Sunday: the Great Glen - “70 miles sheer unadulterated beauty” - and into Glencoe

My road now crossed the river Oich & then along the western side of Loch Oich which is 4 miles long & over 100ft above sea level, the highest & smallest of the chain, passing the old ruins of Inverganny Castle, a former stronghold of the chief of Macdonell, burnt in the rebellion of 1745. On the roadside near the end of the loch there is a monument, “The Well of seven heads” which commemorates the summary vengeance inflicted by a former chief of Glengarry on the murderers of the Keppoch family. It is topped by their seven craven faces carved in stone and is inscribed with the tale of their wrongdoing in four languages. Soon the road crosses by the locks of Laggan to the eastern bank of Loch Lochy which is ten miles in length. There are innumerable water courses across the road which have to be ridden over very carefully. Leaving the loch the road crosses the Spin & along Strath Spean??, overlooked by the snow-flecked shoulders of Ben Nevis (4406) who presents to this side his noblest aspect & which is the highest mountain in the British Isles. The country is very sparsely populated, there being no village whatever in the 22 miles from Fort Augustus. The road now descended to Fort William which in old days was one of the keys to the Highlands, connected by military roads with Stirling and Inverness. The town is modern & not very interesting except for the surroundings so I pushed on along the shore of Loch Eil to Loch Linnhe.

This run through the Great Glen of Scotland is a stretch of about 70 miles of sheer unadulterated beauty. For miles & miles the road out from the precipitous side of the hills runs through forests of birch, spruce, fir, oak & rowan carpeted with luxuriant bracken.

My road now took an easterly direction & after tea at the Loch Leven Hotel, I hailed the ferryman & crossed Loch Leven to Ballachulish. It is only about 300ft wide here but owing to the strong current took quite 15 minutes to cross & was hard work for the ferryman.

As the bells were calling folk to church I started the climb up the famous Glencoe Pass, probably the wildest in Great Britain & the scene of the massacre of the Madonalds, one of the darkest in history. Here a crowd of mountains amassed together in wild confusion, conspicuous among them being the three

“On the dreary moor of Rannock much caution must be observed if one should wander from the road for the surface is treacherous & into the miry moss one can quickly sink, to rise no more.”

sisters, Faith, Hope & Charity. Some ruined huts by the roadside indicate the scene of the massacre commemorated by a cross to Ian MacDonald and his people at the lower end. And nearby is a mansion built by Lord Strathcona, now the owner of Glencoe, which till recently belonged to a descendant of the MacDonalds. Some five or six miles have to be walked to the head of the pass (1449ft) where the road passes under the peaks of Buachaille Etive 3129ft & ???? 3543ft on which were several patches of snow.

Near the top of the pass, I met some campers and knowing I was near a hotel I stayed to chat, so that it was dark before I started the run down. The road surface was terrible, simply a mass of loose stones & I was delayed still more by a nail in my back tyre. On reaching the Kingshouse Inn I found they could not give me accommodation so there was nothing to do but ride on to the next. It was now pitch dark & the road now passes over the dreary moor of Rannock, the greatest plain in Scotland covering some 400 square miles. This land was once covered by the Caledonian forest. Much caution must be observed if one should wander from the road for the surface is treacherous & into the miry moss one can quickly sink, to rise no more. Another walk of three miles to the top of Black Mount & then I descended for about nine miles. The road was awful and how I kept on the saddle at all is a mystery for I could not see where or over what I was going and occasionally came to a sudden stop when something extra large barred my way or I met some stray animal, perhaps a deer but it was too dark to distinguish. I had some trouble in finding the way but at last the road improved & passed through a forest, then I saw the waters of Loch Tulla and I knew I was nearing the Inveroran Hotel. Hearing footsteps I made enquiries of an unseen person and on lighting my lamp found it was close by. It was past 11o/c so I considered myself very fortunate in getting accommodation which was very good & as it was late I contented myself with some thirst medicin and turned into bed for a well earned rest.

73 miles.

Monday: the “bonny, bonny banks” of Loch Lomond and riding “gingerly” to Stirling

After a very comfortable night I arose and found that one window of my bedroom overlooked the loch whilst the other faced on to the road & in the distance could be seen the Black Mount deer forest which extends for some 80,000 acres. After breakfast (which included trout caught in a neighbouring stream by a guest) I did some slight repairs rendered necessary by the rough riding of the previous night. I then took the road to Bridge of Orchy & a long climb hemmed in by steep green mountains to Lyndrum, then down to the Crianlarich Hotel. Here I took the road to the right, down Falloch Glen to Ardlui a

“Words fail to describe this most lovely lake which requires a whole holiday spent on its shores to learn half its attractions”

t the head of Loch Lomond, which is only a narrow fjord at this end. It is the finest loch in Scotland, 20 miles long & varies from 60 to 600 feet in depth. The mountains rise up on both sides in rugged majesty, the chief being Ben Lomond 3192ft.

