Scotland2005: Glasgow Day 2

The nice thing about being on vacation with no real plans is that you can change what plans you do have at the drop of a hat. We woke this morning to a weather forecast that predicted dire rain and wind tomorrow (Saturday), which was the day we were planning on renting motorcycles. We figured that my Mother had been practicing her power to brew up storms whenever we want to go riding, and had conjured up a doozy, but given the massive time change, her timing was a probably a bit off, and she didn't realize we could change plans quickly. So we called the Harley dealer and rented a pair of bikes for the day.

Taking a cab over to the dealer we realized how much this city is like a "city". Unlike Edinburgh, which feels a bit small, Glasgow hums and rushes about like a small New York.



We picked up the bikes, which included far too much paperwork for insurance and promises not to sue etc.., as well as helmets, and leather coats and rain pants! The whole shebang. The rental manager, Benny Andersen (NOT one of the group ABBA) who is also a road captain for the local HOG chapter helped us map out a neat ride and pointed us out the door to the M-8, the major Edinburgh/Glasgow freeway. Nothing like a rush to get started, and a "backwards" freeway sure did the trick! We only had to go a few miles to our exit -- or as they are called here "junction". Because it was backwards we took the wrong ramp -- or so I thought, it really was the right one, but in my haste I bailed off too early (just like on the Tube in London) and we wound up in the drive of a retirement center, with a whole living room full of seniors looking out at these two American blokes in full black leather on noisy bikes invading their quiet respite.

After figuring out we were right the first time, (and now owing Tony $20), we doubled back and headed out of town. The route that Benny, the rental manager plotted with us, took us north and east, up through some charming small towns. We stopped in one for a coke and some "digestive biscuits", or what the Scots call cookies. We pulled into the small supermarket and walked in and one of the cashiers said "those your 'arley's mates?" We said yes, and she shrieked "I 'ave tae see" and left her spot, with customers in line mind you, and ran out to look. We quickly paid for our cokes and went out too, where we found her literally fawning over the bikes and going on and on about "'arley's" being the best bikes and how much she wanted one. We let her pose on them, and then another checker came out and told her to get her "arse" inside. This theme was to be repeated several times today whenever we stopped. I can only surmise that "'arley's" aren't that numerous here.

It was a gray and misty morning, and very much fall. We didn't need the rain pants but it was damp, and the air smelled wonderful -- kind of wet, cool, and the smell of fall leaves. We wound up a small Glen (what the Scots call a canyon) and over a high pass with wonderful views up into the Highland hills. There were sheep grazing, small waterfalls, and desolate moors as far as you could see, with the peaks of the Highlands rising up in the distance. The road was barely wider than a car (the Hummer would have taken up the whole road), but we didn't pass a single car for a long time.

We dropped down into a valley where we picked up a road that headed due east into Stirling. This is where William Wallace won his first big battle against the English, and where Robert Bruce fought the battle that won independence from England. We had visited the castle here and the Wallace monument last time we were in Scotland, and our goal was to go further east a bit and visit the ruins of Castle Campbell.

We stopped at a small pub along the way -- in a very small village, where there must not be much entertainment, as the "'arley's" caused quite a stir here. In the pub there was a poster for a big event tonite – a comedian and two strippers! Only a £7 cover! I was picturing "Full Monty", but we resisted the temptation to linger.

Castle Campbell was a bit further down the road and up Dollar Glen. I don't think I've seen a prettier setting for a castle ruin than this one. We had it to ourselves, and wandered about for about 30 minutes enjoying the scenery before heading back to the valley and back West.



Benny had suggested we take the very scenic highway (if you can call it that) back through the Trossach National Park and the Queen Elizabeth Forest. As we left the small town of Doune (where the Castle that was used as the backdrop for Monty Python's Holy Grail movie, and which we visited last time), it started to sprinkle and we saw we were headed into some clouds, so we stopped and put on our rain pants. I was having second thoughts about going up into the mountains, but we thought we'd press on a bit and see how the weather was. We are both glad we did, as the ride turned more spectacular by the mile, and the weather cleared up completely. We rode for miles along lochs and up and over passes on some narrow twisty, perfect for motorcycle roads, and passed no more than a handful of cars.

Navigating was a bit tricky though -- with Benny's help we were able to write up directions so we didn't have to pull out the map, but the road signs are quite different than what we are used to and the roads very narrow with no place to stop and pull out the map, so you kind of go by instinct. Fortunately our instincts were pretty good -- most of the time. I had to keep reminding myself to NOT stop at intersections in the wrong lane.

Benny suggested a small shop in a town right after we got out of the Park for "the best steak sandwiches in the world". However, the small butcher was closed by the time we got there, and the only other place in town was having a special on fresh Haggis -- so we held our noses and kept riding.

We went back up and over the same high pass we went north on this morning, and dropped down into Glasgow at dusk in a wonderful glow. All in all we put on only 130 miles or so -- the distances here are not great, and you can get out into the country very quickly. The roads are small and the speed limit is maxed out at about 40. It takes a long time to cover very little ground -- but on a motorcycle, that's the point. In medieval times the knights had their trusty steed and wore their armour when exploring the wild moors of the Scottish highlands. As modern Knights, we have our trusty V-twin 1200cc bikes and our armour of leather, but the feeling of riding along a ridge with the wind in your hair is the same now as it was 500 years ago I expect.

We'll take the bikes back tomorrow UNLESS it turns out to be sunny and my Mother's storm generating abilities have failed to materialize, and we may just keep them for another day. After all, we are on vacation, and we can change our plans at the drop of a hat.

From the Yee-ha Internet Cafe in Glasgow

Gary and Tony