I woke up just in time, as the wind is blowing rain into the tent through the open flap, which is quickly closed. I’m in no hurry today, so read for a bit until the rain eases off — The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry, bringing back memories of my recent estuary walks.
There’s a cycle path out of town, giving moody views across the valley, with the hills shrouded in heavy clouds.
A minor road takes me through the fringes of Moss of Cree forest. Black crows circle overhead; the skies darken, and a mysterious figure draws me deeper into the woods.
Someone has a wild imagination.
I’ve stumbled into a weeping angels set from Doctor Who — don’t blink!
The path winds through the forest, with sculptures, lights, and oddities at every turn. This may be someone’s garden, so I don’t linger.
Not a place to explore at night.
Approaching Wigtown, I pass the Martyrs’ Stake, to commemorate two Scottish Covenanters, Margaret Maclauchlan and Margaret Wilson, executed for their religious faith by being tied to stakes and drowned by the rising tide.
Wigtown is my sort of place, being Scotland’s “National Book Town”. What will be the most dangerous place on my coastal walk? Cape Wrath? Knoydart? The Bad Step on Skye? No; it’s being a compulsive book buyer on a backpacking trip and entering Scotland’s largest secondhand bookshop. There are two wonderful stone statues flanking the entrance. They were originally made from real books but someone, unbelievably, set fire to them.
I explore the amazing labyrinth for a while, chat to the manager and buy the lightest book I can find: Woman in Black.
The pub is closed, so I enjoy a rather surreal lunch in a cafe. In walks Sandy, apparently the most tattooed man in Scotland, clutching a book of poetry. He makes the walking sticks, sold in the second hand bookshop, in exchange for book purchasing credit. The waiter pulls up his trouser leg to reveal an impressive Iron Man tattoo, prompting a re-enactment of the scene from Jaws where Quint and Brody compete to show the largest shark bite.
It’s not far to the Drumroamin Farm campsite, but I have to negotiate a field of cows with their calves, standing on the path. I circle along a ditch to follow the stone wall on the opposite side of the field. To my dismay, thirty calves run across, taking me for the farmer. Don’t come over here! The mothers follow, of course, at a rather faster pace. I step through a gate into an adjacent field. They all run after me. I’ve read the theory, so time to put it to the test. Despite my heart pumping, I slow my pace right down and they all slow down behind me. I climb over the wall, back into the first field, at which point they give up, disappointed at the lack of food.
The campsite is superb. A wonderful setting, great facilities, including a room to relax in and recharge my phone, and a lovely owner, Leslie. Highly recommended.
Walk distance: 14 miles.
Total distance: 1,796 miles.
I love those sculptures. Something to look for next time we are in the area.
The garden surrounding the cottage next to the woods was equally interesting, including an Easter Island Head. The door was ajar and I was very tempted to knock and chat to the owner, but decided that was a little intrusive. 🙂