Dumfries and Galloway
Figure-of-8 in this under-rated region
MUCH OF THE thrill of planning a bike trip is the childlike joy of opening a map, pointing to a region previously unvisited and saying; “I know, let’s go there!” — then savouring the whirlwind romance of discovering new tarmac and new scenery. These days, that usually means clicking on Google Maps to preview the roads on Streetview, which spoils the surprise somewhat – but at least we know what we’re in for... or we usually do; peering at a computer screen, at the chunk of southern Scotland lying to the west of the M74 — the Galloway half of Dumfries and Galloway, or known by local Doonhammers as Stewartry — reveals the main route around Galloway Forest Park was photographed by Google’s van in March 2009. So it’s frigid and frosty in places and trees are bare but even so, the riding looks inviting.
It’s just as good in real life. The town of Dumfries makes a great base to kick off our journey from — it’s about 20 miles west along the A75 from Gretna and the M6/M74 (just over the Scots/england border), so it’s a good place to stop for a night before exploring the region.
Dumfries has a lot of history — in the late 13th century William Wallace cornered an English force at Dumfries Castle and early in the 14th century, Robert the Bruce kicked off his campaign for Scottish independence in the town. A slightly less-agitated Robert, the poet Burns, lived in Dumfries in the late 18th century and JM Barrie, author of Peter Pan, spent his school years here.
Setting off from the Caledonian hotel early, Honda’s Africa Twin Adventure Sports pads quietly between the town’s reddish-brown sandstone houses and civic buildings. The stone is quarried locally but has an international reputation — it also forms the base of the Statue of Liberty. The route soon picks up the A711 heading for Dalbeattie (no relation to Daryl Beattie, the 1990s Aussie Grand Prix star). It’s an empty road, wide and flowing, perfect for settling into an easy rhythm first thing. Skies grow brighter and widen through Beeswing as we pass through low-lying farmland but, on the other side of Dalbeattie, heading through Palnackie, crags dotted with trees begin to build to the right as the East Stewartry coast draws near.
Just before the pretty white cottages in Auchencain, at the war memorial, I spot a left turn signposted for Balcary Bay Hotel. Whenever it’s in reach, it always feels right to go and sit beside the sea for a moment, as if acknowledging a long-lost love. So the Africa Twin dives off the main route, follows a haphazard tree-lined path for a few miles, and emerges at the hotel entrance. The neat hedges and manicured lawns look a bit too grand for a dog-eared motorcyclist but following the road just beyond leads round a corner to a tiny opening and down to the beach. It’s a tranquil five minutes, sitting on a rock and listening to nothing but the sound of the water lapping gently against pebbles. I could sit here all day. Hestan Island, in the middle of the bay, is an easy two-mile walk at low tide, apparently, across a shingle ridge held together by a bed of mussels. Another time...
Back on the main route, we head further south on the A711, past Dundrennan and its ruined abbey, and Kirkcudbright MOD training camp — seven square miles of heathland and coastline packed with rare plants like the Yellow Horned Poppy, Pyramidal Orchid and the lesser-spotted unexploded bomb. I ride past the warning signs, idly wondering who owns the most land in the UK: the MOD or the Church of England – it’s the MOD with 750,000 acres against the Church’s paltry 105,000.
Kirkcudbright heaves into view, straddling the mouth of the River Dee. Good place to stop for a coffee and a freshly-baked shortbread at the Belfry café on the high street, then away again and turn left on the A755 across the river. Within a few miles, a brief dog-leg on the A75, then right onto the B727, signposted
Gatehouse of Fleet. Immediately, hills cluster on the horizon and we pass a sign announcing entry to
Galloway Forest Park — 300 square miles of trees and open hillside. This is where the really good stuff starts.
At Gatehouse of Fleet, take a right at the war memorial signposted
Laurieston. It’s a narrow singletrack path, heading north into higher ground, across open moorland dotted with sheep licking salt off the road and stunning views back across to the Big Water of Fleet and the sea beyond. It’s rugged, wild and remote, but only a taster of what’s to come. The road winds
‘It’s rugged, wild and a taste of what’s to come...’
‘The air is fresh; the smell of trees breathing’
back down again, passing though a shimmering pale green tunnel of broad-leaved birch, then more open woodland mixed with Douglas Fir. The landscape of Dumfries and Galloway is nothing if not varied.
At Laurieston, pick up the A762 on the left, heading to New Galloway. After a few miles, just after Woodhall Loch and then Mossdale Loch, I spot a wide, gravel fire trail heading left into the forest. A sign says ‘Raiders’ Road’ and ‘Forest Drive, 600m’. That can’t be right; the Forestry Commission (incidentally, the UK’S biggest land owners, with 2.2 million acres) isn’t usually keen on bikes and cars driving on their turf. Must be a misprint.
The Africa Twin presses on past the turning, tracing the A762 as it flows steadily north on the banks of Loch Ken, with paddle-boarders scooping across its mirrored surface and anglers avoiding casting across their bows.
At New Galloway we head along its white-washed high street, turn left onto the A712, heading for Newton Stewart. This is the Queen’s Way; a sublime tarmac twist pelting along towards Clatteringshaws Loch with its high dam and visitor centre. The hills rise and fall, with racing green conifer plantations bristling against the russet bracken of the hillsides. The air is fresh and crystal clear; it’s the smell of trees breathing.
Just before the side road running up for a view across the dam, I spot a second turning into the forest, again marked as the Raiders’ Road Forest Drive. A quick chat with a local couple emerging from the trees in a Range Rover reveals this is, in fact, a ten-mile forest drive on an unpaved road, right through the heart of the national park. Slightly astonished, we explore a bit further — going looks easy, mostly hard-packed gravel — but a couple of decent frontend slides shows there’s zero
grip, so it’s not a total doddle. It’s also a two-way road, so just forget the speed and revel in the experience of riding through a forest off-road (there’s another track further north in the Park too, called the Carrick Forest Drive).
Back on the road and heading towards Newton Stewart, the A712 sprawls its tarmac genius for another 20 miles, sweeping us along, lost in an exhilarating cadence. By the time we get to the town, we’re ready for a coffee stop at the Brew Ha Ha café. Then it’s back out of town on the A714 heading north for a few miles before diving off towards Glentrool on the only strip of tarmac crossing the northern half of the Forest Park.
‘This is my kind of riding heaven’
And it’s my favourite. The road is narrow, bumpy in places, smooth in others, relentlessly twisting and turning, up and down, flinging the Africa Twin from side to side as it climbs up across the highest point of the Park. I love the remoteness, the helter-skelter road zig-zagging left and right like a staggering drunk. Just before the Bell Memorial car park, a side road — called the Nick of the Bollach, I kid you not — clips off to the left. It’s worth a diversion because the views are sublime, as it runs alongside a cleft in the terrain between Pinbreck Hill on one side, Rowantree Hill on the other, and Corrn Roy river down below. But stop at Balloch and spin it back; the remainder of the road up to Straiton — again, I kid you not — is a belter too. This is my kind of riding heaven — busily shepherding the bike through a relentless barrage of bewildering physics, like the Millennium Falcon in an asteroid field, surrounded by spectacular scenery.
The B741 runs to the right out of Straiton, arcing back round the eastern side of the Forest Park — gone are the eye-tingling panoramas, replaced by low-lying farms and woody glades, but the B741 and A713 down to New Galloway, then the A712 back to the A75 and Dumfries, are all great bend-swingers in themselves.
The Galloway figure of eight is an easy day’s ride — 160 miles — which makes it a great weekend hoot. But don’t worry if you feel as if you’ve missed out on parts of it — I guarantee you’ll be back.