The Cycling Meditant


To art (art is a verb after all not a noun) is as much to cycle or walk meditatively (with a vague outline of the way ahead) as it is to draw or to sketch. Both are deeply meditative enterprises which do you the world of good. I have only recently discovered the joys of drawing, having come to it by my own hand so to speak and by the inspiration of certain others. Two books this year that reinforced my feeling towards drawing were Tim Ingold's Being Alive in which he looks at drawing as a type of wayfaring and Andrew Marr's A  Short Book About Drawing which contained some very decent sketches and some equally decent text.

I also came across another Glaswegian drawer, Muirhead Bone, whose drypoint sketches of fin de siecle Glasgow are something else. And so, I decided that I should at least try to sketch or draw.... as a way not only of wayfaring and finding my own way into something, but of contemplating more deeply the reality that had caused me to sketch it in the first place. Previously, it had been text and my writings that had helped express this deep reality, but now, maybe it's age, I find the image, and colour, more evocative... for the moment. Indeed, I am putting together an emblem book of both: sketches and text, which might collude to evoke the strength of this reality. This is what I enjoyed about Marr's book, the conjoing of the two media. But the emblem book from its heyday in the 16th century, or the vade mecum pocket prayer book from earlier on, has lost its value beneath all the commerical crap out there. There's something loving about an emblem book though, of which there is only one original version, hand-made, lovingly put together without a care for profit or money or commerce. It is born out of love, out of sheer spontaneity, and the vital force that lives within the meditative cyclist. The book is an outpouring - an overflow - of all the beauty that the cyclist has collected along the way....

And so here, a few sketches with bicycle....


















































 


















Crossing the Ganges on a Bicycle


Is not the body its own moulded river? 

Novalis


It may only be a stone's throw across, but this little trip across the Clyde is amazing! Every time I do it which isn't that often I'm he amazed at how inspiring a short raft-ride can be. On one side you have the city, on the other the Kilpatrick Hills. But it's perhaps the gentle bobbing, the sea smells, the tidal-ness of it all, that reminds me in full of the ineluctable ebb and flow of life. Pity the ferryman wasn't as wise as Vasuveda.






























17th September 2015, a new Guinness World Record for the number of cyclists, 8, on the Yoker-Renfrew raft ;)


Voting in the Flesh: 24 Things Jeremy Corbyn Believes

In short, we make political statements not so much by the way we vote as by the way we live.

Henryk Skolimowski, Living Philosophy


I wrote a poem earlier this year called Election Day when, instead of finding myself hovering about the polling booth, I discovered myself atop the Kilpatrick Braes with the hover flies sketching a fencepost. I recognized the irony instantly. That is, if everyone refused to vote and endorse a system that is spiritually and ecologically corrupt from the inside, and if everyone on top of this refused also to conform to a system of conventions that sees them slowly wither under the weight of it all, and instead come up here to the hills and breathe.... well, the world and its welter would change overnight. Everyone thinks of changing the world, Tolstoy once wrote, but no-one thinks of changing himself. 

Elect to change yourself, to come into these hills and breathe (whether by bicycle or on foot), conjoin with the cycles of nature, and you will have little need of polling booths and ballot boxes. In other words, vote not with a pen, but with your whole being. Every breath is a vote for freedom and for immanence. To hell with the politics. The body is the world, wrote Alan Watts. Look after it, and you look after the world. And what better way to look after the body than to do as the new Labour leader, Jeremy Corbyn, does: cycle everywhere. 

Indeed, it is for my discovery of Corbyn's 'flesh reality' that I see him not so much as a politician as a human being trying to do his best. The bit that convinced me was not so much his suggestion that the hundred billion pounds earmarked for replacing Trident instead be spent on 'national well-being', or his quest to have more allotments in our cities, or even the imposition of an arms embargo on Israel, but his cycling....

In a BBC article entitled 24 Things JC Believes, at number seventeen, was this:

Corbyn backs cycling. He does not own a car and declined to share one with the BBC's Chris Mason for an interview, saying: "I cycle all the time. Actually I've got a confession to make, a rather naughty secret - I've got two bikes." 

