Walk 292 -- Newton Stewart to Cardoness Castle

Ages:  Colin was 69 years and 346 days.  Rosemary was 67 years and 123 days.

Weather:  Mostly sunny, but still a cold wind.  A short hail shower right at the end of the Walk.
Location:  Newton Stewart to Cardoness Castle.
Distance:  17 miles.
Total distance:  2931 miles.
Terrain:  All roads or tarmacked cycle-paths.  Some were quiet, others were ‘lorry-dodging’ territory.
Tide:  Coming in.
Rivers:  No.350, River Cree.  No.351, Palnure Burn.  No.352, Moneypool Burn.  No.353, Kirkbride Burn.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  None.
Pubs:  None.
‘Historic Scotland’ properties:  No.36, Carsluith Castle.  No.37, Cairnholy.  No.38, Cardoness Castle.
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  None.
How we got there and back:  We were staying in our caravan on a site in Garlieston.  This morning we drove to Cardoness Castle where we parked in a layby.  Opposite we caught a bus to Newton Stewart where we walked down to the roundabout.
At the end we were at the car.  We drove straight back to Garlieston for tea, biscuits and a lie-down.
The next day we packed up our stuff and drove home to Malvern.

We started today’s Walk at the roundabout to the south of Newton Stewart.  We followed the main A75 road eastwards for about a mile on what I would call a “lorry-dodging” road.  Since this is the main route to and from the port of Stranraer, this wasn’t much fun.  The reason we were so far inland and on this road is that it is the first bridging point on the River Cree.  From the bridge we could see how the cycle route we had been following at the end of the last walk snaked it’s way into Newton Stewart without going anywhere near the roundabout on the A75.

We came across a granite stone which had been made into a seat, and on which was written the following poem:

Stravaiger’s Rest

Oor forefaithers fished here,

doon in the Cree.

Fairmers sheared sheep,

cropped gress, fed kye.

Nae different fae folk noo.

Here by the roadside,

new noises are heard.

Nae cairts or horses gan thir slow gait,

heavy soons,

fae west’s green isle,

tae Europe’s route east.

Some even trevel new highways o space.

Rest fir a while,

afore ganging oan,

intae the slipstream

gull flight, salmon swim, mayfly dart

yer ain element, ain rhythm, wished well in all ye dae.

We understood about half of it!  Nearby was a notice trying to discourage us from fly-tipping — calling such people “dumb-dumpers” — and a memorial cross (we call them “death” crosses) where there had obviously been a fatal accident.
After about a mile there was a much quieter road off to our left which was also marked “Cycle Route 7”.  This was further inland but it ran more or less parallel to the main road, so we put into practice Additional Rule No.10 which says we can take a more inland route to avoid walking along a busy and dangerous road such as this.  The lane took us up a steep hill and past a pine forest.  It was very quiet — the only traffic we encountered was a single cyclist!
We came downhill past the entrance to an Outdoor Education and Forest Visitor Centre.  Notices tried to entice us in with promises of a shop and a café, but they would charge us £3 to park our car in there!  That would put me off for a start — why not park out here in the road and walk in?  It’s only a couple of hundred yards away.  This is the UK’s first Dark Sky Park, where you can look at the stars on a cloudless night uninhibited by light pollution.

What amused us was that the crossroads had been recently tarmacked, and then the white lines painted in but not following the chalk pattern which had been previously laid down.  This was the same both sides of the crossroads.  We sat on a wall near there to eat our first snack.

We went downhill to cross the burn, turned right and continued along until we met a disused railway line up on an embankment.  There were two broken bridges, and the arches between them had been closed off into sheds.  The cycleway went up on to the embankment, and led off down the old railway line for about two miles.  From up there we had good views across the Cree estuary.

We came out on to the road into Creetown which was less busy than the A75, but what traffic there was came hurtling by at great speed.

We were passed by our bus driver of this morning who was on his way back.  He tooted us!  When talking to him this morning, we got the impression he didn’t really believe we would walk all the way back to Cardoness Castle because it was too far.  (In fact he was nearly right!)  We came across a bench with a view that we thought would be an ideal spot to stop and have our sandwiches.  But as we approached it we realised that half the seat was missing making it impossible to sit on.  So we went on.

