Leaving Kilcudbright (it's pronounced Kill-cud-bree by the way) was quite sad. I could easily have lost two or three days there even though I hadn't clicked with the locals in the same way as I had in Dalbeattie. I will definitely return to Kirkcudbright one day. The bridge over the River Dee took us out of town and into The Firth of Solway (I think). We had a really pretty and tranquil ride up that Solway coast. Even the name Solway connotes a kind of loneliness and this quiet route is a good time to get your life in check, no distractions. I resisted the urge to picnic quite yet though there were some really nice spots. The road was a slow but constant incline and as we got higher the sun broke out but so did the wind. Pulling this trailer uphill and into a headwind is a grinding 3mph toil. Thankfully the views today were rewarding and I used any photo opportunities to take a breather. Hudson was fussing so we walked sometimes. We would come around a bend or over a crest and I would find myself yelling over my shoulder,
"Oh Hudson, will you look at that!"
We passed through Gatehouse of Fleet another true character town with a huge stone gateway as an entrance, a river and a clocktower. We sat down and had dinner. If there had've been a campsite I would have been tempted to stay but it's good we got further today. More slow climbs and the most sublime views.
At the right times today I was so happy and felt sorry for everyone that wasn't seeing what I was seeing. I felt sorry for the people driving by in their grey European estate cars, they were totally missing the point. I felt sorry for my friends in Canada, the girl I could never convince to follow me. I felt sorry for my family here and certain people I know, urbanites, engines of resentment. I wished that I could have brought them all with me and that they could all get along but most of all I was beginning to feel something strange. Now, so far from home, I think I was beginning to feel a little bit proud of myself. I had worked hard, pedalled hard to get here. I had comitted to this trip months ago and I was being rewarded for once by payoffs like today. Maybe that is what this trip is all about. I've been working hard for so many years for so little reward. I was ready to give up. This trip is pressing the reset button on my whole outlook. I knew there was a reason I was here.
As the sun began to fade we were panicking a little, we hadn't seen a house in two hours and we couldn't pull off the road because of two deep drainage gullies that ran for miles one on each side of the road. I pedalled hard and had a late burst of energy that carried us a few miles until we came across a plausible pitch in a small wood at the roadside. I let Hudson sniff around and waited for his look of approval before pitching by a stream. Sleeping listening to the water will be relaxing. I won't pretend wild camping doesnt make me nervous. I'll be sleeping with a big dog and a knife at my side tonight. Paranoid? Me?
