family, history, roadtrip, travel, UK

A great-great-great-great-great time in Campbeltown

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The next two nights was to be the start of intermittent visiting of relatives – in this case quite distant. The drive down from Oban was punctuated by a short stop at a preserved Scottish village from a time when the land farmed was communal. A split second decision saw us turn off the A83 to Campbeltown (our destination that day) for the B842 down the east side of the peninsula – it was more of the typical single track roads that we were used to: sealed, tight, twisty, bordered by large stone walls & only room to pass at the occasional passing bay. A great look at the countryside and a view across the water, through the cloud to the Isle of Arran. Campbeltown, for some reason or another, was once the home of almost thirty distilleries in its heyday – now there are only two; this seemed quite odd as it was pretty isolated.

We were set to meet two brothers who I think were Dad’s third cousins. Anyway, when we found their house, met them & managed to decipher about three-quarters of what they were saying (wonderfully thick Scottish accents punctuated with a lot of ‘ayes’) we found we shared a common great-great-great-great grandfather (I think – it got all very confusing with multiple family trees coming out & a lot of people helpfully having the same name). From what I remember, with a family of ten children there was not enough work on the family farm or employment close by to support them all. So some time in the 1800s five of the sons up & left to Australia & then pretty soon after to NZ. Of the five left in Scotland, the family name (Wallace) has only carried on down one line – this is obviously the line that we were meeting. I’m not sure how many related Wallaces are left in NZ (this is my paternal grandmother’s side of the family), but there are some.

James & William had only just sold the family farm last year & retired as there was no one else in the family to take it over. But we still got the big tour around the farms (a change from Dad’s tour of dairy farms around Oamaru & the district (spied some of Sir Paul McCartney’s farms – we were very close to Mull of Kintyre); the land was a lot more fertile & developed in this part of the country than most we had already seen in Scotland. It was great to see the land that some of my ancestors left all those years ago & also my great-great-great-great-great grandfather’s headstone. And the sun even came out briefly & every one was very excited & telling us what a nice day it was!

roadtrip, travel, UK, vehicles

Ode to a Passat

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Well back home now after the nice thirty-odd hour trip from Sidcup to Pukekohe. Unfortunately, I had to return the trusty Passat to Hertz before I left. Considering I was expecting to pick up a Mondeo three weeks ago, it was pleasing to see the Passat sitting in the lot waiting for me (although my only other experience of one was my Uncle’s ’70s estate version that he had for years). For a 1.9L sedan I was somewhat astounded to see that the boot positively swallowed Mum & Dad’s two large suitcases, my grab, backpack, Dad’s wheeled cabin bag, a full-suspension mountain bike & all sorts of other bike paraphernalia. What’s more, this was the Bluemotion edition – apparently VW’s most eco-friendly & economical diesels. With a claimed combined consumption of 46 mpg (5.1 L / 100 km) it was always going to be easy on the fuel (my Galant runs at about 29 mpg & I think that is pretty good for an aging two litre sedan); but after more than 2000 miles of British motorways, congested cities, high mountain passes, skinny one way roads it came back with a staggering combined consumption of 57 mpg (4.1 L / 100 km)! Which was just as well as it cost about $200 to fill up. I sure will miss the cruise control – now to go outside & see if the trusty Galant will start after six weeks of sitting on the lawn & get itself to 300000 km.

(Back to work tonight, but should find some time somewhere to update last two weeks travels).

family, roadtrip, travel, UK

Iona, Staffa & puffins

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By now I was glad that amongst the suit, bike, summer clothes & bike clothes I had found some room for the trusty icebreakers – they were in full use now in the middle of the Scottish summer. Dad finally decided it was time to buy a jacket during our first afternoon in Oban – just as well there was a well stocked outdoor shop (these seem to pop up in the strangest little towns in Britain). Another cosy room in a pleasant guesthouse on the waterfront & it was up early for a day of ferries & bus rides. We were off to visit Iona & Staffa – as Mum & Dad had set this up I had little idea what was planned – but it was nice not to be driving for a change.

