A good nights sleep but woke early to the sound of rain on the tent. After quickly packing up and making my daily porridge, I set off through 16 miles of driving rain along the banks of Loch Eck for Dunoon, and the ferry across to Greenock. Wet through when I got there but a welcome coffee and hot sausage roll.
There was a real sense of leaving the Highlands behind.
Looking back over Greenock, the Firth of Clyde and the mountains of Argyll beyond.
I had been to Greenock once before with a friend Andy (lives near Lands End) in the early 80s to visit the Blacks of Greenock factory. Blacks were the first UK importer of North Face equipment and as Blacks employees we took a detour from our Scottish winter climbing trip to take a tour of the factory. In particular we saw down sleeping bags being filled, not accurately by machine but by local ladies stuffing handfuls of goose down into the baffled compartments. They knew exactly how many handfuls were required to insert the correct amount of down to give the right amount insulation for the spec. It's amazing to think how much the brand is now part of everyday life for millions of people, but back then it was unknown outside the US.
Then it was across rolling farm land on quiet B roads to the busy town of Johnstone before picking up the pleasant Sustrans route to Paisley.
Continuing along quiet lanes through Barrhead, Eaglesham and finally reaching my half day target of Strathaven for a break and to stock up on snacks and anything else I might need if camping out later.
Lunch on the way to Strathaven
Well sign posted
NCN route 74 follows the B7078 and B7076 running in parallel to the A74. Now this must have been the original A74 as what you have now are deserted roads running South- good for eating up the mileage but not exactly the wilderness experience i had been used to with the roar of traffice to one side.
I was running out of time to find somewhere to stay for the night and pulled into Crawford, one of those villages that has suffered commercially over the years with the lack of through traffic that would have once passed through. Looking for a quiet spot I followed signs to the castle ruins on the east bank of the Clyde. The ruins were small and as I got nearer my presence alerted roosting crows in the nearby tree's. It was a bit spooky so I went back to the village. Riding slowly down the deserted street, i passed, half hidden in the bushes a barely readable sign for the Crawford Arms hotel, a boarded up hotel on the right with two identical rusting Citroen ZX's outside, a closed caravan site and just before the end of the Village - The Crawford Arms.
For £30 a night B&B I was given the key to room 8. In the morning after a very good cooked breakfast I was reading a newspaper cutting on the wall about how this was the most haunted village in Scotland!
The boarded up hotel I passed had the ghost of a little girl running up and down and in room 8 I'd been given, someone had been murdered there in 1893! Glad I hadn't known this before going to bed.
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