Roads Festooned With Colour.

       Sunday was another warm but very humid day with a light wind, obviously my thoughts turned to those winding roads around my patch. This time my dream machine took me to Drymen, (Billy Connolly stayed there for a spell.) I had thought of going on a few more miles to Balmaha, but a late start and having to get home early as I was being treated to a father's day dinner at my daughter's family home, that idea was shelved.

      The weather certainly brought out the Lycra brigade, the roads were festoon with brightly coloured bikes and people, all seemed to be pushing hard, obviously trying to improve their times. Not like me, just delighted to be able to cover some miles, I've done all that trying to beat the clock.

      Tuesday is forecast to be a scorcher, so perhaps that visit to Balmaha might happen then.

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Kirkie Main Street.

         I have been doing my best to keep out of the way of our babbling brook of bullshit, the mainstream media, and their popcorn and bubble gum crap they call politics. So I have been out on the bike a few times recently, but only short runs round the Campsie area, but not bothering to stop for the odd photo. I think I have covered that area enough. Yesterday again round the Campsie area, but this time went via Lenzie and Kirkintilloch. I wanted to see the new pedestrianised main street in "Kirkie", the last time I visited that wee toon, the main street, called Cowgate, was in upheaval. It is now completed, and in spite of my mate Roger, a Kikrie local, saying it was a disaster, I found it a great improvement. The pavements are much wider, no place to park on the main road, lots of marked pedestrian crossings where the cars have to give way, plus nice big 20mph signs. I cycled through with hardly a vehicle in sight. That's how the town centre should be, safe for people to wander around at leisure. Sorry Roger, the new design wins. Of course no matter how they re-model the main street of any town, the success or otherwise will depend on the money to spare in the public's pocket, and as that shrinks, I afraid the new Cowgate will not get much wear and tear, from shuffling shoe traffic.

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Bonspeil And The Lake Of Monteith.

 

        Managed out on the bike on Wednesday, not quite the weather they promised, but nice never the less. Not much wind, so that was good for an old wrinkly like me, quite warm but humid with clouds. Visited another spot I hadn't visited for a number of years, the Lake of Menteith. I have fond memories of the bitter cold winter of 1962-63, as that year the Lake of Menteith froze over, and we went ice skating on the lake, it was a wonderful expanse of ice on which to skate freely. There is an island in the lake, Inchmahome, on which there is an ancient ruined priory. Normally you have to pay somebody to take you to the island on a boat, but here we were skating out and exploring the island. The Lake was also home to the Bonspeil, (Grand Match), a curling tournament between the north and the south, held every 5 years on a frozen loch, though there hasn't been many frozen lochs of late.

       It was a pleasant run out the Aberfoyle road to the Roy Roy Hotel, then instead of turning left to Aberfoyle, I turned right and started up the Braes of Greenock, then turned off to the Port of Menteith and stopped at the hotel which is beautifully situated on the lake side, there sipped on green tea and sampled their scones with butter and jam, while looking out at the Lake. All very idyllic.

 Outside the Port of Menteith Hotel.

      Set off towards Arnprior, my timing was all wrong, as I turned into the Stirling-Erskine Bridge road, a main commuter route, it was peak travel time, so that stretch of road I was accompanied by an endless cavalcade of vehicles screaming past at 60-70mph, all eager, I imagine, to get home to dinner and tele. Despite, the modern madness of commuting, it was a wonderful run down memory lane. 

Lakeside, you can see two guys in their boat drifting with their fishing lines. 

      Just as a matter of interest, Stirling is where Andrew Hardie and John Baird were hanged then beheaded, (just to make sure) then buried in an unmarked grave outside the walls of Stirling Castle, for their part in the 1820 Insurrection. Their bodies were eventually recovered and give a burial and monument in Sighthill Cemetery, in the north of Glasgow.   

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The Wee Blether.

       With our changeable weather you have to grab the sunshine when you can, so yesterday I decide to visit another area that as a young man I spent a lot of time hill walking, and later cycling, Loch Ard. In those hillwalking days we would take the bus to Aberfoyle and walk to the Loch Ard youth hostel, if the weather was kind we would skip the hostel and head up the Ledard Burn, ("burn" Scots word for stream) and pitch the tent there. This was a good starting point for making your way to the summit of Ben Venue. On those visits Friday and Saturday nights would be spent at the Altskeith Hotel, which would be the meeting place for hill walkers, climbers and cyclists. The nights would be filled with   guitars strumming, singing, laughter and loud chatter, until the  proprietor threw us out. The hotel has since moved a bit up market and is now The Altskeith Country House, no doubt catering more for tourist with money, rather than walkers and pauper cyclists.

Loch Ard, just before Kinlochard.