We found a comfy seat in the square in the middle of Creetown, so we used that instead.  There was a stone “world” in the square, we couldn’t work out the significance of that.  There was also the usual War Memorial, and a pretty drinking well with the words “Praise God from Whom all Blessings Flow” emblazoned around the top.  Cycle Route 7 turned inland from there, so it was no good to us anymore.  We had to return to the dreaded A75 again.

We were relieved to find there was a cycleway alongside it from that point, so we didn’t have to resume “lorry-dodging”!  We had already put our bright yellow waistcoats back on, and Colin had tied two jackets round his waist under his along with his camera.  It made him look as if he was pregnant!!

It was very noisy.  Apart from the constant heavy traffic, jets and helicopters kept flying over.  (It was quite like home, when the RAF practise their low-flying techniques over the Malvern Hills.)  There appeared to be some kind of military exercise going on over the estuary, some of the helicopters were picking up vehicles and dumping them down elsewhere.
After a couple of miles we were able to turn into another parallel lane through Carsluith.  This one kept very close the main road, in fact we realised it must have been the original road.  Whatever, it was quiet, and took us another couple of miles on our way.

We emerged on to the A75 again, and here there was no cycleway.  We had about half a mile of “lorry-dodging” until we reached Carsluith Castle.  It is not a real castle, but a tower-house built in the 16^th century when this style of residence was all the rage.  It was lived in until the mid-18^th century, then left to decay.  We viewed it the other day when we had more time.  Although it is now an empty shell with no roof, we were able to climb a staircase inside to get good views across the estuary.

We were feeling quite tired by now, especially me.  We sat on the grass behind the castle to eat our first chocolate, then we were tempted by the “Smokery” café on the premises to go inside and buy a cup of tea.  Nice tea, but a bit on the expensive side.  We got chatting to a woman and her daughter in there — we told them about our Trek and gave them a blog card.  They said they lived in a cottage next to Dundrennan Abbey, and when we reached there we would be welcome to knock on the door if we need to use the loo in passing!

After that there was more “lorry-dodging” for a mile or so before we were able to turn off on another lane, Cairnholy Road.  Half a mile up the lane is a motley collection of standing stones and a couple of small chambered cairns which we visited the other day.  It supposedly dates from the Neolithic period, between 6000 and 4000 years ago, but it all seemed to be a bit of a mess.  I think the stones have fallen down and been stood up so many times nobody really knows what the original layout was.  It is thought to be a kind of mass grave, but the notice there didn’t say whether any skeletons were found.

Today we didn’t go up there, but turned off that lane soon after leaving the main road.  We had a pretty stiff climb, but then we had a blissful couple of miles walking along a quiet lane parallel to the manic A75 but with views.

I say quiet, it was until a man with an angle-grinder started up!  What a noisy world we live in, even in the back of beyond.

We saw sheep with very tiny lambs, and passed through a wood with a stream and loads of wild garlic — such a pretty flower.  We passed another tower-type castle building, but this one was being restored.  Perhaps it will be lived in again — I wouldn’t like it, must be all stairs!

We passed lots of farms and lots of s**t including slurry being pumped into a tank — ugh!  (The countryside is all about poo, it’s everywhere!)

We passed a jumble of stones on a knoll which looked as if it could have once been an ancient cairn of some kind.  Who knows?  They are everywhere in this area.  We also passed a brand new drystone wall which reminded us of the “rubble” walls we have seen in Malta.  We sat on a wall near there to eat our apples.

Eventually we had brilliant views across the next estuary, that of the River Fleet.  There were islands in the middle, looking good in the sunshine.  The wind got up and it was not so warm.  Since we were up high we got the full force of this freshening breeze.

Eventually we had to descend to the main road again just at the point where two schoolgirls were dropped off their bus and immediately picked by car to be taken to their remote homes.
So it was on with the bright yellow waistcoats again because the final three miles of the Walk was “lorry-dodging” along the A75, except where there was the occasional layby.  It wasn’t much fun, the slipstream from some of the big vehicles was bad.  It required intense concentration, and we only made slow progress because we kept having to stop and squeeze ourselves into the bushes as the traffic sped by.

