Clyde Walkway.
Distance today: 27.7 miles.
Total distance: 418.2 miles.
Accommodation: wild camping.
Today was better. Long but better.
My stay with Clare and family had been brief but much appreciated. Suitably revived, it was time to head back on the trail. Clare had even made me a packed lunch. Again, it was nice to be looked after. We all headed out to the end of the back garden where I was shown a shortcut that would take me directly to the Clyde Walkway. After hugs and handshakes, I was off.
The Clyde Walkway was definitely a trail of two halves. For a number of reasons, I hadn’t enjoyed yesterday at all but today was different. Definitely more of a sense of being in the countryside with the trail mainly sticking to the side of the river but passing through woodland complete with wide tree-lined avenues and dappled light breaking though the canopy. I even saw a kingfisher darting across the river. It was all very lovely in a gentle kind of way. At one point the route passes the birthplace of David Livingstone and I had thought of stopping for a cheesy photo opportunity. Adam the intrepid explorer. I probably would have done had I found a suitable signpost to stand by.
I am not exactly sure why I decided I wanted to complete the walkway today. Because it was do-able? Because it kept the momentum going? Because I was stubborn and liked a challenge? Because there were no convenient campsites on route so I may as well keep going? Probably all the above. After a slight unintentional detour around the edge of Lanark, I finally reached New Lanark at around 7.30. It is a strange and beautiful place. A World Heritage site apparently. I’m not big on history but by the sounds of it, David Dale the original founder was a decent mill owner who built the village to house and otherwise support the wellbeing of his workers. Now there’s a thing. All the stone buildings looked picture-perfect, making me wonder what it was like to live there. I’d imagine there were a few rules. As there was nowhere open, I carried on the climb towards the Falls of Clyde. While there were one or two vantage points of the river where the water cascaded down rocks, there was no dramatic Niagara Falls style vista. Though to be fair, the light was starting to fade. It was all very pleasant although by now I was perhaps starting to get pre-occupied with where I was going to camp. Further still along the river I reached Bonnington Weir and simply on the basis that the waymarkers now had arrows just pointing one way rather than both ways, I decided that this must be the end of the walkway. It would do. Again I found it really strange that the authorities don’t make a big deal of it. THIS IS THE START/END OF THE CLYDE WALKWAY!!! Move on, Adam. After walking a few hundred yards I spotted a couple pitching a tent in a field by the river. I went over to have a word and after a discussion as to whether it was okay to camp there, I decided to go for it as well. Maybe safety in numbers was at the back of my mind. At the front of my mind was how gobsmackingly gorgeous the place was. The sun was setting, the Clyde just seemed to be drifting slowly by, and I had a Chili con carne to eat. This was why people wild camped. It was absolutely idyllic. I gave the couple a fair bit of space and even managed to find a gorse bush to hide me from the road.
At one point as I was lying in my tent, I heard a vehicle full of (what sounded like) drunken lads making a lot of noise. I did think it could easily all get a bit messy but thankfully they just drove off. This is why I don’t wild camp.
