Roland Ladley's Blog, page 15

Just wow …

You may not have heard of the North Coast 500? It was introduced by the Scottish government a few years ago to boost tourism. It does what it says on the tin and follows the route that us old hands have been plying for years: around the coast, starting and finishing at Inverness. The effect of that tourist drive, the pent up, relaxation of covid and the now proliferation of motorhomes, has made the route like the M25.

We hit it when we got off the ferry. And, as a motorhome owner, I’m not complaining. But there are a lot of people out and about. And, as much of the NC500 is single track, it can be slow progress. But the progress is, and I’d forgotten this, beautiful. The roadside scenery is better than anywhere in the country. It’s better than Shetland, Orkney and the Hebrides. It is, simply, stunning at every turn – certainly from John o’G to Ullapool. The hills are taller and more shouty, the beaches longer and sandier, and the lochs, lochier. Absolutely stunning … I’d forgotten how fab it is.

spitting distance from high tide

 
We walked along a huge, empty beach at Bettyhill, after I’d spotted it from a height and didn’t think we could get to where the sea, river and sand conjoined. It was a four miler, but worth every bit of effort. We wild camped down a tiny road leading to a tiny harbour, with our tent spitting distance from high tide, looking out onto a Goonies landscape. And then, just short of Cape Wrath, walked again across beach and sand dune, which was vastly reminiscent of Pyla dunes in the SW of France (which, if you’ve not been to need to be on your bucket list). 

like Pyla

On Thursday night we stopped at the Ullapool campsite, which showed us exactly how busy the area is, even this late in the season. It was packed (100 vans and tents?), soulless, but only £20 for us two. 

And that inspired us to leave one of northern Scotland’s major conurbations (where we were accosted by a vagrant, sitting harbour-side as we drank coffee and ate bacon rolls, regaling us of how he lives out of a Citroen Saxo and was heading back ‘home’ to Orkney – we do attract them) and head for Mull, wild camping with the midges, sea-loch side in drizzling rain … one of those nights – where we wild camp, and the rain and bugs would seem to make life a misery. They are often our highlights. The position was exquisite and, even if I say so myself, the spaghetti and meatballs more than edible. And, with no internet, we read books and caught an early night in a festival tent which continues to keep us dry and warm. Sure, yesterday morning as we put a damp tent away and defended ourselves heroically against persistent midges, it may have been nice (Al) to wake up under Mrs McTavish’s duvet (hopefully, without her) as she prepares porridge and Aberdeen Angus sausages and egg. But would we remember it with the same affection?

something to remember …

We may never know …

Stay safe.

The kindness of strangers

Day 15 and still no one is dead. We arrived back in Orkney expecting not to have much to say about it. We’d already spent 6 hours on the island passing through to Shetland. Then it was wet and cool … and flat, and busy. It didn’t help that, subsequently, our first full day on the island was the wettest it had been so far. It rained consistently on Saturday, up until 7 pm. And then, sat in the car deliberating what to eat (we’d had a decent cafe breakfast so could cope with sandwiches so I didn’t have to battle the deluge to cook something) waiting for the Raducanu match, a woman knocked on C’s window. Would we like to have vegetarian curry with them in their caravan? They’d spotted us on and off all day and took pity on us.

We were, of course, fine. We knew the weather was set to improve so we would get dry, but the lady was lovely and vegetarian curry seemed like a fab idea. And it was. Bless them … they were great company and we’ve kept in touch with them over the past couple of days. The extraordinary kindsess of strangers, hey?  And we were back in the car in time to watch Raducanu’s quite brilliant performance. To me, from the outset, she looked absolutely ruthless – even if she hadn’t won. What a match.