The road keeps along the bonny, bonny banks, it is very much cut up by motor traffic & covered with thick dust, but it is being remade & the corners rounded off & when finished will be one of the most popular drives in Scotland.

Passing the Tarbet Hotel & pier, I reached the pretty village of Luss where the loch opens out & is five miles broad at its widest and studded with thirty beautiful fir-clad islands. But words fail to describe this most lovely lake which requires a whole holiday spent on its shores to learn half its attractions. At Balloch at the foot of the loch the trains start for Dunbarton so I hurried east to Drepmen.???

Here I discovered that one blade of my front fork was broken, which had been the cause of my machine running badly all day, & was no doubt caused through riding over the rough Glencoe Pass. I tried to get it mended at a small cycle shop but they could not do it and not being able to get a train I decided to ride “gingerly” the intervening 20 miles to Stirling, the next place of any importance. I expected to be thrown over every minute, but the road had a very good surface and I safely arrived about 11.45pm to find all the hotels were closed. After good deal of ringing, I managed to wake somebody up and was in bed & asleep in a very few minutes.

80 miles.

Tuesday: Sightseeing by horse-drawn tram and the “tourist-overrun” Trossachs

Early in the morning I took the remains my “iron” to be repaired and after breakfast I made a tour of the chief places of interest assisted by what they are pleased to call a tramcar, a kind of lorry furnished with uncomfortable sets & drawn very leisurely by two horses which ought to have been boots or anything but horses. However I must be thankful as it saved walking.

Stirling is an interesting place in which to spend a few days, but my time was limited to a morning. It is built on an eminence above the river Forth, and was at one time an important fortress. There are still traces of the Wall of Antoninus (known as “Graham’s Dyke”) built by the Romans. The Castle, now the headquarters of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, dates from the feudal period and is situated on a steep rock 340 feet above the vale below. The view from the battlements is very extensive, the Wallace monument on a steep-wooded hill being very prominent.

Mar’s Wark, the remains of a house built by the Earl of Mar, is supposed to have been built from the ruins of Cambuskenneth and for the sacrilege its founder was cut off before the work was finished. Its decorated architecture is of an ecclesiastical character. The parish church was erected in 1494 by James II and is painted Gothic in style, a type peculiar to Scotland. The coronation of James VI took place in the choir on the 29th July 1567.

My bicycle was now ready so I packed up & got astride about mid-day. My route lay to the north again to Bridge of Allan passing on the way the beautiful Old Bridge of Stirling which existed long before there was any bridge upon the Tay or any bridge of stone over the Forth so it thus made the gate between the north and south of Scotland. Here was fought the Battle of Stirling [Bridge] 13th Sept 1297 when the Scots under Wallace gained their first victory over the English. A little further along is the Wallace monument high up on the right. It is in the form of a lofty baronial tower 220 feet in height & contains memorials of other great Scotsmen. Here the road turned to the left and in another mile I was “on the banks of Allan Water” and the foot of the Ochil Hills. The roads here were being remade with tarmac but improved before reaching Doune on the river Leith. Nearby rise the towers of Murdoch of Albany’s stronghold, Doune Castle, roofless & ruinous but still a majestic pile. The road now follows the Leith to Callander at the foot of Ben Ledi (2875ft) & then leans to the left for the Trossachs along a shady avenue and by the northern shore of Loch Venacher. The scenery now grows eminently picturesque with Ben Venue (2393ft) ahead, Loch Achray on the left and the Trossachs Hotel to the right which although modern makes a pretty picture with the wooded slopes of Ben A’an (1750ft) as a background.

The place was overrun with coaches and tourists but motors are forbidden. Loch Katrine is a little further on, but I turned round the end of Loch Achray to a

"At a toll gate I was relieved of sixpence for the privilege of pushing my bicycle over a vile road on which it was impossible to ride”

toll gate where I was relieved of sixpence for the privilege of pushing my bicycle over a vile road on which it was impossible to ride, apart from the steepness. The lady became cross with me when I asked what I was charged toll for. She said it was to keep up the road, but as the surface appeared never to have been repaired I presumed she meant the gradient. At any rate I received plenty of instructions on how, when & where to ride. If a coach chanced to come my way I was to dismount and hide myself until it had safely passed and generally make myself scarce. I did not mind this but why have to pay for it?

