Home in the South West of Scotland.


Summer makes itself hard to pin down. It is always hard to point at the calender and say with any sort of confidence, ” today is summer “. Spring is the end of something and Autumn too, and there are comings and goings in the skies and fields. The first of this and the last of that. Yesterday we rode in shorts, but then today the heating is on. The BBC have issued a severe weather warning for heavy rain and flooding.

We came down to Dumfries and Galloway, in the South West of Scotland for a treat on my birthday weekend last November. We rode one beautiful day, and then a snap of cold bought sub-zero temperatures and winter clothes, so we went for a walk. Snow on the hills to the East as we searched for cup and ring marked stones.


To be honest we had not settled after our world bike ride. We returned to home near Edinburgh and Esther pulled up houses for sale on the web. We could do it. A move was on down to Scotland’s South West and a trade in of city for rural with space and quiet. Speculatively our home went on the market.


Two days later we had sold. We needed to find a new place and fast. I came down for a 48 hour mad search that could not possibly work. I shook hands on the final one of 6 just as light failed on a grey winters day. If it looked good now that is a great sign. Esther never got to see it until the deal was done. In Scotland these things are binding.


Biking around the world you know your partner well enough, she would love it. Then everything that could go wrong went wrong. A day before completion we still needed to find a chunk of money.


Walks to clear our heads were always full of tension a mobile phone always and urgent calls expected. We could be homeless, it was a real possibility and basic plans had to be made for that. We pushed the deadline and got a little extra time to find the cash, but still had to move out of our home.


Friends took us in, and everything went into storage. There was two horrid weeks of deal on deal off before things lined up. We had held onto our most treasured things. Two bikes and the life essentials that could be squeezed into our car. We drove down to begin our new life, camping in a house cold enough to see your breath. Our stuff would follow.


We bought the essentials in a charity shop and lifted a frying pan from the local dump. We froze in our sleeping bags and wore hats and gloves all day and night. Our new home is a 300 year old listed former hostelry in a village famous for droving of cattle, sheep and horses. It once hosted Scotland’s largest horse fares and was without doubt a wild place, with 13 bars, blacksmiths and shops.


Today it is quiet, sleepy even. The quiet takes some getting used to and throws your balance with the scale of the nothingness. Winter gales and the house warmed over time as heat got back into the thick stone walls.


You never see the gaffer tape or the sheer quantity of work a house needs until you buy it. We started slowly, this was going to take a long time. The garden is huge and full of mature trees. You could call it a wildlife garden or a mess. To be honest it is a bit of both.

Geese in huge skeins filled the sky and flocked in thousands on the nearby coast. We went for morning walks after breakfasts before dawn. Every day was a DIY day. It looked like a 1,000 days of DIY just to make a start.


The bikes stayed in the sheds, we have three sheds all of which needed work. “If it was done right we could not afford it”, we kept on saying. Often we said that a dozen times in a day. We walked from A to B finding a mornings worth of jobs in a few steps. Things got done.

The bikes we bought out and the pedals turned on short rides. We felt we were on holiday and still do, ” WE LIVE HERE! ”


Nights are star filled. The area is a Dark Sky Park, one of the few in Europe and the jewelled belt of the Milky Way arcs across the oil black sky here. We go for night walks to try to take it in and watch the moon rise through windows yet to have curtains. We have Red Squirrels and Rookeries close to the house and Red Kites over our house.

The rides get longer stretching out with the day length. Some are even warm enough for fingerless gloves and knee warmers. New friends and riding buddies and days when we have to trust the Garmin to find our way home. The first blossom and then a ride where Sand Martins have arrived to dart under the bridge as we pass. Two weeks earlier than last year.


We have a large Cherry Tree in our garden. For weeks it promises to turn the world pink, but teases us. Then for two weeks the air, the ground everything is pink. A spell of dry weather and it is warm, hot even. We get to renovate the first of the sheds. It has the best bikes and electrical tools and is no longer water tight. It ends after 3 long days of work, waterproof and blue, with white highlights. More beach hut than shed, but we love it.


