Before I recount today’s events, I will digress on architecture and dogs.
Buildings in Aberdeen were often built of a local granite which has been misused to a certain extent. The stone is a pale grey of no particular distinction. The problem arises from how much the stone is used and how little variation in the stonework there is from building to building. I got the feeling they all used the same sized blocks from the quarry and simply stacked them up. The uniformity was likely part of the plan by the three architects largely responsible for the look of Aberdeen which ends up as cold uniformity and somehow unfinished. I was trying decide how the stone could be made more interesting and came up with building with courses of stone of varied thickness or finishes. That or paint the stone. Something like this was done in the Fraserburgh area.
There was a Doonesbury cartoon in which the defining characteristic of the British gentleman was described as his love of dogs. This has come across on this trip as I have noticed a lot places with signs indicating their dog friendliness. Sometimes, it is expressed as “We are very sorry...” but often it is something setting reasonable conditions such as “on leads, please” or “not on the furniture, please.” I have been impressed by the good behaviour of the dogs and their owners I have passed on bike paths.
Today was sunny and nearly cold much of the time. It was also quite windy from the West. This made for a gruelling ride as I was headed Westwards for much of the day. As well, I rode through some stunning countryside which in Scotland is code for hilly and mountainous. It was particularly draining as I thought I had about a 100 km to go today, and therefore I was bemoaning my slow pace. I arrived in the twin towns of Macduff and Banff. The route between them was beside the sea and as I was on the sidewalk which was on the seaward side, I got some salt spray on me as the waves were high and crashing.
Banff made me think of the old Magnum P.I. TV show as it turns out that Higgins is the hereditary Baron of Banff. It wasn’t a particularly appealing town, leading me to think that there was the reason he decamped to Hawaii!
I had lunch in bakery in Portsoy. A conversation with one of the staff lead me to double check the distance to my bed. This lead to two things. The first was that I realised that I had overestimated the distance. The second was that I had been lead astray in my identification of just where my bed was. The Brits have an annoying habit of lumping towns and villages together so something might have the address of Village A, Town B, the two being separate by five miles or more. Thus I thought my hotel was in Forchabers rather than Garmouth. Thankfully, I was sufficiently far away that it didn’t matter.
Thus, I left Portsoy with less of a distance to ride and less of a regard for my planning skills.
I had rejoined the NCN 1, which I used in when it suited me. In Cullen (home of Cullen Skink), the NCN got on a spectacular railway viaduct. It had three arched sections. I read somewhere that the railway had had to build the viaduct as Lord and Lady Something didn’t want the railway crossing their land.
At Portgordon, I started to see runners wearing numbered bibs. There were volunteers along the way, so I stopped to ask one of them what the event was. It was an ultra-marathon sponsored by a distillery. As we chatted, two competitors ran past. The volunteer called out a friendly “Are we having fun?” To which the answer was “No!”
I should have been faster on the draw, but just past Portgordon, I saw I was on Beaufighter Road. That particular area was remarkably flat. It was also home to young trees and an industrial park. The penny dropped a little later when I saw large expanses of partly overgrown concrete pavement. I was riding across an abandoned WW II airfield. The Bristol Beaufighter was a British aircraft design used for night fighting, ground attack and maritime strike. The young trees indicate nature taking its course and the industrial park suggests it wasn’t wanted or suitable for farming or housing. I latter found out it was called Dallachy.
I got to my hotel in Garmouth fairly early. After a half pint and a shower, I had a nap. When I returned to the bar for supper, I noticed several women in biking Lycra and bibs for the Great North Ride. I asked one where they had started this morning. The answer was Aberdeen! She had ridden 85 miles or so! They will ride back tomorrow.
I feel like a wimp. I tell myself that they were on lightweight road bikes and weren’t carrying a lot of clobber. (I later confirmed this point.)
The multiplicity of athletic events in these parts this weekend sheds light on part of my issues today. I believe my original destination for today was Elgin. However, I couldn’t find an available bed there. At the time, I thought it was because today is a Saturday. Now I wonder if it was because of all the amateur athletes wanting beds for their sporting events.
Sunday, 26 August 2018
Friday, 24 August 2018
On rolling the Dyce
I wasn’t feeling in the mood being touristy yesterday, so all I did on that front was to visit the Aberdeen Maritime Museum. It was about fishing, a bit about clippers and a lot about the offshore oil industry. One very interesting bit was a video about the helicopter flights out to the rigs. It seems Aberdeen Airport has a large number of helicopter movements.
I returned to the Youth Hostel to give Leonardo some well deserved TLC. I was working on the drive near the front door when a gent asked me if I was doing repairs. I said: No, I am just doing maintenance.