Well, I had to climb & push for about four or five miles which took about as many hours and having gained the summit (1271ft) I rested to enjoy the splendid view and thought of the Scotsman who once boasted that his country could lick England for size any day, if it was only rolled flat. Mounting again I coasted down the other side at a pace which now & then made my hair stand on end as the road was rough and corners very frequent. Then a sharp pull up at the other toll gate to give up my pass & leaving the Trossachs I entered Aberfoyle at the base of Craigmore, down which I had just come.

The road now crossed the “infant Forth” here known as the Avon Dhu (Black Water) and in a few miles arrived at Drymen where I crossed the Stirling road along which I passed the previous evening and sped along a well made road and chiefly downhill to Glasgow.

61 miles

Wednesday: Glasgow’s shipyards, the Firth of Clyde and pesky midges

Glasgow is the most populous town in Scotland and is too much like London, but not so interesting so I did not stay very long. But as I spent the night in University Street near Kelvingrove Park it was necessary to pass the University which is situated on the top of Gilmore Hill above the park. It was designed by the late Sir Gilbert Scott in the Early English style and is surmounted by a central tower 300 feet in height. I also saw the magnificent building known as the Art Gallery & Museum which was opened in 1902 and originated in the balance of money over from the International Exhibition of 1888.

My way was now over ten miles of rough sets and tramlines along the north bank of the Clyde, past some of the largest and most famous shipbuilding yards in the world to the Erskine ferry where I crossed the river and followed the south bank.

This road is much more pleasant & in a short distance is seen across the river the basaltic mass of Dunbarton rock, the Gibraltar of Scotland, 240 feet high, on which is an ancient castle. Port Glasgow, the next place, is a dirty manufacturing town with rough cobbled streets overrun with trams which was

"At Greenock post office I received my first and only news from home and friends, so I decided to ride to a quiet spot where I could have an al fresco lunch on the sea shore and read the good news at leisure”

uninteresting except that the first British steamer was built here by Henry Bell & voyaged between Glasgow & Greenock at the then amazing rapidity of 5 miles an hour.

Greenock is another busy town which I was glad to have in the rear whose chief industry appeared to be shipbuilding. James Watt the inventor of the steam engine was born here in 1736. But the Post Office was the place that I made my way to, as I have received my first and only news from home and friends. As may be guessed it was a rather bulky packet, so I decided to ride past the suburb of Gourock to a quiet spot where I could have an al fresco lunch on the sea shore and read the good news at leisure undisturbed by the madding crowd.

After about three hours thus spent I followed the coast road along the Firth of Clyde through Inverkip to Winnipeg Bay, one of the points of embarkation for the Clyde pleasure steamers which although much advertised appear to be the only attractions. But it is a pretty road with views of the Isle of Bute across the Firth. Next I came to Largs, a pleasant seaside resort which contains two fine modern churches and is interesting as the scene of the battle where the Norwegian invaders were defeated in 1263 by Alexander III. I tried to fix up for the night here but owing to the regatta all hotels were more than full, so I pushed on for about three miles to Fairlie, a quiet little village where I was fortunate to secure the last bed, although it was still early. A little way inland is Kelburn Castle with a romantic glen and waterfall.

It is a pretty sight to watch the sun setting behind St Cumbrae and the more distant islands but my happiness was spoilt by a species of midge which I have not had the misfortune to meet with before, except in the evening near Inverness when I was mending a puncture. I believe they belong to the genus ceratopogon, they are so minute as to be barely visible and swarm to countless numbers causing terrible annoyance by their bites. Smoking does not seem to disperse them and the only thing to do is to keep on the move.

46 miles

Thursday: ports, resorts and pleasure steamers

I again kept to the coast road east Sea Mill to Ardrossan which is a considerable port with fine pleasure steamers plying in all directions. But together with its neighbours Saltcoats are only interesting as Glasgow seaside resorts. I now turned eastward, leaving the coast for Kilwinning, Kilmarnock and Mauchline where a “National Burns Memorial” recalls that this was the scene of the “Holy Faire” and other poems that Burns wrote while he was tenant of

“On the coast road, Androssan is a considerable port with fine pleasure steamers plying in all directions”

Mossgiel Farm, close to the town. Here I went some miles out of my way on the road to Ayr and had to return as I wanted the road through Cumnock & New Cumnock where the road passes down the well wooded Nith Valley through a country haunted with the memory of the Covenanters passing Sanquhar with its ruined castle. I intended to stay the night in Dumfries but as it was getting late I ended my day at Thornhill, a quiet old village composed chiefly of two wide streets crossing each other, with a monument in the centre. The place was very dull and unlit and did not boast even a picture palace so after a smoke I turned in to bed which, as is often the case in Scotland, was a hole in the wall.

