Cold, Wind, Rain And £2 Down.

 

       Today, Saturday, was not my type of cycling day, but cabin fever is a dreadful affliction. So, despite the forecast of 16mph cold wind and max. 10 degrees, I set off on my usual route. As I approached Auchenreoch I could see areas of sky that had white clouds, and the odd blue area, but not my patch, I felt a bit hard done by, above my head was low dark foreboding clouds, and that 16mph wind was cold, then to really upset me there started a smirl of light rain. So I cut it short, called it a day, and headed for Milton of Campsie, birth place of Thomas Muir. There to partake in the hospitality of their local café, though I must add, for the same soup, cake and coffee, it was £2 dearer than the Clachan of Campsie tearoom. Should have cycled the extra six or seven miles and saved a couple of quid, but alas, too late, I had ordered and eaten. 

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9 Degrees, But Still Wonderful.

      Yesterday, 26th. saw my first run out on the bike since returning from Athens, unfortunately I came back from Athens with a lousy cough, so the bike runs were postponed. My first run was the familiar territory of the Campsie area, it was really a bit too cold for my creaking bronchial system, 9 degrees, but I loved it, and had a wonderful run, great to feel the pedals turning again. 

       Wheelcraft is a well known bike shop in Clachan of Campsie, frequented by cyclist from a wide area. Big Al, who runs the place is credited with being the best wheel builder in Scotland, if not the UK. The racing fraternity, and other cyclists, pop in to see him as he always has a pot of coffee standing by for all and sundry, while he usually sits with a wheel spinning in front of him. The pater is always about how long a distance they have covered or how fast they covered it.

      Along the road a bit from Big Al's there is what used to be part of a working farm, the farm is still there, but part of it has become an overpriced bundle of bricks in front of which people park rather expensive cars.

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Ah, That Distant Memory, The Sun, Has Returned.

 

         Well it happened, I thought it never would, but it did, the clouds rolled away, the sun came out, and the temperature shot up. Suddenly that horrible dull very cold and windy weather that seem to have gone on for ever, had gone. It brought cyclists out in their all their gleaming Lycra and fancy bikes. I enthusiastically joined them. The start of my cycling season always starts around familiar territory, the Campsie Hills, so it was up round Clachan of Campsie, beautiful. Sadly the good weather also brings out the motorists, so the roads were very busy, but you grow to expect that now-a-days. Here's hoping this is the start of a glorious long hot summer, but I say that every year and it doesn't always materialise, but you never know. 

      As a young man I spent years hill walking, and I would never have hesitated to drink for any stream as we trudged our way along. Now however, I would never dream of drinking from any stream, too much pollutants, pesticides, fertilisers etc., have seeped into our rivers and streams, we have taken that pleasure away from our kids. What else will we steal from them?

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The Last Of The Snow.

        Though in my book it is still too cold, I have managed out on the bike three times this month. The first two occasions were just short non-stop wee circuits, just to remind the legs what they are supposed to do, no stopping for the camera. The third, yesterday, Thursday, 23rd was meant to be the same, but I couldn't help stopping to capture the last of the snow on the Campsie Hills, before nature got out her paint brush and covered everything in various shades of green, splattered with dashes of vibrant colour. Well I hope it is the last of the snow, until next winter, give me warmth. Each of the three runs have had one feature in common, 15/16 mph extremely cold wind. Never the less thoroughly enjoyable, it always feels great when I dust the bike down, after the winter months and start trundling my way merrily around our lovely countryside.

 

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An Artists Palette.

 The main street in Killearn.

        I can't believe it, since the clock went back I have been out on the bike twice, it has been many, many years since that happened. Sunday's run was great, and yesterday, Wednesday, I decide to steal another day on the bike. It was cold, sunny intervals and a light wind, what more could I ask. However it was too cold for me, as my wee bronchial tubes started to complain, and I didn't have any answers, so I just continued to grind on my merry way. 

The top of the climb from the Aberfoyle/Drymen/Killearn roundabout.

        I ended up in Killearn, and enjoyed a lovely plate of thick mushroom soup. Killearn is a small village, where if you look hard enough, you will find a house under half  £1 million. It is at the top of a hill, so no matter how you approach it you have a fair climb. From Glasgow as you pass Glengoyne, the first right takes you up a long drag, or go further on to the Aberfoyle/Drymen/Killearn roundabout, my preferred route, you face an equally long drag up to the village. Come at it from the Stirling/Erskine Bridge road and you climb up through Balfron. There is always the route through Lennoxtown, climb the beast that is the Crow Road over the Campsies, through Fintry and join the tail end of the Balfron-Killearn climb. In spite of this, no matter how you approach it, it is a beautiful run, especially at this time of year. The unbelievable array of colours straight from an artists palette, all those rusts, golds, browns, reds, inter-spaced with the evergreens, is something to behold.

