Mabie Forest

My first job was in a bookstore: as a voracious reader, they saw me so often they offered to hire me. Here we were, in “Scotland's National Book Town” (Wigtown); how could we leave without visiting any of the shops?

The catch was that today's route would be our longest (100 km); normally we'd be rolling by 9:00 a.m., but the shops wouldn't open before that. Our guides heard our pleas: we rode into town, agreeing to rendezvous to begin our journey at 10:00 a.m.

Some years ago, I admitted that the best treatment for my book-buying habit was not to buy more bookcases. The contemporary approach is electronic, and having once run out of reading material while visiting a small town, many years ago, I appreciate the merits of the e-book. The Book Shop was well-stocked with both books and attitude.

On this trip, I had brought along a paperback novel with every intention of leaving it for someone else to enjoy. I was delighted to choose another title from a hotel's community shelf, in trade. (Iris Murdoch. Why not? I haven't read any Iris Murdoch.)

It was cloudy and cool, and thankfully—dry. Despite the distance ahead of us, I was relaxed. Finally, I could feel that my fitness was ramping up. Too bad I wasn't in this shape before the trip started ...

We stopped at a vista point overlooking a steep ravine at the Glen of the Bar. I was surprised to see a lot of logging, even on the steep hillsides; but evidently the trees had been planted—not native—and are dying. On this next-to-last day of riding, I finally remembered to keep my water bottle at hand, so it wouldn't get topped off prematurely (diluting my electrolyte mix).

We passed a few lakes today, and stopped for lunch at the Clatteringshaws Loch visitor center. The roadway was rough, in preparation for resurfacing. Our timing was either well-planned (or lucky), because the road would be closed to all traffic for two days—starting tomorrow. (Yikes.)

As we cycled quietly through the woodlands of Galloway Forest Park, we saw cautionary signs about the red squirrel (but no actual squirrels). Some of us spotted a couple of wild goats, and were excited to sight several red kites in flight, above us.

We were managing to keep up a good pace today, with a hope of making a late-afternoon stop at a farm shop (despite our late start this morning). We passed through an area where a new gas pipeline (linking Ireland and Scotland) is being dug into the fields. We often found ourselves on one-lane rural roads, crossing paths with giant tractors. I must say that, throughout this trip, I've shared the road with polite and patient drivers. Not one toot of a horn. Not one microaggressive acceleration.

We traveled a stretch of EuroVelo 1. The routes programmed into our Garmins kept us on course, though (amusingly) sometimes provided guidance like this: “Continue to Road.” [Uh-huh.]

We paused in Laurieston at a roadside memorial to the novelist S.R. Crockett. Really, you just never know what you'll find along the way; there's nothing like a bicycle to lead to such discoveries. Curiously, the accompanying placard included an illustration of a man pedaling a large trike, with a child in front (the author, and his daughter)—evidently from his book Sweetheart Travellers.

Conversation over dinner one night had turned to “How many bike jerseys do you have?” [Uh oh ... I don't want to answer that.] Before I fell asleep, I worked up a tally. [Um, quite a few .. and now one more.] We all had a new Wilderness Scotland jersey, but some riders were keen to add more local color to their collection, so we visited  a bike shop in Castle Douglas.

There were two things I enjoyed about our brief visit to the town. First was an electronic sign that flashed their speed at drivers exceeding the limit—but lit up with a bright green smiley face as I approached. Second was this sign in the bike shop's window, which sums things up quite nicely:

I was intrigued by another sign, promoting a specialized financing program for purchasing bicycles and related gear: Ride It Away. If money is an obstacle, you might take out a loan to buy a car; why not a bike?

We rolled into the parking lot at the Loch Arthur Creamery and Farm Shop with ample time to relax on their patio with our cakes and cookies and pots of tea, content to know that we were a short distance (a little over seven miles) from finishing our ride.

The day ended with one final climb to our hotel, and much excitement for those in the group who had just completed their first-ever 100 km ride. For me, this was the longest ride of the year to date: 100 km (62.4 miles), with a modest 2,505 feet of climbing.

If this adventure has a theme song, it was part of Sunday's road-trip playlist: The Acoustic Motorbike (Luka Bloom):

I never thought I could have come this far
Through miles of mountains, valleys, streams
This is the right stuff filling my dreams

Exactly.