Sally, our hostess at Marchbankwood Guest House in Beattock, tells us about her 2 adopted children, Samantha and Callum, aged 6 & 3, and how much she enjoys running her bed and breakfast business.
"How do you manage to take Samantha to school?" I ask. Sally explains that she does a rota with neighbours (neighbours? I don't see any houses nearby), and of course she is available to pick up in the afternoon.
"What a wonderful environment for the children to grow up in," I comment. And it is. A vast area of lawn, and grassy bank, to play on, and a wild wood to explore.
We don't see much of Alistair, Sally's husband/partner - he's an accountant working from home. But we really like Sally, who is full of Scottish warmth and hospitality.
At breakfast we meet a family who have just finished a week's break in the Scottish islands. The mother, in her fifties, works in the patents office. It sounds a very important job. Her husband is an IT specialist but it sounds as if his job involves outsourcing (whatever that is) and is not very fulfilling. The daughter is training to be an actuary, having done a Maths degree at Cambridge. The daughter's boyfriend doesn't say anything. Later in the day, Reg comments,
"They were an intelligent family, at breakfast." Indeed they were.
As we leave, Sally slips us a Crunchie and a Mars bar. "For your elevenses," she says.
Rain is in the air; we put on our Gortex jackets. After a couple of miles cycling we reach the "B" road to Abington, 18 miles away. We hope to have our Sunday lunch there - it's the first town we'll get to. It doesn't seem as if there will be a coffee stop today. Not only that, we want get to the Abington Hotel while they are still serving lunch, as it's the only place to eat for miles around, as far as we can tell.
The rain falls more heavily for a while; we stop to put on overtrousers and overshoes; however the rain soon eases up. Knowing when to don our wet gear is sometimes difficult, and actually putting it on (and taking it off) is annoying and time consuming.
I'm a bit "gritchy grotch" this morning. Yesterday Reg looked at his "Ride with GPS" statistics and told me that it would be mostly hills today. Well, that's what I remember him saying.
"No, what I said was, the GPS graph shows hills mainly in the first 10 miles."
"No, you said 'mostly hills today'. This hill is worse than Shap. It just goes on and on." You can tell I haven't had my cup of coffee today.
"Well, don't blame me! And anyway, it's not worse than Shap. We'll be going down hill in a couple of miles."
The realisation that these hills won't go on all day lifts my spirits, and I cycle much faster when we reach the downhill sections of road. With the wind behind us, we're soon at at the Abington Hotel. As we approach the hotel, I spot a convenience store which sells everything, including sandwiches. I buy some for our tea.
It's all very old-fashioned inside. There are lots of tables set up for dinner, but only few people dining. It's a limited Sunday lunch menu - a choice of starters, then beef, or beef. Or chicken steaks and chips, or a veggie option. We wait ages for our lunch to be served. When it comes, to be honest, it's mediocre, with no green vegetables.
We manage to turn heads when our Sat Nav lady, in the middle of lunch, says in a very loud voice,
"In a quarter of a mile, turn left!"
It's raining when we leave the hotel. On with the wet weather gear again. Reg is really pleased with his black Marigold gloves, and the woolen ones inside. They keep his hands completely dry. Berry, I'm really happy with the half-finger gloves you kindly gave me.
We have about 18 miles to go, to get to our destination. We would have stopped for a cuppa from our flask, but there is no where to sit down in the dry. We decide to press on. We see a tractor parked outside someone's house in a little street, as you do. I take a photo for Arlie.
We cycle through beautiful hills and fields, gradually climbing to the small town of Carnwath. It's still raining heavily; Reg comments that the only part of his body that is wet are his legs. Same here - our overtrousers are not the best.
Finally, we arrived at The Robertson Arms Hotel, Carnwath. We put our bikes around the back of the pub, lock them up, and cover our saddles. We take our panniers into the warm and dry & our hostess takes our soaking outer garments, saying she will dry them for us in her hot cupboard overnight.
Our room is spacious and comfortable. We've arrived much earlier than usual - 5.30 pm (that was the lack of coffee break). I have to take everything out of my wet panniers to enable the panniers to dry out; the clothes inside are dry in their plastic bags.
