Of Scottish Weather & Walled Gardens

Glasgow

A highlight for us was Sharmanka Kinetic Theatre in Glasgow. We had seen the Tinguely Museum in Basel, Switzerland and been impressed with what he had done with scrap metal and other materials, but this was a step up on that.

Each piece, made from recycled metal/recycled anything really, plus sculpted figures made by the artist (Eduard Bersudsky-Russian Immigrant who took up residence in Glasgow during the 1990's) has a story and a message and the presentation was superb.

 The People

Ian and Isabel, are farmers in the Ayr district, at the end of our day an eggs for sale sign on the road led us to their backdoor. Don't think they had ever experienced two old codgers on bikes loaded to the hilt, buying 6 eggs and politely asking if there was a small patch in the corner of a paddock to pitch a small tent for the night. Of course, come and have a look at the orchard.

Looked fine to us and Ian, gesticulated with his hands that there was a handbasin in the front porch where we could “Wash our faces, and the back door would be unlocked all night.

After a comfortable night we had a cup of tea and a long chat in the morning and headed on our way up a couple of long hills, lots of bemused sheep and sweeping views, somewhat limited by the low cloud and showers sweeping across the downs. “People of the Day – Ian and Isobel

The Walled Garden Caravan park was most welcoming to a cold and damp pair. Jim the owner, made himself known and was quite disappointed when we did not take him up on his offer to spend the night in a couple of lazy boy chairs with the heater on, in the recreation room. Fact is that, on our 12mm of thermarest mattress and sleeping bags zipped together, we are comfortable and cosy.

The Walled Garden is part of the Ferguson Estate, Sir Bernard being GG of New Zealand, some years ago, and according to one of the village locals, the Ferguson family have hosted the All Blacks at the “Big House” on one or more occasions.

Jim was not your usual campground owner, (sometimes disillusioned and down on the public for making a mess of their amenities). When we awoke next morning to continuing rain and cold, we talked to him about options for moving along and he spent the best part of an hour phoning around looking for rail routes that would get us along the way a bit (though we have no set agenda, Val has partitioned our 3 months into blocks of 2 weeks, when we need to be around a certain area-(there is a family campout planned for mid trip).

Jim had said he had a speeding fine to pay and had to do it today – just so happened that was in Ayr and Ayr was where the train left to get us along the way to Hadrian's Wall town of Haltwhistle via Kilmarnock, where we had to change trains. Sounded like a very generous excuse, but we took it nonetheless and with the bikes and panniers in the back of his van, we had a mini tour of the district, (met his wife and looked at their 300 year old cottage, and the house Sir Bernard lived in after his marriage, before both being GG and inheriting the “Big House”) before being deposited outside the Ayr railway station. Thanks Jim – well and truly “Person of the Day”.

Interview with General Hadrian on site

“General, this is a most impressive feat, how did you manage it?”

“We could not have done it without the help of the locals” he said magnanimously.

“Were any lives lost in the construction of the wall?”

Jangle of armour an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders, not looking at me but gazing out across the hills stated ;

“As far as I know, no humans or animals were damaged physically or psychologically over the time we occupied Britain, let alone the building of this wall.”

The Road

Picked up the Hadrian's Wall Cycle Way on and off, then met Terry outside Colbridge around the time we were ready to camp.

Terry was standing outside a lovely stone gatehouse when we rode up.

“Any chance of a place to camp around here”

“Well if it were up to me, you could camp just here throught the gate, but my Landlord, who goes crook if I even park my van in the archway, would have a fit”

“Well we don't want that to happen, anywhere along the way, what about the farmer over the road there?”

“Tell you what, I'm a member of the local Rugby Club (we'd played the NZ – All Blacks card), they've got 30 acres of land and I'm sure no one would mind you camping on a bit of it and its only a 100 yards back to the Pub, where thet put on a good meal and pull a cold ale!”

“Thanks Terry, we'll give it a go” and had a very peaceful night – though I cooked up on the camp stove :-)

This was an “off” when we found a rutted muddy track along the top of a ridge and had lunch under our tarp slung over a stone wall, along with a short sharp hailstorm and freezing cold fingers on the handlebars, once we got underway again.

Cup of tea with a couple who had recently retired from the Newcastle City Symphony Orchestra, (we met them in the course of getting back on track). From there we ended up riding the whole of the Hadrian's Cycle Route, meeting up with the Tyne and going through the heart of the city, catching a ferry across to South Shields, where we camped at a Caravan Park on the foreshore.

However, would you believe it – riding through Newcastle along the riverside cycleway I noticed a van parked half across the path and on the wrong side of the road and just vaguely thinking I'd seen one like it somewhere else, when out of the door pops Terry, our rugby ground host.

“How'd you get on last night? Have a beer at the pub?”

Talk about million to one chances of us ever meeting up again in a country of 70million(?) people.

Our Bodies

We are holding up well, but Val's hair?