That was Saturday. Sunday started overcast and we did the prehistoric sites – all stone circles and broches. They’re pretty much all within walking distance of each other, so you can do them in a oner. We then drove to Yesnaby and walked a five mile round trip along staggering cliffs until we reached a stack called ‘the castle’, wound our gaping mouths shut and walked back again. We stopped for a picnic at a lovely sandy bay (Mrs Sun was off the bus and walking down our drive at that point) and then we took a chance on Brough Head, an island joined by a tidal causeway … and were met by 100 seals (I counted them) all bobbing about on the bay, moaning to each other. The tide was on its way out and once we’d paddled across I managed to get to within 20 metres of the closest seal. Which led me to google whether or not seals are dangerous. Apparently only if you corner them. That’s good advice. We walked around the island in early autumn sunshine and were blown away again by the views.

Wow

We were starting to like Orkney.

100s of seals

Monday was another lovely walk around Deerness, another one of the main island’s countless peninsulas, lunch again by a beach and then back home – home being a remarkable, two-man Quecha festival tent which has so far survived persistent, heavy rain and nasty winds. Our evenings follow a pattern. We eat the simplest of meals (I’m still in charge. It’s tinned something – which actually are remarkably tasty – rice/potatoes and veg). And then an hour or so’s TV using our huge data bank from Tesco and Vodaphone. I think we’ve both lost interest in BBC’s Vigil, which I think stretches fiction a little too far. But we watched a brilliant Ewan McGregor film (The Island) yesterday, which was right up my street, mostly because it has Scarlett Johannson in it. And then an early bed. It is getting colder, but the tent warms up quick enough and we both sleep well.

it’s not all that bad

Yesterday was another drive, walk, picnic by the beach and then home (although I did manage to add in a run when we got back). This time we took in Churchill’s Scarpa Flow defences, including three causeways half created by scuttled ships – you can still see the hulls. And then onto Hoxa Head to look at the old gun emplacements. Scarpa Flow, as large, natural safe harbour surrounded by Orkney islands, was the UK’s North Sea/Atlantic fleet base during both world wars. Every effort was made to keep the anchored ships safe. It was good to experience those defences at first hand, although our walk back along an unmarked cliff path was a little more dodgy than I anticipated.

 

ships come sailing by …

And, because I’m a gentlman, I took C out for our anniversary lunch – at the back of the car, protected from the wind. There I made boiled eggs … by the beach, of course. Fab.

Now we’re off to the ferry. We had another great night, eating supper, sat in our chairs overlooking Kirkwall harbour where a huge cruise ship has docked. People chatted and raised glasses. I still think they all take pity on us. But we’re happy. 

So the question remains: did we like Orkney? Loved it. But not as much as Shetland. Orkney is easier and cheaper to get to. But, if you’re looking close, I don’t think it has the same allure as the Hebredian islands, which seem much more remote, have wonderful changing scenery and white beaches to die for. So if you’re on either a time or money budget, island hop along the Hebrides. But if you can find two days travelling time and can afford the ferry, then Shetlands is a must. Sure, we were mostly lucky with the weather, so that’s a factor … 

Stay safe everyone. It looks like covid hospitalisations are on the up … so His Borisness might introduce mask wearing again. I cannot, for the life of me, understand why that simple and convenient measure wasn’t retained (they have in Scotland) on public transport and in shops. I really don’t. Oh well …

It’s raining … and still no one died

I don’t have one of these

We love Shetland. Sure, we’ve had sensible(ish) weather, but there’s something about the softness of it: the rolling hills and the kind and calm people. It’s fab. Our last-but-one campsite was at Skeld and then, knowing the weather would deteriorate, we drove to Sandness and walked to the watermills, along a lovely deserted coastline. We then drove to Staneydale temple, a 5,000 year old building in the middle of nowhere. It was bleak, but dry enough and, in an ancient way, quite fascinating.

