End Notes and Thanks

This will be my last night before heading home. It has been a good trip; I've driven over 1,000 miles and showered in cubicles of every level of icy temperature. Met campsite wardens who have been really friendly, and have gone out of their way to help, (most of them) and some who ought to be blacklisted! The scenery has been worth the long journeys, and I can already feel the sense of satisfaction I'll experience when I look at the map of the British Isles on the back of the sitting room door, and can say 'I've been there, I know what it looks like'.

Meeting other travellers on campsites, ferries and buses, has made the journey far from solo, and I've had conversations with a few feisty women vanners, some towing vast caravans.

Mention of caravans reminds me of my new hobby; I've started to collect 'van and motor-van names. Not the pet ones owners bestow, but the labels stuck on them by the manufacturers. Now, big or small, most caravans look the same, they are white, metal/fibreglass bodies with a few windows and a door. There may be some differences in aero-dynamics, but that's about it. This must be why there is a need to use enticing names, promising adventure and excitement. One can understand names such as Wanderer, Trooper and Explorer and even the more daring Buccaneer, Challenger and Odyssey; but Unicorn, Apache, Pegasus and Quasar? And then there is Carnival, Zenith and Polar. And I wonder if you have to take a personality test before you take possession of a caravan called Charisma?!

White Vans at Knaresborough Caravan Club Site

THANKS are due to a number of friends who have made my journey possible. L and P have listened patiently to hours of angst while I tried to decide whether to buy Flossy. C gave me lifts when I had to take her in 'to be seen to'. M made her safe after she was supposed to have been serviced and MOT'd, but was still potentially dangerous to drive. Without D, I couldn't have gone away at all. Profound thanks to her. A and B helped get her loaded when I was a bit indisposed, and S and D took me for a memorable visit to Knaresborough. (They know what I mean). And I enjoyed the company of J and H on Mull in mostly glorious weather.

More later...

Later... Home at last. The journey from Knaresborough to Worcester went without incident, and I unloaded Flossy, ready for essential repairs. The sitting room floor is now covered in camping items, with a small path leading to the window and television.

If you have been, thanks for following the blog.

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Mull remembered

Just arrived at Knaresborough Caravan Club Site. It is very popular and you have to book up months ahead to get in. It is a nice compact site, but I can't honestly see the attraction for so many people to want to come here! Luckily I have a good grass pitch, tucked away from the main site, with just a few campervans for company. And excellent neighbours, which is a real bonus.

To return to Mull...

Fidden Farm campsite was once a well guarded secret; you only knew about it by word of mouth. However, it has now made its way into 'Cool Camping in Scotland', and is much busier, with a different feel to it. No longer is a cheerful 'hello' exchanged as you pass another camper. Suddenly, some people find the ground extraordinarily interesting as you smile at them. So you are left with a wry grimace on your face, wondering what to do with it!

This was the view from my window

 

And a view of Flossy on her pitch, with part of a friend's van to the left

 

The small island of Erraid is close by, and one of the best walks from Fidden is across the sands in that direction, when the tide is out. This is the island described by Robert Louis Stevenson in 'Kidnapped'. The old lighthouse cottages seen on the right of the photo, are now in possession of the Findhorn Foundation. (Remember them? Huge cabbages grown with spiritual care).

 

 

 

Views of the beach at Fidden, taken when I visited in 2011

The road leading to the campsite gives views over to Iona

A Hebridean sunset

 

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Less is not really more...

I had hoped to post pictures and a retrospective, but the signal here at Moffat is variable. However, here are a couple to be going on with:

 

The Corran Ferry: £7.50 for a three minute crossing!

On 3rd June I took the small Corran ferry near Bunree over to Ardgour, and drove down through beautiful scenery to the Lochaline Ferry. The drive was spoilt by tourists who had not understood, or were wilfully ignoring, the Scottish single track road code. Getting stuck behind someone doing 20mph when you are aiming to catch a ferry is pretty frustrating. I spoke to a local lady when I finally reached the port, and she says it is a major problem for the folk who live in the area.

A notice at the Lochaline ferry terminal.

There was a small group of cyclists at the terminal, who had just come from the Fishnish side. It transpired that 50 years ago, they had all belonged to a south London cycling club. Now they live scattered across the British Isles, but had come together for a tour around Scotland and the Isles to celebrate their anniversary.