And it's not just for his cycling, because let's face it cycling isn't just cycling. It's for his refusing to get in the same car as the BBC correspondent. This is what real cycling is about. It's as much about one's hesitation at non-ecological ways of transport, as it is about wayfaring and finding one's own way. I loathe cyclists who pop their bikes in their big gass-guzzling SUVs and drive them to the tops of hills so they can tear the landscape up with their two thousand pound hard-tails. These are not cyclists; they're lunatics who treat cycling as some kind of pastime or adrenalin-fuelled pursuit. But this is not what cycling is. Fundamentally, and Corbyn has it here, cycling is about a way of moving... everywhere. It's about walking as well as cycling. It's about using your own steam to get across the land. It's very very simple, but few of us are seemingly able to grasp this simplicity. Instead, we just wrap it up, cycling, in the already established convention that sees it as a means to some form of entertainment or day out. It's not. If cycling isn't your bread and butter in terms of general getting about, if you have a car for those rainy days or for those days when it just seems too cold to get on a bike, then you are not a cyclist. You're just another spoilt little child who baulks at the idea of a little icing on the skin, or a few raindrops on the noggin'. But, take someone who cycles no matter what, and you have a bona fide person coming to terms with his own hyper-organic humanity. This is a person I am prepared to believe in. Someone who votes not with an x, but, rather, in the flesh.
























JC & bicycle

Skulls in the Sky: Dumfoyne & Dumgoyne




Follow the yellow brick road! On the way back I cut down through Craigbrock Farm onto the A81 and turned right (north). Take the third turn on your left which will take you past Dumgoyach and onto the WHW back down to Milngavie.








From Milngavie train station it's the yellow road up to Mugdock past Mugdock Reservoir and Mugdock village itself and then down on the Old Mugdock Road to Strathblane. It's a great oxygentaing start!



















In all my years of coming into the hills and fells I have always bypassed quite unknowingly the rather humble looking Dumfoyne in favour of its more illustrious and popular neighbour Dumgoyne. But no more. Today, I discovered the path leading up to Dumfoyne from Cantywheery Cottage, on the Campsie Dene 'road'. The access gate is about 20 metres or so past Cantywheery on the right. Being on a bicycle I have always missed this little corner as it swiftly turns to the left, but not today. Today, I saw it, tethered my Trek, and made a bolt for Dumfoyne, and what a beautiful bolt it was, through dry fields, and even a path winding up alongside the bucolic glen onto the bottom slopes of Dumfoyne.

From there, there a variety of ways you can do it. I simply chose to do as the crow does and go straight up. It's not quite vertical but may require all four limbs grabbing the earth at points. It's a little tougher going than Dumgoyne simply because it's a longer route, but that being said, it took me a gentle hour to get up and maybe half that to get back down.

What really amazed me was seeing Dumgoyne from this new angle. What a skull! I had previously seen it from the other end coming down from Earl's Seat, but nothing had prepared me for this parallax. Utterly incredible! 

 From Mugdock, take the Old Mugdock Road down to Strathblane.




Fields of gold. Mid September. Beautiful! 


Now, Slackdhu is on the menu. Instead of veering left to Dumfoyne, simply head straight on up. 



Skulls in the sky! The holy mountain and the holy man ;)




























The lumps and bumps of the upper slopes (Garloch hill, Clachertyfarlie Knowes)





























The owners seem to have gone to great trouble in creating a little piece of heaven on earth... So, what's with the shipping container?


 Looking back from the WHW to Dumgoyne & Dumfoyne




























You can just see Killearn eking out down to the right

If ever there were a hill that could represent the underdog, the unrecognized and unrewarded, it is this little gem on the western corner of the Campsie Fells. At 426m it's only a metre shorter than its more famous neighbour but still demands discipline to get up it, and when you're up, commands views of its larger neighbour (which in my opinion makes it all the greater) as well as that of the Glasgow Valley and the Highlands to the north.




Barrhead to Lochwinnoch via Cuff Hill, Lochlands Hill, & Davies O' the Mill


The greater Glasgow valley is peppered with the relics of saints, with clues as to their origins, placenames that recall their settlings and passings. Indeed, one might go so far as to say that the whole of the midland valley if not further afield is a hommage to the lives of saints who have lived and had their being in this verdant fertile land. There is Kentigern of course (Mungo), the patron saint of Glasgow, but there is also a whole host of others: Blane, Machan, Bride, Barchan, Winnoch, Ninian, Innan et al. Too many in fact to mention. But that's another story. The bottom line here is that we are in saintly terrain, and as I cycle and walk these shires I get to thinking that most parts of it have not changed since the times of these halo-wearing preachers.


Anyway, the hagiography aside, this is a beautiful route up from Barrhead onto the Fereneze plateau and beyond to the empty little lanes of Barcraigs and Threepwood. It's not the first time I have documented this route, but it is the first time I have seen the Logan Stone and been to the trig point atop Lochlands Hill. And of course the whole point of this journey, really, was to see Dugald Semple's old farmhouse Davies O' the Mill.



