We then drove to our last campsite at Levenwick, on the southern peninsula. By now the weather was getting worse and with the site up on a hill with, apparently, far reaching views out to sea, the views became shrouded in cloud and we could see nothing. We managed to pitch in dry enough conditions and the site had a kitchen and a covered outer area where we managed to meet all manner of people as we sat outside making supper, drinking our wine –  and then breakfast, drinking our tea. In its own way it was our best evening so far, such was the community. And we weren’t the only fools camping in a tent. There was a couple celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary and a much older man who was in an old one-man tent. He was an Englishman from Skye, and was accompanying his brother and wife on a holiday to Shetland. His brother and wife were in a swanky hotel; he was roughing it … and enjoying our wine. Fab.

gossip central

It rained overnight and everything went away damp. We drove to Sunburgh Head, which was a really high lighthouse where the views might have been spectacular if we could see anything. However, things did pick up. The west coast was dry and Mrs Sun was close to getting a ticket. So we walked across to St Ninian’s island, a small outcrop joined to the mainland by a sand spit, and moved further north to a harbour where we decamped, had lunch and, half an hour later, everything was dry. Lord knows what the locals thought … but they all passed the time of day with us and ignored our gypsy-like detritus. 

Love it … drying out …

That was Shetland. Five days was long enough to see everything, but you could stay for a month and slow down completely … provided the weather is fine. 

We made the ferry in good time, boarded, bought a sandwich rather than compete for space in an overcrowded restaurant where all I could see was covid, and relaxed for five hours as we made our way back to Orkney. We docked at 11 pm and drove the short distance to our prebooked campsite (£21 – everything is more expensive here). Thankfully we were pitching in the dark on day ten and not day two. We have it sorted now.

This morning it was initially very misty, but we knew rain was coming. We sorted ourselves before a blanket of water drenched everything and then drove to a local cafe where we treated ourselves to a decent breakfast. The rain is set to last all day. Tomorrow the weather picks up and Mrs Sun is catching the bus to be with us on Monday. We’ve checked other campsites, but they’re all more expensive, so we’ll stay where we are and use Kirkwall as our base. Tonight we’re watching Emma Radacanu in the US Open final. We have C’s tablet and more data than any family needs, so that’s a date. Clearly she is talented and lovely and well done here. But if I might moan … as Radacanu was winning her semi, Keely Hodgkinson was winning the final Diamond League 800 metres against a v strong field. She’s the European indoor champion and Olympic silver medalist. She’s also only a teenager (four months separate her and Radacanu). And yet we get one short athletics story on the BBC sport app, which lasts less than a day – against Radacanu’s multiple pitches which have gone on and on. And Hodgkinson won $30,000. Radacanu will take home at least £1,250,000. It doesn’t seem fair …

Enough. Stay safe everyone.

Someone died …

…every turn

Shetland is a crime free zone. We were heading for Stenness lighthouse when our route was barred by a older local man in a high viz jacket. ‘You can’t go up to the lighthouse … there’s been a murder.’ More of this later.

The cabin in the 7 hour ferry across to Shetland was fab (a £70 add-on) – but there was only time to undress, sleep and get dressed again. We avoided breakfast for fear it would all be deep fried. And then we drove to the furthest northern isle, Unst, via two, small ro-ro ferries. The journey through the long mainland isle (think of the silhouette of a jar of paint thrown across the floor and you have a map of the Shetlands) was fab. The weather was patchy but better than our afternoon trip through Orkney the previous day to catch the onward ferry – that was very wet and murky. On Shetland Mrs Sun came and went, and the views were pretty spectacular.

We found the main island busier than we expected. But Unst was a dream. We pitched up at a harbour-side campsite with a boffy full of showers and loos. And then drove around the island. We walked to the northern most point of the UK – which was fab. And later to a set of cliffs in the northwest, a mile or so from an RAF radar station which, according to legend, has been blown off the top the mountain at least once. The walk to the cliffs was longer than C expected and, as we were close to wine-o’clock, it took the inner steel of knowing she was going to see a gannettry to push on through and not turn back.