In the early evening, I was sitting in the Grill pub, contemplating the maps I would be using to get to Rosehearty, when the person sitting beside me asked about my bike trip, having noticed both my helmet and the Sustrans map. We fell to chatting. He was a Welshman who had worked in Aberdeen, but now lived in Houston. He was back on a business trip. I asked the obvious question to which he admitted that yes, he worked for the oil industry. He also said he was glad I was still using paper maps. I gave him a sheepish grin and a nutshell account of the day before.
As I was leaving the pub, I overheard a Brit complaining: “Only in Scotland: it’s raining and sunny at the same time.”
It was getting dark after supper, so I walked the bike back to the hostel. As I neared it, I was approached by a young man coming from the hostel. He inquired if I had a bicycle pump. (My thinking is that he had asked the staff at the hostel if they had a bike pump and been told something like: “No but there is a well-equipped bike tourer staying here who might have one and be prepared to lend it” followed by a general description of yours truly.)
Being someone of a helpful disposition and someone who has had the help of strangers, I cheerfully put the pump at his disposal. He turned out to be from Marseille. He had just arrived with his Peugeot bike. It was something of a vintage affair, possibly older than he was as it had gear leavers on the down bar. It was obviously a road bike, judging from its skinny tires but someone had replaced the handlebars with a hybrid style set of straight bars. It had no racks for panniers. (He was going to use a backpack.) In my conversation with the young man (early twenties) it emerged he had just arrived by air (hence the lack of air in his tires) and was heading off the next day. To where? Oh, I was thinking of Inverness or possibly Aviemore. This set off alarm bells. I explained that was heading to Inverness, but I had planned on three days. (Admittedly, I was going to take a relatively scenic route.) I asked if he had bikes in the UK before, to which he said “no.”
I therefore, asked him to come with me so I could show him some of the potential flaws in his plan by spreading out my maps for him. I also warned him about how it can be tricky to get on a train with a bike owing to limited spaces. As well, I noted the approach of the weekend and the consequent shortage of accommodation. I hope I sounded like I was giving constructive cautions rather than being a naysayer.
The next day seemed bright to me as I got ready, but the friendly young Scotsman at the reception seemed to think it was going to cloud over. I recounted my anecdote about rolling the the weather dice from the Gigha ferry.
From the Hostel, I made my way downtown to where I picked up the NCN 1. It took me through Old Aberbeen and the University on torturous cobbles then by poorly signed roads to the Dyce Railway Station which adjoins Aberdeen Airport. I can confirm a heavy traffic in helicopters as used to supply oil rigs.
The station was also the point where I got on the Formatine & Buchan Way. This is a multi-use path (bikes, pedestrians and horse riders) built on the rail bed of the Formatine & Buchan Railway which from Dyce to Fraserburgh and Peterhead before being done away with by Beeching (though it remained in freight use until 1979).
The NCN 1 used parts of it, other sections being deemed too rough. (Which makes me wonder why they routed the NCN 1 over the cobbles of Old Aberdeen.) Apart from a flooded bit 2.5 miles before Strichen, it was quite alright for Leonardo on tough 37mm wide tires.
The weather was annoying as it was mostly sunny but cool with a somewhat contrary wind. The annoying bit was that it would start raining for a few minutes before stopping. Furthermore, it seemed the hardest rain happened when I was in sunshine! Somehow, I was getting wild results from my dice rolls.
At Maud, I came across the former junction between the Fraserburgh and Peterhead lines at a station that had four platforms. I made Fraserburgh a shade too late to visit the Scottish Lighthouses Museum. From there, I made slowish progress against the wind to Rosehearty and my hotel. As I was walking to get supper, I saw a man putting up signs for some sort of event which included a “Warning Cyclists” sign. Intrigued, I asked what it was about. It seems there is a “bike, run or walk” event happening tomorrow! I don’t feel the urge to sign up.
I returned to the Youth Hostel to give Leonardo some well deserved TLC. I was working on the drive near the front door when a gent asked me if I was doing repairs. I said: No, I am just doing maintenance.
In the early evening, I was sitting in the Grill pub, contemplating the maps I would be using to get to Rosehearty, when the person sitting beside me asked about my bike trip, having noticed both my helmet and the Sustrans map. We fell to chatting. He was a Welshman who had worked in Aberdeen, but now lived in Houston. He was back on a business trip. I asked the obvious question to which he admitted that yes, he worked for the oil industry. He also said he was glad I was still using paper maps. I gave him a sheepish grin and a nutshell account of the day before.
As I was leaving the pub, I overheard a Brit complaining: “Only in Scotland: it’s raining and sunny at the same time.”
