With the summer plan being to explore Galloway using a combination of cycling and camping; we decide on an overnight trip to test equipment and technique. My faithful hybrid bike, which when living in England had been used on a daily basis to commute to work, has for the past year been cooped up in a garage. I lovingly wash and polish it. However, lack of use has caused the front derailleur to jam solid. Not wanting to spend vast amounts of money to repair it, I spray it with copious amounts of lubricant, joggle it about and leave overnight. Success – next morning it is free. The brakes still work, the gears seem to change and the tyres don’t look too worn so with the weather favourable the trip is on.
Having lived in three different houses over the last ten months it takes some time to find all the camping equipment. Some years ago my first combined cycle and camping trip taught me a valuable lesson – when fitting panniers to the back rack always check the pedals turn without your foot hitting them. Arriving late by ferry on the Isle of Mull and knowing we needed to reach our pre-booked campsite by 20:00 or we would not be let in – I discovered that the only way to pedal was by using my heels. So short of time this is how I cycled the five or so kilometres to the overnight stop. Determined for this not happen again I take the panniers up to the garage and check they fit properly.
On the day of the trip I load the bike up – pannier on either side with the tent on the back rack. I have forgotten how unwieldy and back heavy this makes the bike feel and I am relieved I have chosen the flat instead of clipped in pedal option. Mounting the bike I travel for all of a few metres before realising my feet are hitting the panniers. Preparation has obviously not been thorough enough. The bike is unpacked – at which point it starts to rain. After a few adjustments with a screwdriver, but still not entirely happy with how it fits, we finally hit the road. At least the rain has stopped.
It’s a slow 12ish km ride to the campsite and I begin to realise that the bike is possibly in need of a proper service. Gear changing is far from crisp and the brakes could be sharper. The destination is Taliesin. Nestling on the lower slopes of Screel Hill this site is owned by the South West Community Woodlands Trust. Passing under the archway leading up to it I hear my first cuckoo of the year.
Welcome Arch
There are two partially open sided bunkhouses on either side of the communal fire area. Unfortunately some of the bunks have been removed and used for firewood. An outside kitchen area has a sink with water piped from a nearby spring. Various kitchen utensils hang from hooks above it.
All mod cons
On the far side of the clearing is a compost toilet. The small thatched hut is built from wood and mud, the seat is comfortable and in addition to a small sink with spring water there is a wooden sign indicating whether the facility is in use. There is a gap between the roof and wall so while sitting on the seat it is possible to take in the fine views over to Potterland Hill. Habit makes me look for a handle to flush it with.
Toilet with a view
Sign of occupation
A flat piece of ground is selected and the tent is pitched. With no other humans here the bikes are allowed to stay in the bunkhouse.
Perfect pitch
Firewood is legitimately collected and soon we have a roaring fire. Dinner cooked and eaten, an old kettle is fetched from the “kitchen” and used to boil hot water for the dishes.
Washing up
As the sun goes down we toast marshmallows in the flames. Practice makes perfect and by the end of the packet we seem to have mastered the technique. With the moon rising over the shoulder of Screel Hill we head for bed.
Moonshine
Getting up to go to the toilet in the middle of the night an amazing sight greets me. It is if the sky has been lightly white washed with cloud, off which the moonlight reflects. Visible through the thin clouds are hundreds of stars and from the forest I hear the hoot of an owl. Climbing back into my sleeping bag I suddenly feel very small and vulnerable out here in the wild. I imagine I hear strange noises outside the tent but soon sleep takes me again.
We awake to a myriad of bird song and the cuckoo seems to have moved to the other side of the valley. Camp is packed up slowly – a full Scottish breakfast awaits at a cafe in the village of Palnackie on the route home but it only opens at 10:00. The test expedition has been a success and over breakfast a plan starts to formulate for a trip to the southernmost point of Scotland.
Granite Heart 