At Wigtown harbour.

Veda went to Wigtown harbour yesterday and came back even more obsessed by mud.  She had some great photos.  I went today and was very lucky again with the sun.   It was low tide so I had a lovely time photographing the river. Much to my delight a pair of swans flew over and before I knew it I was infected by Veda's mud.  It's a strange harbour, not at all like any other.  I walked to the bird hide to see the river curving away  through the salt marsh to join the estuary of the Cree, both flowing into the Solway Firth.  Once I'd exhausted the possibilities of the mud I moved on to Garlieston and set off on the footpath to Eggerness Point.  I wanted to see the surviving elements of  Mulberry harbour, a prototype floating artificial harbour, which underwent sea trials near Garlieston in 1943 during the Second World War. Walked too far yet again and had to go back without finding the wrecked landing craft. All I found were some nice red leaves. Instead of giving up for the day I drove down to the Isle of Whithorn and made things worse then went to Newton Stewart and had to walk to find a shop selling heat pads.  I'd forgotten to bring mine with me.  Spent the rest of the day cosseting myself on the sofa. When Veda came back she volunteered to drive to the Laird's Inn where we'd booked a meal.  Making the booking had been difficult and instructions on how to get there were anything but accurate so I was grumpy and had taken against the place.  Eventually we arrived at  the remains of a roofless Scottish baronial style castle built in 1580. An extension added at a much later date housed the inn, the food was excellent and the staff very helpful and friendly.  Everything was freshly made on the premises. Veda had local lamb and I had local fish in the lightest crispest batter I have tasted in a long time.  Puddings were apple pie and ice cream and an espresso ice cream which I loved.   As a result we booked again for our last evening.  Back at base Veda was poring over maps making plans for our last day and I was really pleased to see that Galloway had got her in its grip.  My plans were to photograph at Loch Ken and not to walk under any circumstances.  Went to bed hoping against hope that my knee would have made a recovery by the morning.