We stopped in one layby to eat a second bar of chocolate each.  Later we came to a layby with a transport-type café called “The Teapot”.  I was beginning to feel unwell, so we stopped for another cup of tea.  This was just as nice as the tea at “The Smokery” café by Carsluith Castle, but about half the price!  We made use of their toilet, but I was still feeling unwell.  I wondered whether I would make it to the end of the Walk, but I was determined not to give in, so we carried on.

I tried to take in the beauties of nature, such as the wild flowers, especially ladysmock which was everywhere.  And occasionally through the trees we caught views across the Fleet estuary basking in the evening sunshine.

But my stomach cramps were getting more and more intense, and I felt absolutely lousy!  As we approached Cardoness Castle, I climbed over a gate and found a big bush behind which I had the privacy to be really ill!

Cardoness  Castle

We visited the castle on a different day when we had more time.  Like Carsluith, it is a 15^th century tower house, but in a better state of preservation.  It is six stories high, and despite its ruinous state it is still possible to climb to the top and look out over Water of Fleet — a glorious view!

That ended Walk no.292, we shall pick up Walk no.293 next time outside Cardoness Castle, near Gatehouse of Fleet.  It was quarter-past six, so the Walk had taken us nine hours and fifty-five minutes.  I still had stomach ache and I felt all sore inside.  I think it was sheer exhaustion which had caused this — my body was telling me I had overdone it.  We drove straight back to Garlieston for tea, biscuits and a lie-down.

We were delighted that all the Walks this session had gone to plan.  Over the past two and a half weeks we had covered 151 miles!!  When I planned it I never thought we would actually do it all, but we did!  I was upset that my delight in this achievement was spoiled by me feeling so unwell.  I couldn’t eat much, Colin had to make his own supper.  I felt better after a good night’s sleep hugging my hot water bottle, but I was still a bit fragile in the morning.  We packed up the caravan and drove home to Malvern where I fully recovered.

Walk 291 -- Garlieston to Newton Stewart

Ages:  Colin was 69 years and 344 days.  Rosemary was 67 years and 121 days.

Weather:  Brilliant sunshine but a cold wind.  Becoming overcast, but the rain held off until the Walk was over.
Location:  Garlieston to Newton Stewart.

Distance:  21 miles.

Total distance:  2914 miles.

Terrain:  Tiny bit of beach.  A lovely path through bluebell woods.  A few tracks and a lot of road.  A cycle-path at the end.  Mostly flat. 

Tide:  Coming in.

Rivers:  No.347, River Bladnoch.  No.348, Bishop Burn.  No.349, Brushy Burn.

Ferries:  None.

Piers:  None.

Kissing gates:  Nos.298 & 299 at the bowling green in Garlieston.  Nos.300 to 303 in the bluebell wood.

Pubs:  We stopped at the Bladnoch Inn, but it wasn’t a ‘real ale’ pub though it advertised itself as such.

‘Historic Scotland’ properties:  None.

Ferris wheels:  None.

Diversions:  None.

How we got there and back:  We were staying in our caravan on a site in Garlieston.  Early this morning Colin drove the car to Newton Stewart where he parked just beyond the roundabout.  He caught a bus back to Garlieston, then he had his breakfast!

At the end we were at the car.  We drove straight back to Garlieston for tea and biscuits in the caravan.

We left the caravan site and walked through Garlieston along the waterfront.  We passed a polished granite stone commemorating the mulberry harbours which were made and tested here.  What a clever tactic!  The mulberry harbours had to be constructed in complete secrecy because they would have been useless if the Germans had caught even a whiff of what was going on, and D-Day would never have happened.

So they were constructed in this quiet corner of Scotland, hundreds of miles from where they were going to be used.  The wording on the stone reads:  1945 – 1995   For the 50^th anniversary of the end of World War II this commemorates the building and trials of Sections of the “MULBERRY HARBOUR 1941/4” at GARLIESTON, thus making the INVASION OF EUROPE possible and the ALLIED VICTORY a reality.

