21°C, brisk SW wind, bright sun, torrential rain in North England.
Picked up two hitchhikers in Glen Coe who wanted Glasgow. A young couple from Brittany who were headed home. I offered to take them as far as Preston. Good start.
Then the A82 was closed alongside Loch Lomond. The most obvious detour was West to the coast road.
That road soon fouled up with the weight of camper vans, coaches and lorries. We were stuck there for over two hours. Eventually, after the longest reverse in memory, I headed back to Tarbet. Stick again. Another fatality blocked to north route and that was escape routes closed. The highways agency people said the only way to Glasgow was by ferry.
So, that’s it; eventually we eased passed a pub food place and stopped for early supper.
My hitchhikers were lovely, and obviously, very much in love. She was cheeky too, she asked the waiter whether he was naked under his kilt. He misheard her strong french accent, so I helped; ‘she wants to know, are you commando?’. He grinned and said ‘of course’. Thus the tone for the day was set. I bought them lunch.
Eventually, the road was opened after a period of single lane go slow. 6pm, the route was open south.
Underway, we settled into the 300 mile trip. Other drivers seemed reluctant to use the 60mph limit. Is there an unwritten rule, out of respect? We were going home alive and well, several other drivers would not do so this night.
Into the borders, the rain began. Torrential by Gretna, and a mad dash into the services. Road markings were invisible under the depth of water on the M74. Large drops punched bubbles on the surface water.
The picture above shows my two hitchhikers dropped off in Preston. Safe, relaxed and well. Actually, I was quite sad to see them go, both were delightful company on that long journey. I hope life is sweet for them both.
Thoughts go out to the families grieving from this night.