Evening Cycle Ride. Hilltop Views. Cruise Ships, Sunset Photo Gallery.

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Common Spotted Orchid. A few weeks ago I went a cycle ride with Anne in the evening around 7:00pm. It was too warm and tough to walk during the day under blue skies and a relentless sun so we decided this particular evening to go out at night. Incidentally, now that it's the start of September and into Autumn this is the first time in four months ( May, June, July, and August ) that I've started wearing a jumper and trousers again in the house and garden ( to the relief of the neighbours, no doubt.) For four glorious months it has been comfortably warm in just shorts and a T-shirt- nothing else... and sitting outside in the full glare of the sun... just shorts... or a well placed sock.... for modesty purposes. A normal spring and summer for countries around the Mediterranean Sea but certainly not the norm for chilly, wind prone, Scotland... so I've made the most of it, especially during lockdown.  An exceptional year so far and the 4th warmest and driest spring and summer on record apparently for Scotland... 3rd warmest and driest for Ireland/ Northern Ireland  as it's across that curving band where the golden curtain of heat fell this year thanks to a static jet stream. England, Wales and London meanwhile got our usual summer weather, cool, windy and wet. YA BEAUTY!!!!!  THERE IS A GOD!!!!

The flowers and vegetation have responded to this generosity of golden light pouring down and evening walks have been a very pleasant experience with meadows filled with all sorts of wild nature. Buttercup meadow above.

A Common Lizard below.

Our route from Anniesland took us along the Forth and Clyde Canal, seen here, and we were in no hurry, watching swifts and bats skimming overhead at the same time, both competing for flies and other insects attracted to this corridor of still water. ( this was a later shot though taken on the return leg... on the way out it was too early and sunny to see the bats. Needless to say both creatures were far too quick to capture a clear image on my limited response slow shutter speed camera.  ) 

We were heading for a grassy hill above Clydebank which has good panoramic views over Glasgow, Paisley and the Kilpatrick Hills and Gleniffer Braes. Radnor Park Flats here.

 Timed it just right for the sun hitting the town of Paisley, seen here, and Glasgow Airport, ( planes and white terminal buildings clearly visible) which is closer to Paisley than Glasgow but still only 20 minutes away from the city centre district- under 10 minutes by car or airport bus along the motorway.

Looking in the other direction one of the Q.E. Hospital with helicopter pad on the roof and the three cruise ships berthed for a year at Govan docks due to Covid 19 laying them off. These have now left Glasgow and the River Clyde and are back working hard again, taking passengers on holidays around the world's oceans, tropical climes, and sun-drenched ports but apparently the crews on board got on well with the locals here and large crowds lined the banks of the river to see them off, one by one, as tourist ships of this size normally only dock at  Greenock in deeper water, nearer the coast, and it's a sight that might not happen again this far up the river.

 Sunset over hi rise flats and cantilever crane.

The sunset itself wasn't too shabby, evolving through several different looks...

Ending in an unusual upward beam that neither of us had ever seen before. Quite dramatic.

 Mind you sunsets over June and July have been wonderful in general... so here's a selection....

Is Heaven above...

Molten Orange....

The upper realm...

Renfrewshire glory over the woodland ridges....

 Night Town. Midsummer.   10:00pm approaches...Cat and fox time to be out and about. The furry children of the night with the sharp toothed flittermice whirring in the skies above. The seductive but short hunting hours before dawn.

We returned by cycling slowly down Great Western Road in a long descending freewheel and as it was 10:00pm on a weekend it was quiet and still with very few cars, which suited us perfectly. Passing Drumchapel here.

 It was still surprisingly warm and humid given the late hour so a light brief shower of drizzle didn't dampen our spirits at all and we remained cycling in tee shirt mode, no jackets necessary. After almost four months of continuous sunshine, nearly every day, it was gently refreshing and both we and the greenery appreciated it like never before. 