We were amused by a car park notice nearby which read: “No boats or trailers”.  There were no cars parked there, just a boat on a trailer!  We walked past the bowling green and the War Memorial.  Everywhere we go we are reminded how the two World Wars of the 20^th century decimated families and changed lives forever.

Today children were hurrying to school, for it is the first day of the summer term.

There is a small waterwheel by the stream which leads into Garlieston Bay, but it wasn’t working.  All around the adjacent walls there were large sculptures of insects made out of odd bits of metal — they were brilliantly designed.  We liked the dragonfly which was attached to the back wall the best!

The tide was out enough for us to walk across the sand, which we did for a bit.  But it soon turned to slimey green rocks, so we had to return to the road.  Garlieston Bay looked lovely in the early morning sun.

The road turned into a track, and then into a footpath signposted “Innerwell 3m”.  That footpath was the best bit of the whole Walk!  It led through woods with dappled sun shining through the trees which hadn’t yet quite got their leaves.  There were bluebells, wood anemones, primroses, and other Spring flowers everywhere.  And to our right we kept catching glimpses of the sea through the trees, and Garlieston across the bay.

It was beautiful !

It even smelt beautiful, as woodland has a wonderful gentle aroma especially in the springtime.

Magical!

We came out of the woods, and there was a bit of a dodgy path along the edge of a field.  We got the impression the farmer had tried to obliterate it.

But we coped, and soon we were back in the woods where everything was gorgeous again.

We sat on a log to eat our pizza / pie.

A blister on my heel started giving me trouble again.  I had already put a plaster over it, so I took some painkillers and had no more trouble.

We came out on a tarmacked lane at Innerwell.  We had hoped there would be a new footpath, not marked on the map, leading us further along the coast.  But there wasn’t, so we had to walk inland a mile along the lane until we reached the road.  We passed a lot of what I call ‘plastic farming’.  Fields are covered in plastic to form cloches, and it looks horrible!  But I suppose they have to do it to feed the masses — don’t think it does much for wildlife though.

We donned our bright yellow waistcoats.  Traffic was infrequent, but the road was pretty straight so when it came it was fast!  We sat on a stone in the edge of a wood to eat our sarnies.  After two miles we were able to turn off on to a quieter road.

I had calculated that we had walked 2900 miles from Bognor, so we needed to take a photograph.  There was no one about to ask, so we placed the camera on a fencepost and took it on the 10 second timer.  It came out quite well!

The lane we had turned on to took us through a farm, past a caravan site and then it turned into a track.  There we met a woman who was hitching up a horsebox to her 4x4.  She was finding it tricky so we offered to help.  She turned us down because of “health & safety issues”!  What has this world come to that you cannot even lend a hand (my Brownie motto of 60 years ago, if I remember rightly) because people are afraid of being sued if it all goes wrong?  Bemused, we left her to her exertions and continued along the track.

It was a pleasant walkway which led us towards Wigtown.  We came to a T-junction where we wanted to turn right because it looked as if that would be the way to Wigtown.  But a quick look at the map confirmed that it led into a nature reserve, and it was a dead end because there is no way to cross the river which winds around the town.  So we turned left which took us inland again.  A simple footbridge on the edge of the nature reserve would have saved us miles!

There was an airfield marked on the map, and we didn’t know if it was still in use or not.  I thought I saw a small aeroplane through the bushes, but when we got nearer it turned out it was a boat on a trailer!  (Colin laughed)  The airfield was completely grassed over, it obviously hadn’t been in use for many years.  But the OS map we were using was new, only bought a few weeks previously.  I do wish the Ordnance Survey would get their maps up to date — they charge enough for them!

We walked about a mile and a half until we came to a broken bridge over the lane — remnant of a disused railway line.  From there we skirted round the edge of the old airfield.  It was a roundabout route, and Colin kept on about taking a shortcut.  I hate walking on roads too, but the trouble with short cuts is that they inevitably end at a hedge, a ditch or a barbed wire fence.  So I refused to turn off the road — at least we knew we could get through.  The truth was we were both tired and getting grouchy.