It was getting dark after supper, so I walked the bike back to the hostel. As I neared it, I was approached by a young man coming from the hostel. He inquired if I had a bicycle pump. (My thinking is that he had asked the staff at the hostel if they had a bike pump and been told something like: “No but there is a well-equipped bike tourer staying here who might have one and be prepared to lend it” followed by a general description of yours truly.)
Being someone of a helpful disposition and someone who has had the help of strangers, I cheerfully put the pump at his disposal. He turned out to be from Marseille. He had just arrived with his Peugeot bike. It was something of a vintage affair, possibly older than he was as it had gear leavers on the down bar. It was obviously a road bike, judging from its skinny tires but someone had replaced the handlebars with a hybrid style set of straight bars. It had no racks for panniers. (He was going to use a backpack.) In my conversation with the young man (early twenties) it emerged he had just arrived by air (hence the lack of air in his tires) and was heading off the next day. To where? Oh, I was thinking of Inverness or possibly Aviemore. This set off alarm bells. I explained that was heading to Inverness, but I had planned on three days. (Admittedly, I was going to take a relatively scenic route.) I asked if he had bikes in the UK before, to which he said “no.”
I therefore, asked him to come with me so I could show him some of the potential flaws in his plan by spreading out my maps for him. I also warned him about how it can be tricky to get on a train with a bike owing to limited spaces. As well, I noted the approach of the weekend and the consequent shortage of accommodation. I hope I sounded like I was giving constructive cautions rather than being a naysayer.
The next day seemed bright to me as I got ready, but the friendly young Scotsman at the reception seemed to think it was going to cloud over. I recounted my anecdote about rolling the the weather dice from the Gigha ferry.
From the Hostel, I made my way downtown to where I picked up the NCN 1. It took me through Old Aberbeen and the University on torturous cobbles then by poorly signed roads to the Dyce Railway Station which adjoins Aberdeen Airport. I can confirm a heavy traffic in helicopters as used to supply oil rigs.
The station was also the point where I got on the Formatine & Buchan Way. This is a multi-use path (bikes, pedestrians and horse riders) built on the rail bed of the Formatine & Buchan Railway which from Dyce to Fraserburgh and Peterhead before being done away with by Beeching (though it remained in freight use until 1979).
The NCN 1 used parts of it, other sections being deemed too rough. (Which makes me wonder why they routed the NCN 1 over the cobbles of Old Aberdeen.) Apart from a flooded bit 2.5 miles before Strichen, it was quite alright for Leonardo on tough 37mm wide tires.
The weather was annoying as it was mostly sunny but cool with a somewhat contrary wind. The annoying bit was that it would start raining for a few minutes before stopping. Furthermore, it seemed the hardest rain happened when I was in sunshine! Somehow, I was getting wild results from my dice rolls.
At Maud, I came across the former junction between the Fraserburgh and Peterhead lines at a station that had four platforms. I made Fraserburgh a shade too late to visit the Scottish Lighthouses Museum. From there, I made slowish progress against the wind to Rosehearty and my hotel. As I was walking to get supper, I saw a man putting up signs for some sort of event which included a “Warning Cyclists” sign. Intrigued, I asked what it was about. It seems there is a “bike, run or walk” event happening tomorrow! I don’t feel the urge to sign up.
Thursday, 23 August 2018
On old abbeys and castles and new motorways
It was raining when I left the Auld Brewhouse where I had spent the night. I rode up to Arbroath Abbey where I spent too long looking at the heavily plundered stone and contemplating the Declaration of Arbroath and its significance.
It stopped raining by the time I left, which was far too late. I used a fair bit of NCN 1 as I made my way along the coast. I had a quick lunch in Montrose, as I wanted to get to Dunnottar Castle in time for a visit. Before leaving the town, I made the fatal error of applying sunscreen. This tempted fate into causing it to fog over for a good bit.
Dunnottar Castle was well chosen as a defensive site. It sits on an isolated rock on the coast which is hard to access on foot whilst unopposed. It would have been extremely difficult if the occupants resisted.
Not impossible as at least twice it has fallen. The first time it was taken was by William Wallace in what was probably a sneak attack. He promptly burnt the English garrison to death in the chapel. This probably justifies the English later hanging, drawing and quartering him.
The second time was when Oliver Cromwell and company besieged the place trying to get their hands on the Scottish Crown Jewels. They failed to get the jewels as the wily Scots managed to smuggle them out somehow before the Castle fell. There is a diorama of the siege in Castle which shows two impressive gun batteries in the Castle. This surprised me as I thought it would be a pain just to get food, etc. to the Castle. They must have been very determined and clever to haul a dozen canons up. Then again, it must have taken a lot of effort to build the place as the stones themselves would have had to have been carried by hand or garron up the narrow paths.
