Turn here to achieve path:

There is plenty for all:

Instructions say, “Cross two stiles.”  Would this be one of them?

No, it would not! Because, as you can see, there are no steps on other side of fence.  Hah!  You have to be thinking every minute!

Drops of water on hip-high wet grass that soaks your pants in two minutes can look quite pretty if aesthetic is what you are after:

Wet grass also soaks notes that are in zippered pocket of your pants.

This is Mark who is running with his little dog Micky. (Why is Micky not appearing in photo?)  Today was a thirty-five mile run, and in August a few or a bunch—forgot to ask—of complete crazies are planning on running the entire Southern Upland Way.  Incredulous is what I am.

Lead mined hills:

Here is my theory about great big spaces.  If you are secure in where you are, they are breathtaking.  If you are lost, they are terrifying.  Perhaps this means that interpretation has a lot to do with context.

Didn’t know which photo made the point better, so you decide.

Lots of strong wind today and threatening clouds, much hillage up to the high moors, less getting lost, but each time it happens it is very disconcerting (see photos above) and time consuming.  It is really amazing how BPP can morph into NPAL (no path at all).  Thank God for devices.  They don’t solve all problems, but they certainly help.  And when there is a contradiction between sign posts and GPS, ya gotta go with the posts.

Actually, that is not always true!  Today (the 15th) in fact, it was patently not true.  But I got turned around without incorrect signage, too.

A long, mostly foggy day, lots of slog and hills—which accounted for the slog—some lovely parts, too.  When are are amid the larkspur and foxglove, all you know is joy.

Chris, riding his bike:

 Woman who picked me up today to return me to path arrived in her Micky Mouse jammies!  We had a nice chat.

Aside from going coastal, here are some other things grandmas do: go to jail, to the pet store, to court, skydiving, wild on shark tank, on a killing spree, to law school, viral, and on a roller coaster.

Moffat, where I am tonight, is the first real town since I forget.  Went down to Co-Op (UK’s version of Stop and Shop) bought lox, cream cheese, an onion a few tomatoes, a loaf of bread and had a really good dinner in my exhausted state.

From here on, the navigation issues are reputed to be much decreased.  Since tomorrow is 20+ without getting lost, I hope that reputation is not lore!

I think I lost a day somewhere but after a day like today, I couldn’t begin to remember.  It was navigational hell, getting lost again and again and again in high, lumpy, wet grass on which, when you take a step, you don’t know how far down your foot will go or how boggy the ground will be.

The countryside in the early morning:

And sheep enjoying the countryside after the cloud has lifted:

Moss for Alex’s living room wall:

A suspension bridge with some real swing!  Crossing it was the highlight of the 18 mile day!

Area of getting lost.  It looks tamer than it is.  Really.The other areas of getting lost looked pretty much the same, which is why I got lost! 

For tomorrow I have a new navigational scheme.  I hope it works!!  It is an eighteen and a half mile day without getting lost.  Today’s was 15 + 3 extra.  Seriously, the landscape is so vast and the paths barely perceptible—herein to be referred to as BPPs, or else invisible, and, to add to the frustration, cattle knock over sign posts, so it is said.  Without a doubt, this is the most navigationally challenging walk I have ever done.  If it were raining, well, I can’t even begin to think how these sections would be possible.

Oh, I have to tell you about the grocery store in St. John Town of Dalry. (Is that a name or what!) I was all excited that there was one.  It shares space with the Post Office.  The store sells milk and a couple of other dairy products, lots of junk food, oranges, apples, a few purple onions (for colour?) and, if you ask, the lady will go the frig in the back room where there is:  one head of iceberg lettuce, one cucumber, which, we both admitted had to go, a couple of tomatoes pale pinkish, and broccoli.  And there were a few loaves of bread and canned goods.  However, said lady told me that Thursday (the next day) she would be getting a delivery.  Now I was really excited.  On return, kicked off boots, put on shoes, slung green shopping sack over my shoulder and headed down the hill to see what had come in.  There was one fresh cucumber (I bought half; you can do that here.) five heads of iceberg lettuce, and the rest of the inventory was pretty much the same.