Decision time, right to Fintry, Left to Balfron?

        However, no matter how beautiful, I think I will have to admit defeat and lay the bike aside until the turn of the year. 

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Scotland's Coat Of Many Colours.

 

       Well the clock went back an hour last night, that is usually my sad event of putting the bike away until the turn of the year again. However, today was such a beautiful day, virtually no wind and plenty of sunshine, so I decided to to grasp the moment and head out. It was my usual haunt, taking in Lenzie, Kirkitilloch, Milton of Campsie, with stops for wee photos. A short run, I'm no longer a morning person, and I wanted to be off the road before dusk, felt great. Now the bike will get a lick of grease and oil and lie there until the new year, when it will be given a wee service, ready to start delivering its usual pleasures.

 Lenzie High street.

Kirkintilloch High Street, being pedestrianised, YEEHA.

Milton of Campsie High Street.

       I should add, that High Street in Scots, has nothing to do with height, it merely means Main Street.

      Scotland drops its mantle of lush green and dons its coat of many colours.

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When Autumn Leaves Start To Fall.

       Back after my wee break across the channel, and with a day like today, blue sky, bright sun and wind forecast as 1-3 mph increasing to 5mph later in the afternoon, who could resist throwing their leg over the bike and heading out. Though getting a bit on the cold side for me, I decided to grab what I can before the clock goes back. That's usually my signal to put the bike away until the start of next year. However, I'll try to steal any days that come along like today. Today it was my home territory, the Campsie area, ever beautiful, even more so now that the autumn tints of copper, brown and gold are creeping in through the lush green. Ah, the beauty of this enchanted place.

Autumn tints creeping into the Campsie area.

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The Loch Again.

At Tarbet, with wee balaclava.

         What a day Sunday was, a beautiful run up the Loch, (Loch Lomond) and back down. It was my perfect cycling day, bright sun, virtually no wind, 4/5 mph. and not too cold or too warm around 14/15 degrees. Though there was a bit of a chill factor, hence the wee black balaclava, though maybe it is just my age. Surprising, considering the day, I didn't, encounter many cyclists on the road, but loads of fast cars and extremely fast motorbikes. The little tearoom at Tarbet was the refuelling station, they always do a good thick soup shared this time with my partner, Stasia. She cycled a short run from Inverbeg to Tarbet and back. Nice to have a bit of company, I usually do it all on my own. 

Entering Tarbet from Arrachar.

And of course the Ben, sticking its head up.

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A Beast Of A Wind.

         Managed out three times on the bike in the last week, Wednesday it was the Campsie area, not a bad day, Thursday it was the Aberfoyle direction, a bit on the windy side, but good to be out. Yesterday, Tuesday, it was  a zigzag through the Auchenreoch, Milton of Campsie, Low Moss area, always depressing passing the prison. As you may have noted, Tuesday was a beast of a wind, 18/20 mph and gusting higher in places, it made we work hard, but loved every minute. The photos are from Thursday's run, one from Glengoyne, known for its single malt whisky, looking north towards the might Ben Lomond. The other is from a spot near where Killearn Hospital used to stand, looking at Dumgoyne. A favourite for hill walkers, not very high, but a steep ascent all the way. The Killearn Hospital, long since gone, was built well into the countryside far away from the city pollution, as they specialised in brain surgery.

From Glengoyne looking towards Ben Lomond

From the Killearn area looking at Dumgoyne. 

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Warm And Windy Scotland.

      It has been a good week on the bike, Wednesday, reported as the warmest day of the month so far, saw me round what is more or less my home stomping ground, the Campsie area. Warm but cloudy, still great cycling weather. 

View from Clachan of Campsie tearoom. Ooops, forgot to place the bike.

         Saturday it was up the Aberfoyle road and pulling into Ward Toll tearoom, they always do a nice plate of soup. From the windows you can look in one direction towards Aberfoyle, in the other direction you see the hills behind which nestles the town of Callander. 

View from Ward Toll tearoom, Callander sits behind the hills in the distance.

