Rhins Cycle

The Rhins of Galloway are a bit like a Scotsman: a fierce, craggy exterior on the west, and a soft gentle heart on the east.  Incidentally they're also known as the Rhins of Wigtownshire, probably from the days when Wigtown commanded its own shire.

Leaving the campsite (which is on the fierce side), I was ambushed by a series of killer hills, eventually petering out as I headed over the Rhin(?).  The air was thick with birdsong, but otherwise it was very peaceful: nothing on the road but a few rabbits and a hare.  The verges were full of yellow horse, red campions, blue - bluebells, and white wild garlic. Not forgetting the verdant green everywhere, you could have painted a masterpiece from it, and quite possibly cooked a decent meal too.

But I digress.  My route took me across to Ardwell on the east coast, and then in a series of ill-judged and hilly loops back and forth across the Rhin.  West to tiny Port Logan, back and over again (to nothing in particular), and repeat once more, along very similar lanes with virtually the same views. It was nice but not worth it.  After 22 miles I'd already done nearly 600m of climbing, before breakfast.

A sign said Mull of Galloway: Visitor Attractions. I was interested.  Four miles of gentle uphill and a meeting with a herd of cows who found me rather frightening, and I arrived.

There was a café.   Schrödinger's Café: it was both open and shut.  From here, views west to Ireland, south to the Isle of Man, north to southern Scotland, and west to the shadowy Lake District.   The Mull is the most southerly point in Scotland, and is worth a visit, with a lighthouse open to the public, rugged cliffs on most sides with allegedly loads of seabirds, though I didn't notice any, great views, and of course, cows.