March 2016 Ayrshire, Dumfries and Galloway, Glasgow

Day 1

After an early (up at 3:30 -- aouch), but eventless train journey, we arrive in Glasgow at 10:40. A quick walk down the road, and we seem to be way too early to pick up the rental car. They are relaxed about it: the car is ready and we can have it immediately... on the condition that we bring it back early too. Fine. The manager tries to sell me things I do not want or need, even going as far as giving me the choice between two models -- "You can have this one, which is the model you booked online, or you can have that one, which is slightly bigger... It is only £8 more per day." If I did not know exactly what I wanted, I would not have booked online! The insistence to sell me an inflated insurance policy is particularly exasperating. I dodge all the tricks all the same, making it the cheapest rental car ever seen. Yay.
A quick stop at a local auction house to collect a couple of things won in the past months, then it is over the river Clyde and southbound towards Kilmarnock.

The road is very busy and unpleasant. Further onward to Ayr, it is slightly less busy, yet it does not becomes much more picturesque.

Yes: a fireplace in the bathroom!

We arrive in Maybole. Even though we have an event scheduled in Kirkoswald, I simply do not want to go there with a car full of baggage. We show up at the B&B... five hours ahead of schedule. Fortunately, the hosts do not mind. The room is ready and we are welcome to use it.

By the time the car is unloaded, JS is feeling dreadful: the pressurisation on the train, coupled with the long drive gave her a headache that I am starting to feel myself. I phone up our hosts in Kirkoswald to postpone our rendez-vous and let JS take a nap. I try to do the same.
Two hours behind, we set off for Kirkoswald, where we have a good time.

We come back later for an early night.

Day 2

The best croissant this side of the Channel

Excellent breakfast, full of local products (the honey! ZOMG!), spent watching the birds in the garden -- including the most spoilt hens in Ayrshire, according to the host.

The weather looks wonderful, which is just as well, as we are spending a big portion of the day outside. Culzean Castle and gardens, to be precise.

Oddly, the tickets can only be bought at the entrance to the park, a fifteen-minute drive away from the castle itself. It is also cash only and, once you reach that point, it is too late to change your mind (e.g. based on the admission price), because the line of cars behind prevent one from backtracking. Looks like a trap, really! Worth noting that nothing tells you the price before you arrive at the pay booth.

We park the car and enter. The castle itself will not open for twenty minutes or so. When it does, we discover it is the first open day since October. Phew.

Do not be surprised to see this picture in next year's calendar

Zoom in: it is pistols!

The weather is gorgeous, offering amazing views over the sea. We do, however, want to see inside, and do so as early as possible, so we can enjoy the afternoon outside.


The visit starts with the largest flintlock-pistol collection in the world and is brilliant throughout, with well-trained guides (the guided tour is included, so we take it). I learn lots of things -- the origin of the expression "losing face" is my favourite: women wore a lot of make up (layers of wax, arsenic, mercury and lead, great for the skin); sitting close to the fire would melt the wax and see all the layers come off, resulting in the ladies literally losing face. To prevent that, a fire screen was common: a piece of fabric on a frame to protect the ladies' makeup from the aggressive fireplace.

The views from the castle windows are magnificent, with the round room taking the motherflipping biscuit. It is undoubtedly where the best tastings are to be had in this whole castle!

The guide explains the Kennedy family, Lairds of this place, made their money in a not-so-classy way: smugglers were using the caves underneath the property; the Kennedy agreed to turn a blind eye for a percentage of the profit. I find it distressing that they were given titles and land as a thank you for robbing the taxman.

The Old Man and the sea

The Swan Pond

After the visit, we venture through the huge garden. There are children everywhere for a giant Easter-egg hunt, so the wild life is rather sparse. A couple of swans building a nest, a couple of mallards, and red deer being fed by tourists (and an aggressive face-off between a deer and a small dog). The vinery has great plants and trees. The children are too much to handle though. We call it a day to escape them.