        Not so many years ago Callander was my favourite Sunday run. Going out via Lennoxtown, the Crow Road, Fintry, Kippin, Thornhill and on to Pipps Tearoom in Callander. Heading home by a different route, over the Braes of Greenock, past the Lake of Monteith, south down the Aberfoyle road past Ballott Toll, up the Blane Valley, turn at the Kirkhouse Inn and head for Lennoxtown and home to Springburn. Some of the most beautiful countryside in the land.
       Sunday it was up the Loch, (Loch Lomond). In a previous post I stated that when up the Loch I always seem to stop at Tarbet and take a photo, but promised I would perhaps stop at Inverbeg or Luss, for that wee photo. Well I did, it was Inverbeg. The photo doesn't do the view justice. It was very windy on Sunday, around 20mph. This was great on the way up the Loch, but I had to work hard on the way back. Still a magic weekend.

 Looking across the Loch from Inverbeg Hotel.

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A Bike, Sunny Weather, And Short Sleeves.

         Well the weather is being kind to us, another lovely day. Again familiar territory, the Campsie Hills area. I honestly believe that because of the number of times, over many years, that I have cycled round the Campsie area, that my bike could probably do it without me. Never the less, I like to tag along for the pleasure. Today was warm and sunny, with a 15/16 mph wind. Purring along wearing short sleeves, at the end of August, while drinking in an ever changing vista, is a pleasure to behold.

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Tarbet Again.

       This Sunday saw me again cycling up the Loch, (Loch Lomond), and why not, it's a lovely run, with beautiful scenery, with the added pleasure of cycling along a shore of panoramic magnificence. It never fails to delight me as I trundle my way along its winding shore road. A very busy road traffic wise, but relatively safe as there is a metre wide lane at the side for bikes along most of its length. Lately I seem always to stop at Tarbet and take a couple of photos, but the length of the loch is is a photographers paradise. It's just that I don't like stopping until I get to where I'm aiming for, perhaps next time I'll take the trouble to stop at the beautiful village of Luss, or drop by the Inverbeg Hotel and take a few snaps. 

The shore of Loch Lomond at Tarbet with the peak of Ben Lomond just visible.

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Aberfoyle Old And New.

       Wednesday 24th. was a glorious day, lots of blue sky, beaming sunshine and a light wind, a cyclist's dream world, so I headed for Aberfoyle. The little town of Aberfoyle in the Trossachs area is a lovely little spot. It has been the haunt of walkers and cyclists from away back and still is, though there has been a lot of changes. As a young apprentice in the shipyards one of my interests was hill walking and the bus from Dundas Street Glasgow to Aberfoyle was a weekend regular. At the Weekend I think it was walkers and climbers that made up 100% of bus company's customers.

The main street Aberfoyle, with Ben Lomond in the distance. 

      It was a ritual, you all poured off the bus at Aberfoyle square, a small square in the centre of the town. The ragtag bunch that hit the town soon head of in usually two directions, some would take the road to the right and head over The Duke's Pass to Lendrick Youth Hostel or to their favourite camping or dossing spot. Others would head along the shores of Loch Ard to the Loch Ard Youth Hostel or likewise their particular camping spot or doss. Our spot if the weather was good would be to follow the Ledard Burn up the hill, where there were plenty of good camping spots at the side of the burn with the clear water of the burn gurgle down to the loch. Lots of those walkers/campers/climbers arrived with a guitar slung over their shoulder and for the crowd that made Loch Ard area their base, it would almost be obligatory at night to head to the Alskeith Hotel on the shore of the loch, where there would chatting sing and general mayhem until the hotel decided it was time to throw us out, then the little groups dispersed in the darkness to their hostel tent or doss.

 Outside The Forth Hotel, Aberfoyle.

      In those days the last bus out of Aberfoyle on Sunday night was something that you will never see again. All the now dirty, sweaty hoard, would pile into the bus, and if it was a wet night the windows would soon be steamed up. People would be taking of socks and bits and pieces, wringing them out and drying their feet etc. It was not that unusual for someone sit in the floor of the passage way in the bus, light a Primus stove and start to do some sausages or what ever was left over and share around. Guitars would be strumming and songs would be ringing out. All this as the bus wound its way in the darkness through those winding twisting roads back to Dundas Street Glasgow. Once there it would disgorge it human cargo who would then thin out as the made the last bit of their journey on a corporation bus or tram, usually to one of Glasgow's many slums or some housing scheme.

      Still popular with walkers/cyclists etc., Aberfoyle has changed, now a popular tourist attraction with special parking places for tour buses, but is still very much recognisable, however, the main difference is that now the main means of travel to the town is by car or tour bus, they are everywhere.

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