Wednesday, July 07, 2004
Life in the office is just not the same as life in the bus...well there's a statement of the blindingly obvious if ever there was one.
Here is the tale of our 2004 Grand Tour...
Saturday, 26th June, 0900, 96661 miles on the clock and off we go.
Fully loaded, full tank of (cheapish) petrol and air in the tyres as we sped out of suburban hell towards the Highlands.
First stop, a mere two and a half hours later - much to my surprise - was Aviemore, where we stocked up on some of the many things we'd forgotten and fretted about there not being anywhere to buy sheets (me having forgotten that they were carefully stowed away in the "fore-castle" of the roof).
Ben, now a firm fan of Thomas the tank engine and keen to say "choo choo" at every opportunity was squealing with delight when we went into the station to have a look at the steam railway and he didn't seem to mind that there was no actual steam train today. We were a bit more bothered though and flinched at the £9 each required for a 15 minute trip, so we settled for lunch in the bus instead.
Aviemore's pit stop very much set the tone for the whole trip as we visited a bakery and got ourselves some cakes and crumpets to munch in the van, along with our massive mugs of tea. Gail had acquired some enamel mugs
of which I was initially sceptical, "that's a bit too much like camping - we're not coming away in the bus and slumming it with camping gear...where's my Stax mug?"
However, my first taste of the tea changed my thinking and the mugs were the vessel of choice for the week ahead. This may seem a trivial matter but when you're on the road, these things are important. Besides, any cuppa in the bus always tastes better than one you'd have elsewhere.
We decided to press on towards Carrbridge, where we planned to visit the Landmark centre but everything was a bit on the big side for Ben so we went off in search of a swing park. Carrbridge has possibly the country's smallest playpark so 5 minutes exhausted its delights and with the rain pelting us we took refuge in - wait for it - the church hall! We had an excuse, honest. There was an event on. Here's what the village website had to say about it:
In DUTHIL PARISH CHURCH CARRBRIDGE Friday 25th June - 2 p.m. - 9. p.m. Saturday 26th June - 10 a.m. -4 p.m.; 6p.m. - 8 p.m. Sunday 2 p.m. - 6 p.m. Festival closing service at 6p.m. Displays of flowers, local arts and crafts representing Carrbridge Groups, and Organisations. Teas, home baking.
How could we resist?
Needless to say, we didn't and we scoffed excellent tea and cakes in the hall for which only a donation was required. The church itself had a notable display of local, ahem, "art" - that is to say art representing local things. All of the exhibits were backed up by a suitable biblical quote. The one which will live long in the memory is that for the local golf club, which was from John, Chapter 6, Verse 10 ... "There was plenty of grass in that place"
There was also a notice which said "please do not switch off this socket as it will damage the piano"...quite.
Onwards, then, to our campsite for the night at Boat of Garten, a lovely site on the road to the RSPB's site at Loch Garten. Had we thought ahead a bit more, or indeed realised that the bus would get us to Carrbridge so quickly, we might just have pushed on to our intended destination for day two on day one, if that makes sense. Not to worry...we went for a wander to the Osprey reserve anyway and Ben squealed about in the woods, shouting at the wind and the trees. After that we drove into Grantown on Spey. Isn't it wonderful how almost everywhere seems to have a website these days?
Grantown was nice in a kind of Victorian sort of way and we didn't really hang about for long, other than to consider buying midgie repellent.
After a reasonable night's kip on the new mattress courtesy of Ace Foam, we drove on towards the Black Isle to drop in on a friend of Gail's... we had ulterior motives - Gail needed a pair of wellies and I needed to get a metal pole for the awning - both items (well,3 really as it was a pair of wellies) are the sorts of things readily available on Highland crofts!
Northwards and Westwards next as we pushed on through the countryside towards Ullapool. We passed through the village of Strathpeffer, which was particularly picturesque, though we didn't stop. We continued on through the spectacular scenery off the A835, although that link doesn't give any idea of the scenery it's a brilliant website and many of our journeys on this trip are covered by it.
On, then, into Ullapool itself...a lovely place and this was my first visit. After a bit of a wander round to see the sights, we went back to the bus for lunch. We'd parked in one of those soulless big car parks you find everywhere...
...though the one we landed in wasn't even as nice as this one. Ullapool's compact nature meant that a space in a nicer spot was out of the question.
After lunch we went for tea and cakes - there's a theme developing, stay with it - to The Ceilidh Place, which has it's own website but it's still under construction. The Ceilidh Place is lovely and they have live music and a bookshop, as well as great cakes and nice tea. Did I mention the cakes? The menu had the rather intriguing notion of a variation on Irish Soda Bread...
Childish, I know, but we roared...it appears to work best in a sort of New York Jewish stylee, as in "what sorda...?"
Then it was off to our site for the next two nights. It wasn't a million miles from Ullapool but it felt like the edge of the world - though the real "campsite at the edge of the world" experience would come later. Alas I'm unable to reveal the exact location of the site. As Pete McCarthy says in McCarthy's Bar, once you tell people about how wonderful it is, the next time you go back they'll only have spoiled it. That may seem a trifle unkind, but Pete does at least give some indication of the rough location, that way you get the satisfaction of working it out for yourself...if I was to tell you that it's right at the end of a very small road at the side of Little Loch Broom you'd be fairly close.
It was in a tranquil and beautiful spot...