The South London group

Arriving at Fishnish on the Isle of Mull, I motored down through mountains to the Ross, a journey of about 70 minutes. The bluebells were in full flower, and the psychedelic patches of blue quite took my breath away!

 

Not a good representation; it's hard to capture the brightness of the blue.

Tomorrow (11June) I move on to Knaresborough. If there is a good signal, I'll post some pictures of Mull.

 

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Big update coming!

Arrived at Moffat in the rain, just after 3pm. I left the campsite at Fidden (pronounced Fidgen) on the Ross of Mull at 9am. So I'm glad to be stationary at last. The site here is full to bursting and there is much activity; the man in the van opposite appears to have a pile driver in his caravan. Goodness knows what he's up to. Sweating heavily, and with all the attributes of a builder's labourer (stripped to the waist, hairy, overweight and with a slippage in the rear trouser department) he is clearly in the middle of a massive project! BTW I do think that builder's labourers are the salt of the earth and quite essential. Of course.

Enough of all that, in the morning, I will update with pictures and more about the past week.

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Moving on tomorrow

Surrounded by vans, I have decided to move on to Mull a day early. This means there will probably be more 'blog silence', as there is no 3G reception on the Ross of Mull on my network. The Caravan Club, in its wisdom, have given me a 'first warning' for going early (but no refund). I am tempted to make a badge labelled with 'I'm on my first CC warning' to wear on CC sites! Probably get thrown out for provocative behaviour. Tempting though...

We've just had the big changeover here, as vanners leave by midday, and others arrive. There is much scrunching of gravel as people try to back large caravans or Motorcaravans into awkward spaces. Usually done by the men, ignoring their wives who are trying to wave them into position. Then, out come the chairs, tables and awnings. So they sit shivering outside, because they are pretending it's summer. I came across one man yesterday, who was constructing an elaborate fortress of wire panels in order to keep his Shelties from straying abroad. I'd post a picture of it, but it might look a bit obvious!

Below: view through Flossy's window

I met a nice, slightly alternative Scottish couple yesterday, who'd just bought an early tiny Romahome (one of Flossy's ancestors). They were absolutely delighted with it, but goodness knows how they managed to sleep in it, the husband looked as if he was over six foot tall!

 

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Some more pictures

Here are some out-of-order photos I meant to include before losing Internet access:

A view of the yurts at Lickisto. There are two of them, each sleeping six or so.

Another view of the campsite

Overlooking the loch; a view from the Lickisto campsite

The heron fishing at Lochside, Strollamus. He (?) had an inscrutable look about him, and didn't seem to be catching much! Probably just enjoying getting away from the family for a bit.

 

Flossy on board the ferry from Armadale to Mallaig, so far, she's done over 700 miles on this trip.

 

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A retrospective on Harris

I arrived on Harris after a very wet journey down from Stornaway, where I had landed. I didn't stop in Stornaway, but drove through the suburbs, in wonder that anyone had bothered to import all that dreariness from the mainland!

The Lewis road

Taking a detour onto the Golden Road (so called because it cost so much to build) I visited a couple of Harris tweed shops. It is difficult to describe the scenery on this road, but if you ever get the chance to go there, just go! I don't think I will ever forget the massive rocks and the little lochs between them.

Arrived at Lickasto Blackhouse and felt a bit disappointed, as there seemed to be rather a large number of people on site, however many soon departed at the end of the half term holiday.

Harvey and John, the site owners, bought the house pictured below, when it was derelict. They restored the building, as well as an original blackhouse, which now serves as a refuge for wet and weary campers.

John and Harvey's house

A perfect pitch, ready to spot otters..

Below: one of the paths, with the blackhouse concealed by willows

John (left) and Harvey (right) with two campers, Bill and Fiona

The genius of J and H, is their generosity of spirit, which makes everyone feel welcome without being overwhelmed. The blackhouse is a great idea and campers drift in and out to chat, warm up or enjoy some toast made with the home baked bread Harvey brings down every day. I never knew the bread bin to be empty! A group of us became quite close over a short period of time, and there were some moist eyes when we parted. A unique experience, I think, and one I shall remember with gratitude.

 

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