MY FOURTH walking day in 2018 began with dull grey skies and the promise of drizzle all morning. Who can resist such tempting conditions as that? Clearly not me. Noël Coward once sang that only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun but he never said anything about venturing out in an antemeridian downpour. Even the maddest of dogs would refuse to countenance such nonsense and so, like the Englishman I was, I would have to do this walk alone.
Tag: marsh
CLXV – Brodick to Lagg
THE morning of 6th May 2017 found me blinking at the sun’s harsh glare as its rays danced and sparkled across a vivid blue sea. The sky was azure, dotted here and there with fluffy clouds and palm trees stood proudly in front of the B&B in which I breakfasted. Mountains rose from the island’s interior. Had I somehow travelled to St Lucia by mistake? A glance at my breakfast plate disabused me of the notion. No, this was definitely Scotland.
CXLIII – Newton Stewart to Isle of Whithorn
MOST times, if I go walking, I do two or three days at a time. Thus, I usually know, if it’s day three, that it is the last day of the trip. Not so on my last adventure, where it was the middle day of five. It was also the longest day’s walk of the trip and, coming as it did after the fatigue of two previous days of walking (which came, in turn, after five months without walks), it threatened to be a challenge.
CXL – Dalbeattie to Kirkcudbright
WAY back in the distant dawn of time, known to some as ‘last October’, I plodded step by step from Dalbeattie to Kirkcudbright, fitting in my last walk of the year before the days got too short. As it turned out, they already had, which goes some way to explain why I was up and about in Dalbeattie before it was properly light.
CXXXIX – Southerness to Dalbeattie
I AWOKE in Southerness to find blue skies and warm sunshine. It was almost as if the weather had forgotten that this was October in Scotland. Still, I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially if it was pulling the chariot of the sun.
CXXXVIII – Dumfries to Southerness
WITH autumn racing past apace, I thought I’d better get some more walking in before short days and bad weather complicate things too badly. With this in mind, the second half of October saw me return to Scotland, ready for three day’s walking in the approximate vicinity of the Kirkcudbrightshire coast.
According to the Met Office, I had three clear days before the rain swept in so that would work out nicely. If they were right.
Continue reading “CXXXVIII – Dumfries to Southerness”CXXXVII – Annan to Dumfries
ABOUT a week into September I stumbled out into bright morning sunshine in the town of Annan. Surely this couldn’t be Scotland? Where was the rain and the snow? But a search of my pocket revealed unfamiliar banknotes for north of the border was indeed where I was.
CXXXV – Bowness-on-Solway to Carlisle
I HAVE had many alarm clocks over the years and, given time, I can learn to sleep through any of them. But a faceful of blinding solar emanations is always difficult to sleep through, which how I came to be up and about and haring for a bus on the third and final day of my mid-August trip. I made it to the bus stop with just minutes to spare and mentally thanked the great, glowing orb in the sky.
CXXXIV – Silloth to Bowness-on-Solway
ON THE second morning of my mid-August trip, I awoke to the grey diffuse light and gentle pitter-patter of the rain that had been promised by the Met Office. Fortunately, I had prepared for this eventuality by packing waterproof walking gear. Well, mostly waterproof. I walked in it anyway
I quickly decided that were I to stay and have breakfast, I’d never go out in the rain. Instead I’d spend the day in the warm and then catch a bus to Carlisle. That was hardly the point of my trip, so I forced myself outside. It was cold. It was wet. But now that I was out in it, I was in fairly high spirits. The road beckoned, promising a damp and drizzly adventure.
Continue reading “CXXXIV – Silloth to Bowness-on-Solway”CXXIX – Foxfield to Millom
THE morning of the 13th of June brought humidity and haziness in place of the scorching sunshine of the previous day. While I devoured my breakfast, I pondered which was better for walking and came to the conclusion that it didn’t really matter because I was going to walk in it anyway. My rapidly disappearing breakfast agreed with me entirely — deliciousness clearly implies agreement.
Breakfast was all but demolished when it occurred to me that the Lemming was also walking with me for the day and that we had arranged to meet at breakfast. What we hadn’t done was actually meet at breakfast.
Continue reading “CXXIX – Foxfield to Millom”