...which had a lot of jelly fish and plenty of space for Ben to run about, though he and Gail preferred to hang about in the van...
The awning, which we eventually managed to put up despite the driving rain, howling wind and swarms of midgies, was a useful place to have dinner and generally sit about, though we still don't seem to be able to attach it to the van properly and it appears to have developed a couple of stitching faults...so it's going back!
Being the sad types that we are, we had tuned in - as we always do at home anyway - to the Tom Morton show, and - knowing Tom to be a fan of the VW campervan - we texted him to tell him where we were and were delighted when he read out our text in a jealous-sounding manner.
The radio was to be a pretty constant companion throughout our trip, despite the huge amount of CDs and Minidiscs we'd brought. Radio Scotland and in particular Radio 4 were on most of the time. Reception quality varied considerably with even the trusty World Service on long wave giving up on us sometimes!
The whole of our second day on this site was spent in and around the van, on the beach at the end of the track or eating and drinking...the now traditional disposable barbecue was produced and Gail rustled up some tasty chicken kebabs whilst Ben and I played football and ran about.
Tuesday, officially day four of the Grand Tour, saw us push on around Wester Ross and after a very early start we had breakfast - bacon toasties and fresh coffee! - by the beach at the wonderfully named Mellon Udrigle where, in spite of the fantastic scenery and the lovely drive round, I could only think of questions like "what's the significance of melons around here?" (there's another place nearby called Mellon Charles) and "whatever happened to Mickey Mellon?"
Ben had a grand wander about the beach...
After the delights of breakfast on the beach it was onwards towards Loch Ewe and the world-famous Inverewe Garden (negotiating some NATO activity at Aultbea (yes, that site's not specifially about Aultbea or NATO but I liked it). To be honest, we initially baulked at the £7 entry fee but thought "we've come all this way..." our initial reaction would have served us well if we'd heeded it - the gardens, whilst very nice in a gardeny sort of way, were something of a disappointment. Many of the plants seemed in need of some TLC whilst we were left constantly thinking that the Botanic Gardens in Glasgow and Edinburgh are much, much better...and free too.
This giant rhubarb-like (though the label said it had nothing to do with the Rhubarb family) plant we took a picture of was one of the better bits...
We pushed on towards Poolewe, intending to go to Gairloch to stock up on milk, bread and a bag of frozen peas to keep the fridge cool. There was a lovely looking campsite right on the lochside, with an even lovelier looking split-screen VW camper in it but what really caught our eye was the "craft fair" sign up at the village hall. Now, we don't usually do craft fairs, let alone a potentially "Celtic-tat" infested one, but we were drawn in by the sign which said:
...and we're not ones to pass up the opportunity for a bit of that. At a stall just inside the door was a lady selling what can only be described as ambitiously priced cakes - £4.75 for a gingerbread loaf! Further round the selection of stalls was another home-baking type lady who had on offer a gingerbread loaf at a more modest £2.50. The very fellow.
After Poolewe we followed the road round to Gairloch, where we stopped only for the aforementioned petrol and supplies. The rain was really beginning to pour down, a bit of a feature on this trip. Having managed to sort out the "floppy" wipers - think the spindle's a bit worn - a couple of days earlier, I hoped they'd hold out if I just used them occasionally.
We had a bit of a gradual climb after Gairloch as we drove into the heart of Wester Ross, along the banks of the stunning Loch Maree. At the end of the Loch, our stomachs were rumbling as we turned off at the very picturesque but very small hamlet of Kinlochewe. The bus rumbled on through Glen Torridon and the Coulin Forest and then on to Loch Torridon and the Ben Damph Forest.
Upper Loch Torridon was suitably impressive...
...and finished just short of Sheildaig, where we stopped for tea, gingerbread and a listen to Tom Morton. Sheildaig was fantastic for a couple of reasons, the incredible view being one, the other being the (virtually) free camping! There's a huge, flat bit of grass at the top of the hill overlooking the bay. There are no facilities other than a tap for fresh water and a box which says "donations for camping please" but there's a public toilet about 200 yards away at the bottom of the hill. There's also a very well stocked shop in the village - 2 minutes walk from the site. A kids playpark is nearby and there was a lovely looking - though we didn't go in - pub and hotel with a restaurant. What more could we have asked for? Although we didn't stay here - other than for a bit of a brew - I'm sure we could quite easily have coped with the view:
The first photo is from the bus, looking out over Sheildaig Bay, from the campsite. In the second picture it should be possible to spot the huge white roof of the bus (second from the right).
After Sheildaig, it was on round to Applecross, a place none of us had ever visited before. That website there had given us scary visions of the journey as we questioned whether a fully loaded, two and a half tonne, automatic camper would make it! In the end we decided to just take the coastal road, and I'm glad we did - it was a stunning drive. It's amazing how you feel like you're able to sightsee a bit and drive at the same time in the camper, whereas in a car I don't feel like I can have a good look around me - aside, of course officer, from the usual observation!
The drive round, in typical Scottish summertime weather, took us via Kenmore and we stopped at a viewpoint/carpark about here to get this photo:
...looking out over Raasay towards Skye.
On the way round we'd texted Tom Morton again to update him on our progress as we sang along to Band of Gold, by Freda Payne. Tom was kind enough to read out our message and proceeded to regale us - and of course the other listeners - with the tale of his family camping trip to Applecross, when he took the four kids in a VW camper...clearly the man is mad.