New navigational scheme—checking waypoints in instructions against the ones I already made— was helpful, signage was better, but route was brutal.  Lots of climbing through tall, wet grass that has you soaked in five minutes, but was better able to follow BPPs.  However, boots not waterproof.  Can’t believe it!  They are a new pair of the ones I had last year, which did not admit one drop of water through the worst, unceasing rain. These soaked through in half an hour and I had just waxed them last night, y todo.  Annoying, very!  And the water makes them very very heavy.

What vast looks like:

Completely out of nowhere:

A little more vastness:

And that is enough of wide open spaces after a nineteen and a half mile day.  Quite demanding.  Fortunately, the rain held off until I was close to destination and almost out of the BPPs issue for the day.

Standing stones.  Now these standing stones have an explanation that claims they were used as markers along the moors, and, later, Christian travellers embellished them with religious markings.  Everyone has a story to tell, it seems.  Mine is that these stones could not be seen a hundred feet away, so so much for their being a beacon. 

Moss covered fallen tree:

This is the famous telephone box in Knowe, and it is just about all that exists in Knowe. It even contains a telephone. Whether or not the phone works, no lo sé.

This bit of wall reminded me of that castle back in Lochranza where things were done in the 13th century and changed in the 18th:  Apparently, someone did not like windows:

The walk was so exhausting that at 8:15 my head hit the pillow and I was out!  Next morning, up early to head out at 6:30 in a light rain, enough to need rain gear but not torrential or anything like that. The first two thirds of today’s walk was beautiful (no photos to prove it). However, it was a l-o-n-g  day, and since I had to be picked up to get to the B and B at a prearranged time, I walked the last seven miles like a crazy person, not wanting the B and B guy to have to wait for me, but this allowed me to counter the slowest ten miles ever of several days ago by walking the fastest nineteen ever: seven hours and twenty minutes, and this included some wandering around due to one major and one minor navigational challenge.

A tidbit:  The owner of this B&B (Brookford in the town of St. John of Dalry, and very nice) is a direct descendent of, and shares the name with William Bradford the very one who sailed on the Mayflower!

A suspension bridge, sort of like a very mini-misimo Golden Gate only not golden and made of wood:

A dark forest rendered less dark by the use of the automatic flash :

Photo dedicated to Our Fuzz, who would have loved to get her little claws into these, only maybe not since they were dead:

A lake of giant lily pads:

Of course there has to be a castle, only you can’t go in.  But it was pretty just as a ruin:

And of course there have to be flowers:

This scent of this rose tree was divine:

8:20 ferry from Brodick to Ardrossan, taxi to Ayr, train to Stranraer.  The ferry, a great big car ferry, is so smooth I thought we were late in departing, when, in fact, we were already quite underway!  Taxi was waiting as promised, but then had 1 1/2 hours before train time. Normally that would not be so bad, but the station is being renovated, so nowhere to sit or have a latte or any little niceties at all.  However, because of all the disruption to the station, there are helping people at every track, and my helping person said I could leave my bag.  So I did.  Off I went in search of something to eat.  Found a dumpy little establishment and, at 10:00 a.m., ordered three scoops of ice cream.  Delicious, even if  not gourmet, and no sooner done than I noticed a much nicer shoppee next door where I could even have had a latte to go with, no doubt, but no tragedy.  Struck up a conversation with a woman who runs 100 mile races, would you believe.  “Well,” she told me, “It really isn’t so hard because you run slower than if you were running a marathon.”  Now, that explains the joy!

Stranraer is a town one could skip and not miss anything, but it has a grocery store, so here I am instead of in Portpatrick where the Southern Upland Way begins.  And I am staying in a super nice place right on the water.  Granted, it is a mile from town, so a distance to schlep provisions which I will have to buy plentifully tomorrow  because there will not be any emporia for several days.

Taxied to the Logan Botanical Gardens this afternoon.  They were, in a word, gorgeous.  A few specimens:

I just love flowers growing from cracks in a wall.  Maybe because it reminds me of a passage describing King Solomon’s wisdom, or maybe because I just do, or maybe both:

There were fish, too:

And these happy happy whatevers:

The arboretum section of the gardens was heavenly.  The smell alone divine.  This here is old Mr. Tree trunk with massive bunion, or…..tumor:

Saturday, i.e. today, was a “rest day,” so I walked to Portpatrick—the start of the Southern Upland way—about 13 miles after all was said and done—so much for the rest.

