Benj Great Spring Escape

Week Five   begins in Strath Halladale, where I was last 56 years ago. Revisited the gamekeeper’s cottage where I lived, but couldn't get access for my planned walk up the Halladale River as I did back then because there was no place to park and walk down: it was easy when I only had my bike. From there it was a bit of a long sequence of frustrations. Beautiful remote roads with fabulous views, but all advertised camp sites not open yet. Even the Craggan Hotel, miles off  the beaten track, which I had been looking forward to as a BritStop, according to the nearest store and PO, has been closed for 2 years. Wish they'd told the BritStops app that! It was quite a long stretch to get to Sango Sands camp site, Durness, which I had only booked for the following day. Fortunately they had no difficulty advancing my booking by a day, so that's my spot for the next two nights, perched high above the sandy bay, and close to the Smoo caves for tomorrow's adventure. (Footnote: John...

MOT and Scrabster    Woke to a glorious Spring morning, looking down over Strath Halladale. Early brekkie roll, then the rest of the morning taken up with my MOT, thankfully passed with no advisories. One van relief at least. Drove past Dounreay power station dominating the shore line, and into Thurso,  which had nothing to offer the nomad, so backtracked to Scrabster. It's a tiny town, built around the harbour and ferry port to Orkney, but with a residue of an important fishing fleet, now more domestic than a large scale industry. My plan had been to have my evening meal at a famous fish restaurant, the Captain's Galley, but (of course) it was closed, who knows for how long. There was one alternative, the Ferry Inn (must be one of those in every ferry port), which did in fact have an excellent menu.  I needed a little rest before exploring the harbour (not a big mission) and found a tiny gem of a place for a quick coffee. The Capilla is a Spanish style tapas place, ...

Scotland, a few miles from Thurso, Sutherland.  A short account today, as I've left it late, after dropping off to sleep 'listening' to podcasts, and only a single sad or maybe worrying photo. Having been troubled by a smell in the habitation, like bad eggs, for several days, I'd checked it wasn't gas, I'd shared the problem with Kinlay, and with Dean. A possible cause was a fault in the catalytic converter, so as I travelled back to Scotland on the ferry, I hunted for a garage that might help. After many phone calls, I found Charlie Sutherland in Reay (close to Thurso and less than half an hour from the port), who agreed to see me. Hence the photo. A very thorough inspection in the pit revealed absolutely no mechanical problem, and the mechanic believed the smell was above the cab, in the lifting roof. Nothing to see on opening the pop-up fully - no damp, no rotting rubbers etc, so we agreed I should leave the top open overnight (hoping for no heavy rain), whic...

Final site to (re)visit on my last day in Orkney - the Italian Chapel. It's a great sight to see, but it also tells the story of the strength of will of the Italian POWs who designed, built and worshipped in it, when they weren't busy constructing the massive Churchill barriers to block German naval access to the British fleet in Scapa Flow, between 1940 and 1944. Everything inside and around it was the work of Italian artists and craftsmen. As I shivered this week, I can hardly imagine what it must have been like for soldiers transported from their lines in the Libyan desert to the Orcadian winters. The pictures on the walls of the chancel are superbly executed, and even the walls of the nave can only be accepted as trompe d'loeil images, and not actual tiles and wooden pillars, on close inspection. A moving tribute to the power of human endurance. So who knew Orkney made rum? With imported molasses of course. As it's right next door as I left the Italian Chapel, I had...

{Addendum from yesterday evening. When I returned from my day out, my electric hookup cable was not where I'd left it, attached to the power outlet. But I did now have a new neighbour, with a cable attached, and I just  wondered if they might have just chosen to use mine, because if not, then it must have been moved by the site warden or, worse, stolen. I called the office, who sent a man with a spare cable (which oddly didn't fit my van's plug point, though I thought they were all standard fittings). Anyway there wasn't much else I could do, and could easily survive without external power, like wild camping, but I sat in the van for nearly two hours anyway waiting for my neighbours to return. They did, and they confirmed they were using my cable, thinking it was supplied by the site. Clearly they are inexperienced campers, or stupid, or both, and they unplugged and got their own cable from their van, without so much as an apology. Takes all sorts, I guess. Reminded me ...

Orkney, West Mainland sites A day of revisits and one for the first time. I planned a route through those sites that are open, which is probably no more than 50% of the top sites. I loved the driving, on largely empty roads, under mostly blue sky with intermittent flurries of snow. The Stones of Stenness still impress on a second viewing, open to close inspection and touch, albeit in freezing cold, with snow bordering on hailstones pelting my face. I walked the circuit of the massive Ring of  Brodgar, also still awesome, imbued with memories of my visit with Cate. However, the Ness of Brodgar, which was top of my to-see list, was covered over for the winter. And looking down now from the Stones to where we had watched the excavation in progress, the ground is as level as a football pitch, and I'm not sure if any future digging is planned. So I think I'm not just a season early, but probably a year late. I'll just have to watch this extraordinary site again on TV.  To make u...

