Leg 5 - Middle of Nowhere to South of Desolation.

Before I start this I am sorry if I offend anyone from Glasgow - it's not my intention. I am sure there are some nice parts. I just didn't see any. Also, my knee travails have been well documented so I promise not to mention it at all.


So, leg 5...


We overnighted at the Drover's Inn. An absolute shit-hole of epic proportions, and you can quote me on that. Sloppy service, shit rooms, poor breakfast, and miserable, weird staff (in the main, the girl on reception and one of the waitresses were nice enough). Before we arrived they 'kindly' left our window open and as it's on the banks of Loch Lomond we had an infestation of midges. So many, in fact, that they got rid of them (on request) by hoovering them up. We were duly bitten throughout the night. 


I started off fairly gingerly (don't mention the knee), and reached the edge of Glasgow (Dumbarton) at around lunchtime. At that time I got the following tweet...

Due to my job I have met some inspiring, and, in their field, 'famous' people, great leaders, and people revered across the industry I work in. I rarely struggle to get hold of these people, to some I am fairly well known and I'd like to believe I can talk credibly with them. Also, I have been lucky enough to meet a fair few 'famous' people over the years, especially sports stars. As a result some of the mysteries of 'fame' are a little lost of me - I rarely get starstruck, although that said when Andy Duncan came up to to me in a bar and said 'Hi Dan, haven't seen you for ages, want a pint?' I nearly died. (Look him up). This sense of rarely being overawed does not apply when it comes to a certain Sir Christopher Andrew Hoy. It's not just that he's one of the greatest all time British Olympians, it's not just that he has a 'never say die' attitude with a will to win unmatched (for me) in modern sport, it is that he achieves all this with incredible humility and a down to earth persona. At the recent World Indoor Championships I took a photo that he signed and when I received it I literally danced a jig, shook with excitement, and ran over to the other side of the house to show someone. 


I am 37.

It pleased me greatly not only to get his tweet but also to see he is from Edinburgh, because such a hero could not be from Glasgow, oh no, it's impossible.


So, Dumbarton, what can I tell you - it's seemingly where Glasgow starts and despite an excellent Crown Carvery it is made up of tower blocks, decaying 'social housing' from the 60s and traffic lights. So is the rest of Glasgow. The desolation stretched from Dumbarton to Hamilton (30 miles). If Glasgow had a motto it would be 'We're closed'. The people I saw were either huddled outside a pub having a smoke (at 11.30am) or were kids pushing prams/pushchairs (with babies in, not just for fun, one assumes). The whole city smelled of fags and beer, and with all the (uncoordinated) traffic lights I had plenty of time to view it. Is this a fair appraisal of the city? Did I just chance upon the most deprived areas? I have no idea, all I do know is that I felt incredibly sad. especially for the kids with no hope of escaping the sink estates, and for the pub dwellers who had long given up. It was with a heavy heart I read this article last night. 


After Glasgow came some horrible climbs up through some tiny (slightly nicer) towns which took an age (don't mention the knee). 67 miles after leaving The Drover's Inn, we duly arrived at our B & B (on a farm in the middle of nowhere), and we had to share a shower and toilet for the first time (for me) since I went traveling in 2003. Something of a culture shock. To be fair our hosts were more than pleasant, even though I couldn't understand a word the old guy said. Pat had his sixth full English (Scottish) breakfast in a row and I had the weirdest porridge I'd ever tasted. I saddled up and set off on the shortest leg of the trip so far...