Some piece of equipment!

Pond, in a park and angry cob who gave a great big honk:

Taxied, again, this time to Portpatrick to OFFICIALLY begin the SUW, which, as you can see, is carved in stone:

Some lovely parts, especially the dramatic beginning along the coast:

Bossie:

 Gates to another time…….and place:

At the very end of today’s walk, could not find the B and B and ended up trudging well over a mile, uphill, through heavily bovine populated territory.  FINALLY reached a road, flagged down a car, lady with the worst black teeth you have ever seen stopped and ferried me back down the road where I began, again, my search for the place.  Phoned the proprietress, but between there being—if you are lucky—a one bar signal, and the lady’s being very hard of hearing, it was not a simple conversation. Eventually arrived.  This is how a 14 mile day becomes almost 17.  Anyway, another really beautiful day and luxurious accommodation as reward.

The combination of challenging and boring continued today but with new levels of difficult.  Bennan Head and Dippin Head, two large boulder fields, had to crossed.  No, they did not.  There are alternate routes, but it was not raining and the tide was right for both exertions, so I undertook them.  It was V E R Y  S  L  O  W going, especially through the second and larger one. One is warned by the almost useless guide book, “Do not underestimate the time it will take you to navigate these boulder fields.” It was not so much scary—well, just a little—as nerve wracking because it was hard to know if you were making a good choice every time you took a step. This was not as beyond all as was Worm’s Head last summer, but at least at Worm’s Head there were lots of other people around as opposed to none today.  There was no escape route, so once committed, you have to get on with it.  Anyway, stepping, lurching, hopping, jumping, sliding, sitting, thinking, balancing with the poles, cursing the poles when they got in the way,  grabbing, and all manner of delicate (!) footwork got me through the pair, between which and after which there was much jungly stuff like yesterday, too, and it was hot, so at the end of it all, I spent seven hours walking ten miles, a record slow time.  There were two more miles to go to get to the B and B where I almost collapsed on the doorstep, and, to revivify,  immediately bought a sparkling water, with two little ice cubes, from the proprietress.

An odd sighting in a desolate spot:

Lone Tree Beach:

Cave with Yawning Mouth:

That there yonder is Holy Island where there is a Buddhist Monastery and Buddhist monks.  People go there to take meditation courses and that sort of thing:

Swans and cygnets:

This fellow was in my way as there was a stile just there:

AND he had friends!  But they all let me pass probably because they were just too hot to move:

Whiting Bay, 6:45 a.m., parents’ morning out:

Look at those ear tufts on this little fellow!

The walk started out on a beautiful path up to a waterfall:

Waterfall:

 View of Holy Island when you are much closer to it.  It looks just like Arran Island only smaller:

The low tide route from Lamlash to Brodick was lovely and the tide was out, so it was all good……until I got near a stile that had to be climbed that was blocked by bovines, youngish frisky ones.  There was nowhere for them to go nor did they have any interest in letting me pass.  “Well, at least there is a high route option,” I reasoned, and that route was lovely too. In fact it was the prettiest walking of the whole island.  Get to the top, find the path to descend and in a few minutes, see this:

“Bother,” thought I.  “I am not going to be deterred.  “I’ll just crawl under those trees:”

After “those trees,” it was obvious that the route was no longer a route, and I had no idea what to do.  But who should be coming the other way but a family of four.  They had encountered a similar problem and were just avoiding the whole thing and heading back whence they came, but they very kindly helped me figure out a way on to Brodick, which was not difficult but it was long.  This is how a 12 mile day turns into almost 17 miles.

Would I return to Arran Island?  There were some memorable stretches, but on the whole, not a particularly interesting or beautiful walk, and much too much road walking.

Today’s walk is photo-less due to my having neglected to put the card back into the camera, not a bad day to have been so careless as I hardly took any pictures.  The walk consisted of two distinct parts: there was the deadly dull road walking punctuated by two take-care-now-finding-your-way-through-the rocks sections, which were kind of fun, only I did find myself saying “oy” a lot.

Tonight’s B&B involved a transfer to Blackwaterfoot where I was all excited to be because it has an excellent little bread bakery.  But the bakery was not open to-day, so that was sad-making.  The local grocery is tiny and must cater to the golf-playing cocktail crowd because it sells things like venison pate and several varieties of herring, but little in the way of staples.

