Awoke to beautiful blue skies at the Thornhill Inn after a couple of sherberts the night before.
Scottish beer is pish by the way. Belhaven best leaves a hydrochloric acid aftertaste in the mouth after each sip you feel like you've just been sick. It's true.
Anyway, we breakfasted on a Scottish variation of the Full English that replaced sausage with what I will in all ignorance describe as a haggis burger. It was rather tasty.
We packed up and offloaded our bags on Pete before talking through the days riding. It seemed like it was going to be a good day to me, a bit of everything, from trails, to wilderness to cross country to sightseeing and finally landing in Moffat where there are plenty of pubs.
We headed off to Drumlanrig Castle on an idyllic morning for cycling, cool in the shade, warm in the sun, a slight westerly breeze and azure blue sky. It was the first time this trip I hadn't warn my waterproof jacket.
The Castle is a belter, constructed from red sandstone hewn from nearby quarries as many of the houses and cottages around here are too making for pretty village centres. The Duke who owns the castle has had 3 or 4 bike trails made on his land which we dabbled on for an hour and a half. They were very good, through natural forest so quite tricky in the wet but fun. This place is a bit of a hidden gem with gardens, picnic areas, craft shops, a cafe (could do better) and bes
t of all a Bicycle Museum. The gent who ran the museum which is just two medium sized rooms was very enthusiastic and showed us around the treasure trove with obvious pride.
Replaced my big chain ring as the old one was knackered and giving me jip. Ricks bike shop. Bit pricey.
After scrumping some apples from his Dukeships garden we continued our journey westwards, firstly rolling down the broad, treelined driveway then we began an hour and a half's climb up towards the forest of Ae. We travelled through some beautiful, remote countryside, past the ruins of Morton Castle. WE were all struck by the beauty and tranquility of the place. There's hardly anone here except for the odd farm and forestry worker evidenced by sheep, cows and logging activity, but you rarely see a soul.
WE hit the trails at Ae (prounced Aye), I really enjoyed the helter-skelter of the descents and the lung-busting technical switchback climbs. Within 40 minutes we had to peel off westwards, leaving the red-run at 'The Face' which felt like sacriledge and headed on a forestry road first up then down hill following signs for Beatock where the A74 cuts through before basking in the glorious warm evening sunshine on the last mile-and-a-half into Moffat.
We'd had a great day so far, a bit of something for everyone. Keen to safely store the bikes, get showered and start feeling human again we engaged Derek our host who seemed more concerned with explaining his breakfast form-system to us as we stood huddled in the hallway in our stocking feet. It was a classic scene of an anally-retentive guesthouse proprieter more keen on their rules than actually bothering to look after his customers. We patiently listened to the explicit instructions of which keys did what, the true meaning of the word 'communal' and how many beans we had been allocated each for the for the following mornings breakfast. Classic Fawlty Towers.
Fish and chip supper, 4 men sat on a bench outside the town hall, it was like a scene from Last of The Summer Wine. Phone reception (ish) at last tho!
Two beers at the Narrowest Hotel In The World before succumbing to bed where I am currently testing the electric blanket, ramped it up to full power despite it being plenty warm enough in our room and humming of sweaty atire.
K, bed time. The end of a grand day, until tomorrow ...
No comments:
Post a Comment