[image error]

And what a sight. I’m not a huge seabird fan (C is; especially gannetts). However, at 170 metres above the water below, with a sheer drop between us and certain mincemeat, we could look down on 10s of thousands of gannetts swirling around on the cliff thermals. It stank, by the way. And it was noisy. But it was fab. One of those once in a lifetime sights.

we’re ok

We woke to windy weather and managed to get the tent down and car packed without losing a finger. We are now at 7 nights under canvas and, leaving aside one niggle, we think we’re coping well. I cook … it’s absolutely nothing special, but it saves C from poring over two hots gas stoves. And that’s working well. We’re not starving.

The next day was Yell, the second northern island. We had a campsite booked on the south of the island and spent the day with a short morning stroll around the bay, a trip to a local castle (built by an unpleasant landlord by disgruntled serfs) and then walked around a long inlet, up a hill, and back in time for lunch by the beach. This time I managed not to burn the fried eggs.

And today we walked first thing for an hour and a half around a local peninsula (at 7.00 am – we rise with Mrs Sun) and that was perfect. And then we caught the ferry back to the mainland, drove to the northern most point of the main island and then to one of the lighthouses … where we were stopped by a older local in a high viz jacket who told us of the murder.

so many photos I could share

But we already knew. Because (and we’ve not seen the series, but will do when we get back) they are currently filming season 7 of ‘Shetland’, a BBC crime drama which we’ve never heard of. The local man was pleased with the BBC because he was getting a free lunch. So instead we drove to a beach, saw some fabulous scenery – picture perfect here at every turn – and then drove onto another booked campsite at Skeld. C reckons IKEA put a pin on the map here every time they want to name a new piece of furniture. Skeld is probably a three legged stool. I’m particularly looking forward to visiting Twatt (there are two on Shetland), which I can’t recall the Swedish furniture firm using.

Now sat, again harbourside, in a lovely campsite (£16; £7; £12 – the cost of the last three sites) having pitched up. Apparently the weather is going to deteriorate tomorrow. That’ll be fun.

Stay safe.

Still … no one is dead

We’ve almost made a week. And, it’s fair to say, all is well. We have been blessed with some great weather – it’s not too cold, not too windy and we’ve only had one spell of overnight rain. 

getting used to this …

Having both been for an early morning run, we left Scone and headed north, following the A9. It’s been an age since we’ve been on the road and I’d forgotten how fabulous it is – think southern Germany. We took the odd detour and ended up doing a dogleg through Dornoch – which is lovely. At that point we realised we were getting our priorities wrong. We were spending a good while trying to think of and find somewhere to park for the night, with the ambition to wild camp where we could. What we should be doing (and are now) is enjoying the views, walking, eating and then getting excited about a campsite/spot later in the day. In end we did find a lovely spot in a large sandy car park between the beach and a forest. The beach was fab … something out of the southwest coast of France. We walked, ate, had some wine, and walked again. Then the midges came … and the rain.

We survived both. The midges were flights rather than squadrons and a combination of net hats and spray kept them mostly at bay. The following morning we had midges and rain. And we coped well with that, although we were now accompanied by some damp stuff. But we were on the way by 8 am.

no entry for midges

We found a beautiful harbour to park up mid-morning and whilst I burnt some fried eggs on our over zealous camping stove, C laid out our wet stuff and the big dry-in commenced …

… which we continued at Dunkensby Head, Scotland’s most northeasterly point. Whilst we walked along to some lovely stacks (frequented by some noisy seals), we dried the tent on the bonnet of the car in Mediterranean weather. Surrounded by motorhome and campers, I think everyone thinks we’re a bit crazy.

magic

We’d booked into ‘the most northerly campsite’ at Brough for two nights (£17 including showers) and, having also booked our ferry to Orkney (for today), we made our way to the site. Which was lovely – a flat grass field, next to the cliff, overlooking the Orkneys. And still no rain. 