Neilston Pad (or not)



A misty morning indeed in East Renfrewshire


























Broadfield Hill (left) and Walls Hill (right) from the south.



























Barcraigs Reservoir. Lochlands Hill is in the distance to the left of the wooded hill (Brownmuir Plantation)




























Road relic. A fox's tail in the middle of a quiet country lane.




























The 'rocking stone' on the top of Cuff Hill in the centre of a small circle of trees.

This part of the world is apparently endowed with a geology that lends itself towards the formation of rocking stones. There are several rocking stones, or stones that used to rock at one time, in Ayrshire (the Ogrestone near Dunlop, and not too far from here, the Clochoderick Stone near Howwood). This particular stone atop Cuff Hill no longer rocks due to people digging beneath to ascertain its fulcrum.



























Looking north from Cuff Hill over Kirkleegreen reservoir.



























The top of Lochlands Hill looking towards Lochwinnoch (just down behind the cow) and Mistylaw on far left of horizon.






















The idyllic locale of Mill o' Beith (next door to Davies O' the Mill) complete with waterfall.



























The derelict farmhouse of the late Dugald Semple and his wife Cathie, Davies O' the Mill.





Travelling the Old Largs Road: Drumfrochar to Largs via Brisbane Glen & Knock Hill















Pretty simple really. There is only one road between Drumfrochar and Largs, and what a road!

For Knock Castle, just head into Brisbane Mains Farm and follow the waymarkers (on the map the red diamonds) up to Knock Hill and down the other side. 



































No sooner are we out the gate at Drumfrochar than we are met with views like this. It's a great start to any journey to be welcomed with such searing vistas, but also for its oxygenating factor: it's all uphill for the first half of the trip, steep at the very beginning but gentle thereafter, and then from Outerwards Farm, all gently downhill to Brisbane Mains Farm, or, if you want to miss out on the epic Knock Hill, to Largs, quite literally at the end of this, the Old Largs Road.





























I first clocked this single track road way back when in 2010 when I cycled up the Gryffe Valley to the Kelly Cut and down to Wemyss Bay. I recall that day with astonishing clarity since the weather was deeply grey and misty, and cold. There was no-one about, and this only added to the spirit of the place. Today, though it may have been sunny and warm, I had a similar feeling. Maybe it's the lack of boundaries, the absence of walls and fences that leaves everything open. The roads belong as much to the cattle and sheep as they do to cars or cyclists. Furthermore, these single track roads, because of this, afford no hostile takeovers. The speed limit is set by the sheep and the cyclists. Like the Old Fairlie Road between Dalry and Fairlie, this is another old road that has embodied the poetry of place. Let's not forget that there was a time when roads were not monopolized by cars and white van man. And we're about to approach it....


 Loch Thom & the uber-looking Dunrod Hill



From a kilometre or so before Outerwards Farm it's all downhill, and here we can just see Brisbane Glen at the far end of the road, and Knock Hill centre.


Looking back to Outerwards Hill. I spoke to the woman who works the farm and she told me the best way up is from the Skelmorlie end though there is a path of sorts up through Outerwards Farm too. Apparently, she told me, there's nothing to see, presumably of the old Roman signal fortlet that used to sit here. But I reckon there's plenty to see if you've got the right eyes, and what about those views? Anyway, another time... the downhill to Brisbane looked too enticing, and one hill is enough for one day.


Brisbane Mains Farm. Take the path leading from the road up through the farm. It's part of the Ayrshire Coastal Path that runs up to Wemyss Bay. The path here is not too bad though on the way down the other side it does tend to disappear in places.




























It's more than manageable to take the bike up to the top. I actually cycled part of the path in those wetter parts as it's not too steep as it circles round and up. It certainly saved the feet from getting wet again. Here the view from Knock Hill looks down to Largs and Fairlie beyond.

 Looking north from Knock Hill



 Looking back the way we came.




























Just keep your eyes peeled for waymarkers especially on the way back down if you're intent on getting down to the coast to the left. You could go back down the way you came, but I much prefer crossing the hill completely. Anyway, this waymarker here points you in the right direction. I cycled most of the way down through fields that were not too boggy or cow-trodden, but just be careful as they are big things hidden in that there grass.




When you come out onto solid ground, take the high road up above Knock Castle into Largs. Empty of cars, it's another beautiful little road with great views.



























Looking back from Largs promenade you can see clearly Knock Hill in the distance.