We arrived in the village around 5 o'clock and headed straight for the campsite, which was a couple of hundred yards up the aforementioned scary road...the road is so scary that there are HUGE RED SIGNS telling you to "not even think about bringing your old van up here matey" or something like that.
We made it onto the site, found a spot and headed straight for the
pub.
The Applecross Inn is apparently renowned for its seafood and I have to say we were tempted but it was a wee bit on the pricey side so instead we supped our Guinness, Ben had a pineapple juice (!) and we went back up to the van. Now, the Applecross campsite is no ordinary campsite - for a start they have their own bakery and for another thing they have a massive polytunnel you can sit in to have beers, snacks or home made pizzas...
...which is exactly what we all did. The portions were huge and we were all knackered so we got a takeaway bit of homemade cheesecake to take back to the bus (it even came in its own little paper boat)
(The second picture is of the campsite's claim to "world's largest keyring" - a plastic dinner plate with all the keys for the site attached to it - they must have either very short sighted staff or very big pockets)
Our night in Applecross was over all too quickly and the next day - Wednesday - we went back round the coast road towards Sheildaig, then down through Glensheildaig Forest
Actually, I've just done a websearch and apparently the sign does say that, but I couldn't find any pictures. So it goes.
Anyway, "fweeming" along through Wester Ross we came to the lovely village of
Plockton. Places are often described as "picture-postcard" and seldom live up that but Plockton certainly does. It's a beautiful wee place with a spectacular route for the train which runs right along the side of the bay at Loch Carron as it comes into the village. We might not have noticed this had it not been for Ben shouting "choo choo" from the van as we sat by the water's edge.
Plockton no doubt has much to commend it but for us it was seeing an otter, right there in the water about 20feet from the van as we had our lunch. Gail said at that point she'd always wanted to see one so it looks like that ambition has been achieved and she can retire happily! There was something Mediterranean, even Caribbean about the feel of Plockton and being in the Gulf Stream ensured there were palm trees aplenty.
Two more great things about the place:
1 - home made tablet, 85pence a bag in a wee shop, ideal with a cuppa;
2 - spotting Engelbert Humperdinck's sillhoutte on the door of the gents':
From there it was just a short trip round to Kyle of Lochalsh, for some more petrol and the journey over the Skye bridge. £5.70 for a one way journey lasting less than 90 seconds is comparable with British Airways and it really is a fairly soul-less trip up a steep curving bridge which looks as if it's been put there with little though for either aesthetics or the economies of Kyle of Lochalsh or Kyleakin on Skye itself.
Skye, though, was beautiful. Incredibly, this was my first visit - it's strange to think that such a world-famous and now so accessible (thanks, bridge!) spot is somewhere I hadn't previously managed to visit. We drove on the island in magnificent sunshine but that soon changed after a brief stop in Portree, where we'd stopped to buy cakes...as we hadn't done enough of that so far on the trip.
We opted for the A855 out of Portree, hugging the coast overlooking Raasay as we moved round. We stopped to brew up and have our cake in a stunning spot looking North towards the Old Man of Storr, of which we took a very atmospheric picture, but I've not scanned it in yet...We pushed on around the area known as Trotternish and as well as spotting a tarpaulined T25, we got a huge wave from an old boy (who looked like Jessie Duke) in a bright orange boiler suit who was out fixing his T25.
I forgot to mention that, as we drove round, near the turn off for Sligachan we spotted a campsite with two new Volkswagen T5 vans parked near each other at a jaunty angle, both were incredibly shiny and closer inspection (as we whizzed past many feet above the site) seemed to reveal a camera crew, obviously filming a new VW commercial...
I digress...round the northernmost tip of Skye we went, through breathtaking scenery and passing many sheep who, it seems, are a bit of a menace... according to the local paper.
Our first night on Skye was to be spent at the campsite at Uig, and we parked our bus where that tent on the right is. Uig's a nice enough wee place but the hulking mass of the Calmac terminal spoils the view somewhat. You can see it on this picture...
After a peaceful night on the site, we took a trip round much the rest of Skye. Our first stopping point, after much stunning scenery, was the Edinbane Pottery. The stuff was lovely but ever so expensive, and nowhere near as nice looking as Stephen Pearce'sstuff in Cork.
The road wound its way round from there towards Dunvegan, though we didn't visit the castle. In the tourist information centre, Ben ran about collecting postcards of Highland Cattle, having uttered his first full sentence, "a moo, look at that!"
One of the leaflets in the centre suggested a visit to Stein, where there was apparently to be found a fantastic pub. With no concrete plans in mind we decided that would probably be a good place for lunch, so off we went to the Stein Inn. Before lunch, though, we had a potter about on the beach...there was no sand but the pebble beach was by far and away the best one I've ever encountered for "stuff"...we came away with bags of treasure - lovely bits of ceramics and coloured glass and a piece of yer actual comedy driftwood - a piece from a boat with some paint and numbers on it. What we'll do with any of this stuff is anyone's guess...
Lunch was great, by the way.
After Stein we decided to take advantage of the stunning scenery by driving south towards our intended destination at a sightseers pace, which must have been frustrating for those behind us, though what they expect from tourists in a 21 and a half year old vehicle is beyond me!