The first 60 mile ride, high into Galloway Forest Park and the high land overlooking the coast. Hardly a car passes, little in the way of a phone signal and thinly spread cafe stops. It is perfect cycling country, just perfect.

Most of the ground floor is now done. Hours of work and many tubs of white paint later, we are starting to feel like home here and the number of days when panic overwhelms are getting less. We can turn off the heating most days and have installed a wood burner, fulfilling a lifetime dream.


We know nothing about gardening and have now got a huge garden which we bring back into shape. Potatoes are planted and veg too. Never have we needed to worry about late frosts or slugs. The dawn chorus at the end of our garden, the deepest shade and tallest trees, the most wild. We stand there in first light with morning tea in hand.


This is home, we make wonderful new friends and are surrounded by artists, crafts people and bikers too. This is going to be good, we may even be warm enough, and there is a chance we can make a living here. We need to, we are living on air at the moment. Oh a bit of a PS, I was going to mention this in the next blog. We are going to run this well established cycling holiday company as the owner steps back from running it. Just pop along to http://gallowaycycling.co.uk and see if anything catches your eye. We/they do custom tours to here or any other part of Scotland. When we run it we may expand to tours of the Baltic Coast of Germany – perfect cycling and cake country. Let me know what you think of the idea. Warren



A year on 2 wheels.

Harbour Kirkcudbright.

I have had a number of good intentioned New Years resolutions;  I must eat more olives and I should fly my kite more often, are two life improving recent ones. This years was, I will try whenever possible to wear brighter clothes. It began well, with a bright yellow check shirt bought in January. It gets comments when I wear it, but I have decided not to care.

Keepers line, the Cheviots.
Ancrum, Scottish Borders.
East Lothian sign.

Last year there was just too much DIY. Remodelling or DIY or call it renovation, I have no idea how some people have this as a hobby. I am competent enough, but find no joy at all in any part of the process other than completing the work and getting back out on the bike. If it is your passion, then good for you I say.

Near Traprain Law, East Lothian.
Woodland in spring.

So, this year was about catching up with remote hills, untraveled lanes and sleepy villages. There were going to be many days of touring Scotland’s off grid bits. On the whole this resolution did not go nearly as well as the brighter shirts.

Bike in a field, East Lothian.
In the Lammermuirs with Chris.
Tea in a woodland.
Into the Cheviot hills.

Since we got back from our round the world trip there was a very long list of rides on the road bikes that we had not managed to get done. These days are a lot easier than finding things on shelves and in cupboards and then getting them into panniers. Long rides on the road bikes won most weekends.

In the Cheviots, near Deer Street.
Collie dog near Hownam Grange, Cheviots.
The Old Post road A7
Sketching near Ancrum.
Sign in the Cheviot Hills.

There were memorable nights in the bivvy bags next to a bath water still sea. Days on the island of Islay where we hit the perfect weather window so square and middle of the bat that we burst out laughing. There should have been more, but you can only do so much.

Above Kirk Yetholm, the Cheviots.
West coast Scotland.
Gairloch sunset, west coast.
Walking dogs near Nairn.

The seasons have changed, slipped the tie with the calendar. The summers here now come in slow to warm up, but stay into late October and end in a burst of colour. I put the tents away far too early and the fuel bottles went outside into the shed. Remind me next year not to do this.

View from the saddle, Lammermuir Hills.
Autumn selfie.
Near Gifford, East Lothian.
Near Kirkcudbright.

Early November days were still warm and dry. The sun, low in the sky but still bright and the leaves still held on the trees but now gold and reds. The beech trees that line many of the lanes of East Lothian become vaulted gothic cathedrals of stained glass colours. This year, we dodged the storms with given names and autumn turned into the best season of the year. Hope you all had a good year on 2 wheels.

Throwing leaves, the borders.
Cup and ring marks, near Kirkcudbright.
Cup and ring marks.