Glasgow spreads along the River Clyde, and with a good network of cycle paths following both banks, it is an easy place to get around by bicycle.

But what if, like me, you go there for work and don’t have your bike with you?

Luckily Brompton, who make some of the worlds best and most compact folding bikes have an automated hire facility in the city – so getting transport at a reasonable cost is no problem! So, instead of sitting in a hotel watching TV, I was able to spend a couple of evenings after work exploring the city on two wheels. Each day I covered a different part of the city on short rides of between 5 and 20 miles.

The Nocturnal City

Odd shapes emerge from the darkness and into the thin beam of light cast by the cycle headlight. One is the South Portland Street Suspension Bridge, built between 1851 and 1853 of wrought iron and sandstone; the first purpose-built pedestrian bridge across the river. It is best viewed at night when its strong features are backed by the dark sky. In this light it appears as a smaller version of the great bridge in Budapest (where I finished another of my cycling adventures).

Cycling through the city centre, a magnificent silver and glass creature suddenly appeared in front of me. It appeared to be burrowing deep underground and sucking up people from the street. It was the modern entrance to the Metro underground system.

I crossed the river and gazed back, where out of the darkness, as my eyes acclimatised, the hulk of the famous Finnieston Crane started to appear. Dating from the 1920s, this giant cantilevered structure stands 53 metres tall and was originally used for loading locomotives and tanks onto ships for export around the Empire. Some 30,000 steam locomotives were moved in this way. In the early days they were pulled to the dock on a dedicated railway, under the power of Clydesdale heavy horses. It now stands an industrial memorial – a reminder in steel, that in the nineteenth century Britain developed the first steam railways, and then help build the lines (and supplied the locos) for much of the world.

The path along the southern bank was very quiet at night.

I was largely alone, just the spinning wheels beneath me, flashing navigation lights and the sound of the flowing water, lapping against the banks before heading out west towards the sea.

Turning north to head back, an empty pedestrian bridge drew me towards the silver metal cladding of the “armadillo” building, a conference centre. Perhaps a suitable armoured adversary for the metal earthworm I saw earlier? If ever a battle took place, I would recommend keeping your distance.

Back in the city, the powerful columns of the Gallery of Modern Art guard its entrance. Surrounding it on three sides, Royal Exchange Square was fully covered by a suspension of clear white lights. I sat down for a while and looked up towards its ten thousand “stars”, drifting in the breeze. The evening was uncommonly mild for March, so although it was after 10pm, it was still pleasant to sit and watch the world go by.

In front of the building is a famous statue of the Duke of Wellington on horseback, victor over Napleon at the Battle of Waterloo. This memorial was paid for by public subscription and erected in 1844. Today, the public prefer to place a traffic cone on his head, a student tradition dating back to the 1980s. It’s a comical sight, and Lonely Planet put the statue/cone ensemble amongst its top 10 of “the most bizarre monuments on Earth”. After reputably spending £10,000 a year just removing the cones (which are soon replaced) the council seem to no longer bother, and it’s become an unofficial symbol of the city!

The East – Dance Halls and Markets

The great thing about working in the heart of a great city and having access to a bike is the ability to explore and visit places off the beaten track. You can point your metal steed down that dark alleyway and find fantastic murals and artworks. You can visit areas that are not on the tourist brochures, but which I think sum up the essence of a location. For my second evening of adventures, I headed east towards Glasgow Green, Parkhead and The Barras.

Following the Clyde east from the office, within a mile I found myself in Glasgow Green, a large park bordering the river. Again it was quiet – it seems an early evening in March is maybe not the optimal time for a family stroll? I was a couple of thousand kilometres north of the Mediterranean families currently taking “la passeggiata”, their daily ritual of a family walk through dusk. Being 300 miles north of my home, that twilight came that little bit earlier than was “usual” for me. But again, the last remnants of a sunny day still gave me a couple of hours for exploration before the cloak of darkness descended. The hire Brompton thoughtfully is supplied with a dynamo hub and a decent light, so gave a degree of reassurance against getting stranded on any unlit path.

A great botanic winter garden glasshouse dominates one half of the park, and adjacent I found the giant fountain dedicated to Queen Victoria, the largest terracotta water feature in the world. Within its intricate amber and pink hued design, stand amazing figures in national dress from all corners of the earth. In another clearing in the park stood a column dedicated to Lord Nelson, another victor against Napoleon and his Spanish allies – this time at sea in the Battle of Trafalgar. Standing high above the park, sadly his head does not have the benefit of a cone to keep it warm – perhaps unsurprising as it would be a 30 metre hold-free climb to get it there.

From here a wide road took me up to Parkhead, home of the legendary Celtic FC. I stopped on the concourse. Here the statue of Brother Walfrid dominates one corner. He formed the club in 1887 as a fundraising project to help alleviate poverty in the east end through his charity the “Poor Children’s Dinner Table“. In the intervening years the club grew to dominate Scottish Football, alongside their Old Firm adversaries, Glasgow Rangers.