From there, we drive to Girvan, take pictures of the distillery from a distance, then carry on to Newton Stewart on the busy road. The size of the lorries is ludicrous. Narrow, but very tall, probably commuting between Glasgow and Ireland.

Once in Newton Stewart, we drop off our bags at the B&B, then visit the local pharmacy for cough syrup: JS is feeling ill. The B&B, tenanted by a couple of exiled Rhodesians, feels slightly damp, which doesn't help.

Especially for our Dutch-speaking readers

Venison casserole

Hawaii-style Galloway burger

After an early shower, we walk down to the Galloway's Arms, a haunted pub, for supper (venison casserole for me, Hawaii-style Galloway burger for JS). The bar has an extensive whisky selection and more interesting bottles are displayed in cabinets around the room. I have a funny talk with the publican about his unlikely stock and his fleet of yellow Vauxhall/Opel Calibras. The landlord is convinced that Black Bowmore is not for drinking, but will sell the bottle to me for six grand. As well as any bottle in the cabinet, some of which I know sell for less than two hundred. Good luck, mate. See you later.
We go back to get some sleep.

Day 3

Yum.

No joke, eh?

Whaaaaat?

It is pissing down, today. We have plans for hikes in the nearby forests and RSPB reserves, yet with this weather, the chances of spotting anything and enjoying ourselves are pretty much non-existing. No hike, then. What to do? Bladnoch distillery is close enough, but it is not open to visitors today. Hmmm. Ah! Annandale!

Whaaaaat?

The drive there is quite long, with a road in passable conditions in places, and also very busy. A great combination, when driving under the rain! Anyway, we make it there safely and enjoy a very good visit.

From one surprise to the next

On the way back, with a beautifully pink and purple sky ahead of us, we stop at the Laird's Inn, tucked away, almost inaccessible. After an unplanned detour by Whisky Broker's premises I am ready to u-turn once we pass the caravan site, thinking the place must be shut since 1746. The first opportunity to maneuver is the Inn's car park, which is just as well. We are hungry.

Gothika!

The Inn is a part of a manor that was probably magnificent at some point, until it got destroyed by fire. The laird is slowly refurbishing it, and started with the Inn. Still a lot of work left to do the rest. The ghostly walls at dusk exude a certain charm of olden days -- I love it.

The whisky selection is very limited (three or four supermarket bottles). JS settles on an undislosed malt called Shieldaig, which turns out to be decent enough.

Fish & chips

Steak and ale pie

I have the steak and ale pie, while she goes for fish and chips. The chips are of good standard.

We cannot resist this choc fondant (actually a moëlleux, innit)

The place is a bit draughty. and the coal fire is useless. All the same, it is a good meal and a nice place. The drive back to Newton Stewart under the starry sky is easy.

Day 4

Busy day ahead of us and -- oh! joy -- it seems the weather is more cooperative, today. Well, at least until later in the afternoon, according to the forecast. Our initial plan is to get up early, do a quick scouting of Wigtown, then come back and load the car in time for breakfast. The clocks changed to summer time overnight, though. We are ready for breakfast nonetheless, and even have time to load the car. In fact, we could execute our plan, as our hosts forgot the time change and are not ready to serve breakfast for another hour. Ah, well.

tOMoH: 1 -- breakfast: 0

Once the hearty meal is down, we proceed to Wigtown. The tank hits the reserve, so it is with relief that we reach a petrol station... where we get turned away: they are out of petrol! We drive by Bladnoch, in the town centre's roundabout, then carry on south to the Crook of Baldoon. Seconds before the point of no return (that point where you have just enough petrol to come back), we reach our destination at last: a tiny parking lot, starting point of the short hike through the marshland. Birds, here we come!

Barnacle geese

We spot pink-footed geese, barnacle geese, chaffinches, blue tits, what might be a curlew, and more importantly, reed buntings (first time, I think), one mute swan in the distance... and fourteen shell ducks. Excited we are.

