Nelson Chronicle, Colne Observer, and Clitheroe Division News. — 1897-08-27 (Nelson, Lancashire, England)

NELSON CYCLE CLUB MEN IN SCOTLAND.  Several of the members of the N.C.O. spent the recent holidays a-wheel in Scotland and Mr. Hindle, who superintended a party of four, sends us some lengthy particulars of the out. He says a few hours found them over the border nearing their destination. He then continues :—The sun was just breaking out as we left Princess-street, Edinburgh, en route for the Highlands. We crossed Dean Bridge, redolent of suicides, and were at once racing down the road towards the famous Forth Bridge. We were on a broad, smooth highway, perfectly free from ruts or hollows and it was almost downhill for miles, so anyone might imagine their feelings after being cooped up in the train all night. The writer then gives a beautiful description of their run to Cramraond, and their arrival at the Forth Bridge, and continues: Through Queens- ' ferry, amidst lovely scenery—prosperous farm lands and forests—we approach Lindlithgow. The road is so smooth that we seem to glide along automatically. We sight the old palace with its lake, and thi scene seems to carry us back to feudal times, a beautiful picture truly. Of course we visit it and wander through its deserted balls, dungeons, and ' terraces at our own sweet will. After dinner we proceed through Falkirk and Lauriston, amidst unrivalled scenery, towards Stirling. Arriving fist at Bannockburn, we visit the famous battlefield (1314) and from the flagstaff we get our first good view of the mountains of the Highlands, in front grand old Stirling, with its castle on the rock, and in our humble opinion Stirling is the grandest situated town in Scotland,—in the scene of Scottish history and warfare pre-eminent. We are loth to leave this enchanting place, but the following day found us in the woods of Blair Drummond Castle. Forward to Doune, Allan Water, and the gigantic Donne Castle appears, a formidable stronghold, 90 feet high, with its turrets' bastions, and courtyard,—on to Callender, "that mountain village." we are now at the foot of Ben Ledi, the first of the mountain passes close at hand. We ascend this pass of Leny early in the morning to Loch Subnaig and Strathyro. This is the pass where the cross of fire is carried to St. Bride's Chapel. The scenery is entrancing beyond belief. Returning we take the road to Loch Veunaker, the Brig 'o Turk Loch Achaay, and the famous Trossochs Pass—a scene of wild luxuriant beauty—Ben Bennie rising upon the left, and Ben Ann on the right. Presently we emerge on the rear of Loch Katrine and reach the climax of grandeur in nature. Here we get on board the steamer "Rob Roy," and won emerging round the bend, Helen's Isle and the silver strand bursts into view—could any scene be fairer? We feel entranced, lifted above our ordinary every day life. Nelson is forgotten, Lancashire is a myth, we are in a kind of fairyland, and feel under the spell of the great magician, Scott. No wonder that he wrote his "Lady of the Lake." Mr. Hindle describes in much the same strain of delight the journey to Loch Lomond, across whose depths of 500 feet, they ferried a mile, and then the journey is continued to Ardlin, Tyndrum, and Dalmally. Speaking of Killburn Castle, which they next visited, he says: Words fail to convey any proper idea of the great and glorious beauty of this locality—it is the ne plus ukra of all that we have seen. The lake, the ruined castle, and the distant Ben More are a sight once seen, never forgotten ; and now, the pass of Brander, majestic and wild, then on the right for miles Loch Elive is seen, in glimpses through the trees, with the famous pass of Glencoe beyond. Oban at last and well earned repose. We embark for Glasgow, the sea is very calm and the numerous islands look charming. Then we pass through the Crinan canal—we " bikers " of course, "walking" the nine miles on wheels—through splendid scenery. Now comes Adrishaig with its fishermen, and Loch Fone. We here board the steamer, " Columbia " for Glasgow, calling at Tarbet, through the famous Kyles of Bute to Rothsea. We are much tempt- , ed to stay here for it is the Scotch Blackpool, but time presses, and we sail on, calling at Dunoon, Keir and Dumbarton, into the Clyde, and thence to Glasgow. This practically finished our tour for the rain came on and we took train to Edinburgh. For glorious scenery, the journey cannot be equalled in Britain, and cannot be beaten in the world. The roads are so very excellent, too. There is a perfect absence of stones, ruts, and traffic hollows. The only traffic one meets is flocks of sheep, and perhaps Highland soldiers on the march occasionally. At all events, "we four" found great delight and satisfaction from the out, and hope to repeat it some time in the future.