18.7 miles – clouds with occasional weary sunshine in the morning and sullen rain later
The Clyde Walkway takes over where the Kelvin Walkway leaves off; however, it didn’t manage to inspire me as the latter had. The city centre was disappointingly like any city centre anywhere in the world apart from the occasional relic of Victorian grandure.
The Way does manage to shake off the city, and lose itself in dustily gloomy woodland, but the grind and whine of industry always lurks, and the ruthless roar of the M74 erupts from time to time, drowning the blackbirds’ song.
But there were peaceful moments, especially around Bothwell, where sweeping beach woods caress the Clyde’s gentle bank. It was there that I stumbled upon Bothwell Castle – relics of the past are always best when come upon unexpectedly.
The loud and cheery Douglas Arms in Bothwell Village proved to offer the best welcome of any pub in Scotland to date.
But my adventures weren’t over. My attempts to get past the M74 and the A723 at the same time led me to try crossing a ridiculously dangerous junction, I realised my mistake before being run over and had to retrace my steps of the previous hour, but I got there in the end, and am even now relaxing in my tent to the thunder of traffic on those roads.
The disturbing thing is that I was following the Clyde Walkway, a long-distance footpath, whose route is depicted on the map. So, what do other people do?