An aunt of mine, who's a Munro bagger (of the real, not virtual, sort) has been to Skye many times and recommended a site to use at Glenbrittle, at the foot of the Cuillins. We'd contacted her the night before because we couldn't be bothered spending ages trekking all the way back up to Uig again only to go right down to Armadale first thing on the Friday morning to catch the ferry. As ever, tea, cake and Tom Morton were calling so we stopped at a viewpoint (just where that "A" in A863 is) for a bit of a brew. There is a picture awaiting a scan. I'll get there...
Well, it's now the 30th of July and I'm determined to finish this write up in the same month that I started it. Here goes...
We continued on around the spectacular coastline, there really is just so much to see it can be hard to keep an eye on the road at times, but I managed. Heading down towards the south of the island, we took the turn off for Carbost and then off again onto the road, well I say road, it was more of a track, okay a notion of a right of way...towards Glenbrittle. The rain was lashing the van and the light seemed to be coming and going as we struggled up steep gradients - the ones so bad they're actually marked on our crappy touristy-style road map - to be rewarded with, as I think I mentioned earlier, the site at the edge of the world.
There's a bit in Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Island where, considering the beauty of Durham for those who've never been, he urges the reader to "go, at once! Take my car!" and that's pretty accurate too for Glenbrittle. Again, I've got loads of pictures I need to scan in to get a proper flavour of what it was like but it was really little short of breathtaking. A volcanic ash beach (so I'm told) at the foot of the Cuillins, a tiny but wonderfully stocked shop and a peaceful spot by the water's edge, so remote that the good old World Service had trouble finding us.
This was a drawing Gail did from the bus in the few minutes it took Ben and I to go and get splashed by the pounding waves...
...the only difference between the real view and this was that the real thing was a lot darker!
One of my favourite things - sad I know - was the ticket we were given to put in the window of the bus to show we'd paid! What a great souvenir!
We had a fantastically peaceful night's sleep with the sound of the waves drifting in, only feet from the van. There was also another T25 nearby but it was very shiny and had a trailer so we didn't disturb it.
An early start on Friday morning for the journey down to Armadale for the Calmac ferry over to Mallaig. We had originally planned to come off Skye the way we'd come on, then head home cross-country but a change in personal circumstances (see here) meant we had to go for a drive round the Ardnamurchan peninsula...which is never a bad thing.
The drive to Armadale was uneventful and the road, being an access road for the ferry, was much better. The rain was still lashing down as we pulled up at the slipway to buy our tickets.
And here's us on the ferry, well , the bus at any rate, can you see him, at the bottom right, just next to the monster tour coaches...
From Mallaig it was off to Ardnamurchan, sadly bypassing our favourite place in the world - Camusdarach Beach as we powered round (ahem) towards the wild west. We stopped for lunch in the excellent tea room at Acharacle, which I'm sure I'd found a website for but can't locate it now. Then we spent the rest of the day driving about and putting up postcards looking for accommodation.
On reflection, Gail's suggestion that we stay at the really nice looking site at Resipole on Loch Sunart was perhaps a good one, given that we eventually ended up at Glenview in Strontian. Let's be honest here, the pictures make it look so much better than it is. There was no Glen and no view and the site seemed populated by people who lived in manky old caravans on a permanent basis due to a lack of affordable housing in the area (not great news, given our change of circumstances!).
The rain was on again so we made for the bar in the Strontian Hotel. Ben had his now customary pineapple juice and we had a Guinness. The rain had eased a bit so we had a run about the playpark before heading back to the van to enjoy the view of the Glen. Perhaps the site is owned by a guy called Glen and you can spot him or "view" him...needless to say we didn't see him. Curses.
There's a great photo to come of the bus in the Glenview site, nestling amongst the tress and next to its own picnic bench and barbecue spot, a nice touch. That's all well and good provided that it's not raining. How's this for a recipe for a peaceful night's sleep: fibreglass roof, bed 8-10 inches from the roof, overhanging branches, loads of rain.
Less than an hour in bed and I'd transferred to the "lower sleeping quarters."
Edited update - Monday, 2nd August.
Dash it all, didn't finish it in the same month after all! I forgot to add in some "Glenview" detail...firstly, it was our second site in a row with a wee ticket to hang in the window! Deep joy!
Secondly, and almost as importantly, in the pictures on the Glenview site, you can make out a woman feeding chickens. In the interests of public safety, I should point out that she's absolutely barking mad. Well, weird anyway. Nothing you could put your finger on, so to speak, but a definite weird "vibe" - let's just say if she sat down next to you on the bus you'd either develop a sudden interest in a very important spot of fluff on your coat or you'd get off several stops earlier than intended.
Update over...on with the blog.
And that was that. Our last night on tour. The journey home went smoothly and we fitted in another ferry trip on the Corran Ferry this time and stormed down through Glencoe and Crianlarich at a great rate of knots. This bit of the journey always feels a bit flat to me, in the emotional sense, perhaps because it's so familiar and both of us have been in and around Crianlarich what feels like a million times.
There was just the one final stop, in Callendar, which is such an uninspiring place I can't even find a good website. They do have a great bakery and a play park if that's any consolation. Not together though...although that's a thought...
With the rain on again we brewed up and had some cakes, just to continue a theme and purely in the interests of consistency you understand.
All tidied up, it was time to hit the road and head for home. We'd have to unpack and then attack the mountain of washing...not before we'd had a cuppa though.
Final reading on the speedo was 97521, an 860 mile round trip taking in six days on the road and that one whole day parked up by Little Loch Broom.
Next stop? Ardnamurchan!