Neither of us had slept properly for five days, such was the impact of learning to live under canvas, but on Friday night we both slept like logs. We woke to an overcast sky but, nonetheless, we put on our walking gear and walked the 3 miles to the lighthouse at Dunnet Head, the UK mainland’s most northerly point. That’s was lovely. And then we popped into Thurso (with the car), spent a few idle minutes in Lidl, had lunch on the beach before returning back to the campsite for tinned curry and boil in the bag rice – I am an expert camping chef. 

There is something special about living outdoors when the weather is workable and the views fab. We’re convinced we saw orca in the sound between us and the Orkneys. We’ve spotted countless seals and more sea birds than we know the names of. And, using vesselfinder.com, we’ve been logging the ships making their way between northern Europe and the north coast of North America. That’s a great website if you’ve not used it. We’ve seen all manner of boats – some big; some small.

the view from our tent this morning

I write this waiting for the lunchtime ferry to the Orkneys. We’ve also booked the through ferry to the Shetlands this evening. It’s overnight and we’ve bagged a cabbing (£310 return, including an over-60 concession; the ferry to the Orkneys is £70 each way. It’s not an inexpensive option). This morning we’ve run/power walked, had an overly fatty bacon sandwich at the quite awful John ‘O Groats car park and are listening to the cricket. It’s all working out nicely.

For the record, I have another 2 chapters of Unsuspecting Hero to listen to/edit, by which time we’re only 9/21 chapters short of an audio book. And I’ve changed my mobile phone supplier. I’ve been with Virgin for 7 years and, a couple of weeks ago I spoke to them to change ‘ownership’ (from C to me –  it’s a long story) and up the data allowance so, between us, we have around 100GB of data which means we never have to worry about getting on line when we’re away. Anyhow I sorted everything with a nice man in the Philippines, only to discover that they had changed the account to me, but had not refreshed the contract. In short I was paying more for much less data. So I spoke to a woman (again in the Philippines) who was sharp and patronising. She assured me there was no way I could have sorted all that out 10 days ago. In the end I was so exasperated I cancelled the contract, drove to the ‘most northerly mobile provider in the UK’, a new Tesco at Wick, and got everything sorted out face-to-face in 15 minutes. The good news is is that we’re now both with different mobile networks, which means one of us should be able to find a network when we’re out in the bondu. We’ll see.

Stay safe everyone. The next blog will be from ‘the UK’s most northern island’ (Unst), visiting ‘the most northern distillery’. Superlatives will run out of steam soon, I feel.

No one is dead

Day three and no one is dead. Although, to be fair, we haven’t had any rain yet.

fab views

We started at a small, basic campsite south of Chester. For us it was a shake down. And, whilst the car and the roof box are brimming, we’ve been organised enough to make sure we can get stuff in some sort of order. However, we’re not there yet. I think we need a couple more iterations to get us completely sorted. Thankfully we’re both organised and have some tenacity. We will sort it.

Shake down

We popped into the Wirral to see C’s Godmum, a lovely elderly lady who, into her nineties, is as sharp as they come. She regaled us of stories as the ‘wife of’ a merchant seaman, accompanying her husband around the world on massive merchant ships. Fab. We could have stayed all day, but we left Liverpool promptly at 12.30 because I was keen to get to Scotland – and I was eqully keen to test our wild camping skills.

And we were fortunate. I randomly picked the road in the Lowlands alongside – and between – the Tallar and Megget reservoirs. We got there just before five and, whilst the Tallar reservoir provided no obvious wild camping spots, we climbed the pass between the two and immediately fell upon a gravel and grass area which was perfect. And it was. We pitched up, ate tortellini and a tomato sauce (I’m cooking), washed up, drank tea and wine, wrapped up well as Mts Sun went to bed, and marvelled at the views – which were perfect. There was no one on the road and we had the whole mountain to ourselves. It was a lovely moment. Sure, a few midges got the better of us (even dressed in our hat nets) and, as a result, we were in the tent, warm as toast by 8.30.

wild camping … is she happy?

