Diary: July, 22

Continued 2/3.

12th

Pitched on Moffat playing field again.

After packing up my equiptment, I visited my potter friend. I believe him to be the real chieftan of Clan Farquharson.

We talked before his wife came with poridge and honey then talked some more. He knows all about the Vatican, gave me a leaflet with some information. (click to expand)

I then went for another walk.

And hitched a ride on the road to Edinburugh.

Watched the planes taking off from Edinburgh airport.

Arrived in Perth.

And went to sleep watching the moon rise.

11th

After waving goodbye to his family the Asian man drove me to Carlisle, where I hitched a ride southbound on the M6. After hitchiking some distance I found myself at Brockholes nature reserve.

I then reversed direction, hitch-hiking back into Scotland along the M74, stopped at Moffat Nature reserve.

Moffat Motel was destroyed by a huge fire, but sheeple still watch from the borded up windows.

It's a safe place to pitch a tent is twee Moffat, so thats exactly what I did.

10th

Leaving Stranraer I discovered the town was the home of Seriously Strong Cheddar.

Walking several miles I found White Loch and Castle Kennedy.

The police stopped me whilst I was walking along the A75, the local public had rung me in as many people had been killed on the busy road. The police gave me a ride to Newton Stewart and suggested I catch the bus.

Whilst waiting for the bus, many classic commercial vehicles passed by. The bus took me to Dumfries, where I caught a bus to Annan. After four miles walk an Asian man stopped and offered me a lift. He offered me a place to stay, he seemed genuine, I went back to his house met his family, they bought back pizza for supper, after I slept the night on their sofa.

9th

Walked around the Ayrshire coastline.

Visited Robert deBruis birthplace.

I walked south, for several miles.

Before arriving at Maybole.

I caught the train to Girvan, then found a cafe, where I was encroached by "strangers", they arrive to tie knots in my stomach because the diet of communism is starvation.

After eating I took a walk to the beach front; get some air as I was feeling anxious.

And rested on Girvan Beach for ten minutes.

Before walking south.

I hitched a lift to Stranraer from two Irish travellers.

Parts of the town were derelic or run down.

I felt edgy in this town, and walked some way before pitching my tent.

Dreary, cold, and lonely; even though I was relieved to finally relax and go to sleep I was mindful about the possibility of night terrors.

Near the tent was a house, the resident came, we talked then he went away.

8th

The buckie monster pal from Wallace Town.

Nice guy sober, a cruel short tempered man when drunk.