Here is the tale of our 2004 Grand Tour...
Saturday, 26th June, 0900, 96661 miles on the clock and off we go.
Fully loaded, full tank of (cheapish) petrol and air in the tyres as we sped out of suburban hell towards the Highlands.
First stop, a mere two and a half hours later - much to my surprise - was Aviemore, where we stocked up on some of the many things we'd forgotten and fretted about there not being anywhere to buy sheets (me having forgotten that they were carefully stowed away in the "fore-castle" of the roof).
Ben, now a firm fan of Thomas the tank engine and keen to say "choo choo" at every opportunity was squealing with delight when we went into the station to have a look at the steam railway and he didn't seem to mind that there was no actual steam train today. We were a bit more bothered though and flinched at the £9 each required for a 15 minute trip, so we settled for lunch in the bus instead.
Aviemore's pit stop very much set the tone for the whole trip as we visited a bakery and got ourselves some cakes and crumpets to munch in the van, along with our massive mugs of tea. Gail had acquired some enamel mugs
of which I was initially sceptical, "that's a bit too much like camping - we're not coming away in the bus and slumming it with camping gear...where's my Stax mug?"However, my first taste of the tea changed my thinking and the mugs were the vessel of choice for the week ahead. This may seem a trivial matter but when you're on the road, these things are important. Besides, any cuppa in the bus always tastes better than one you'd have elsewhere.
We decided to press on towards Carrbridge, where we planned to visit the Landmark centre but everything was a bit on the big side for Ben so we went off in search of a swing park. Carrbridge has possibly the country's smallest playpark so 5 minutes exhausted its delights and with the rain pelting us we took refuge in - wait for it - the church hall! We had an excuse, honest. There was an event on. Here's what the village website had to say about it:
How could we resist?
Needless to say, we didn't and we scoffed excellent tea and cakes in the hall for which only a donation was required. The church itself had a notable display of local, ahem, "art" - that is to say art representing local things. All of the exhibits were backed up by a suitable biblical quote. The one which will live long in the memory is that for the local golf club, which was from John, Chapter 6, Verse 10 ... "There was plenty of grass in that place"
There was also a notice which said "please do not switch off this socket as it will damage the piano"...quite.
Onwards, then, to our campsite for the night at Boat of Garten, a lovely site on the road to the RSPB's site at Loch Garten. Had we thought ahead a bit more, or indeed realised that the bus would get us to Carrbridge so quickly, we might just have pushed on to our intended destination for day two on day one, if that makes sense. Not to worry...we went for a wander to the Osprey reserve anyway and Ben squealed about in the woods, shouting at the wind and the trees. After that we drove into Grantown on Spey. Isn't it wonderful how almost everywhere seems to have a website these days?
Grantown was nice in a kind of Victorian sort of way and we didn't really hang about for long, other than to consider buying midgie repellent.
After a reasonable night's kip on the new mattress courtesy of Ace Foam, we drove on towards the Black Isle to drop in on a friend of Gail's... we had ulterior motives - Gail needed a pair of wellies and I needed to get a metal pole for the awning - both items (well,3 really as it was a pair of wellies) are the sorts of things readily available on Highland crofts!
Northwards and Westwards next as we pushed on through the countryside towards Ullapool. We passed through the village of Strathpeffer, which was particularly picturesque, though we didn't stop. We continued on through the spectacular scenery off the A835, although that link doesn't give any idea of the scenery it's a brilliant website and many of our journeys on this trip are covered by it.
On, then, into Ullapool itself...a lovely place and this was my first visit. After a bit of a wander round to see the sights, we went back to the bus for lunch. We'd parked in one of those soulless big car parks you find everywhere...
...though the one we landed in wasn't even as nice as this one. Ullapool's compact nature meant that a space in a nicer spot was out of the question.After lunch we went for tea and cakes - there's a theme developing, stay with it - to The Ceilidh Place, which has it's own website but it's still under construction. The Ceilidh Place is lovely and they have live music and a bookshop, as well as great cakes and nice tea. Did I mention the cakes? The menu had the rather intriguing notion of a variation on Irish Soda Bread...
Childish, I know, but we roared...it appears to work best in a sort of New York Jewish stylee, as in "what sorda...?"
Then it was off to our site for the next two nights. It wasn't a million miles from Ullapool but it felt like the edge of the world - though the real "campsite at the edge of the world" experience would come later. Alas I'm unable to reveal the exact location of the site. As Pete McCarthy says in McCarthy's Bar, once you tell people about how wonderful it is, the next time you go back they'll only have spoiled it. That may seem a trifle unkind, but Pete does at least give some indication of the rough location, that way you get the satisfaction of working it out for yourself...if I was to tell you that it's right at the end of a very small road at the side of Little Loch Broom you'd be fairly close.
It was in a tranquil and beautiful spot...
...which had a lot of jelly fish and plenty of space for Ben to run about, though he and Gail preferred to hang about in the van...
The awning, which we eventually managed to put up despite the driving rain, howling wind and swarms of midgies, was a useful place to have dinner and generally sit about, though we still don't seem to be able to attach it to the van properly and it appears to have developed a couple of stitching faults...so it's going back!
Being the sad types that we are, we had tuned in - as we always do at home anyway - to the Tom Morton show, and - knowing Tom to be a fan of the VW campervan - we texted him to tell him where we were and were delighted when he read out our text in a jealous-sounding manner.
