money boxes, ornaments, trench art and photographs of the works who built them.” There was everything from model tanks through ceramic tank-shaped teapots to the cover of the weekly comic Warlord  from 1974 featuring a WW1 tank. Because the kids' publications from my childhood are now museum exhibits! 🤨

 

 

 

I really liked this museum and admission is free too, donations are welcomed obviously.

 

Lincoln Castle

 

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My next stop was the castle. That definitely isn’t free, £17 for an adult and the senior citizens concession rate doesn’t apply until you’re 66. That price is about average I suppose and gives you access to the castle walls walk, the Magna Carta display, and the Victorian Prison. The ward or bailey of the castle is free to enter during the day or indeed to walk through between the west and east gates, making a good short cut as out of hours it’s much further around the outside. Free access to the ward has to be maintained since Lincoln Crown Court is located within, near the Westgate. Having paid my money I first climbed the steel spiral staircase (the lift was out of order) to the top of the curtain wall and did the approximately third of a mile circuit. You certainly get a good view from up there, especially if you climb to the top of the tall narrow Observatory Tower, which is not for anyone who’s uncomfortable with heights, lowish parapets, and long drops!

 

 

 

Next I went in the opposite direction down into the subterranean David P J Ross* Magna Carta Vault A small dark room, a prominent “no photography” sign, 3 glass cases containing Lincoln Cathedral’s copies of the Charter of the Forest from 1217, and Magna Carta from 1215, and at the back a “guest document” case containing, er, a highly decorated German crossbow for some reason. Magna Carta is something most English people rarely think about but seems to be a magnet for US tourists who seem to regard it with much more reverence so of course there was a couple present to view the “holy grail of democracy”. In the adjacent 210 degree cinema there’s a really good film about King John, William Marshall, and the circumstances that led to Magna Carta. I can confirm that she did not die in vain 😉

 

Lastly to the Victorian Prison, well preserved and with lots of information boards and audio visual displays in the cells, plus activities for the younger inmates - who were thankfully largely absent on this particular Tuesday afternoon else it might have been a bit loud in there. I confess that I couldn’t help thinking of Porridge. No sign of McKay or any other screws though. The manikins in the prison chapel were particularly creepy. 

 

 

 

By mid afternoon my feet demanded to be put up so I returned to my hotel room and had a long hot soak before heading across the road to The Victoria for a couple of beers. 

 

Saxilby

 

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I took a little train excursion on Wednesday to the village of Saxilby which lies on the Roman Fossdyke canal. Just because I wanted to see it. I might have been influenced by watching this Minimal List video recently on YouTube. The Fossdyke is very straight as you’d expect. I had a nice walk along it in the flat countryside then returned to the city and explored along the River Witham.

 

 

 

I gave in and got the bus back up that hill, £2 well spent. Later I considered going on the evening ghost walk but it wasn’t really dark enough at 7pm and it looked like I was going to be the only person to show up. Didn’t fancy that idea so I went and explored the various city gates, got chips, went to the Victoria again, and went back and watched episode 1 of Slow Horses season 4.

 

 

 

The way home

 

My return journey was a reversal of the outward one, Lincoln - Peterborough - Farringdon - Reading - home. Avoided Paddington again and had time for a coffee at Reading accompanied by the deafening sound of torrential rain on the station roof, so loud it overwhelmed the continuous PA safety and security announcements. See it. Say it. Sodden.

The rain hadn’t given up by the time I walked home from the station. I was glad I had a waterproof coat!

 

It was a good city break, Lincoln is really interesting and if you like old buildings you’ll find it hard to move without bumping into one. I recommend Charlotte House, especially as with the discount it came in at £278 inc. continental breakfast which was at the low end of what was being asked in the city centre. Using the slightly slower train route made for a relaxed journey and was £79 for two off-peak flexible single tickets with a National Railcard. 

 

 

All the photos!

 

 

 

 

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* Lincolnshire born billionaire, co-founder of Carphone Warehouse. I had to look it up.