 

You could almost feel the rain hungry trees breathe a sight of relief.... A 'deep south' evening with a hint of 'tequila mockingbird' perhaps as we got a waft of exotic perfume from the wild dog roses lining the pavements hereabouts. Sultry....in fact.

 It only lasted long enough to dampen the streets... and grass.. and us... though before it petered out again which has been the story of rain falling this spring and summer generally.... very little... apart from one recent flash flood.

 Sparkling streets were an added bonus for a photographer and also helped us see the road ahead for any potential obstacles as the natural light diminished. As was my fair and smiling companion. Anne definitely won the wet T- shirt competition hands down.... sadly I just looked fatter than normal :o(          Note to self: Need to hit the bran flakes, brown rice, and porridge for a few sensation empty, cruel, taste free weeks. Food hedonism always has a price to pay.... No salt, no milk, no butter, no sugar....no joy.....just plain brown rice every day... iron will... and a spoon....(big sigh.)

The End....

But I'll maybe put the brown rice diet off until next week.... :o)      Use up the good stuff first....

 As food hedonism is soooooooo much fun....Rhubarb chunks and raspberry ripple ice cream...

Mugdock Country Park. Kilmardinny Loch. Flash Flooding In Bearsden.

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Mugdock Loch. A wild corner of Mugdock Country Park... A couple of weeks ago I motored up to Mugdock Country Park, lying to the north of the City of Glasgow. Although usually a popular location for walkers and family groups thunderstorms and lightning strikes were predicted for the early afternoon.

 Water lilies. As I'd seen forecasts like that before on many occasions that didn't amount to very much in the end, I tossed my wet weather gear in the car undaunted and set off for a walk.

 Incidentally, I noticed this sign for the first time (maybe a new addition) walking around the loch and was interested to learn that the still sizable loch seen today is only one third the size of its former glory. In the early 1800s, the age of the great landscaped estates, this much larger and shallower loch  was considered too big and inconvenient so was drained by blasting away a retaining sill of rock. The sizable loch you walk round today is only the deepest part that remained. ( see map above for original size- apparently caused by a town sized block of static ice left behind by glaciers sinking into the land at this point through weight alone.)  

It stayed dry for a few hours and I enjoyed this normally popular country park in splendid isolation, only a few hardy souls braving the forecast of impending doom.

The meadows were at their finest with waist high golden grass and fragrant meadow-sweet  flowering everywhere.

 Yet plenty of mature trees for shelter should the heavens open in a rush. Glasgow highlighted in the distance here.

I had a good walk around my favourite spots, view of the lesser Kilpatrick Hills here, practically having the park to myself, which was a great expansive feeling during this long year of Covid on our increasingly crowded, trapped little island. 

 Two other visitors seen in the distance. 

 Part of the long rock sill keeping the remaining loch in its bowl, presumably a lower part of this further on was removed by blasting to drain the loch to its present size.

Anyway, I enjoyed a pleasant couple of hours wandering round this extensive park which unlike most country parks in Scotland's Central Belt  has a far wilder atmosphere to it and more places where you can easily lose yourself away from any crowds, even on a bank holiday, thanks to its impressive size and complexity of ever changing terrain. 

 Lightning flashes and rumbles of thunder started to make an appearance however by mid afternoon, which is a fairly typical summer weather pattern I know well from my alpine backpacking and camping trips abroad so just in case I wandered back to the car to avoid the possibility of flooded roads, which I've experienced near here in the past.

 I got as far as the boundary between Bearsden and Milngavie before torrential rain flooded the main road, as seen here. Being brave- or stupid- I decided flooding on this scale was worth a few photos so I parked up, on a small hill, at nearby Kilmardinny Loch. ( another former, smaller grand estate with its own smaller kettle loch. Giant chunks of ice must have stranded all across here in isolated numbers judging by the dozen or so small attractive lochs found in this vicinity. With a few low slung cars already stuck in the floods and traffic queues forming behind them I thought I'd be smart and avoid all that hassle with another walk round this second loch of the day. 