Kirkwall - Cathedrals, Campsites and Hen Nights  A morning drive to St Margaret Hope revealed nothing of use to the nomad, not so much as a coffee shop, let alone a WiFi signal. So, an about-turn took me to Kirkwall to revisit the sights of the capital. After a light lunch at the Real Food Cafe I 'did' St Magnus Cathedral. Magnificent Gothic construction, and a different selection of historical figures than we get in the UK, because of the mixture of Scottish and Norwegian players in a bloody game of mediaeval power struggles. Magnus was martyred (an axe blow to the head, since you ask) but it was his nephew who was left to fulfil his uncle's promise to build a great structure. And a good job he made of it. The organist was practising while I was there, which is always a nice treat on such visits. I paid my customary respects to my absent fellow travellers with a pair of candles.  Outside the Cathedral I had a special surprise treat - a Blackening was in full swing. The th...

Scotland to Orkney Sunny start in JO’G, with plenty time for shower etc before my 1330 Pentland ferry to Orkney. I had coffee and toast at the small but well stocked knitwear and deli shop, and bought a couple of compact island guide and walks books. Bought diesel and milk at the combined garage/post-office/general store (“Last in Scotland”), and headed along the coast to Gills Bay, where there were I’d guess a couple of hundred cars or vans lining up for the ferry. Burgers, chips, pies etc were available on board, and lots of passengers were tucking in to a full meal, thankfully for a smooth crossing with no more than a gentle rolling motion.  We disembarked in moderate (for these parts) drizzle. I didn’t stop in the worsening rain to inspect St Margaret Hope (‘hope’ in Gaelic means ‘bay’, and is pronounced ‘hup’by locals), but followed the written instructions (‘Don’t use the postcode on your satnav’) to get to my turn into the hill above the coastal road to Kirkwall. The entranc...

Jan de Groot knew a bit about argumentative children so when he settled in the spot now named after him in 1496, he built not only a house with 7 doors (one for each son) but also an octagonal dining table, so nobody got precedence. He ran a ferry to Orkney, recently acquired by James IV, and charged 4p fare (a groat, gerrit?). And that's the route I'll be taking tomorrow, though the fare has gone up to £57.   The morning was spent dodging persistent showers to do my week's laundry, and revising my ferry plans for Orkney next day. It became clear that my booked passage from Scrabster to Stromness would not get me to Pool Farm in daylight for my stay on the islands. My helpful camp warden told me there's a smaller ferry from Gills Bay, 5 miles up the road, that goes to South Ronaldsay, which is the island on which Pool Farm is situated. I'm sure it's not widely appreciated what a widely sprawling archipelago the Orkney Islands is/are, many of them connected by lo...

120 miles today (a long one for me) and here I am at John O'Groats, practically the top right corner of the Scottish mainland, admiring the above view from my pitch.  Inverness is one of the real starting point options for the NC500, so actually everything up to there has been just a preliminary warm-up. I needed prolonged preparations for leaving my camp site, because dodging howling wind and sharp showers impaired movement to and from the facilities. The wind continued all day in Inverness, threatening to remove my cap, and I learned from the radio that it had actually been strong enough to blow over a 76metre ship in Leith Harbour. I achieved my two 'tourist' objectives in the city. First to the beautiful St Andrews Cathedral, where I lit my customary candles to my two lost ladies. Next a walk along the broad River Ness and across the swaying footbridge to Leakey's, Scotland's largest second hand bookshop, which also lived up to its hype, with a kaleidoscopic arr...

 Disabled shower at FiveRoads. Beautiful sunny morning, only occasional light shower. Aiming for Inverness, but a day of diversions. First to Reikee Linn Falls on the Isla river for a walk I'd read about, and there had my first surprise encounter of the day. A delightful chance meeting with Ashley and Sam, when I parked next to their campervan. In fact, I wouldn’t have found the best track to the Falls without Sam’s directions. Donning my new walking boots for their first proper walk, I followed a rough path through light forest, with the sound of the water roaring off to one side, and reached a spot to enjoy views of the impressive torrent. As an extra treat, a red squirrel stopped on the track and stared at me. On the way back as I crossed the narrow  old stone bridge I saw Ashley bathing in the water (wearing a wetsuit, mind) and back at our vehicles, Sam asked if I had eaten (no) and invited me aboard for a bacon bagel. The bagel was delicious, and we chatted a while ...