First it was a ferry ride over to Mull (an island off the west coast – not to be confused with Mull of Kintyre<, as some have done), a forty minute bus ride to the south west corner of Mull & then we boarded a much smaller boat (saw some bottlenose dolphins jumping around the boat) to Staffa – an small uninhabited island north of Iona. We had an hour there to explore parts of the island. Much of it is basalt & the rocks near where we handed were huge basalt columns – some of which were so long, thin, regular in shape & close together they looked like giant pieces of hexagonal spaghetti that had been forced through one of those spaghetti makers (I'm reminded of the old Play-doh ad – "making spaghetti"). The other highlight of the island was seeing the crazy little puffins flying off from the cliffs to go fishing then returning to their nests – they are so small & quick.

Off to Iona in time for lunch, the Atlantic swell had increased somewhat to make a more interesting ride – at least all the French who got suitably soaked thought so (Dad & I managed to find the correct side of the deck, more by chance than anything & Mum retreated inside, where it was bumpier). Got a good look around the abbey at Iona – much more austere than any of the previous religious buildings I had seen in the preceding weeks. Back on more ferries & boats – where we promptly fell asleep – probably just preparing ourselves for the great dinner that night at some random restaurant that foiled us in our previous bid to eat there – being closed doesn’t usually help matters.

bikes, city, friends, MTB, roadtrip, travel, UK

A decent ride, finally

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Have finally found some proper internet time to update this not very exhaustive account. As it was nearly two weeks since the last happenings were posted I’ll try my best to remember some of the many things we have been up to. Our full day in Edinburgh was much better weather wise & there was even some hope that we wouldn’t get wet on our ride.

Dad & I started off our day (Mum was off doing family history stuff) walking up to the top of Calton Hill & checking out the view – could just make out the bridges over the Firth. Then a bit of an explore around New Town – found a very shut Oxford bar (Rebus ties), it was Sunday morning after all. After our walking tiki tour found us at the bottom of the castle (even if we were on the wrong side to enter), we figured there was just enough time to squeeze in a rush tour before lunch. I remember quite enjoying Edinburgh Castle for the view & some of the history (unfortunately after two weeks it’s joined the historic-building-haze in my mind). Big rush back to the hostel to change for MTBing & meet Jamie (a uni friend).

Managed to meet up ok, but the first problem was the bike Jamie had borrowed off his wife, Rachel, had not met quick-release & neither of us had the cumbersome tools required to remove the wheels. Nevermind, eventually by turning the handlebars on the stem the trusty Passat saloon (which deserves a posting of its own) swallowed the bike whole & mine fitted on top it & the boot even closed. The drive south to Peebles was uneventful, except for my introduction to Tescos for a lunch on the run – actually, that doesn’t really qualify as an event. By now the sun was even out & shining. (I should have savoured that moment for much longer.)

Arriving at Glentress, it was a record time for assembling my bike from its travel bag & we were off in to the forest. A better description would be off up in to the forest – as we pretty much rode up hill for an hour (I hadn’t done any exercise of the sort since the first N-Duro in Rotorua some four weeks ago – at least it felt like it). It must be said that the climb was punctuated by a neat little downhill skills section where I perfected my backflip (have watched too much of the Collective’s Seasons this week) and also a nice little bit of singletrack. Having made it to the top (Jamie having told me on the way up he used to race nationals) it was time to rip in to some strangely varied singletrack. The first big difference to my normal riding was due to the Scottish rainfall – all the tracks were hard packed gravel so that they are still rideable after big rain. This made for a lot more tyre noise than I was used to. There were some sweet berms & lots of decent sized rocks placed in nice places in the track to keep me on my toes. I was just glad that I didn’t have the pogo-forks that Jamie had… A great ride, thanks to the guide.

Back in to the city to meet up with Rachel & Nicola (yet another uni mate over here working) for dinner. They had been up north half way to Aberdeen meeting Dan (you guessed it – uni) & got stuck half way back when the train developed some fault. Never mind, it was great to catch up eventually, get some tips for what to see & have a good meal – haggis wasn’t even too bad.

The next morning before leaving, I dragged Mum & Dad up Arthur’s Seat for the view (mind you, we could see most of the cloud from sea level) – well worth it. Then off to Oban for two nights; we managed to drive past T in the Park without too many traffic worries – although I was disappointed to learn I had missed R.E.M. playing there during the weekend. Once over the Firth, the weather closed in nicely & we would get used to the sight of low cloud.

Biking to go places, going places to bike.