News from Nowhere

The coherent - or at least consecutive - account of our April holiday broke off with a warning that we would now be offline for a few days, while we were at the Castle of Park. But I did make some notes during those days, and I did take some pictures, and now I have put them together. So this post belongs, if you are trying to keep track (and after all, if "you" are future-me, you might be) between those two.

( Monday: the Queen of the South )

( Tuesday: a walk in a garden )

( Wednesday was my birthday so we went to the seaside. )

( What to do on Thursday when it's raining. )



Goodbye to the Castle of Park. Time to visit Ayrshire...

It's a lovely drive from the Ayrshire coast to Kirkcudbright, even in the rain: you drive up the Doon valley into the hills, then follow the Water of Ken down again. The signs insist that it's the tourist route to Gretna, but you don't have to go there, you can just admire the scenery, soft green hills and silver water, trees dotted about for decoration, and plenty of sheep. At the top, just after the border, there's a herd of Belties, belted Galloway cows, to make it quite clear that you are now in Dumfries & Galloway: and we sighted another example of the road sign bearing the conventional 'Beware of cattle' image, edited by painting a broad white band across the midriff of the silhouette of the cow, so that it now conveys the message 'Beware of Belties'. (Previously spotted on last Sunday's Magical Mystery Satnav Tour.)*

We stopped in St John's Town of Dalry for lunch at the Clachan Inn. The quirky décor maybe goes a bit over the top - there's nothin wrong with any of it, in fact it's all fun, but there is just so much... But the food was terrific. We have a booking for this evening, so we couldn't do it justice, but they let us sit in the bar and order a starter from the menu: three juicy scallops in a nest of squid ink risotto, on a layer of creamed cauliflower (and a glass of dry cider). They don't open on Monday or Tuesday, or I'd be plotting to return.

When we reached Kirkcudbright, the on-again-off-again rain was on: rather than come straight to our hotel, we called in at the Galleries. I wanted to see their temporary exhibition, Andy Goldsworthy's 'Winter Harvest', but was a bit disappointed in it: I knew the title described some of his early work, but had hoped for some sort of context. Always a pleasure to look at the pictures, though. A floor down, we looked into Creative Legacies - William Hanna Clarke and Alison Kinnaird MBE because it was there, but with, if anything, a faint hostility (I'm opposed to heredity on principle). I knew nothing about either of them, and was very struck by some of Alison Kinnaird's glass pieces. Not everything: some finely engraved botanical images were beautifully done but - well, fiddly. But a war memorial, an architectural triptych and something you could call a self-portrait:



made a great impact, and while the lighting obviously helps, the use of light is part of the artwork, so that doesn't count against it. The piece shown is Red List, and depicts crafts which are on the Red List of Endangered Crafts, of which wheel-engraving is one (others pictured include Shetland lace knitting, wooden flute making and glass eye making). So I have learned something today.

*ETA: Leaving Kirkcudbright on our way home, I spotted another modified cow road sign; and shortly after it, a modified deer - at full gallop, fine set of antlers, white midriff. Local artist getting carried away?

Our last stop in Cumbria this morning was a visit to an old friend who lives just outside Carlisle, and whom we do not see anything like often enough, considering how close to home that is (there are reasons, but even so). We had asked for coffee, and she gave us coffee and croissants and conversation; perhaps not the several years worth of conversation we are due, but enough to make us hopeful for more in future.

Then we set the satnav for Caerlaverock Castle. We had been there before, long ago, and had tried to return on our way home from Kirkcudbright last summer, but were thwarted by the impossibility of navigating round Dumfries (all the roads were closed for a cycle race, and after trying three different routes, we gave up and went to Annan instead). Perhaps we would be luckier...

We crossed the border into Scotland without incident, on the M6. Once we were off the motorway, though, the satnav started playing its tricks again. It directed us down a single track road, all ruts and puddles, until durham_rambler stopped at a road junction, and declared that he wasn't going to follow instructions, he was going to head towards that road over there, on which he could see traffic. Clearly, something is haywire in the satnav settings, but we haven't yet discovered what: it is set to choose the eco-friendly route over the fastest route (the only two options) and to avoid unmade roads. But it seems to have a sneaky preference for taking us to a location of tourist interest which we didn't know we wanted: first Hardknott Pass and then, today, the road junction at which durham_rambler put his foot down was right outside Ruthwell Church.

So before we continued on more sensible roads, we collected the key, and went into the church to have a look at the Ruthwell Cross:



because I do love a bit of eighth century detail. The runes at either side are Anglo-Saxon, and have been deciphered as a passage of The Dream of the Rood, which is apt.

Then on to Caerlaverock:



Like so many Historic Scotland properties, it is suffering from areas being closed off because Historic Scotland have been scrutinising the masonry and decided that it is very old, and bits may fall off. They also have a schedule of repairs, but this seems to start with training lots of stonemasons - a Good Thing, but a slow process. Despite which, we spent a happy hour poking around. Inside that fortified triangle, a subsequent owner inserted an extraordinary Renaissance frontage: you enter through the stone tunnel of the gatehouse and are confronted by a wall of windows, all in the same red sandstone, towering up above you. Impossible to photograph, though I tried. It was almost warm enough to sit for a while in the shelter of the ruined hall, and think that nmaybe it really is spring, because the swallows have returned.

The rain didn't start until we were at our hotel.

Tomorrow we join D. and valydiarosada and J. at the Castle of Park, which, being a Landmark, does not have wifi: so there will be a break in transmission.

When I was putting together this trip, my starting point was something I had seen about the Roman fortifications along the Cumbrian coast, which could be considered a continuation of Hadrian's Wall. It seemed ridiculous that we had spent so much time, one way and another, on Hadrian's Wall, but knew nothing about this "extension". The choice of Ravenglass was a bit more arbitrary. The name is irresistible, obviously. It has a Roman bath house; and I had been reading Martin Edwards' The Dungeon House, which is set here. Then, when I had made a booking, durham_rambler did some research of his own, and announced that it also has a steam railway. Suddenly, he was excited about this holiday, too, which has to be a good thing.

The Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway is a miniature steam railway which runs up the Esk valley from Ravenglass on the coast to Dalegarth, stopping just short of the village of Boot at the foot of Scafell. Or vice versa, because originally it was a mineral line, bringing rock and iron ore down from the quarry at the top. This morning we took a half-hour ride up the line, travelling first class (which means we had soft seats in a closed carriage) and got not the next but the next-but-one train back, which meant we had time at the top, at the catchily named Dalegarth for Boot, for a sandwich lunch and a look around the gift shop before we returned.

Here is our (outbound) driver, steering the engine (Northern Rock - there's a name from the past!) into the turning circle:



It's a pretty ride, with views of the river (running very high), and more of those decorative sheep (they must be Herdwicks, surely?), and primroses, and the very first bluebells. Back at Ravenglass, we dipped into the railway museum, and admired the engines with their polished brass and their glowing paintwork.

And then we considered the short walk to the Roman bath house. After all, it wasn't raining - not quite, not yet. That couldn't last, could it? Anyway, what I really wanted to do was come back to the hotel and make a cup of tea (or, in durham_rambler's case, go to the bar for a beer). And we're on holiday, so that's what we did.