102 miles north to the Five Roads Caravan Park, Alyth, Perthshire. The nearest town to here that most people have heard of is Blairgowrie, but there's not much to write home about either of them. The Loudons alerted me on my visit last week to look out for the one local claim to fame - the Meiklour Beech Hedge, which is noted in the Guinness World Records as the tallest and longest hedge on earth, reaching 30 metres (98 feet) in height and 530 metres (1,740 feet) in length. It is usually trimmed once every ten years. I shot some video as I drove along it, but it's looking a bit bedraggled at this time of year, so I'm afraid this picture from 'tinterweb does it far better justice.  I had left Moretonhall for the final time after shower and tidy up of the van, and stopped for coffee and a bacon roll at Stirling services, but also couldn't resist popping into the Deanston distillery en route. The other feature on the way north was a passing view of the Kelpies, near F...

 A very gentle hungover start this morning with a vow not to indulge in 2am whisky shenanigans again. (Well, not too often, anyway 😉) Breakfasted at hotel (meeting new best friends the Wensley Dale Moffitts), case packed and left in store until departure later, then wound my way up the precipitously steep Cockburn Street to the Royal Mile in delightfully warm sunshine, in search of Mountain Warehouse for new walking boots. Mission accomplished, I wore my boots and merino wool socks back through the town to break them in, and called my cab for Moretonhall camp site for the last time. All power and heating now restored to the site, I did a large clothes wash and dry and re-packed my gear ready for tomorrow's onward travel northwards. I had decided I wouldn't indulge myself in another meal at the Stables bar, which was just as well because it was all fully booked for Mothering Sunday. I had bought a couple of ready meals, one of which (chicken tikka masala) I microwaved and ate i...

It's 0830 Sunday 19th March as I write this (Mothering Sunday, though that has nothing to do with it). The entry was started at 2am, when I had just retired from the bar of Motel One, after a long and busy day of joy and surprises. So as I finish it now, I feel just a little jaded!  Murrayfield was warm (!) and dry, and Scotland made it through to the end of the Six Nations campaign, beating Italy 26-14, albeit with some very sweaty moments at the end. We managed to meet up with friends Jill and Steve, and Malcolm was my seat companion in North 1, row B, far too low down for a really good view. I'll try to change my tickets before the summer warmup series. D&D and I walked into the town, and were lucky to find seats in the Shakespeare in time to watch the other matches (France 41 Wales 18, Ireland 29 England 16), then took a cab back to Motel One, quick change then dinner at EccoVino, one of our regular eateries. (Scallops and mussels for me, if you're interested)  Back...

 Went to my van bed very comfy and cosy last night, tucked up listening to my Audible book (James Naughty reading his novel A Spy Across the Water), with the eclectic blanket on, but woke at about 2am drenched in sweat. I do hope that's the last time I forget to turn the blanket off, but I can't of course guarantee it. Duh. Nevertheless I then slept well and woke quite late to a glorious sunny morning, weather app on phone showing 7 degrees, with just a few showers expected. Made coffee in the van, after a lovely hot shower, but fancied more. The Stables does breakfast from 10am (I think), but on the advice of camp reception I walked up to the main road without even an outer jacket, and had a bacon roll at the cafe in the enormous garden centre at the corner of the drive down to the camp. I spent much of the day reorganising the storage in the van and setting up the dashcam system for the onward travels. I collected my wee Amazon delivery from reception (a remote bluetooth cont...

 Woke after a restful night in a soft fluffy bed, and without even a hangover thanks to careful restraint with the unique whisky given by the Loudons. The threatened snow has continued to evade me (Yay!), but today was the perfect epitome of the guid Scots term 'dreich'. The steady, slow rain lasted all the day, so even Johnny and Jan decided to forego their daily 3 mile walk, for which I felt grateful, albeit a little guilty. A healthy breakfast with lashings of coffee easily salved my conscience though, and later on Johnny's homemade French onion soup completed the job. The hours passed comfortably in conversation, with memories of corporal punishment in our old school, then university and hospital junior post days, weddings, Delta Force trips in UK and abroad, and tributes to our dear departed members. We commiserated with each other over our persistently annoying loss of memory, especially for names. We needed recourse to Mr Google or Ms Alexa to check who the guy is wh...

 Gargunnock - lucky 13th day? 🍀 (Yet again, WTF's that? )  I'm here to visit more old friends. This was always an important part of my GE intentions, discussed at length with Cate before she became too unwell to enjoy sharing my plans. Anyway, Gargunnock is a small village outside Stirling, and home to Johnny and Jan Loudon. Like David Clough, Johnny has been part of my life since as long ago as primary school in Glasgow in the 60s. Also the bunch of reprobates who were later to become Delta Force had attended his and Jan's wedding, and much later those of their daughters, so they mean a lot to me. And as I arrived at their house I encountered my first snowfall of the trip, though it didn't last long. This did not stop us walking to their local pub, where I was treated to good local produce for dinner. Back at the house we reminisced about the music we had shared over the years, sang a few old songs, and toasted the memories with a delicious malt from the local distill...

