Follow the black lasso...
April the first, and in spite of the Coronavirus lockdown, fools are afoot and aplenty. This morning, in the event of self-isolating and trying to not get on a train, I decide to bike it up to the braes from the centre where I live. This is the beauty of living in the centre: it's all uphill from here, 'uphill' being synonymous, for those of us who still locomote under our own steam, with 'large heart' and 'capacious mind'.
At any rate, the braes were beautiful, as was the rat-run that I threaded through a heavily built-up environment into the void. The view over the strath was spectacular. The braes themselves less so since they had been turned into various things for various people: a mountain biking track and a dog-walkers disneyworld. With all their litter to boot.
The view from Nithsdale Road looking into the horizon and our destination.
Looking down an empty Victoria Road.
More empty streets at Cathcart.
From Castlemilk looking north, down and into city, with the Campsie Fells beyond.
Approaching Gallowhill and Carmunnock, you can see both north and south (if you look west).
I have
learned over the years that if you put a car park at the top of a hill
you will get all manner of city folk at the top of that hill behaving
like they're still in the city. If you put the car park at the bottom of
the hill (like at the Loch Humphrey path up into the Kilpatrick Braes)
you will have less city people at the top of the hill and less people
behaving like they're in a city. In such a case where there is no car
park, there are invariably no city folk at all (no domination and
docility), only the finest of company: the wild.
Cycle along past the car park towards the viewpoint and Queen Mary's Seat, and you'll get this! And that! (below)
From the viewpoint, it's easy enough to find a trail down the braes and into the 'milk... and it's all downhill from here.
Cutting up and over claustrophobic Simshill, there are oculi of vastness here and there. The guy at 136 actually came out of his hoose as I was photographing this gap. Maybe he thought I was after his 'lambo' van...
Old Castle Road. Just behind Cathcart. Up and over takes you to Simshill. At the top is a tiny park where, allegedly, Mary (Queen of Fuck All), stopped to watch (from a safe distance) her troops get routed (where Battlefield Road is now). Within days of fleeing, she was caught and imprisoned in England for 19 years before having her head cut off. Alas! the good old days.
A tavern on Old Cathcart Road.
This old Victorian mill (Cathcart House) by the White Cart Water was converted into fourteen luxury apartments. A two bedroom flat will set you back a cool 350 grand. (DSS need not apply).
Spean Street by the White Cart Water and the abandoned works opposite. I imagine the river will be glad to see the back of it.
Looking across to where we have just been from the cortner of Camphill Avenue and Mansionhouse Road. The single wind turbine marks the spot.
From the flagpole in Queen's Park. (Above and below).
Feeding time by Queen's Park pond.
Cast iron beauty on the little rail bridge between Moray Place and Darnley Road.
And that was that. Three measly hours door to door, leaving my gaff at 11.30am and getting back at 2.30pm, and that included a leisurely pace and half a dozen or so brief stops along the way. What a ride!
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