This last element helped preserve the site after the last occupants were on the wrong side of 1715 with predictable consequences. The difficult access made it relatively little used as source of stone for locals, very much unlike Arbroath Abbey, of which very little remains in situ.
Another infamous bit of history was the time 177 men and women were imprisoned for months in a cellar for refusing to acknowledge the king as the head of the church. Most did not survive the experience or being shipped to the New World for penal servitude. They were fools in my opinion. Then again, my ancestors' motto seems to have been: “When it comes time to sell out, get a good price.”
Dunnottar was a shock as it was heavily patronized by foreign tourists. I know I heard Spanish, French, Dutch, German and Italian being spoken. Other languages, distinctly possible.
There was a lovely hill down to Stonehaven from Dunnottar Castle. This might have lured me into a bad choice. I was tempted to catch a train the rest of the way into Aberdeen, but I didn’t, confident that I would make it guided by my road map, Google Maps on the iPhone and the NCN. The basis of what went wrong showed up just outside of Stonehaven in the form a nearly completed motorway running North. It wasn’t open, but not only was it not on my road map, I was later to discover the Google Maps didn’t know about it. The NCN route took me through a maze of back roads, that at times went against my instincts. Nearing Aberdeen, I chose to believe Google Maps over it. After a longish downhill, I ended up on a dead end caused by the new motorway. The easiest way out turned out to be the very busy A90. I was sufficiently tired that I didn’t give a damn about the high speed traffic: it lead to Aberdeen and it was downhill. I was soon doing 50 km/h.
I found the hostel at about 6:30. I was disappointed to find my room was on the top floor which owing to poor planning, meant three trips up before I could shower, then check Google for the nearest place to eat. Thankfully, that was just across the street, as I have rarely felt so exhausted.
Thankfully, today is a rest day as I am still exhausted.
After doing laundry this morning, my first stop was to get the NCN map for Aberdeenshire. As Mummy has commented to me, I have been using the NCN more this trip than on other trips to the UK. There are several reasons for this. The first is that I happen to have chosen a route that the NCN has mapped. Note the frequency of references to NCN route 1. This is a major route which many cyclists have done before me. As well, I am traveling in areas well equipped with backroads, but less so with signs. Furthermore, I now require reading glasses to read maps, so on-the-fly map reading is a thing of the past. I now bike with reading glasses around my neck. All this to say that the NCN is now more useful to me now than before.
It stopped raining by the time I left, which was far too late. I used a fair bit of NCN 1 as I made my way along the coast. I had a quick lunch in Montrose, as I wanted to get to Dunnottar Castle in time for a visit. Before leaving the town, I made the fatal error of applying sunscreen. This tempted fate into causing it to fog over for a good bit.
Dunnottar Castle was well chosen as a defensive site. It sits on an isolated rock on the coast which is hard to access on foot whilst unopposed. It would have been extremely difficult if the occupants resisted.
Not impossible as at least twice it has fallen. The first time it was taken was by William Wallace in what was probably a sneak attack. He promptly burnt the English garrison to death in the chapel. This probably justifies the English later hanging, drawing and quartering him.
The second time was when Oliver Cromwell and company besieged the place trying to get their hands on the Scottish Crown Jewels. They failed to get the jewels as the wily Scots managed to smuggle them out somehow before the Castle fell. There is a diorama of the siege in Castle which shows two impressive gun batteries in the Castle. This surprised me as I thought it would be a pain just to get food, etc. to the Castle. They must have been very determined and clever to haul a dozen canons up. Then again, it must have taken a lot of effort to build the place as the stones themselves would have had to have been carried by hand or garron up the narrow paths.
This last element helped preserve the site after the last occupants were on the wrong side of 1715 with predictable consequences. The difficult access made it relatively little used as source of stone for locals, very much unlike Arbroath Abbey, of which very little remains in situ.
Another infamous bit of history was the time 177 men and women were imprisoned for months in a cellar for refusing to acknowledge the king as the head of the church. Most did not survive the experience or being shipped to the New World for penal servitude. They were fools in my opinion. Then again, my ancestors' motto seems to have been: “When it comes time to sell out, get a good price.”
Dunnottar was a shock as it was heavily patronized by foreign tourists. I know I heard Spanish, French, Dutch, German and Italian being spoken. Other languages, distinctly possible.
There was a lovely hill down to Stonehaven from Dunnottar Castle. This might have lured me into a bad choice. I was tempted to catch a train the rest of the way into Aberdeen, but I didn’t, confident that I would make it guided by my road map, Google Maps on the iPhone and the NCN. The basis of what went wrong showed up just outside of Stonehaven in the form a nearly completed motorway running North. It wasn’t open, but not only was it not on my road map, I was later to discover the Google Maps didn’t know about it. The NCN route took me through a maze of back roads, that at times went against my instincts. Nearing Aberdeen, I chose to believe Google Maps over it. After a longish downhill, I ended up on a dead end caused by the new motorway. The easiest way out turned out to be the very busy A90. I was sufficiently tired that I didn’t give a damn about the high speed traffic: it lead to Aberdeen and it was downhill. I was soon doing 50 km/h.