We have our sandwiches, crisps and fruit, so can enjoy an evening chilling out in our room,
"How do you manage to take Samantha to school?" I ask. Sally explains that she does a rota with neighbours (neighbours? I don't see any houses nearby), and of course she is available to pick up in the afternoon.
"What a wonderful environment for the children to grow up in," I comment. And it is. A vast area of lawn, and grassy bank, to play on, and a wild wood to explore.
We don't see much of Alistair, Sally's husband/partner - he's an accountant working from home. But we really like Sally, who is full of Scottish warmth and hospitality.
At breakfast we meet a family who have just finished a week's break in the Scottish islands. The mother, in her fifties, works in the patents office. It sounds a very important job. Her husband is an IT specialist but it sounds as if his job involves outsourcing (whatever that is) and is not very fulfilling. The daughter is training to be an actuary, having done a Maths degree at Cambridge. The daughter's boyfriend doesn't say anything. Later in the day, Reg comments,
"They were an intelligent family, at breakfast." Indeed they were.
As we leave, Sally slips us a Crunchie and a Mars bar. "For your elevenses," she says.
Rain is in the air; we put on our Gortex jackets. After a couple of miles cycling we reach the "B" road to Abington, 18 miles away. We hope to have our Sunday lunch there - it's the first town we'll get to. It doesn't seem as if there will be a coffee stop today. Not only that, we want get to the Abington Hotel while they are still serving lunch, as it's the only place to eat for miles around, as far as we can tell.
The rain falls more heavily for a while; we stop to put on overtrousers and overshoes; however the rain soon eases up. Knowing when to don our wet gear is sometimes difficult, and actually putting it on (and taking it off) is annoying and time consuming.
I'm a bit "gritchy grotch" this morning. Yesterday Reg looked at his "Ride with GPS" statistics and told me that it would be mostly hills today. Well, that's what I remember him saying.
"No, what I said was, the GPS graph shows hills mainly in the first 10 miles."
"No, you said 'mostly hills today'. This hill is worse than Shap. It just goes on and on." You can tell I haven't had my cup of coffee today.
"Well, don't blame me! And anyway, it's not worse than Shap. We'll be going down hill in a couple of miles."
The realisation that these hills won't go on all day lifts my spirits, and I cycle much faster when we reach the downhill sections of road. With the wind behind us, we're soon at at the Abington Hotel. As we approach the hotel, I spot a convenience store which sells everything, including sandwiches. I buy some for our tea.
It's all very old-fashioned inside. There are lots of tables set up for dinner, but only few people dining. It's a limited Sunday lunch menu - a choice of starters, then beef, or beef. Or chicken steaks and chips, or a veggie option. We wait ages for our lunch to be served. When it comes, to be honest, it's mediocre, with no green vegetables.
We manage to turn heads when our Sat Nav lady, in the middle of lunch, says in a very loud voice,
"In a quarter of a mile, turn left!"
It's raining when we leave the hotel. On with the wet weather gear again. Reg is really pleased with his black Marigold gloves, and the woolen ones inside. They keep his hands completely dry. Berry, I'm really happy with the half-finger gloves you kindly gave me.
We have about 18 miles to go, to get to our destination. We would have stopped for a cuppa from our flask, but there is no where to sit down in the dry. We decide to press on. We see a tractor parked outside someone's house in a little street, as you do. I take a photo for Arlie.
We cycle through beautiful hills and fields, gradually climbing to the small town of Carnwath. It's still raining heavily; Reg comments that the only part of his body that is wet are his legs. Same here - our overtrousers are not the best.
Finally, we arrived at The Robertson Arms Hotel, Carnwath. We put our bikes around the back of the pub, lock them up, and cover our saddles. We take our panniers into the warm and dry & our hostess takes our soaking outer garments, saying she will dry them for us in her hot cupboard overnight.
Our room is spacious and comfortable. We've arrived much earlier than usual - 5.30 pm (that was the lack of coffee break). I have to take everything out of my wet panniers to enable the panniers to dry out; the clothes inside are dry in their plastic bags.
We have our sandwiches, crisps and fruit, so can enjoy an evening chilling out in our room,
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