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?