I found the hostel at about 6:30. I was disappointed to find my room was on the top floor which owing to poor planning, meant three trips up before I could shower, then check Google for the nearest place to eat. Thankfully, that was just across the street, as I have rarely felt so exhausted.
Thankfully, today is a rest day as I am still exhausted.
After doing laundry this morning, my first stop was to get the NCN map for Aberdeenshire. As Mummy has commented to me, I have been using the NCN more this trip than on other trips to the UK. There are several reasons for this. The first is that I happen to have chosen a route that the NCN has mapped. Note the frequency of references to NCN route 1. This is a major route which many cyclists have done before me. As well, I am traveling in areas well equipped with backroads, but less so with signs. Furthermore, I now require reading glasses to read maps, so on-the-fly map reading is a thing of the past. I now bike with reading glasses around my neck. All this to say that the NCN is now more useful to me now than before.
Tuesday, 21 August 2018
On frigates versus research vessels
Last night as I was entering the hotel restaurant where I had supper, I noticed a car with a odd looking license plate. On the left most side, highlighted in red where the letters “GBM”. Usually that spot indicates the country of origin. I took a second look and noticed that in finer print there was “Isle of Man” written. It was a Manx car! The owner happened by and noticed my curiosity. He was evidently used to people being interested in his number plate as he pointed out that the red surround was because the Isle of Man isn’t in the EU. EU countries would have a blue surround around the national letters. I must check with Mark what the abbreviation for Jersey is.
Today started misty and grey. Blessedly, there were fewer hills today and they were at the start of the day. As well, the NCN navigation was simpler. The first part of the day was dominated by country roads.
The bridge between Newport-on-Tay and Dundee was oddly laid out as the biking and walking path was between the lanes of traffic! On the Newport end, access was by a ramp. At the Dundee end there were stairs and an elevator. I had lunch at the café serving a museum about RRS (Royal Research Ship) Discovery which was docked next to it. RRS Discovery was involved in South Polar exploration. I didn’t go in as I wanted spend my time on HMS Unicorn.
The latter was a frigate built on spec after the Napoleonic Wars. It was never commissioned but lay in ordinary (storage) in the hopes of a war. It was used until 1962 in variations on the theme of accommodation and training ship. For a while it was renamed HMS Crecy to release the name for an aircraft carrier. When the carrier was retired at the end of the 1950s, the name was given back. As well, the carrier’s bell and battle honours were transferred to the frigate. It was interesting to see a ship more or less out of Patrick O’Brien in the flesh. It also reinforced my gratitude at not being forced to serve on such ship. There wasn’t a proper deck on which I could walk upright. I found the orlop deck a particular challenge to navigate, bent double the whole time.
From Dundee, the NCN took me along the seashore for the most part. One bit that wasn’t along shore was a section wedged between an active railway and an active Ministry of Defence firing range. The active part of the latter was indicated by red flags. I am in Arbroath tonight. I had a disappointing smokie for supper followed by a very good cloutie dumpling.
Today started misty and grey. Blessedly, there were fewer hills today and they were at the start of the day. As well, the NCN navigation was simpler. The first part of the day was dominated by country roads.
The bridge between Newport-on-Tay and Dundee was oddly laid out as the biking and walking path was between the lanes of traffic! On the Newport end, access was by a ramp. At the Dundee end there were stairs and an elevator. I had lunch at the café serving a museum about RRS (Royal Research Ship) Discovery which was docked next to it. RRS Discovery was involved in South Polar exploration. I didn’t go in as I wanted spend my time on HMS Unicorn.
The latter was a frigate built on spec after the Napoleonic Wars. It was never commissioned but lay in ordinary (storage) in the hopes of a war. It was used until 1962 in variations on the theme of accommodation and training ship. For a while it was renamed HMS Crecy to release the name for an aircraft carrier. When the carrier was retired at the end of the 1950s, the name was given back. As well, the carrier’s bell and battle honours were transferred to the frigate. It was interesting to see a ship more or less out of Patrick O’Brien in the flesh. It also reinforced my gratitude at not being forced to serve on such ship. There wasn’t a proper deck on which I could walk upright. I found the orlop deck a particular challenge to navigate, bent double the whole time.
