Day Forty Two

Sunday 25 July – Glasgow to Milngavie

This was to be a walk in the park followed by a tramp through the fields. The Clyde Walkway connects to the Kelvin Walkway, providing a (more or less) seamless route from the centre of Glasgow to Milngavie, where the West Highland Way starts. I had cut the corner, so I walked West from Garnethill to pick up the Kelvin Walkway (it’s also a cycleway) in Kelvingrove Park.

First created by Paxton for the then Town Council in 1852, Kelvingrove is the best sort of civic park, a mixture of manicured lawns, recreation areas, and winding walks through the trees. The Victorian buildings of the University can be seen on the skyline.

I said I went for a walk in the park, but I didn’t just mean this one. The Kelvin lies in a gorge which has become a linear park several miles long. Good paths lead you beneath high bridges and, in two cases, aqueducts, grassy areas opening up where the gorge widens, sheer walls squeezing it where the valley grows narrow again. Consequently, I have no idea what the suburbs I passed through look like – an occasional church spire being the most I saw of most areas.

After about three miles of walking I reached Maryhill. But I was confused. I’ve watched Taggart, and I know that Maryhill is the “muddah” capital of Scotland – where were all the “muddahrers”? Then I realised – it was Sunday, and they were all in church or taking flowers to their white-haired old mums. I phoned my mum (the flowers were virtual).

Then things went haywire. I followed the path away from the river, knowing that it cuts across a bend in the Kelvin. A new, unmapped path to the left was signposted, So I followed it. I emerged in the grounds of the West Scotland Science Park. I could see the exit gate, through some temporary fencing surrounding a building site. No alternative route was signed or, as far as I could see, available.

Far above me, a man was sluicing out some roof gutters. He kindly stopped blasting water long enough to describe an escape route. I could see from the map that, by crossing the main road and walking along a side road, I should be able to reconnect with the Walkway. I was still in the science park – it had spread across the road - but soon I reached the spot where the Walkway signs should have been. No signs, but a path in the right place, which I followed.

Sure enough I soon got back to the river bank, which I followed out into the country. In places this path, still officially a cycleway, was very overgrown, difficult to walk through and certainly a nightmare for a cyclist. Of course my boots started to let water in again, but there was less wet grass than a week ago, so less water in the boots.

The site of the Antonine Wall, a failed attempt by the Romans to pacify more of Britain, seems to be just a line on the map. I could see no trace.

Later I crossed the river using the Prescott Bridge, erected by some Royal Engineers in memory of Jim Prescott, a bomb disposal expert who was killed during the Falklands Campaign, A plaque records these facts.

The path eventually emerged on the outskirts of Milngavie, continued through a town park, and finished at the pedestrianised High Street, where I found twin attractions – the start of the West Highland Way (the next business), and a Costa coffee shop, of immediate interest.