74 miles

Friday: Robert Burns’ final home, Gretna Green, then across the border to Cumbria

I continued down the Nith Valley to the ancient town of Dumfries. There is a monument to the memory of a Duke of Queensbury but the chief attractions are the humble home in which Robert Burns died and the beautiful remnant of Sweetheart Abbey which lies about eight miles to the south. I have turned south east to Annan where one gets a distant view of the Solway Firth, and so on to the little village of Gretna Green, at one time visited by so many English travellers who went no further into Scotland. In the old days Gretna Green being the first Scottish village reached on the high road, a blacksmith here was in the way of acting as witness to hasty vows often perhaps repented of at leisure.

I now crossed the boundary river Sark and made for Longtown and Brampton. Here I intended to explore the remainder of the Roman Wall but could not as time was getting short so continued along my road which climbs to a high altitude above the South Tyne which I followed to Alston, the highest marked town in England, built on a very steep hill.

It was my wish to get to Darlington but having again entered a wild mountainous region I thought it would be safer to stay here the night instead of travelling along an unknown road in the dark. I again had some difficulties in attaining a bedroom and only succeeded in getting a small lap-room tap room??? which according to the bill I believe I bought outright but could not bring it away with me.

78 miles

Saturday: the Pennines, County Durham and a unique piece of railway history

I got away early but slowly having to climb up to 2000 feet in a few miles between the peaks of Cross Fell (2900) and Knock Fell (2780) and others. The road runs over a moorland, the views being too great for a camera, then descends to the Tees Valley, passing the well known High Force Waterfall and Hotel where the Tees dashes over a 60ft cliff and runs down a canon of great beauty to Middleton in Teesdale.

After lunch, I had to walk some distance uphill past Romaldkirk and then had a fine run down to Barnard Castle. Having plenty of time to spare I spent several hours here looking round, but there is not much of interest except the Castle ruins & the old Market House. Mounting again I rode through country

“My front wheel skidded in the loose stones and I was shot well ahead turning a complete somersault but luckily came down on my feet without even a scratch wondering where I was”

rendered picturesque by the variety of landscape to Winston and Gainford - celebrated for its springs of mineral water - to Piercebridge ascending Earlbury Bank and passing Earlbury Hall on the left to the village of High Coniscliffe where there is a fine old church, St Edmunds, built on a tremendous rock of limestone. Not far from the river bank and from this eminence an entrancing picture of the valley of the Tees presents itself. A few more miles brought me to the Salutation and the busy commercial town of Darlington.

The Darlington and Stockton Railway, opened in 1825, was the first public railway in England on which steam locomotives were used, and in the Bank Top Station is preserved Stephenson’s No 1 Locomotive.

After dinner I whiled away the time looking in the numerous shops and generally seeing all there was to be seen, till midnight when I entered the station and made myself comfortable on the 12.23 train for London.

There is little more to relate but so far I have said nothing of the weather because it was fine the whole fortnight, only changing between fine and very fine which is unprecedented so far as my holidays are concerned and I am told quite exceptional in Scotland.

The roads in the Lowlands are on the whole very good but in the Highlands they are rough and hilly with awkward “S” turns which often occur when one is enjoying a long coast or admiring the scenery. Generally the road deteriorates at these turns although other parts may be good so that one has to be on

“Scotland is an ideal touring ground. Not being overpopulated one can get well away from the madding crowd - sometimes too far”

the alert or the chances are they will come to grief. Once I came to such a turn unexpectedly and my front wheel skidded in the loose stones and I was shot well ahead turning a complete somersault but luckily came down on my feet without even a scratch wondering where I was for the moment. Except for two small punctures I had no trouble with my Palmer tyres.

Scotland is an ideal touring ground. Not being overpopulated one can get well away from the madding crowd - sometimes too far - and the Highlands are about as distant from London as Switzerland. I should think that camping would be better as one could pitch a tent anywhere almost and would save the trouble of humping to the next hotel to find perhaps that it is full.

The lengthy twilights peculiar to the north are very agreeable as one does not need a light even at the legal lighting up time which is about an hour later than in London. I found that it was quite light at 10pm but darkness comes very suddenly when once it starts.

Published with the kind permission of Pearl and Jim Larner