CYCLING THE OLD LARGS ROAD 

Improvement makes strait roads but the crooked roads without improvement are roads of genius. William Blake
 

God I love these roads!
These long sinuous causeways,
Slender and smooth,
Singularly affording no hostile takeovers
But instead forcing even the cars to talk to each other
to negotiate and to fare their way;
Where the cyclists cede to the sheep,
Where the give way sign is the way given
to all who are open to receive it
Where the grasses are more traffic than cars
Where speed limits are set by sheep and cyclist
and the odd stray cow
But this whole place is stray, riderless, unleashed,
Sacred like this cow, if only for a day,
from the oily chains of conventions
Where the only walls are hills and the only fences these long spears of grass
Where every encounter draws a pause
Enables a great inhalation
Where the desolation sings of spareness
An elegant frugality
Where the only excess is that of aliveness
and genius;
Where the right of way is disclosed
as the freedom to breathe, to inhale space,
to meditate amidst an undistracting landscape...

To contemplate the Way..








Radar Love: The Way to Holehead



























Holehead is the third highest point in the Campsie Fells after Earl's Seat and the Meikle Bin, but it's really not for the height that I'm going. It's out of love.... love for that little golf ball that sits on my horizon just out of view of the naked eye. I first saw this golf ball (actually a radar station run by the Met Office) from the summit of Dumbreck about a couple of kilometres to the west. I then recognised it from my living room window with my binoculars, and then, when I bought a new OS map last week I realized that of course (!) there is a gravel road up there (I have given up on some hills simply due to the extremely boggy nature of the ground in order to get to them).

Anyway, here's the view from my living room in Cessnock.... (8x zoom)...




























Beyond Art, beyond science, beyond even knowledge.... lie the hills! (Across the Science Centre, Kelvingrove Art Gallery, and Glasgow University, to the fells and the radar station clearly visible on the left).



























Beautiful! What can you say.... 12 minutes on the train, and about the same on the bike, and I'm here... in the back of beyond.... not too hot, not too cold, not too cloudy, not too sunny.... perfect ordinariness revealed as paradise!  [At the top of the Old Mugdock Road]




























At the car park (bench for we cyclists) in the sky looking west to the Kilpatricks (note the crag and tail form of Duncolm on the right).






























Looking down to Clachan of Campsie and Schoenstatt. (The half-demolished Lennox Castle is centre left of the picture hidden in the woodland)





























Hanging on for dear life! Going down the immaculate Crow Road...


























The gravel path up to Holehead and the radar station.



























The view across to the Meikle Bin and Carron Reservoir just to the left.



























Looking into the valley from the trig point.



























Shapes and spaces. You can perhaps make out on the left of the horizon the outline of Ben Lomond.




























The idyllic woodland at Finglen Burn on the Thomas Muir strathkelvin walkway.




























The craggy outline of Dunglass plug.

The trip begins with the train to Milngavie where you can take the quieter road up to Mugdock Village and then down the Old Mugdock Road to Strathblane. Here, the Thomas Muir path is waiting for you to take you all along to Lennoxtown where you can branch off and join the Crow Road. Despite its reputation it's not that steep and is actually quite pleasant to cycle when you get a rhythm going.

From the car park, it's still another few kilometres up to the gravel path up to Holehead, and then it's another 2 kilomtres up the path!! Thankfully though we are on solid ground and it doesn't take long to get up on foot with bike in tow. If you do cycle back down it, be careful as it's very steep in places and the ground is rocky....

Coming down the Crow Road to Lennoxtown is like flying. Again caution is required but not too much as it's a quiet and well-tarmacked road. Just watch out for the road works halfway up.

From Lennoxtown, I was going to carry on round to Lenzie and get the train back from there, but since the wind was blowing the other way I just decided to head back the way I came. And that little stretch of the Thomas Muir path past Dunglass and Ballagan is a joy to cycle. The whole mesa of the Campsie Fells rises up like some primordial dinosaur behind you as the Blane Valley opens up in front. Back up to Mugdock and down the other side and I'm on the train back to Partick for 14.26 (I arrived at Milngavie at 10.03). Quite amazing really since I am no speed merchant, and I did take a few breaks. It's even more amazing when I get home to my humble fourth floor Cessnockian apartment and look north out of my bay window and see that little whote orb glowing in the sunlight 20km away.

In fact, that's the thing, in some cities you can't see anything from your window save for someone else's kitchen, but here, from arguably one of the more down to earth areas of the city, I can see not only the horizon but a few interesting structures along the way. Never underestimate the view from one's living room! It's a great motivator to get out there.