On the other side of the yard is the statue to Billy McNeill, labelled simply “The Player. Celtic’s Greatest Ever Captain”. He holds aloft the European Cup, won in 1967, with a team where every player was born within a small radius of this stadium. The sun was now setting across his bronze figure, but it had long ago set on any team being capable of winning the European Cup with players born in a single city, or even country.

Within that same recruitment radius is The Barras, my next point of call. Connecting the two was a poorer area of town, where the streets were not so much lined with gold, but with mobility scooters. Without the assistance of a battery and motor, I felt a little left out and vulnerable, but hoped that in case of trouble my legs and 6 gears would speed me away from any quickly launched “squadron” of defence scooters, bent on chasing me out of their “airspace”.

For 4 decades I have had a fascination with the “Barrowlands” area. In 1984, I watched a New Years Eve concert by the band Big Country which took place at the legendary Barrowlands Ballroom. As midnight struck, a full marching band with bagpipes joined the band on the stage. As a young lad, on the English south coast, as far removed as you can get from it on this island, it epitomised an idea of “Scottishness”. The next day I booked my tickets for the band at my local venue, for their Steeltown tour.

Cycling back into the silhouetted city, caught in glow of the dropping sun, I could see the huge sign for the Ballroom. The biggest neon sign in the UK at the time it was built, it looks wonderful when on, but sadly there was no event there today. Switched off, the twisted tubes of glass can no longer mask the faded glory of the building, but I think that edginess just adds to its atmosphere. Built in 1934, the ballroom has a barrel roof, internally fitted with sound absorbing tiles – both features contributing to its fabulous acoustics. By all accounts, the area and the ballroom were created through the single-minded vision of one family, the McIvers, who bought the land in 1921, cleared it, and opened it as market. Traders would pay for a pitch and hire a wooden barrow from which to move and sell their wares, hence the “Barrowlands” were born.

I cycled under one of several iron arches which marked the periphery of “The Barras”, the kerbstones on the roads below me engraved with the “trading cries” stall holders traditionally would use. A recent (and very beautiful) mural seems to represent its continual rejuvenation; a newlywed Asian couple hang curtains amongst the destruction of “the past”. This contrasts with another brilliant wall art I found closer to the hotel, this time an innocent young child blows bubbles, to the delight of her friend – years before the struggles of daily life may need to be faced.

It was also the week of the Glasgow Comedy Festival, so later that evening I found myself in a small trendy upstairs venue, to watch an hour of surreal local comedy before heading back to the hotel for bed.

Pedalling West – Cathedrals to Commerce, Sport and Science

West from the city centre spreads the former industrial heartland; the foundries and famous docks and from which great vessels were constructed and launched. Today the spread of the gentrified city has consumed much of this area, which the decline of heavy industry made derelict in the 70s and 80s. Like in London and other cities, these are now reborn in gleaming glass cathedrals to finance and banking, entertainment and leisure. New bridge arches sweep over the once dirty river, and the following evening I took one of these to the south bank to explore the science park.

Here I am transported to another Glasgow – that of the future, represented in shining orbs of metal, amorphous forms the melt out of the earth, and steel needles that pierce the sky. The last hours of daylight were a perfect time to explore these, offering glinting reflections and calm waters, before the river settles to sleep.

Opened in 2001 on the site of an old cargo port, the science centre comprises 3 buildings each clad in a different metal; Titanium, Stainless Steel and Aluminium. Each therefore has its own subtle range of colours, changing with the passing weather and seasons. A cycle path weaved amongst them and around the former dock, now a nature reserve. As I looked back, the sun’s refection seemed to indicate the heartbeat of new life within an egg.

My next destination was a different type of architectural wonder, Ibrox Stadium.

Its seems fitting that my travels would start at Glasgow Green and I was now heading to Ibrox, as Glasgow Rangers FC began in 1872, playing football on the Green. Like me, they travelled westward, settling in this area of the city in 1887. Roads meandered through housing estates, punctuated with great red brick-built galleries and council buildings – some restored to their former glory, and others boarded up and waiting for someone to bring them back to life.

I arrived at the stadium itself, itself reborn following a major disaster in 1902 when a section of the huge wooden terraces collapsed and over a hundred fans dropped 15 metres into the empty void below. 25 were killed, with the rest only surviving due to the softer landing on those trapped below. This led to a redesign of the ground, ironically with even bigger terraces, this time though built upon huge banks of earth – a safety model for the subsequent great stadium bowls of the time. At that time the main stand was rebuilt by Britain’s most famous stadium architect Archibald Leitch. With the stadium closed in the evenings, the exterior, seen by many as his greatest work, is what I had come to see.

The golden hour is a perfect time to admire the great brick facade, with deep dark shadows and the warm colours of evening. Unlike many grounds, successive refurbishments have been sympathetic to this old lady, keeping the integrity of this “jewel in the crown”, amongst the new additions.

With sunset fast approaching, it was time to make my way back to the river about a mile north, which took me further through the ancient burgh of Govan, where the Clyde would once be forded by swimming cattle. The old church here contains a set of ancient carved stones dating from the turn of the first millennia. Sadly the church was not open in the evening, so visiting the stones was not possible tonight, so was placed on my list for next time.

