People Hidden From Society.

       Yesterday, Wednesday, another lovely day, though the wind could have been a wee bit kinder,13/14 mph. These nasty thoughts about the wind never used to enter my head, but now that I'm an old wrinkly, fair weather cyclist, they do creep in from time to time.

       As I said, another lovely day, so out on the usual route, the Campsie area. Not a good run for a Westerly wind, which it was, as the start of the run is mainly down hill, from the Lowmoss/Torrance round-about, all the way through Kirkintilloch, you have it easy and the Westerly wind behind you. Like I said, those nasty thoughts creep in as I flee downhill towards Auchenreoch, "I'll have to face this bloody wind all the up this drag on the way home", an easterly wind would be nice for this run.

       On the way home I thought I would go and have a look at that wee lochan I saw through the trees, last time out. So I wandered down a twisty path to its edge, there were a couple of locals out with their dogs, and I asked if this small lochan had a name. Their answer was a wee bit of a disappointment to me, they said "No". They explained that it was a man made settlement pool for domestic waste water from the nearby, well-to-do housing estate that was built on what was once the beautiful location of Lennox Castle. Hidden away from public view, surrounded by trees, Lennox Castle, has gone from a home for those with learning difficulties, to a swanky housing estate. It seems that it has followed the normal course in this society, from a publicly owned hospital, albeit, with a dubious past, to a home for the wealthy. Ah well, I suppose that is par for the course in this society. 

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A Wee Hidden Gem.

         Haven't been able to get out on the bike much recently. A combination of lousy weather, (I'm now a fair weather cyclist) and difficult circumstances. However, today was forecast to be dry, with light winds, so dusted it down, checked the tyres and set off for a spin round my old familiar patch, the Campsie Hills area. Wrong shirt, it was a bit cooler than I thought, but still a very enjoyable run, not as many cyclist out on the road as usual. Although I have covered that area on the bike countless times, it never fails to surprise me, a view I hadn't taken in before, something through the trees I hadn't noticed before, some trees that have been removed, a burn in spate, and so on. Today, as I took to the cycle path just before you enter Lennoxtown, second time ever, I was obliged to stop because of a group of people with about six dogs spread out all over the pathway. While stopped I noticed through the trees a small lochan I never knew existed. It is pleasantly tucked behind shrubs and trees. So I stood looking at it for a while, watching the mallard peacefully swimming about. I had to take a wee photo. 

 On the cycle path just before you enter Lennoxtown. 

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A Wee Bit Of Cycle Track.

 

      I have been silent for a while, some might rejoice at that and hope it continues, others may have missed my mouthing off, to them, a thank you. Circumstances have made it difficult to carry out my usual routine, but things are beginning to fall into place again. My silence is in no way an indication that the hatred and anger that I hold for this exploitative greed drive system of capitalism has diminished, on the contrary, reflection has only strengthened my desire to do what I can, in my own humble way, to help bring about the demise of the capitalist system and with it, all its injustices, inequalities, exploitation, misery, deprivation and of course its endless wars for power.

      However, I thought I would make my first few lines on another subject, that love of mine, cycling. Wednesday was probably the best day we in Scotland have had for a while, around 17 degrees, blue sky and a not too nasty a wind, about 12 mph, so it was a little circle round my usual Campsie area. One peculiar aspect of Wednesday on the outward journey, was the absence of motor vehicles, a rare occurrence on our roads nowadays, making the road a very pleasant place for cyclists. The return journey was back to the usual speeding tin boxes, screaming past in both directions. Again there were lots of cyclists out on the road, usually passing me with a friendly "Hi", I'm getting used to them passing me, and as they do, I usually murmur to myself, "ah, those were the days my friend, we thought they would never end--".   I have always been a road cyclist and have very, very rarely ventured onto cycle tracks. However I thought I would give the one that runs through the Campsie area a wee try, and joined it before it reaches Lennoxtown. I can recommend it, well the short patch that I followed. It was a pleasant ride on a smooth tarmac surface, and no worries about HGVs and speeding off-roaders.   

Cycle track just before it ends as you enter Lennoxtown.

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Two Punctures And A Few Showers.

 Stathis preparing to cook the gourmet meal.

        On Sunday we had arranged with my daughter's family to have a barbecue at Firkin Point, it lies on the west shore of Loch Lomond between Invebeg and Tarbet. The plan was they would make their way there by car and I would cycle up the loch to Tarbet, turn and head back to Firkin Point to join them. Their part of the arrangement went to plan, my part of the plan however, was a little different. The day proved to be one of wind and some heavy showers, not my ideal cycling weather, so my wee yellow cape was on and off a few times. A short distance from Luss I got a puncture, normally not much of a problem, as I carry two spare tubes. However with my back and hip problems, I can no longer just sit on the grass verge and sort it out. If I sit down that low I have great difficulty in getting back up unassisted. If I stand and try to do things, my back aches something awful, so I walked up a farm path and found some large rocks I could sit on and get the job done. Back on the bike and about a mile further on, I got another puncture, now faced with the same problem, I decided to walk to Luss where I found a bollard at the entrance to to the village, where I could lean my back against as I stood at the side of the road and sorted the problem. Now well behind in time, another heavy shower, the wee yellow cape back on, I decided to skip Tarbet and just head for Firkin point and food. On arriving, I also decided to put the bike in the back of my partners car and abandon the run back, that's a first for me. 

One of the sunny spells between the showers and overcast sky.

     Never the less, the barbecue was a great success, even although it was punctuated by showers. It was also a wee birthday celebration for my grand daughter's 11th birthday, though that is in July, but she will be in Greece by then, so we had it a bit early.

During one of the dark overcast moments, my partners total failure to fly the kite.

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Memories.

 

        Another beautiful day, 20 degrees, practically no wind, a clear blue sky, and that wonderful short term Scottish memory, after a couple of days like this we start to think, what a fantastic climate.

     So I set off to complete what I didn't the last time out on the bike, go to Balmaha. It is a beautiful spot, if the weather is kind, it was today, very kind indeed. It is another spot I used to take the kids to, though in those days it wasn't quite so popular, just a place for some walkers, cyclists and a few cars. Today it was awash with walkers, lots of parked cars, though I seemed to be the only cyclist there today. 

      It was also the place, in my younger days, we walked through heading for Rowardennan and then up Ben Lomond. Lots of wonderful pleasant memories as I sat in the sun.

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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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It Never Rains In Fintry!!

        Today was another beautiful day, after a couple of dull windy and wet days, how our weather fluctuates, from the beautiful to the lousy, several times a week. So the bike and I headed for Killearn, and then on to Fintry, and back to the Killearn tearoom for some sustenance. The tearoom in Fintry's main street, died many years ago. In my distant past, at times I would "escape" to the tranquillity of Fintry. Oddly ever time I went, it never rained and was beautiful weather. So I had in my mind this thought, that it never rains in Fintry. However speaking to a local he pointed out that I was obviously deluded. I suppose he should know.

      Fintry is a quiet little village that lies over the Campsie Fells from Lennoxtown. It has won lots of prizes for its floral displays along its street, but I didn't see much of a display today. Perhaps they are bored with all the accolades. One thing that is different about Fintry, the village is involved on a community basis in a wind farm, from which the village benefits.

     It is also a village where you have to have a bike or some other form of transport, as there is no public transport service to the village. Though I think looking at some of the property, it will be cars as the main mode of travel, rather than bikes, pity, such a beautiful cycling area.

At Fintry Cross.

      Lots of lovely routes to take from here.

Looking along Fintry main street towards Killearn.

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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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