The radio was to be a pretty constant companion throughout our trip, despite the huge amount of CDs and Minidiscs we'd brought. Radio Scotland and in particular Radio 4 were on most of the time. Reception quality varied considerably with even the trusty World Service on long wave giving up on us sometimes!
The whole of our second day on this site was spent in and around the van, on the beach at the end of the track or eating and drinking...the now traditional disposable barbecue was produced and Gail rustled up some tasty chicken kebabs whilst Ben and I played football and ran about.
Tuesday, officially day four of the Grand Tour, saw us push on around Wester Ross and after a very early start we had breakfast - bacon toasties and fresh coffee! - by the beach at the wonderfully named Mellon Udrigle where, in spite of the fantastic scenery and the lovely drive round, I could only think of questions like "what's the significance of melons around here?" (there's another place nearby called Mellon Charles) and "whatever happened to Mickey Mellon?"
Ben had a grand wander about the beach...
After the delights of breakfast on the beach it was onwards towards Loch Ewe and the world-famous Inverewe Garden (negotiating some NATO activity at Aultbea (yes, that site's not specifially about Aultbea or NATO but I liked it). To be honest, we initially baulked at the £7 entry fee but thought "we've come all this way..." our initial reaction would have served us well if we'd heeded it - the gardens, whilst very nice in a gardeny sort of way, were something of a disappointment. Many of the plants seemed in need of some TLC whilst we were left constantly thinking that the Botanic Gardens in Glasgow and Edinburgh are much, much better...and free too.
This giant rhubarb-like (though the label said it had nothing to do with the Rhubarb family) plant we took a picture of was one of the better bits...
We pushed on towards Poolewe, intending to go to Gairloch to stock up on milk, bread and a bag of frozen peas to keep the fridge cool. There was a lovely looking campsite right on the lochside, with an even lovelier looking split-screen VW camper in it but what really caught our eye was the "craft fair" sign up at the village hall. Now, we don't usually do craft fairs, let alone a potentially "Celtic-tat" infested one, but we were drawn in by the sign which said:
...and we're not ones to pass up the opportunity for a bit of that. At a stall just inside the door was a lady selling what can only be described as ambitiously priced cakes - £4.75 for a gingerbread loaf! Further round the selection of stalls was another home-baking type lady who had on offer a gingerbread loaf at a more modest £2.50. The very fellow.
After Poolewe we followed the road round to Gairloch, where we stopped only for the aforementioned petrol and supplies. The rain was really beginning to pour down, a bit of a feature on this trip. Having managed to sort out the "floppy" wipers - think the spindle's a bit worn - a couple of days earlier, I hoped they'd hold out if I just used them occasionally.
We had a bit of a gradual climb after Gairloch as we drove into the heart of Wester Ross, along the banks of the stunning Loch Maree. At the end of the Loch, our stomachs were rumbling as we turned off at the very picturesque but very small hamlet of Kinlochewe. The bus rumbled on through Glen Torridon and the Coulin Forest and then on to Loch Torridon and the Ben Damph Forest.
Upper Loch Torridon was suitably impressive...
...and finished just short of Sheildaig, where we stopped for tea, gingerbread and a listen to Tom Morton. Sheildaig was fantastic for a couple of reasons, the incredible view being one, the other being the (virtually) free camping! There's a huge, flat bit of grass at the top of the hill overlooking the bay. There are no facilities other than a tap for fresh water and a box which says "donations for camping please" but there's a public toilet about 200 yards away at the bottom of the hill. There's also a very well stocked shop in the village - 2 minutes walk from the site. A kids playpark is nearby and there was a lovely looking - though we didn't go in - pub and hotel with a restaurant. What more could we have asked for? Although we didn't stay here - other than for a bit of a brew - I'm sure we could quite easily have coped with the view:
The first photo is from the bus, looking out over Sheildaig Bay, from the campsite. In the second picture it should be possible to spot the huge white roof of the bus (second from the right).
After Sheildaig, it was on round to Applecross, a place none of us had ever visited before. That website there had given us scary visions of the journey as we questioned whether a fully loaded, two and a half tonne, automatic camper would make it! In the end we decided to just take the coastal road, and I'm glad we did - it was a stunning drive. It's amazing how you feel like you're able to sightsee a bit and drive at the same time in the camper, whereas in a car I don't feel like I can have a good look around me - aside, of course officer, from the usual observation!
The drive round, in typical Scottish summertime weather, took us via Kenmore and we stopped at a viewpoint/carpark about here to get this photo:
...looking out over Raasay towards Skye.
On the way round we'd texted Tom Morton again to update him on our progress as we sang along to Band of Gold, by Freda Payne. Tom was kind enough to read out our message and proceeded to regale us - and of course the other listeners - with the tale of his family camping trip to Applecross, when he took the four kids in a VW camper...clearly the man is mad.
We arrived in the village around 5 o'clock and headed straight for the campsite, which was a couple of hundred yards up the aforementioned scary road...the road is so scary that there are HUGE RED SIGNS telling you to "not even think about bringing your old van up here matey" or something like that.
We made it onto the site, found a spot and headed straight for the
pub.
The Applecross Inn is apparently renowned for its seafood and I have to say we were tempted but it was a wee bit on the pricey side so instead we supped our Guinness, Ben had a pineapple juice (!) and we went back up to the van. Now, the Applecross campsite is no ordinary campsite - for a start they have their own bakery and for another thing they have a massive polytunnel you can sit in to have beers, snacks or home made pizzas...