We met a couple out on hire-bikes, they didn’t look like regular cyclists.  They seemed to be tired and grouchy too, especially the woman.  The lane we were on wound round next to the river, and eventually went under a bridge (which was still there) of the disused railway.  This one had a barn on top!

Through the trees we could see the pillars which once held up the railway over the river.  A quarter of a mile further on we came to the main road where the only bridge across the river was situated.  At last we were able to cross it!

We had already walked twelve miles and we were tired and cross.  So when we saw a pub which advertised ‘real ales’ we couldn’t believe our luck!  And it was open.  But there were no taps inside, the ‘real ale’ was in bottles!  The barmaid said they had run out because they had just had “a very busy weekend”.  Colin asked her what he had missed, and she quoted ales that aren’t bottle-conditioned.  She obviously knew nothing about it at all.  Anyhow, my shandy was very welcome, and we both felt better after a drink and a rest.

Up the road we sat on a seat and ate chocolate.  We turned into a farm road, then went down across the disused railway again, and took a track to Wigtown Harbour Road.  It was a good path across the top of the harbour which is now all marsh and a nature reserve.

Back in the 17^th century things were very different in Wigtown.  High tides brought the water right up to the town over what is now marshes.  There was also a lot of religious intolerance.  In 1685 two women, Margaret McLachlan, who was in her sixties, and Margaret Wilson, who was only eighteen years old, were arrested for being ‘Covenanters’, a movement that maintained the reforms of the Scottish Reformation.  They refused to recant, so they were tied to stakes below high tide mark so that they would drown as the water came in.  The older woman was tied further down the beach so that the younger woman would see her suffering as she drowned, whereby it was hoped that she would change her mind.  She didn’t, and both women drowned.  Such was the state of religious prejudice in those times.  With our history and murders such as these, we cannot take on a ‘holier than thou’ attitude when we hear of present-day religious persecution in other countries.

There is a boardwalk across the marshes leading out to a memorial stake, in memory of those two brave women.

We came out on to a lane with still about five or six miles to walk before we got to Newton Stewart.  It was a long long road, but fortunately very quiet — we were passed by only half a dozen vehicles over the next two hours.  We sat by a river out of the wind to eat our apples.

Then we marched on, making good time because it was so boring.  The road was very straight, and there was nothing to see except farmland.

We watched tractors working in the fields followed by gulls.  We were amused by a “Danger of Death” notice on a fencepost which had been put in upside down.

We saw some sheep’s wool caught around the flowers of a dandelion plant.  And we were mildly amused by a property called ‘Polwhilly’.  Really, we were just looking around for things to relieve the tedium of walking along a straight and featureless road.

After about an hour we passed a cottage with an Easter Island statue in the garden.  (We wondered if it had been bought in that shop in Portpatrick.)

Then we saw a huge white rabbit behind the house.  In the woods there was a scantily clad Greek goddess-type woman, and there were flags up in the trees.  Definitely a boring road — either that or we were going mad!

We sat by another river and ate more chocolate.  We met a pleasant young woman out walking her dog who stopped for a chat.  She was most interested in our trek, so I gave her a blog card.  (Are you still reading it?)  The sky was quite grey and gloomy by now, but the rain held off.

Eventually we came to the main road, but we still had two miles to go before we reached Newton Stewart.  However, there was a cycleway next to the road so we didn’t have to dodge the traffic.  The sting in the tail was that the cycleway didn’t go all the way to the roundabout where our car was parked, but veered away about a quarter of a mile earlier to go under the main A75 by the river.  It doesn’t connect up with the road we were on until it is well into the town, and we didn’t realise this until we had walked almost to the tunnel underneath the A75.  So we had to backtrack until we found a steep stony track which took us back up to the road.  Fortunately there was a pavement between there and the roundabout, so we still didn’t have to dodge the traffic — only when crossing the road at the roundabout.  Our car was parked in a nearby Close.

That ended Walk no.291, we shall pick up Walk no.292 next time at the roundabout just to the south-west of Newton Stewart.  It was quarter-past seven, so the Walk had taken us ten and three-quarter hours.  We got in the car and it started to rain — what timing!  So we drove straight back to the caravan in Garlieston and had our tea and biscuits there.