Aaron Glen Guesthouse, Bilston What? Where the...?  An uncharted (but carefully planned for in loading my small backpack) diversion from the Great Escape route. Van duly delivered to Clarks in Bilston Industrial estate by 0830, with all bedding etc shifted for access to the faulty tailgate, I spent the morning drinking endless coffee in the nearby little caff. When the message from the workshop arrived it said the whole latch mechanism needed replaced, but the part would not be there until tomorrow. Hence this visit to Aaron Glen for the night, where I was lucky to get a bed. Greeted by the delightful and very garrulous Carolyn, who has experience of the NC500 in a large motorhome, and had several good recommendations for my trip. Aaron Glen is a very comfortable and well equipped bolt hole for my emergency overnight stay. And checkout the stock and prices in the honesty bar below - I think they must still live in a different age 🤪 Anyway here I am, ordered seafood pizza from a lo...

  Back to Moretonhall Campsite  David and Diane left after breakfast at Motel One, for visits to various family in the West: we'll be reunited of course next weekend for the final rugby match. I met for lunch at the Fruit Market my old schoolfriend and fellow writer Hamish, and we had a good reunion chatting about family, poetry, publishing (Hamish founded and owns Mariscat Press, specialising in poetry), old school days in Glasgow, and music (as students in 1962 he and I played a life-changing summer season in Wales in a trio, where I met  Barbara, whom I married 6 years later). He gave me two of his own poetry publications and one of Mariscat Press's latest. Lots of things in common to catch up with. I made a short visit to the City Art Gallery, looked at their new acquisitions, then retrieved my case from the hotel and called a taxi to return to the campsite. To my dismay, Carol-Anne at the reception told me power had not yet been restored, and now affected an entire q...

 Murrayfield - Scotland 7 Ireland 22. So, it transpires that last night's power outage was much wider than the bar, or indeed the campsite. Following a bright flash of light, the power died over a wide area. How wide, I don't know and largely don't care. I can only say that after a dark and sleepless night without power to the Van, I woke to no hot water (again) in the showers, so I just had to pack up for my overnight stay at Motel One, and get my taxi into town. After a short visit to the National Gallery for a coffee, David and Diane and I took a taxi to Murrayfield, shared a wee drink and snack in the ground, before 3pm kick off.  Malcolm (Cate's niece Heather's husband) and I watched the game, about which I can't bring myself to say much, save that a good but error-strewn Scotland went down 7-22 to Ireland, who are still the best team in the world. No disgrace, but still a disappointment. No Grand Slam this year.  I confess I found the walk back into Edinbu...

 Stables Bar Mortonhall Camp Site Quite a day. Dryers in laundry seem to be completely defunct - they may or may not be sorted next week, so meantime I hung up my wet washing on a line from the van, in the glorious warm afternoon sun. (Pleased to say they were virtually dry by evening.) David and Diane arrived by cab at 12 noon in time for the reserved table for lunch comfortably opposite the TV screens for the rugby. Enjoyed several pints of Guinness or red wine and a few drams of malt, while we watched Italy 17- Wales 29 (sorry Italy) then England 10 - France 53 (least said about this one the best 😁🇫🇷) Good craic chatting to neighbours in the lively bar.  D&D  got cab home at a reasonable time and as I write I'm still, less sensibly, chilling in the bar with a coffee and a final  nightcap of Glenmorangie. Cab booked for the morning, and (very shortly) I'll head back to my cosy van and pack an overnight bag for my one night at Motel One. Ready for Ireland at ...

 Mortonhall Caravan Park (Look, I never promised healthy eating was part of the tour...)  Just to fill in the mysterious gap in yesterday's narrative, the van problem was a tailgate latch that wouldn't open. (That will be a familiar one to Rob, who rescued it from the same fault a year ago by crawling into the tiny gap behind the seat and performing miracles with the mechanism.) So I was/am unable to access the major luggage space of the van, including electric hookup cable, spare clothes, shoes and gin, in increasing order of importance. (Nice man in Reception loaned me a cable, so I do have power for the night.) Found a company who said they'd have a look at it, only a few miles away. Their diagnosis is that I need a new latch, and have ordered it for next Tuesday. If they need more than the day, of course, I will be homeless, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it 🙄 Meanwhile, back at the camp, there had been no hot water in the facilities this morning, but it...