Amongst the housing estates a small community garden offered a refuge for people and birds alike. Its a beautiful little oasis, but vastly enhanced by a stunning mural of a child nurturing a flower, covering the full height of the end of terrace house that borders the garden.

A narrow path took me beyond the churchyard and to the riverbank where the famous Govan naval docks built over 3000 ships. Today the dock has been replaced by a waterside promenade and a new bridge back over the Clyde, which I fortuatously reached at the height of sunset. Looking west downstream I could make out the distant form of another of the great Titan cranes, amongst many “sun”s – each a reflection from a different block of waterside apartments.

Whilst the Clyde’s glory days of shipbuilding are now in the past, they have not been forgotten, with one of the big yards now a transport history centre. Designed by the legendary Anglo-Iraqi architect, Dame Zaha Hadid, the building’s roof resembles some sort of sharply rising and falling line graph, perhaps depicting the exponential growth and slow decline of shipbuilding? The fabulous collection inside features steam trains, buses, boats and intricate scale models of some of the famous ships built here, including some of the 20th century’s greatest passenger liners – the Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth and the QE2. Outside the building, the wooden figurehead of the tall ship Glenlee looked upstream towards the city centre, reminding me that I still had my own journey to complete, so off I pedalled.

Glasgow Gothic

Under deep blue skies, the sun’s final gift for the day, I headed north towards Kelvingrove Park, Glasgow’s western lung which acts as a focal point for some of the city’s great architecture. The Kelvin, a bubbling river, runs through the park and flows into the Clyde a mile or so beyond it. I looked back from an old bridge – with trees lining each side of the ravine you feel far away from the city.

A few minutes earlier, the approach had been dominated by the fabulous silhouettes of the Kelvingrove Gallery and Museum. This park has been the location of many international trade fairs around the turn of the 20th century, and the proceeds of one, in 1888, part financed this magnificent building. Built in a Spanish Baroque style, its intricate towers combine to great affect, and from a distance it reminded me of the skyline approaching the cathedral at Santiago de Compostela, as seen from a distant hill towards the end of my “Camino” ride, from the south of Portugal to the north of Spain.

Atop the opposite hill is an even more imposing sandstone Gothic Revival building, the University of Glasgow, built in the 1870s. It was a tough cycle up the steep hill on 16″ wheels and towards the end a flight of steps meant carrying the bike on my shoulder. Thankfully it’s only 11kg or so and is fine for short hauls!

The university was founded in 1451 and these Victorian buildings are magnificent, in the style adopted for the movie vision of Hogwarts. The doors were open, so I entered and took a look at the inner quadrangles. There were few people about, and far from the traffic noise of the city, I sat peacefully for a while amongst the active birdsong of twilight. Surrounded by buttresses, towers, spires and stained glass windows it was the type of space that could inspire any study, so I read up on its various buildings. I’m sure whilst doing so a staircase moved around behind a huge glass window – probably just looking for a reaction from me – the unsuspecting “muggle” sat on the bench.

Between the two quadrangles, a huge hall stands above an open undercroft, like the crypt of an ancient cathedral. Walking through I got an immense feeling of space and depth, particularly with the bike leant against the column for scale. As the temperature started to fall it was time to head back – although in the scale named after Lord Kelvin, (a professor at the university), it was still +283 degrees outside, so how could I complain!?

The Hampden Roar!

The following afternoon, with an hour or so to kill before the flight home, I booked up a tour of Hampden Park, home of the Scottish Football Association and Queens Park FC, the original owners.

The famous stadium was built in 1903 and by the 1950s it was the biggest ground in the world by capacity, capable of holding over 150,000 spectators at its peak. Following the Ibrox disaster (above), Archibald Leitch ensured the natural slopes of the hillside were cut into, so the massive terraces could be supported by earthworks. In 1937 a Scotland v England game attracted an official attendance of 149,415, but at least 20,000 more got in without tickets, towards its theoretical maximum at the time of 183,000. This was the peak of the famous “Hampden Roar”, a barrage of noise that welcomed goals for the home side.

The stadium is sadly well below its former glory, with gradual decay and a “cost efficient” refurbishment since the millennium reducing it to 53,000 all seated. The tour and museum is however excellent and you get to see the oldest football trophy in the world – The Scottish Cup. With the Scottish and English being the first to play soccer, there are great original shirts, caps and other artefacts from the earliest days of the sport.

I then got to score a goal at Hampden and then recreate probably the most famous goal in Scottish history, Archie Gemmil’s wonder strike against Holland in the 1978 World Cup in Argentina. Life sized players are positioned across the museum floor and red dots showed me where to step and turn as I weaved my way through the Dutch defence. With my skill (or them being glued to the floor!) they were unable to stop me. I was for a moment Archie, just with more hair and a few more teeth!

It’s a great exhibit, with old turnstiles, barriers and the original 1960s changing room rebuilt in the museum. The most daring folks at the old Hampden were possibly the journalists in the press box, which was suspended beneath the roof of the main stand. A reconstruction gives you their viewpoint

With the bike returned it was time to head home, but it had been a great micro adventure. The working days were productive and the evenings were for exploration.

So next time you are in a new city why not take your bike with you, or see if you can hire one?

Try it yourself

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