The Solway Firth

Sorry for the delay in posting - there has been no wi-fi for a while.

In Wigtown I resolved something that had been troubling me for a while.  Wigtownshire IS a county.  Dumfries and Galloway is a region.  It's been puzzling me for a while: about six years.

Over a healthy breakfast (porridge) I got chatting to a lady, originally from Glasgow, who'd worked in London for some time before moving to Bournemouth to escape the hustle and bustle of city life.  Now she was planning to move to Kirkcolm on the north Rhins of Galloway, for the same reason!   Talk about retiring to the countryside.

From the Isle of Whithorn I'd already cycled 17+ miles north up the estuary to Wigtown yesterday, but there were another eight to do today, on a lane meandering up the flood plain of the river Cree.  After crossing the river at Newton Stewart, the countryside changed.   It's a bit like the Lake District, only without the lakes, or the fells, or the tourists.  Dry stone walls, rolling fields, the odd wood here and there, lambs, and hills.

Varied riding: a lovely stretch on an awful track right by the sea was the most scenic; a ten mile stretch on the main A75, still very quiet, was the most boring.
Lunch at Kirkcudbright, which I was informed is the county town of ... Kirkcudbrightshire.  A viewpoint near Dalbeattie gave the first good views of the Cumbrian fells: St. Bees Head only 24 miles away!  Just a bit further along the lane,. I chanced upon a mini castle, as you do. It was open and I climbed the tower to admire the view.

I felt like camping again so I tried to ring a campsite to check availability. No mobile connection.   A bit later at the top of a hill by a mobile mast, tried again: no answer.  That's how I found myself in Dalbeattie with nowhere to stay at 6pm.  Still no answer from the campsite so I decided to eat first, a dodgy looking pizza place which turned out to be packed, and good.  Still no answer.  I set off on the seven mile cycle to the campsite, which was in the middle of nowhere.

When I arrived there were no staff there, so I helped myself to a bit of grass by the beach and a shower.  Lovely spot: in the middle of the night I was woken by the sound of gentle waves on the beach.  The tide was miles out whenever I was outside the tent: I was on another river estuary with extensive mudflats - this time, the river Nith.

The morning was sunny, cool and windless. The midges were out, rubbing their little hands in glee and anticipation of the hearty breakfast they were about to devour.  I put away my tent in record time and left. Still nobody to pay, so I will have to write to them later.

The ride to Dumfries consisted mainly of detours. A proper fell, like in Cumbria, appeared to my north.  A detour off one of the detours led me to the charming seaside hamlet of  Carsehorn, shining in the morning sun.  A nice pub too, which has apparently taken over as Best Pub from the one in Isle of Whithorn, but it was shut.  Another deserted lane was an avenue through lines of old oak trees, perhaps planted by some far-sighted farmer hundreds of years ago?

I crossed the river Nith into the grand town of Dumfries, "Queen of the South", feeling peckish.  Unlike the midges, I hadn't had breakfast.  Dumfries is the biggest place I've been in since Glasgow, and one of the places closely associated with Rabbie Burns.  It doesn't seem to have embraced café culture though.  Eventually I found an excellent place where I could enjoy porridge and a bacon rolls with unlimited free refills of coffee, all for about £6.  Yes, the Robert the Bruce, a Wetherspoons pub.  There was something on the telly with Coldstream Guards marching around, some royal event maybe?

From Dumfries I rejoined NCN7 which followed the river back south, through parks, past cricket pitches - all very pleasant.   I kept getting glimpses of the Solway Firth through the trees, until I came to a glorious section along the shore, with glorious potholes to match.  I was feeling peckish and there was a 'holiday park' with a shop.  As I went in a lady came out, dressed to the nines complete with fascinator and all. I wondered if she was off to a wedding.  But no, the park shop was decked out with balloons, champagne glasses at the ready, for a Royal wedding party, all park residents and passers by invited.  The lady in the shop,  a Lulu lookalike, was all a dither about the wedding and the party.