 On a previous thunderstorm occasion a few years ago this cautious approach saved the day as I went a walk of an hour or so and by the time I did eventually drive off the traffic queues and flooding had receded. This was a different beast however and the torrential rain, which seemed localized to this one small area only increased in intensity. Not surprisingly, I had this walk to myself  as well. Everyone else hiding indoors or stuck in traffic. Even on the journey up here before the thunderstorms numerous road works, temporary traffic lights and queues made it seem much longer than the map miles would suggest.

 Kilmardinny Loch and wet ducks. The rain was so intense walking around here it reminded me of  the French Pyrenees trip I devoted a chapter of my book Autohighography to as that was an amazing adventure with biblical thunderstorms experienced in the high mountains and deep canyons almost every afternoon, appearing around 3:00pm like clockwork, wading ankle deep on the paths within minutes after a bone dry sunny morning. Now it was happening here, in cosy suburbia, with the type of alpine mountain weather, thunder and lightning strikes not usually associated with Central Belt lowland Scotland. A months worth of rain must have landed on this area in the space of three hours- maybe far more than that. A taste of future years ahead perhaps as I personally think our escalating weather woes, which we've known about for a least three decades now will take a herculean effort to slow down, more than any radical change of lifestyle and habits can make a dent in with both poles and permafrost zones melting already. Hard choices ahead for poor humanity. No choices ahead for the poor dwindling animals stuck outdoors, caught within the effects of our avoidable transgressions.

 It did make for some interesting special effects though as the rain, thunder and lightning crashing around this ten foot high Gruffalo carving made it feel like I was on some waterlogged primitive tribal island just waiting for King Kong to arrive. Luckily, I was still semi dry at this point as I had full waterproofs on... and a black umbrella raised above me. If it's good enough for Indian gentlemen during the monsoon its OK in my book. ( Incidentally, I used to get a fair bit of stick decades ago for carrying a small foldaway black pocket umbrella if it was pouring down outside. This item was greatly frowned on by your typical hard school council estate teenager and even adult alpha males, as male pride dictated you got soaked going to school, sat in class dripping copiously on the floor,  then walked home soaking wet yet again, with a cold... survival of the fittest 1960s and 1970s style. Even wearing a hat or having a hood up was frowned on as being totally soft and unmanly. I used to envy the girls, sitting dry in class, umbrellas at their feet, but knew I'd be a target if I used one myself in my particular school of young assassins. It took a presumably gay, or just more intelligent, fellow pupil  who was very brave, or had a death wish, to persuade me to try one by his groundbreaking example. Unlike him I wasn't protecting fashionable clothes- it just made sense to stay dry. Unlike him I didn't get beaten up as I was very careful about hiding it away before I reached the school itself. My near neighbour and fellow classmate went even further in his macho approach to outdoor attire, attending school each day, winter, summer, snow, sleet, hail, frost, in just a thin white cotton shirt, blazer, and rubber gym shoes. He was completely nuts though... or had zero money for warmer clothes. In his book anyone different got a kicking... probably through jealousy.... or a deep sense of injustice .....or just to keep warm.... but I got a pardon somehow. No idea why. ( The Gruffalo, for anyone wondering, is a character in a popular children's book here.)

 The deluge did make the various wood carved animals along the trail stand out though, sparkling as if painted with clear varnish.

Even the older models. After my walk around this second loch I was curious to find a better way out through the floods so I stayed on foot to try to find a clear route through the back streets. Unfortunately Bearsden and Milngavie run over drumlins so the whole district has steep streets, hilltops, dips and hollows.

Although my car was safe on its hilltop I soon found out I was trapped on an island in suburbia as most of the surrounding hollows were under water, so deep the police had already cordoned several minor roads off altogether.

 

So I went back and had lunch in the car. Another wait -another heavy thunderstorm. By this time I was getting slightly concerned as the water levels were increasing not subsiding.