...which is exactly what we all did. The portions were huge and we were all knackered so we got a takeaway bit of homemade cheesecake to take back to the bus (it even came in its own little paper boat)
(The second picture is of the campsite's claim to "world's largest keyring" - a plastic dinner plate with all the keys for the site attached to it - they must have either very short sighted staff or very big pockets)
Our night in Applecross was over all too quickly and the next day - Wednesday - we went back round the coast road towards Sheildaig, then down through Glensheildaig Forest
Actually, I've just done a websearch and apparently the sign does say that, but I couldn't find any pictures. So it goes.
Anyway, "fweeming" along through Wester Ross we came to the lovely village of
Plockton. Places are often described as "picture-postcard" and seldom live up that but Plockton certainly does. It's a beautiful wee place with a spectacular route for the train which runs right along the side of the bay at Loch Carron as it comes into the village. We might not have noticed this had it not been for Ben shouting "choo choo" from the van as we sat by the water's edge.
Plockton no doubt has much to commend it but for us it was seeing an otter, right there in the water about 20feet from the van as we had our lunch. Gail said at that point she'd always wanted to see one so it looks like that ambition has been achieved and she can retire happily! There was something Mediterranean, even Caribbean about the feel of Plockton and being in the Gulf Stream ensured there were palm trees aplenty.
Two more great things about the place:
1 - home made tablet, 85pence a bag in a wee shop, ideal with a cuppa;
2 - spotting Engelbert Humperdinck's sillhoutte on the door of the gents':
From there it was just a short trip round to Kyle of Lochalsh, for some more petrol and the journey over the Skye bridge. £5.70 for a one way journey lasting less than 90 seconds is comparable with British Airways and it really is a fairly soul-less trip up a steep curving bridge which looks as if it's been put there with little though for either aesthetics or the economies of Kyle of Lochalsh or Kyleakin on Skye itself.
Skye, though, was beautiful. Incredibly, this was my first visit - it's strange to think that such a world-famous and now so accessible (thanks, bridge!) spot is somewhere I hadn't previously managed to visit. We drove on the island in magnificent sunshine but that soon changed after a brief stop in Portree, where we'd stopped to buy cakes...as we hadn't done enough of that so far on the trip.
We opted for the A855 out of Portree, hugging the coast overlooking Raasay as we moved round. We stopped to brew up and have our cake in a stunning spot looking North towards the Old Man of Storr, of which we took a very atmospheric picture, but I've not scanned it in yet...We pushed on around the area known as Trotternish and as well as spotting a tarpaulined T25, we got a huge wave from an old boy (who looked like Jessie Duke) in a bright orange boiler suit who was out fixing his T25.
I forgot to mention that, as we drove round, near the turn off for Sligachan we spotted a campsite with two new Volkswagen T5 vans parked near each other at a jaunty angle, both were incredibly shiny and closer inspection (as we whizzed past many feet above the site) seemed to reveal a camera crew, obviously filming a new VW commercial...
I digress...round the northernmost tip of Skye we went, through breathtaking scenery and passing many sheep who, it seems, are a bit of a menace... according to the local paper.
Our first night on Skye was to be spent at the campsite at Uig, and we parked our bus where that tent on the right is. Uig's a nice enough wee place but the hulking mass of the Calmac terminal spoils the view somewhat. You can see it on this picture...
| Our view was somewhat less obscured on the campsite (though those fancy motorhomes are some size!) |  |
After a peaceful night on the site, we took a trip round much the rest of Skye. Our first stopping point, after much stunning scenery, was the Edinbane Pottery. The stuff was lovely but ever so expensive, and nowhere near as nice looking as Stephen Pearce'sstuff in Cork.
The road wound its way round from there towards Dunvegan, though we didn't visit the castle. In the tourist information centre, Ben ran about collecting postcards of Highland Cattle, having uttered his first full sentence, "a moo, look at that!"
One of the leaflets in the centre suggested a visit to Stein, where there was apparently to be found a fantastic pub. With no concrete plans in mind we decided that would probably be a good place for lunch, so off we went to the Stein Inn. Before lunch, though, we had a potter about on the beach...there was no sand but the pebble beach was by far and away the best one I've ever encountered for "stuff"...we came away with bags of treasure - lovely bits of ceramics and coloured glass and a piece of yer actual comedy driftwood - a piece from a boat with some paint and numbers on it. What we'll do with any of this stuff is anyone's guess...
Lunch was great, by the way.
After Stein we decided to take advantage of the stunning scenery by driving south towards our intended destination at a sightseers pace, which must have been frustrating for those behind us, though what they expect from tourists in a 21 and a half year old vehicle is beyond me!
An aunt of mine, who's a Munro bagger (of the real, not virtual, sort) has been to Skye many times and recommended a site to use at Glenbrittle, at the foot of the Cuillins. We'd contacted her the night before because we couldn't be bothered spending ages trekking all the way back up to Uig again only to go right down to Armadale first thing on the Friday morning to catch the ferry. As ever, tea, cake and Tom Morton were calling so we stopped at a viewpoint (just where that "A" in A863 is) for a bit of a brew. There is a picture awaiting a scan. I'll get there...
Well, it's now the 30th of July and I'm determined to finish this write up in the same month that I started it. Here goes...