From Dundee, the NCN took me along the seashore for the most part. One bit that wasn’t along shore was a section wedged between an active railway and an active Ministry of Defence firing range. The active part of the latter was indicated by red flags. I am in Arbroath tonight. I had a disappointing smokie for supper followed by a very good cloutie dumpling.
Monday, 20 August 2018
On Culross
After thanking Mary profusely, I set off into the cool morning. Wielding my Sustrans map, I cunningly managed to get on NCN route 1 which got me over the Forth Road Bridge. This was curiously empty apart from buses and taxis. Most traffic was on the new bridge whose name escapes me. It was just to the West, while the East was the iconic and proverbial Forth Railway Bridge which pleasantly had trains go across it while I watched. They were only three car locals, so they looked disproportionately small vis-à-vis the overbuilt tubes of the rail bridge. (The Forth Rail Bridge was designed shortly after the Tay Bridge disaster. Consequently, the engineers were over cautious.)
I then hung a left towards Rosyth where I caught sight of The HMS Prince of Wales, a new aircraft carrier being fitted out. Its twin islands are a distinctive feature of the class.
I stopped at the Ship Inn in Limekilns for a coffee. After the barmaid’s first attempt at a latte was far too weak, she became very apologetic. I dismissed it saying that far worse had happened on my trip than a weak latte. She asked what?, to which a replied the rain yesterday. We had a nice chat. The Ship Inn is a small place with probably a hundred or so labels of guest craft beers hanging from the beams. This is particularly impressive as the place only has three pumps for guest beers!
My goal was the National Trust for Scotland town of Culross. It has been restored to something vaguely approximately its glory days in the late 16th century when a George Bruce bought the coal mining rights from the Cistercian Priory, using the latest in high tech mining technology (a horse powered bucket chain) he made a lot of money and convinced James VI to make Culross a royal burgh. This gave George the opportunity to make more money. The good times came to an end when a storm flooded the mine (which extended under the Forth) and Sir George (as he had become) died in the same year. Culross declined after that until being preserved and restored by the National Trust starting in the 1930s.
There occurred to me afterwards, that there was a problem or at least curious things with the above narrative as provided by the NTS. George Bruce bought the concession from the Cistercians in 1575, which was after the installation of Protestantism in Scotland. I need to investigate who actually sold him the mining rights.
Anyway, thanks to the National Trust Cultoss is now a preserved town with some streets cobbled in such a manner as make the Paris-Roubaix seem like seamless tarmac to cyclists. The town and some of the buildings, especially Sir George Bruce’s “palace”, have been used in many film and TV productions including (sigh) Outlander.
Leaving Culross by the road past the ruined priory, I climbed away from the annoyingly variable coastal NCN route I had taken to Culross. My goal was another NCN route further inland. This proved to be an old railway bed (thank you Dr. Beeching) which brought me to Dunfermline in short order. There, I rejoined the NCN 1 North. This took me by country roads up a series hills arranged in steps up to a vista of Loch Leven and a whee! down to Kinloss, my goal for the night.
I then hung a left towards Rosyth where I caught sight of The HMS Prince of Wales, a new aircraft carrier being fitted out. Its twin islands are a distinctive feature of the class.
I stopped at the Ship Inn in Limekilns for a coffee. After the barmaid’s first attempt at a latte was far too weak, she became very apologetic. I dismissed it saying that far worse had happened on my trip than a weak latte. She asked what?, to which a replied the rain yesterday. We had a nice chat. The Ship Inn is a small place with probably a hundred or so labels of guest craft beers hanging from the beams. This is particularly impressive as the place only has three pumps for guest beers!
My goal was the National Trust for Scotland town of Culross. It has been restored to something vaguely approximately its glory days in the late 16th century when a George Bruce bought the coal mining rights from the Cistercian Priory, using the latest in high tech mining technology (a horse powered bucket chain) he made a lot of money and convinced James VI to make Culross a royal burgh. This gave George the opportunity to make more money. The good times came to an end when a storm flooded the mine (which extended under the Forth) and Sir George (as he had become) died in the same year. Culross declined after that until being preserved and restored by the National Trust starting in the 1930s.
There occurred to me afterwards, that there was a problem or at least curious things with the above narrative as provided by the NTS. George Bruce bought the concession from the Cistercians in 1575, which was after the installation of Protestantism in Scotland. I need to investigate who actually sold him the mining rights.
Anyway, thanks to the National Trust Cultoss is now a preserved town with some streets cobbled in such a manner as make the Paris-Roubaix seem like seamless tarmac to cyclists. The town and some of the buildings, especially Sir George Bruce’s “palace”, have been used in many film and TV productions including (sigh) Outlander.