 I stopped here briefly under this mature tree on my walk as marble sized hailstones were damaging my trusty black umbrella at this point so I wanted more shelter. This was during thunder and lightning storm number three. The heaviest and last one of the day. Such was the intensity of the rain and hail it took 15 minutes from dry road to this level of standing water, full drains gushing upwards and ankle deep streams racing down steep tarmac. No streams or rivers anywhere near so just water from gardens, minor roads, and driveways hitting this point. It was hard to believe how fast it arrived here. So far I'd spotted several stranded cars in floods so I didn't fancy being one of them. Eventually, when the rain stopped, I set off but even with skillful caution I still had to go through one more major flood on the switchback near Anniesland Cross before I could breathe easy again... or so I thought.

Like a lot of other cars and traffic I made the mistake of turning into Fulton Street beside Temple, thinking that I'd left the worst of it behind. No way was I getting across this one though. Two stranded vehicles already trapped. Once again I had no option but to double back, join yet more nose to tail traffic and find another route home. It took three hours to travel 10 miles that day. An adventure but not one I'd want to repeat. On the plus side I did not see any damaged property or homes just flooded roads and several cars but with this level of flooding happening so quickly there might have been some somewhere else.

 A hot shower, a change into dry clothes, then a tasty self prepared meal rounded off an eventful day.

Dumbarton Rock Walk. Part Two. Musings.

 

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The second half of our coastal walk through Dumbarton found us on waste ground heading for Dumbarton Rock and Dumbarton FC. Although I found the new housing in the previous post interesting I liked this stretch more as it was full summer and any 'waste ground' is never wasted by nature which usually reclaims areas discarded like this as her own lost child within a few short weeks. One day she will put her arms around me and I'll return there as well.

 A study in pastel here. Although I like bold primary colours in the main there is something extraordinarily beautiful and delicate in the softer, muted shades of pastel. As ever, nature perfected the technique of working in pastels first, long before any artist.

 

 

Clematis flourishing in the wild.

 Woodlands of the imagination.

I was keen to show Anne and Belinda Dumbarton Rock. The castle was shut due to covid or scaffolding work, not sure which, but it was the rock climbing walls I was more interested in. Don't know if it's the same for everyone but chapters in my life tend to be marked by outdoor activities rather than work or relationship related bookmarks. School years, college, before and after London. the Munro bagging years, the rock climbing years, the backpacking years, the coastal walks and kayaking years ( an enjoyable but necessary choice after knee damage sustained through 25 years of increasingly heavy rucksacks) the central belt sunshine and hedonism years (another deliberate move after decades of rain, wind, and mist on the mountains most weekends and an increasing desire to do exactly what I wanted for a change in fine weather instead of the majority vote compromise required in any group situation... which was nearly always hills, hills, mountains, mountains or hills... in poor or indifferent weather. ) Although I've had a wide variety of different jobs over the years most of my pleasurable moments have occurred away from work, in my spare time, giving the best memory markers, although looking back, sometimes they do seem like they happened to another person entirely as I have a habit of trying many different things, given the chance. If I'd had loads of money and friends less obsessed by hills I may have indulged in many more sports. Wind surfing, sailing, longboarding, European city exploration, collecting different countries and exotic cultures, living abroad to experience all that...living in different cities... a vast collection of exotic girlfriends in my phonebook :o).....the wish list is endless...or maybe not- just a matter of luck and the opportunities you get in life... but I've done alright for a kid from the council schemes. No complaints at all.    