Three kilometres later, we are back at the car. Will we make it to a petrol station? Just! We manage to carefully drag it to Newton Stewart as it starts flashing a red light and reading LoFUEL. Phewl.

The next leg of our journey today takes us through breathtaking scenery and empty roads that require all my attention. Our average speed is very low, but the enjoyment is very high. We stop in the middle of nowhere to eat some cake. I can see JS is now poorly and struggling to stay awake, though.

We get a little lost between Thornhill and Beattock and have to ask a kind soul to point us in the right direction (let us be clear: I know exactly where we are and where we need to go; the minor roads are not on our map, so I do not know exactly which one to take is all). Beattock signals the end of the remote bit and the start of the motorway, which we take to Moffat.

We want to stop in Moffat to buy cough drops. On Easter Sunday, that is not easy. Fortunately, a news agent's has some. It starts raining. We go to the Mill, after reading there is a whisky shop there, hidden in a corner of the huge outlet. Half a second in, I know we will not find anything. Out of courtesy, I still browse the selection... and find something after all: a 30yo Speysider at a sweet price and a Tomatin bottled exclusively for this shop -- yay!

We embark on the final leg of our trip of the day. Destination: Lanark.

Coming out of the motorway, we reminisce over the cool birds we saw and bemoan the lack of lapwings -- JS chose Baldoon because the chances were high to see them there. Entering the roundabout at the end of the motorway exit, I notice a shape landing on the grassy dome in the roundabout centre. Quick glance: A LAPWING! Thank traffic planners for building roundabouts everywhere: it gave us a chance to do a lap for free and observe the wonderful specimen on top of the mound.

We stop at the B&B, drop off our baggage, take a shower and look at brochures for things we will not have time to do.

An interesting place, Lanark. The history buffs will know that it is the place where William Wallace's uprising started (this is where he kills the sheriff in Braveheart). Few know that this town is the punk capital of the world, on the other hand. During their grand tour of the Scottish Lowland in 1975, this is where Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols wrote Lanarky in the UK. :-)

We need food. Between the Wetherspoon, the local pub and the Indian, we go for the Indian, tonight.

Jholpai it is and very good it is too. Wonderful curry, friendly chap. Early night, since we need to leave early tomorrow.

Day 5

Two Swedes checked in late last night and are having breakfast when we join the table (the hash browns are superb, by the way). They have driven from north of Stockholm through seven countries with a trailer... to buy a horse. The father-and-son road trip is really just a tantrum of the wife/mother who decided she wanted that horse and no other, leaving it to the men to collect it.

The drive into Glasgow is smooth. We get off the motorway for the final stretch and obviously get lost. Just as well JS has maps on her phone: Glasgow is a maze of one-way streets.
We are early, though. Early enough to drop off the bags at the hotel before returning the car. Bye Yago!

Relieved to get rid of the car, really. Travelling on foot is much more my thing!

Whisky and wax, killer combination

Again, JS selected a couple of places. We visit The Good Spirits, try multiple drams and spend a while chatting. We then go to the Whisky Shop and find nothing at all. That store is more depressing with each visit!

Off to John Lewis for a quick shopping stop, then back to the hotel for a nap. JS is feeling poorly again.

Quite chirpy myself, actually

I watch Autumn in New York on the telly, but miss the ending, as we have an appointment on the other side of town with FMcN, at the Bon Accord.

FMcN drives us back to the hotel. He needs to leave and cannot stay for a meal. We skip dinner altogether: JS is feeling unwell. I catch Bad Teacher on the tube, which is quite funny.

Day 6

The continental breakfast at the hotel is horrible (cooked breakfast is not included any longer). It will have to do all the same. We check out early, make it to the station well ahead of schedule, I buy postcards we will end up not writing, then we board the train for the long but easy journey home.
Phew.

Rescue Rangers' haul