Leaving Culross by the road past the ruined priory, I climbed away from the annoyingly variable coastal NCN route I had taken to Culross. My goal was another NCN route further inland. This proved to be an old railway bed (thank you Dr. Beeching) which brought me to Dunfermline in short order. There, I rejoined the NCN 1 North. This took me by country roads up a series hills arranged in steps up to a vista of Loch Leven and a whee! down to Kinloss, my goal for the night.
On the Fringe
I sent much of yesterday morning chilling in Mary’s flat. I feel a connection with her as she has a love of books and the spirit of a librarian. Seriously, she offered me a clipping from the Sunday Telegraph with an article about driving in the North of Scotland.
I eventually emerged into the fine rain to first buy a shirt at M&S, then a ticket for the bike and I from Edinburgh to London. Lunch at a Turkish kebab place near the South Bridge followed.
While was there, I poured over the Fringe Festival Program trying to decide which shows would tickle my fancy. The Fringe Festival has an unbelievable number of shows. To give you an idea, there are more than 300 venues, large and small. The shows are typically about 50 minutes. Performances start at about noon and run until quite late. Do the math, then try to decide among acts you haven’t heard of for the most part. I ended up selecting four shows that day.
Which was probably one too many.
The first was Camilla Cleese and Steve Hofstetter. They each did a stand-up set. The draw was of course Camilla, daughter of John Cleese. She has inherited her father’s height and introversion. Her father was also a source of her material. Both were very good.
The second show was A Very Brexit Musical put on by Cambridge University students. That was the only dud as I didn’t have enough knowledge to catch the references. It took me half the show to figure out that the PM who was daft enough to call the referendum was David Cameron. Boris Johnson was a too obvious buffoon in a bike helmet and high-viz vest. I also couldn’t relate to Elizabeth May as a vamp.
The next show was Police Cops by the Pretend Men. The Pretend Men are a three-man troupe of talented lunatics (and I say that with affection) who mercilessly parodied buddy cop films with skill and dexterity. Part of the performance involved dance. It also involved many character changes. Rave.
The last was the only show I had any reference to, and that was a review in the paper. Raymond and Mr. Timkins present Ham was a crazy show. They were miming a narrative to a very mixed soundtrack of popular song snippets which were appropriate to the various props presented with exquisite timing. So rave again.
Weather, meh.
I might just plan my next visit to Edinburgh to coincide with the Fringe. Damn sight better than Just for Laughs.
I eventually emerged into the fine rain to first buy a shirt at M&S, then a ticket for the bike and I from Edinburgh to London. Lunch at a Turkish kebab place near the South Bridge followed.
While was there, I poured over the Fringe Festival Program trying to decide which shows would tickle my fancy. The Fringe Festival has an unbelievable number of shows. To give you an idea, there are more than 300 venues, large and small. The shows are typically about 50 minutes. Performances start at about noon and run until quite late. Do the math, then try to decide among acts you haven’t heard of for the most part. I ended up selecting four shows that day.
Which was probably one too many.
The first was Camilla Cleese and Steve Hofstetter. They each did a stand-up set. The draw was of course Camilla, daughter of John Cleese. She has inherited her father’s height and introversion. Her father was also a source of her material. Both were very good.
The second show was A Very Brexit Musical put on by Cambridge University students. That was the only dud as I didn’t have enough knowledge to catch the references. It took me half the show to figure out that the PM who was daft enough to call the referendum was David Cameron. Boris Johnson was a too obvious buffoon in a bike helmet and high-viz vest. I also couldn’t relate to Elizabeth May as a vamp.
The next show was Police Cops by the Pretend Men. The Pretend Men are a three-man troupe of talented lunatics (and I say that with affection) who mercilessly parodied buddy cop films with skill and dexterity. Part of the performance involved dance. It also involved many character changes. Rave.
The last was the only show I had any reference to, and that was a review in the paper. Raymond and Mr. Timkins present Ham was a crazy show. They were miming a narrative to a very mixed soundtrack of popular song snippets which were appropriate to the various props presented with exquisite timing. So rave again.
Weather, meh.
I might just plan my next visit to Edinburgh to coincide with the Fringe. Damn sight better than Just for Laughs.
Saturday, 18 August 2018
On planes and trains
It was raining when I left North Berwick. The town has been a holiday haunt for many years. I passed one symbol of this in the form of a roofless stone church. It had been the local parish church for the Church of Scotland. However, the congregation had outgrown it, so they built a new one, recycling some of the materials from the old one. However, they left the shell because they thought it would be a nice romantic ruin for the tourists! This was circa 1880!
