Glasgow to Clydebank 31 March 2010 A ferry good walk.

A full complement of 11 eleven Ooters assembled at Ian's house for his usual excellent hospitality prior to setting off for Glasgow. The original plan had been to walk the Forth & Clyde canal as far as Clydebank, partake of a fish supper and then get the bus back to the cars. However other suggestions were put forward viz. go to the People's Palace at Glasgow Green and walk into Glasgow crossing as many bridges as we could, do the Necropolis walk (this idea died a death), walk down the Kelvin to Kelvingrove and have a sharp infusion of culture, stay at Ian's, watch television and help him sample his newly acquired crate of twelve bottles of wine. Surprisingly, Peter's Kelvingrove option was decided upon.
And so we duly arrived at our usual parking place behind the Botanic Gardens only to be informed by Robert that his car had decided to revert to the original walk after all (what does a Honda know about these things anyway? - well seen it wasn't an Accord). Without further ado we all fell into line and headed for the canal following the left bank of the Kelvin. This is notable because we normally walk up the opposite bank. As has been reported before, this recent trend is worrying - are we at the stage that we can't remember what we normally do? The canal was soon reached and we turned left and headed for Clydebank. Other than a few snow flurries the weather was overcast but dry and so it was to remain for the rest of the day. As a result of the recent wintry blast, snow covered the hills around but the walking on the path was good. Coffee was taken at a lock and without undue delay we were back en route and soon came across Allan (or was it Alan?) the fisherman holding a newly landed large pike. After exchanging pleasantries for a few minutes he carefully returned the fish to the water and we left him to pursue his next catch. Best catch of the day however was Johnny's, who fished out a football (good one too) from the canal, to be joined later by a rugby ball.
(One aspect of the walk today which was completely disappointing was the amount of rubbish that had been tossed over the back fences by residents (maybe out of sight, out of mind to them but not to those on the path), and the amount of debris, litter and glass that 'decorated' the surrounds.)
The centre of Clydebank was reached in good time and we all partook of chips at McMonagles fish and chip 'boat'. Well done to Alan who persuaded the lassie at the till to give him a Pensioner's Fish Supper. This was the same as an ordinary supper with the exception that the lassie chewed all the hard bits before she put them in the box.
Somehow the plans had changed again. Those of us who spotted the signs for the bus station (funnily enough 450 yds from one side of the road and 400 yds from the opposite side - they've got awfie wide roads in Clydebank) were to be disappointed as an executive decision had been made to continue the walk down to the Clyde and to take the cycle path back in to Glasgow.
Rex, as is his want (a long felt one, if rumours are true), took the lead and found the path taking us back towards Glasgow. Whilst passing Holm Park, home of Yoker Athletic, now ground sharing with Clydebank FC who have reached the semi-finals of this year's Junior Cup (thanks to Paul for the info), Johnny decided to get rid of his balls which unusually he had carried for some time in a large bag trailing from his bum. He says this arrangement has certain advantages, especially when doing press-ups. Apparently Farmfoods charges you for carrier bags these days but scrotums are free. It took three desperate attempts to kick the football over the fence and into the park. My my, where have all the years gone?
As we approached the slipway for the Renfrew Ferry, passing by partly built flats that have already begun to be vandalised, we met a damsel in distress. OK, she had a tear in her eye. The crossing we had just witnessed was the ferry's last before being replaced by small aluminium landing craft type vessels. We consoled the damsel and walked on to see the ferry parked at the slipway at Yoker. Not backward at coming forward, Ronnie went down to the ferry and, realising that the ferry was about to return for the last time across the Clyde to be parked up, asked if the Ooters could hitch a lift across. 'If your mates can get on quickly,' was the reply. And so they did. Allan, who had been taking photos, ran down the slip and jumped on just as the vessel was leaving and so became the last person on to the 'Renfrew Rose'. (Ronnie said that when he was younger he used to go out with Renfrew Rose, but more of that at some other time).
Even better, the boat was now out of commission and the journey was free. This suited the Ooters just fine. Having said good-bye to the ferry and its staff, like long lost brothers, and smiled for the cameras, a decision was made to celebrate the crossing in the nearby pub, 'The Ferry'. Pints were ordered, only one each mind you as we still had miles to go. But wait a minute, we were now on the wrong side of the river. Some discussions with locals about how to proceed on the south side were not encouraging so there was no option but to take the new wee ferry back across. Now the ferry takes 12 passengers, we were 11 and a dug, and there were 2 folk in front of us. Did it matter? Not on this day as the ferryman said it was OK and it was free - ya beauty!
Back on dry land we (sorry, Rex) found the path again and we returned to the rubbish and glass as we marched past Bae Systems, Albion Motors, Forrest Furnishing et all. Other notable landmarks included the plethora of high-rise dovecotes, some appearing more robust than others. It reminded us of the pigeon fanciers' handbook - 'The Doos and Don'ts Of Keeping Pigeons'. 'Lunch' was called for, Johnny was struggling at this point, and whilst we rested a local, out walking his wean and dug, engaged us in conversation hazarding a guess that it was about 25 minutes to the bottom of Byres Road. The path eventually took us across South Street and alongside the Glasgow Harbour development when, 'help ma boab!', a splinter group of Davie, Paul, Ronnie and Peter decided to break ranks and head down to the path beside the Clyde instead of following the road. This was a mistake since we had to cross the Expressway and the way to do that was to use the fast approaching underpass - at least, fast approaching to Rex's gang. As those of little faith passed in the distance, shouts, whistles and arm-waving eventually caught their attention and they returned to the fold. (Remember, when in Glasgow always trust the Aussie!)
Partick Cross soon was reached, not before Johnny had tested the pavement's coefficient of resistance, fortunately with no real damage. Then the trudge up Byres Road was followed by the walk through the Botanic Gardens and back to the cars. In total we had been trekking for the best part of five and a half hours and, despite deviating from our original plan, the wee piece of history we encountered, and were part of, was worth it.
FRT was taken back at the King's Hotel in Fenwick.