        The Loch area in general hasn't changed much, delighted to note that the road surface is much better than my last cycle up that way. I stopped at Kinlochard and enjoyed a bite at the beautifully situated tearoom, The Wee Blether ("blether" Scots word for friendly chat). Many, many years ago I would come up here with an inflatable dinghy, and take my kids out to the little island in the loch, Eilean Gorm, there they could run wild, and live out their fantasies among its rocks and trees.  On the island there is also a fisherman's bothy, (Scots for a small hut or cottage, especially one for housing farm labourers or for use as a mountain refuge).

Beautifully situated tearoom on the shore at Kinlochard.

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Visiting An Old Acquaintance.

 

        Yesterday, Tuesday, I decided to take the bike round, what used to be a favourite area of mine for the bike and hill walking, Callander. It was another beautiful day, what a pleasure cycling in a short sleeved shirt, a rare occurrence in Scotland. One summer, back in the days when I called myself a cyclist, I done the same run every Sunday for the entire season. It was a beautiful run, starting at my front door in the north of Glasgow, I would head for Lennoxtown, then up the Crow Road over the Campsies to Fintry. From there you climb past what cyclist used to call "th' tap o'th wurld" (The top of the world), though it wasn't, for you are still climbing up to Kippen. From there you get a magnificent run downhill, then a few miles of flat road over what I believe is part of Flanders Moss. This flat leads to another climb up to Thornhill, from there you start another set of undulating hills, but it is ever upwards. Eventually you reach the top and then its flying down all the way to a lovely flat stretch as you head into Callander. Usually it was something to eat in Pipps Tearoom in Ancaster Square, before heading home via a different route.

         Homeward bound would be from Callander over the Breas of Greenock, nowhere near Greenock, it is quite a climb, and then a run down past the Lake of Menteith, to the Aberfoyle road (one year when I was a young man the Lake froze over for months, and at the weekends we would skate on it, skating out to the island). From there it would be Ward Toll, Ballat Toll, Glengoyne, famed for its whisky as much as its beauty, and then the climb out of the Blane Valley to Strathblane. It was now the home stretch via Lennoxtown and a shower and a bite to eat at home. 

 Ancaster Square Callander.

Main Street Callander.

 

       On yesterday's shorter run I visited Callander, and then followed the road towards Strathyre, before retracing my route and then turning off to go along the shore of Loch Venachar, stopping at the tearoom beautifully situated on the shore of the loch. Sitting and sipping tea looking out over the loch feeling at peace with the world, (not a frequent experience) before heading back to Callander.

 Looking across Loch Venachar from lochside tearoom.

  

 Looking up Loch Venachar towards Ben Lomond.

    Sadly they are now talking about the weather changing, I suppose we should expect that, after all, this is Scotland, ever changing weather is what we have. 

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Two In A Row.

        What a glorious weekend, difficult to believe, several days with glorious sunshine, and this is Scotland. We have to grab it when it happens. So Saturday saw my first run up the Loch this season, (Loch Lomond), the sad thing about a beautiful sunny weekend in Scotland, everybody else also grabs it. So everybody and their grandmother, jumped into their cars and also headed up the Loch. Massive tailbacks and slow moving monster queues, then endless convoys of speeding vehicles doing 60-70mph and in some case, more. Never the less, it was a great run, up through Tarbet, round to Arrochar and stopped at the head of Loch Long. Loch Long is an sea loch, the other end opens out to the Firth of Clyde, so it is tidal and you get the salt air smell as you pass. The sad bit about it that taints its beautiful vista, it was for years a torpedo testing range. These photos were taken at low tide, so you see the long flat beach covered in different colours of seaweed.

       In this other photo you can just see the craggy Cobbler showing is jagged top. A favourite for climbers and walkers alike. In my younger days I spent many an afternoon admiring the magnificent view from the top. Most people start the ascent from the side of Loch Long but you can start at the other side from a small car park at the start of the "Rest-and-be-thankful". having done it both ways, I can vouch for it being equally beautiful from either point.

       Being an old wrinkly, I no longer do two runs on two consecutive days, I usually like a wee break in between.  However, Sunday being as beautiful a day as Saturday, I decided to head up my familiar territory, the Campsie area. Fate was not kind to me, arriving at the Clachan of Campsie tearoom, I was greeted with a notice which read, "Closed until May 15th." so no soup. My partner Stasia arrived at the tearoom by a different route, both eager for that plate of soup we decide to go back the way to Lennoxtown, to the café Barga, only to be greeted by the words, "we're shut". Only in Scotland would a café close its doors in early afternoon on a sunny weekend. So it was home without the obligatory plate of soup. Never the less, a couple of great days.

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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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