Annie decided to accompany me to my next campsite, riding Doogs - so her husband John agreed to transport the packs. Bless him, he also opened some of the gates for us - a job I feel you have to be born to in Wigtownshire!The weather had relented and we had a smashing day's riding through mixed forest, back roads and over a glorious old hill track to just below Lagafater Lodge, close to Beneraird Hill, which I was to carry on over the next day. The track winds over this moor, presumably avoiding cow-swallowing bogs - one of those evening where you can see your destination (but it takes a very long time to get there).
This was our campsite outlook (pretty much the same in all directions - hooray for a fine evening with little wind or you may never have got to read this blog post.)Here we were greeted with the most extraordinary swarms of flying red ants (non-biting, thankfully) which rapidly covered me and the ponies. The farmer Norman told us they only appear for about one week in the year (how lucky were we?) and come out of the road (where presumably they lurk for the other fifty-one weeks).
Here we had to bid farewell to dear Annie and John (who had been so very kind) - not before she'd produced beet pulp for the ponies and sandwiches for me. Annie - it will be a very long time before we forget how very well looked after we were in Wigtownshire. But ever onwards - tomorrow Ayrshire beckons...
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