The Scenic Route

The Scenic Route

Ewan Alexander, former Chief Architect with Tayside Regional Council, enjoyed retirement. Some of his friends did not and made that abundantly clear whenever he
had the infrequent meetups for a round of golf or lunch. He considered himself fortunate. The pain of his wife, Emma’s, passing still lingered – a bout of pancreatic cancer - although he had gradually become accustomed to his own company. In his early seventies, he was not yet in the departure lounge of life and wanted to make the most of his time left. With children having flown the nest long ago and time on his hands, along with a passion for driving, it was time to indulge and have some enjoyment on his own terms.

The A75 from Dumfries to Stranraer is the artery that joins those that disembark the multitude of ferries arriving at Stranraer from Ireland to mainland UK. Lorries and cars
jostle along the seafront and out on to the main road for the route over to the M6 and all destinations, North, South, and East. Ewan was heading West. Opposing the traffic was always best, then North to Ayr for some lunch and a movie, with a planned return to Castle Douglas by way of the Galloway National Park under the stars as he had done
with Emma many times before.

The journey to Ayr was uneventful and there was plenty time to park and make his way to the restaurant for a bite to eat. The Clootie Dumpling was without doubt the best part although the freshly battered haddock and triple cooked chips weren’t too shabby either. For some reason, although he’d eaten similar food elsewhere in Scotland, this combo, in this place, was just the best. Ewan carried two mobile phones: one for calls and directions; the other for pictures, leisure, and banking. The leisure included a browse of some online newspapers that he subscribed to. In particular, the FT that kept him abreast of anything worth needing to
know, with a dash of culture and something more thought provoking on the side. A few book reviews had prompted an online order or two. Certainly, a hard copy read was
always welcome on a return home.

The Astoria Cinema in Ayr is an Art Deco marvel and was an inspiration for Ewan, among other buildings of that era, to take his formative steps on the path to a career in Architecture. With his grandfather, James, a noted architect from Glasgow in its halcyon
cinema-populated days, only Dundee, where he now resided, gave it much of a run for its money in the thirties, forties, and fifties. The film passed in a blur which he always took as a good sign that it was a serviceable effort. Walking out of the glass doors with their ornate, and highly polished brass handles, the winter night had lowered its cloak, and the familiar pin prick of stars were apparent. Ewan walked to his car and unlocked it with a beep and chirrup. His frosted breath rose in plumes inside the car as he pressed the ignition and
turned the heater on full blast. He would need to watch for ice on the road, particularly through the exposed part of the Galloway National Park that opened into moors and had no protection from the canopy of trees.

It was a straight run through, A70 then A713 where he could top up on petrol, after a detour through the moorland and forest. There was a station open late in Castle Douglas that he used and had got to know the owner a little. Alf would be around for a chat and refill. The road and weather out of Ayr were both clear and crisp as the town lights faded and the tarmac unwound into the forested night in the distance. Although he had travelled this road many times over the years with Emma by his side, and sometimes children in the rear, it was always a special and at times traumatic experience. It all added to the excitement and challenge of making satisfactory progress on the road, at the same time taking in the ambience and sheer might of the star laden sky as it soaked up light and pulled him into its dark embrace.

It set Ewan’s mind back to the challenges of driving through this part of the country and the dangers that can lurk out of a winter’s gloom. He recalled a particular time in his mind when he drove back from Ayr after a similar journey with Emma and they had an incident to deal with. Emma was the first to see it, “Watch your speed, Ewan,” she said. The switch-back road across the open moors was a joy to drive, to hit the breaking points that he had learned
as an advanced driver. Anticipate the limit points on the road as the car undulated and twisted from corner to corner: to feel one with the road. Still, he didn’t see it coming, as Emma had.

From out of the corner of his eye, in a flash, a lithe shape leapt up from below the grass verge to the side of the vehicle and brushed against the front of the car before it slipped
into the moors to the passenger side of the car, and off into the night. Ewan screeched to a halt, panting and shivering with shock. He got out of the car and walked behind it to see if he could see anything, then to the front, but there was nothing obvious. No blood or hair. "Did you hit it?” asked Emma. “No, the car is clean,” replied Ewan. “We must have startled it. I’m sure it’s OK apart from a bit of shock, like us,” Ewan said. Emma smiled. It was a comfort to remember that episode, even just to have Emma’s voice in his head again, thought Ewan.

It prompted him of another time when things were not so lucky for the wildlife although the farmers were no doubt happy. It was along the same stretch of road a few years prior to the deer incident with the children in the back under a canopy of trees after passing a remote cottage, that Ewan had caught a rabbit in the headlights and it was pulled into the underside of the car with a sharp thump. He had stopped and found hair with blood around the wheel arch on the driver’s side and a furry ear stuck to the grille of the car. Not one of his finest moments but, as he reminded himself, the farmers would be happy. He told the children that if it were between the animal and humans on a road then the animal would come off worse. It was the law, after all.

Ewan was out in the moors now, peaty, and fresh, with his thoughts to himself and the window wound slightly down as he passed over one hump on the switch back road and
barrelled into the next corner. The headlights converged ahead of him, and he could hear Emma’s voice in his head, “Slow down, Ewan.” Ewan turned to where Emma would
have sat. He turned back only to see a dark shape in front of him to the side of the road that he hit with a glancing blow. Ewan stopped with a sharp dig on the brakes and composed himself. It could be a deer again, he thought, or a sheep. It was bulky whatever it was. He paused and got out of the car. He walked to the rear and in the distance, he could see a dark shape slumped across the verge. To his side, a small flock of sheep were grazing and one or two seemed to look at him.

Ewan considered checking around the car but thought better of it as he could view everything more clearly when he reached Castle Douglas. The stars could guide him back, in any case, at a slower pace. Ewan got back in the car and continued his journey, passing only one other vehicle in a lay-by close to this latest incident. He had stopped himself many times to soak in the gloaming and subsequent subdued sparkle of the streetlamp-free heavens.

Castle Douglas was welcoming, and Ewan was sure Alf would be too at the petrol station. He parked up and filled the car, then went to pay. Alf nodded at Ewan and asked, “How are you?” “Good, good,” said Ewan, “Just been down through Galloway Forest, its brisk out there tonight.” “See anything odd at all?” Alf inquired. “No, not at all, why do you ask,” replied Ewan.

“Oh, the Police have been by, said there was a motorist abandoned his car and got hit. Died at the scene I believe. Did you see anything while you were up that way?”

1489 Words.