  "show us your best moves then." they demanded with a smirk. I had to admit that even 30 years ago in my flexible prime Dumbarton Rock was one venue I never wanted to get far off the ground, after an early scare.  Six to eight feet was desirable on the boulders or the sea level traverse but anything higher than that brought out a strong sense of impending doom due to natural polish on the basalt and the level of the grades. I did get up onto the biggest boulder, seen here, a few times by various routes then promptly slipped on the summit first time out. Luckily it was completely flat where I fell as my feet went without any warning and I landed painfully on my back, legs in the air. Falling off it completely in any direction would have been really serious as the ground is covered in smaller rocks, hidden by vegetation but still sticking up like a covered over animal trap.. The fact that I'd slipped so suddenly on what was essentially flat ground, even with climbing shoes on to aid grip, demonstrated the bar of soap properties of the rock here and put me right off going any higher. The three notable classics of the crag... Stonefall Crack HVS, Longbow E1, and Desperado HVS on the cliff behind the boulders all seemed harder than the grade implied as they felt vertical and strenuous in the extreme for a V.diff to VS climber like me. And that was the easy stuff here. I did like the sea level traverse around to the castle railings though and the general situation of the place. How long have the boulders rested here? One thousand years? Since the last ice age? And how long will they continue to sit here, above or below the waves? Another million... or until another cataclysmic event moves them further or wears them down eventually into dust. Even stone immortality succumbs at some point down the line.This rock has been a defensive fortress since the stone age: will these hard glacier resistant boulders outlast the twilight of humanity to experience other earthly creatures clambering over them in the far distant future?  I would not bet against it.

 Sea level traverse around the base of the cliff.

The main face holds the hardest routes that only elite climbers attempt, boasting some of the UK's hardest rock climbs so we rarely observed anyone on them during visits. Overhanging and comparatively long routes in the high E numbers put most people off.

Maybe it's because the protruding cliffs/rocks in this area were scraped clean by glaciers in the distant past but the dense compact surface and sloping holds, clearly seen in this photo, do little for the confidence in achieving upward progress.

That and the fact that if you did get to the top of the route the way down was rarely obvious, either by dubious abseil or a steep descent on grass above vertical cliffs. Other climbing venues, like the Hawcraig, The Whangie, Auchenstarry,or Craigmore felt relatively safe, well used, and almost friendly. Dumbarton never did.... yet I liked the scenery around it.

Next up was a small wood which has been touched by covid, The human variation of it anyway.

 I suppose if you have children keeping them amused and occupied indoors and out over the past year would have been a challenge and some of the efforts on display had an almost pagan element I liked. For some reason I thought of Dougal and the Magic Roundabout here.

 Anne thought this one looked like a forlorn stood up bride, holding a bouquet of flowers. Aw.

By this stage the weather was changing with a storm coming in. It was turning grey and overcast with a breeze appearing, sounding the various wind-chimes with a mournful tinkle. Previously, I've been a bit contemptuous encountering all this extraneous tree decoration everywhere, most of it poorly done or haphazardly thought out but this felt different. Most of it was fairly artistic, the area was devoid of people, and after a year hanging up this stuff had more of a feel of an art installation or a witches cottage in a remote area rather than just assorted tat. 

Home made house.

Pagan offerings.

The stuff of dreams...

 Happy cow.

The woodland realm....

 Best pals  hanging out together...

After this interlude we continued along the coastal path...

Following the River Clyde estuary upstream as far as the right hand side of this photo... 

 

By this time a light drizzle was starting to sweep in but the last three months have been unusually dry and sunny so we welcomed it's cool reviving touch and it made us realise how fortunate we are to live in a country with normally cool temperatures and abundant rainfall.

Eventually the path, which had been good up until now, split in two with the larger branch leading under this railway bridge. People over six feet tall might have to crawl through here but I just managed it bent double, head, back, and bum touching the underside of the concrete.

 this path led us up an arrow straight lane to the edge of the houses in Dumbarton. Given enough energy you could easily carry on here into the Dumbarton hills and woods of the Overtoun House Estate via a hole in the wall just to the left of Strowan's Well Road next to Gruggies Burn, which you follow upwards through the trees, (the hills and woods seen above) but we were getting knackered by this point and the rain was increasing.

 

So we finished off a great day with a taste of Italy instead. A multi pack choice of this plus seedless grapes, dates, sliced kiwi fruit, boiled eggs, and chicken breast which all went down rather well. Thank you good companions.