I was heading for Edinburgh, but as it was a short day, I decided to take in the Museum of Flight which was slightly off my route but well worth the detour. Among other things, it has G-BOAA, one of British Airways Concordes on display and their pride and joy. One of the guides was able to answer a question that had been in my mind since seeing another Concorde in Seattle: why didn’t they replace the big and heavy 1960s electronics with modern ones and then add a row or two of seats when they had to refurbish the planes after the Air France crash? It seems that the idea was explored but deemed too expensive. The museum has two other jetliners that I wasn’t allowed into. A BAC-111 and a Comet 4C. The Comet was parked next to one of the two Avro Vulcan bombers which actually used weapons in anger. During the Falklands War, it had made Black Buck raids. These involved an intricate series of inflight refuelings in which mandated tankers having to refuel other tankers in order to refuel tankers to refuel the bomber. On its last mission, this bomber damaged its refueling probe on the way back. This resulted in an emergency landing in Brazil. As Brazil was a neutral with Argentinian sympathies, the plane was interned for about a week, then released on the promise that it wouldn’t be used in the conflict again.
There were a number of other interesting exhibits including a real-time video about Loganair flying Islanders from Westray in the Orkneys to Papa Westray. This flight is the record books as the shortest scheduled flight at two minutes! In the Concorde Hangar, there was the forward fuselage of a Boeing 707 with an exhibit about the "glory days" of jet travel, particularly from the crews’ perspective. I was very surprised that in those days, in first class you not only got free drinks but also free cigarettes! I think I should have expected that one, particularly as I flew over in business class this time. Combined with the presentation of the elite clientele of the Concorde, it gave me a view of wealthy travellers. There was also a Panavia Tornado F3 on display. I was able to look under its fuselage and examine the recesses where it had carried air-to-air missiles semi-conformally. I had long been curious where the top fins went when missiles were carried like that. It turns out that there is a deeper bit of the recess to accommodate the fins.
Anyway, I enjoyed the museum longer than I expected. Consequently, I was behind schedule to get to cousin Lady Mary’s flat in Edinburgh and as more rain was threatening (it had cleared), I opted to take the train from Prestonpans into Edinburgh. Mary made me welcome and after supper, urged me to partake of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I took in a stand-up routine nominally about sport by James Nokise, a Kiwi of Samoan extraction. The jokes were good but the venue was overly hot. I am currently in the Cumberland Bar from which I have previously blogged. That time, the UK was temporarily without a Prime Minister.
I was heading for Edinburgh, but as it was a short day, I decided to take in the Museum of Flight which was slightly off my route but well worth the detour. Among other things, it has G-BOAA, one of British Airways Concordes on display and their pride and joy. One of the guides was able to answer a question that had been in my mind since seeing another Concorde in Seattle: why didn’t they replace the big and heavy 1960s electronics with modern ones and then add a row or two of seats when they had to refurbish the planes after the Air France crash? It seems that the idea was explored but deemed too expensive. The museum has two other jetliners that I wasn’t allowed into. A BAC-111 and a Comet 4C. The Comet was parked next to one of the two Avro Vulcan bombers which actually used weapons in anger. During the Falklands War, it had made Black Buck raids. These involved an intricate series of inflight refuelings in which mandated tankers having to refuel other tankers in order to refuel tankers to refuel the bomber. On its last mission, this bomber damaged its refueling probe on the way back. This resulted in an emergency landing in Brazil. As Brazil was a neutral with Argentinian sympathies, the plane was interned for about a week, then released on the promise that it wouldn’t be used in the conflict again.
There were a number of other interesting exhibits including a real-time video about Loganair flying Islanders from Westray in the Orkneys to Papa Westray. This flight is the record books as the shortest scheduled flight at two minutes! In the Concorde Hangar, there was the forward fuselage of a Boeing 707 with an exhibit about the "glory days" of jet travel, particularly from the crews’ perspective. I was very surprised that in those days, in first class you not only got free drinks but also free cigarettes! I think I should have expected that one, particularly as I flew over in business class this time. Combined with the presentation of the elite clientele of the Concorde, it gave me a view of wealthy travellers. There was also a Panavia Tornado F3 on display. I was able to look under its fuselage and examine the recesses where it had carried air-to-air missiles semi-conformally. I had long been curious where the top fins went when missiles were carried like that. It turns out that there is a deeper bit of the recess to accommodate the fins.
Anyway, I enjoyed the museum longer than I expected. Consequently, I was behind schedule to get to cousin Lady Mary’s flat in Edinburgh and as more rain was threatening (it had cleared), I opted to take the train from Prestonpans into Edinburgh. Mary made me welcome and after supper, urged me to partake of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I took in a stand-up routine nominally about sport by James Nokise, a Kiwi of Samoan extraction. The jokes were good but the venue was overly hot. I am currently in the Cumberland Bar from which I have previously blogged. That time, the UK was temporarily without a Prime Minister.
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