The stream had swelled to tumbling whitewater overnight and startled me awake. The sky was dim so it must be early and as I crawled outside the sky was grey. Camping wild seems to help with these early mornings as you never sleep too comfortably and you're usually eager to leave. I hoped to have a good long ride today so this early start was what I needed. We took ten minutes to survey the area and I started to break down the camp. Hudson was still fascinated by my work here. The tent had left a light brown rectangle of dry leaves on the wet forest floor, it had rained lightly all night. We got back on the wet road and I noticed the kinks in both wheels giving a wobble to the ride. I really should get these fixed but they're not the priority right now and until I come across a bike co-op where I can use their tools I can't afford it anyway. We're still riding the NCN7 and heading into Galloway Forest Park, my map indicates some altitudes ahead.
A hare ran out into the road ahead of us, I'd never seen one before and as we got closer it sped up but didn't leave the road. It just ran a few metres ahead of us down the middle, pacing us perfectly. I felt lucky.
The signs for the Galloway Forest Park had illustrations of large antlered deer on them. I wondered if this might be a lucky day for wildlife spotting and as we passed through the forest I scanned for any movement or silhouettes in the darkness.
The NCN spat us out and we went one mile downhill in the wrong direction. I stopped in a lay by next to a house and a lovely lady came and gifted us with dog food and water. She even kissed Hudson on the head when we left and put us back on the right track. It felt like four miles coming back up.
Back into the park and the climbs were steep but the views epic. We would alternate between riding and walking so we both got our breaks in. The forest was mostly huge firs and conifers and seemed endless. The road would open onto huge panoramas where we could see the clouds sweeping in and touching down on the tops of hills. The humidity was intense as we were literally entering the clouds. It had been constant light rain for about four hours when a wall of torrential rain came towards us and soaked us. I put my waterproofs on but was boiling and uncomfortable underneath. I pulled down the roof on Hudson's trailer and locked it down with the velcro tabs. It lasted about thirty seconds before he pushed it off again. Our food, clothes, bedding, it was all getting soaked. This roof needed to stay on or we were in trouble. Every time he would push it off and I'd have to dismount and re close it. I'd hold my bike with one hand to stop it tipping whilst trying to get the wet velcro to stick with the other as we rolled back down hill. I always thought it would be comfortable for him to have the roof down but it got hot inside too quickly and he couldn't breath. I eventually lost my patience and unhooked him, we will walk in the rain then. He used to really hate the rain but I think he got over that today. We covered two or three miles this way and just absorbed the rain, we were totally saturated.
It was getting later in the day and we were still ascending. I kept thinking we would go over just one more crest, all the time looking for a suitable camp but there were no flat spots at all. The hills were steep and deep in gorgeous purple and green heather. We came to a sign indicating the summit and I had already decided we were going to go on. As we came past the summit the side winds turned into a tailwind and for the first time on this trip, we were pushed. We sailed even. Up shallow inclines we rolled and when the descent started we rolled and rolled. The views were astonishing at this point and after the stress and frustration we had gone through today, the release was ecstatic. I got down on the drop bars and we easily smashed our personal high speed record. We just cruised. It felt like the will of my friends and family pushing me on and Hudson was really appreciating the world flying by at such a rate. The descent lasted for over twenty minutes and was the single most exhilarating cycling experience I've ever had. I just wanted to surf that descent right out to sea but eventually the land flattened and some pedalling was required to get us there, another twenty three miles or so as the calved stones at the roadside counted down. I felt strong, we were going to get there.
We rolled into Ayr at about 9pm, it was still very light and would be until about 10:30 or so. I just wanted to sit down and stare at the sea for a while so that's all I focussed on as we headed through the town. It was all a bit disappointing, same as everywhere. Drunks and loud music. Hair gel and fake tan. Taxis and fights. I was hoping for something more from this town and though the buildings and the large citadel built by Oliver Cromwell were really cool, this town has gone to the dogs, it's sad. I've never seen a town centre with so many 'to let' signs over bankrupted shop fronts. The only survivors were the bars, pubs, bookies, amusements and chip shops. The diet of a depressed town.
We sat down on the boardwalk that faced the beach and admired the sea for a while before my appetite got the better of me and we went back into town. I was sitting on a bench eating quite happily when I looked up to see four drunks about my age, maybe younger but looking haggard, standing over and around me.
"Did you steal my vodka?!' One slurred but carried on before I could answer
"What're you eating?" This was the ugly accent I'd mentioned in past days.
"I'm having these" he picked up a bag of chocolate bars from the bench next to me and they stumbled away laughing and holding each other up as they zig-zagged away.
I didn't bother standing, "You shady fuckers!" was about all I thought I could get away with. I'd suffered beatings from these people before. In Bradford when they threatened to spray aerosol in my eyes because I wouldn't give them twenty pence, I was twelve. In Shrewsbury when three guys did all they could to kick my teeth out because they didn't like the hooded sweater I was wearing, I was 16. It was a long way from here but that didn't matter, it might as well be the exact same people. I hated them and found there very existence to be profoundly depressing. I packed up and left.
After a bailed attempt at sleeping on a bench near the waterfront pavillion I dragged the rig down onto the sand and pulled the waterproof bike cover over the two of us. There on the sand, we eventually slept.