We continued on around the spectacular coastline, there really is just so much to see it can be hard to keep an eye on the road at times, but I managed. Heading down towards the south of the island, we took the turn off for Carbost and then off again onto the road, well I say road, it was more of a track, okay a notion of a right of way...towards Glenbrittle. The rain was lashing the van and the light seemed to be coming and going as we struggled up steep gradients - the ones so bad they're actually marked on our crappy touristy-style road map - to be rewarded with, as I think I mentioned earlier, the site at the edge of the world.
There's a bit in Bill Bryson's Notes from a Small Island where, considering the beauty of Durham for those who've never been, he urges the reader to "go, at once! Take my car!" and that's pretty accurate too for Glenbrittle. Again, I've got loads of pictures I need to scan in to get a proper flavour of what it was like but it was really little short of breathtaking. A volcanic ash beach (so I'm told) at the foot of the Cuillins, a tiny but wonderfully stocked shop and a peaceful spot by the water's edge, so remote that the good old World Service had trouble finding us.
This was a drawing Gail did from the bus in the few minutes it took Ben and I to go and get splashed by the pounding waves...
...the only difference between the real view and this was that the real thing was a lot darker!
One of my favourite things - sad I know - was the ticket we were given to put in the window of the bus to show we'd paid! What a great souvenir!
We had a fantastically peaceful night's sleep with the sound of the waves drifting in, only feet from the van. There was also another T25 nearby but it was very shiny and had a trailer so we didn't disturb it.
An early start on Friday morning for the journey down to Armadale for the Calmac ferry over to Mallaig. We had originally planned to come off Skye the way we'd come on, then head home cross-country but a change in personal circumstances (see here) meant we had to go for a drive round the Ardnamurchan peninsula...which is never a bad thing.
The drive to Armadale was uneventful and the road, being an access road for the ferry, was much better. The rain was still lashing down as we pulled up at the slipway to buy our tickets.
 | Just to the right of this was a wee goldmine of a cafe/kiosk thing selling fantastic coffee, if you're ever in the area. |
And here's us on the ferry, well , the bus at any rate, can you see him, at the bottom right, just next to the monster tour coaches...
From Mallaig it was off to Ardnamurchan, sadly bypassing our favourite place in the world - Camusdarach Beach as we powered round (ahem) towards the wild west. We stopped for lunch in the excellent tea room at Acharacle, which I'm sure I'd found a website for but can't locate it now. Then we spent the rest of the day driving about and putting up postcards looking for accommodation.
On reflection, Gail's suggestion that we stay at the really nice looking site at Resipole on Loch Sunart was perhaps a good one, given that we eventually ended up at Glenview in Strontian. Let's be honest here, the pictures make it look so much better than it is. There was no Glen and no view and the site seemed populated by people who lived in manky old caravans on a permanent basis due to a lack of affordable housing in the area (not great news, given our change of circumstances!).
The rain was on again so we made for the bar in the Strontian Hotel. Ben had his now customary pineapple juice and we had a Guinness. The rain had eased a bit so we had a run about the playpark before heading back to the van to enjoy the view of the Glen. Perhaps the site is owned by a guy called Glen and you can spot him or "view" him...needless to say we didn't see him. Curses.
There's a great photo to come of the bus in the Glenview site, nestling amongst the tress and next to its own picnic bench and barbecue spot, a nice touch. That's all well and good provided that it's not raining. How's this for a recipe for a peaceful night's sleep: fibreglass roof, bed 8-10 inches from the roof, overhanging branches, loads of rain.
Less than an hour in bed and I'd transferred to the "lower sleeping quarters."
Edited update - Monday, 2nd August.
Dash it all, didn't finish it in the same month after all! I forgot to add in some "Glenview" detail...firstly, it was our second site in a row with a wee ticket to hang in the window! Deep joy!
Secondly, and almost as importantly, in the pictures on the Glenview site, you can make out a woman feeding chickens. In the interests of public safety, I should point out that she's absolutely barking mad. Well, weird anyway. Nothing you could put your finger on, so to speak, but a definite weird "vibe" - let's just say if she sat down next to you on the bus you'd either develop a sudden interest in a very important spot of fluff on your coat or you'd get off several stops earlier than intended.
Update over...on with the blog.
And that was that. Our last night on tour. The journey home went smoothly and we fitted in another ferry trip on the Corran Ferry this time and stormed down through Glencoe and Crianlarich at a great rate of knots. This bit of the journey always feels a bit flat to me, in the emotional sense, perhaps because it's so familiar and both of us have been in and around Crianlarich what feels like a million times.
There was just the one final stop, in Callendar, which is such an uninspiring place I can't even find a good website. They do have a great bakery and a play park if that's any consolation. Not together though...although that's a thought...
With the rain on again we brewed up and had some cakes, just to continue a theme and purely in the interests of consistency you understand.
All tidied up, it was time to hit the road and head for home. We'd have to unpack and then attack the mountain of washing...not before we'd had a cuppa though.
Final reading on the speedo was 97521, an 860 mile round trip taking in six days on the road and that one whole day parked up by Little Loch Broom.
Next stop? Ardnamurchan!
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
There is a vast amount of updating of the blog required following our road-trip to Skye, Wester Ross and Ardnamurchan...however, I came across a lovely link on Phil's Deadbus site which I had to try.
Apparently I'm driving the wrong vee-dub...
Apparently I'm driving the wrong vee-dub...