Oh, but I have accomplished two things about which I am so bloody proud!  I figured out how to make tracks from routes and how to split routes.  I always hated routes as a navigational method because I realise now that I did now know how to use them.  Well, now I do…..which does make turning them into tracks less vital, so if anyone wants to know, just ask.  Tomorrow all this new knowledge gets put to the test for the first time!

This is tomorrow and still struggling with new knowledge, but making progress with the route format.

After more deadly dull walking along a shoulderless main road where cars and trucks speed like crazy, it was really nice to have respite in this pine woods especially since I had already made a mistake that cost me about an hour.

An upended tree can be quite beautiful and it can also serve as a structure behind which one can pee:

Eventually there was beech walking and there were caves.  This particular one has been honoured by the placement of many mini cairns.

Today’s walk was the weirdest ever.  Too much road walking punctuated by some excellent walking along the water, but lots of bushwhacking through jungle-like thorny, underburshy and overbrushy stuff that I wasn’t sure whether I would, any minute, be assuming Dr. Livingstone or empathising with Teddy Roosevelt in the Amazon.  And there were large gates, which, being locked, had to be climbed, and other impediments.  It was a long day and as a topper, my bags were delivered to the wrong hotel.  Took a bit of doing to get that sorted!  On the plus side, the famed bakery in Blackwaterfoot that was closed yesterday was open today, so I schlepped a loaf, strapped to the top of my pack, all the way to Lagg.  BUT, since I dined in the B&B/hotel—big mistake, food swimming in oil—I did no more than taste the bread, which, indeed was quite good.

There are two, no, three reasons to climb this peak: one is to say you did, two is because on a day like today the views are spectacular, and three because the alternate route to Sannox is on a wide track through chopped down forest, teaming with flying, biting critters.

My photos do not do justice to the view AT ALL:

Looking towards Brodick:

The people I followed down, having a sandwich before the descent.  The woman’s shorts say Minnie and Mouse.  That white pillar thing is a trig point, where you can measure the accuracy of your GPS. People tend to get very excited about trig points even if they don’t use a GPS.

I was supposed to descend by a path (unmarked) that goes off at a thirty degree angle from the main path….to the extent that the main path is discernible.  I was not sure where it was and was scared to death to try a solo descent to who knows where in those desolate hills.  The photos do not capture the vastness and cragginess and into-the-no-where-ness of the hills, so I just followed the sandwich eating couple back to the starting point, turned at the junction, and walked to Sannox on the low level route, the one with all the flies.  The entire day’s walk was only fourteen miles, but felt longer due to the demands of the Goat.  It was a good first day!

A pretty start on the way to Lochranza:

There were no habitations except this abandoned cottage, no sheep, no cows, just cliffs and rocks and lots and lots and lots of biting flies. Tomorrow the DEET goes on before departure!  A chunk of the walk was tricky going as you had to work your way along an undefined path through boulders.  And it was slow as every step had to be calculated.

Then things evened out, you might say:

 As I was checking into the B&B, Jesse James here told me that he has walked almost every walk in England.  He probably has:

 

A big cat and a small mouse:

Reminiscent of the Met’s collection of helmets, only more lively.  Dandy fellows one and all:

This Chinese brocade outfit may have a military look, but it is nothing more than an expensive, fancy coat, which, when you think about it, might serve to scare off the enemies, or not:

Hi Ilene!!  And Jessie!

Then this afternoon I visited GoMA.  It takes about fifteen minutes to work your way through the exhibits.  The installation below would, in any other context, be called Clothesline with Shmattahs and Other Objects, but in a museum, it is called Art:

This desk and bookcase and chair with a head on it would be called Who Cares about Odd Proportions and Slightly Whackadoodle (i.e., the head) Office, but again, in a museum, it is Art:

Loved this!  In case you cannot tell, the sunflowers on the right are Hockney’s painting of the photograph of the flowers on the left only it is all one painting.

Opinions can also be Art if they are lucky enough to get into a museum:

Once up at 5:30 a.m., why wait to take the 8:30 ferry to Arran?  Catch the 6:45 instead and have a full day going to Holy Island, perhaps, and hiking the circuit.  Good plan, but ferry to meet the early train  not running, so that plan was dashed and replaced by a two and a half hour wait at the ferry terminal.  Seems that every good idea for Arran Island comes up against a schedule snag, and while there are buses linking the towns, their frequency is, well, not so frequent, so Holy Isle idea nixed.

An odd couple (to say the least) took their three bunnies (there is a wee black one over in the left corner) to Arran for a day out.  The bunny stroller had more toys than a baby of a Yuppie couple, a fan clipped to the side and a suitcase packed with greens to keep them well fed.

 On board were lots of dogs and babies and children of different ages, and bikers and drinkers, and golfers, and at least one hiker.

Arrived and checked into B and B and then off to Brodick Castle, a lovely walk.  This pretty bench seemed an ideal spot for lunch but the ominous buzzing sound of a horde of insects suggested that another spot might be better.

The castle at Brodick is not visitable at the moment, as it is undergoing repairs, but the  gardens/arboretum were  wonderful.  If you like formal gardens, there was one, and if you don’t there was one anyway:

But most of the grounds were much more wild.

A gate in the open position:

Aye, now, the faeries must be coming:

Not an outhouse, but an ice house:

A Bavarian-style summer house. Though it looks to be made of large twigs, thee pieces are metal:

The ceiling (and walls) certainly do have a woodsy feel what with being decorated with acorns and all:

But speaking of diseases, grey squirrels apparently carry squirrel pox (who knew) and have killed off most of the native red squirrels in the UK., but are doing quite well on Arran. 

This afternoon was a time for testing my devices, a 6.5 training walk for the first official leg of the season.

It’s all that protein, maybe from that jar of whey down in the corner:

Now, the Royal Yacht Britannia, which, in case I should have to refer to it by name again, shall be known henceforth as the RYB, is beyond beyond.  If you only listened to the audio and didn’t see any of it, your brain would still be jumping out of your skull.  Here are a couple of tidbits to give you the flavour, and sorry for the flash whiteout in the middle, but persevere and read what you can:

The queen’s schedule was screechingly dull:

Part 2 with three items from above repeated because cropping I am not, so head on down to 6:00 p.m. where her majesty discusses her attire for the evening, which, note, takes an hour:

Would you be surprised to learn that there was much alcoholic beverage on board?

The prince indulged in some artistic activity when he had the chance and inclination.  You have to do something, after all, when your day is not full to the brim with correspondence:

I forget the details here but the gist is that that stuffed wombat in the fan had something to do with a hilarious game that some of the upper uppers played after having a few drinks.  What hey!

This is a salt shaker, gift of some Russian somebody, a tsar, perhaps, but that would be before QEII’s time.  Where the salt emerges is anyone’s guess. Anyway, the important thing is not the silver or the gaudiness or anything like that, it is the little monkey in the lower right corner, which, the people who played the wombat game used to hide every day, and I don’t know who had to find it.  Most likely they engaged in that pursuit after visiting the bar which was next to the room where drinks had been served just previously.  The dog is not included in the account.

A button from Lord Nelson’s coat!

Where dinner was taken.  If you were a guest, you got to keep the menu as a souvenir.

The places were set just like in Downton Abbey, with measurements taken to assure that each item was EXACTLY WHERE IT SHOULD BE:

Crew’s quarters:

Sick bay.  Corgie, it seems, has an ocular disturbance:

I loved the laundry!

Detail work is important:

An absolute necessity:

There was also a Rolls Royce on board; I forget why.  It had to be partially disassembled to be hauled aboard.

Every minute aboard was a jolly good time, but, alas, after audio-stop 29, the tour was done!  Walked back to the centre of the city by a different route, so did get to see a fair amount.  Stone.  Edinburgh is made of dark, grey, stone.

Lady who rebuked me for not having donated enough to her collection. She sang, after a fashion, and spun.

Aside from the person who discovered that chloroform could be used as an anesthetic, David Hume lived here:

That’s it for the day since photo taking was not allowed on the underground tour of Mary King’s Close. Datum of the day: there were two kinds of plague:  You had 99% of dying from one variety and 50% of dying from the other.

No idea what this is meant to represent.  Neptune and the unicorn?