I will amplify on our equipment as these blog emerge; such is my desire to make these posts as dull as possible. I have to say our sleeping bags, which are huge (Go Outdoors, Sleeping Pods, The Beast) are fabulous. And the sleeping mat, a double Hi Gear 7mm self-inflatable (also Go Outdoors), is also perfect – it’s like sleeping on a normal mattress. You just open the valves and it gently inflates, before you close the valves again. Our tent is a double pop up from Decathlon. So far so good, but we’ve yet to experience high winds or rain. That will be the test. And C has a normal pillow and I have a small US Army one which I picked up in Kabul. More to follow.

We rose early (this morning) still with the view and now with Mrs Sun doing her early morning stretches. We were packed up and away by 9.00 am and were walking in the hills off the Megget reservoir for a couple of hours at 9.30. Keen then to get into the Highlands, we headed for an Asda in Edinburgh before checking into the Caravan and Camping Club site at Perth – where, under a cloudless sky, the weather in Mediterranean warm.

walking in the hills again

And, as I said, no one is dead. I clearly can’t write C’s thoughts as you wouldn’t believe me, but I think, currently, we’re set fair. Inverness tomorrow, the starting point of the North Coast 500. Can’t wait.

For the record we’re 7/20 chapters down with the recording of Unsuspecting Hero. And, whilst I have the prologue of book 8 in my head, I have yet to pen a word. Am I worried? No. I’m too busy enjoying the views.

Stay safe everyone …. 

Life remains short

our younger daughter keeps delivering these lovely computer-drawn images

In 1999 I sent my army pal, Al, a letter (it might have been an email, but I’m not sure we had that capability back then). I asked him if he and his family wanted to give everything up, buy a yacht and sail around the world. He’s a humanities grad, me an engineer. Both our wives are nurses. Between us we could circumnavigate the world in the knowledge that we could teach our five kids something, and our scraped knees and sunburn would be adequately administered. Thankfully he thought I was off my rocker and, as a result, both of us have led very interesting lives. Certainly, for me, if he’d said yes I wouldn’t have had the fabulously enjoyable, fairly full military career. And neither C nor I would have spent 8 years at our school having the time of our lives – me as a teacher; C as a houseparent. And, of course, we wouldn’t have had our Doris adventures which we were able to back up by slightly more funds than if we’d set off around Cape of Good Hope at the turn of the millennium – penniless.

Why do I mention this now? Well, our elder daughter (currently teaching in South Korea with her husband) got in touch today and described how, if they don’t get a job in Europe next summer, they might take some time off and do something different – bearing in mind they have Henry. One option is cycling the European ‘Rivers Route’, 2,200 mile trip from the French west coast to the Black Sea, following the Loire, the Soane, the Rhine and the Danube. We, delightfully, were welcome to join them. 

the River’s Route … sounds like a plan

I love that serendipity … that at about the same age I was, she’s looking to drop the shackles of employment (being teachers they can always find a job somewhere) and, whilst Henry is young, doing something adventurous. I’m not sure, even with our electric bikes, C’s up for over 2,000 miles on a bike. But her first comment was, ‘we’ll follow them in Doris’. Sounds like a plan.

And that reinvigorated my latent desire to do something similar to Bex’s plan, but on a barge. I always liked the idea of sailing from Rotterdam (down the Rhine), south, along the Rhine/Danube canal, onto the Danube, east to the Black Sea, south through the Bosphorus, around the Greek islands, across the Adriatic, around Sicily, possible across to north Africa and then back around the Med to Gibraltar. Sure, it’s a more expensive option than cycling, but what an adventure. The barge would cost you about £150k and, about two years later, you sell it and recoup some of the cash.  So MY ARMY PALS … any takers? Come on, the kids have all left home. You only live once. We’d have four bedrooms, enough for family to join us as and when. You know you want to …

you know you want to …

I imagine it will all go v quiet. But, as I’ve said so many times before, I will never judge those who decide that they want to settle down and have a house big enough for a family Christmas – and some. It’s just not for me. And I don’t think it’s for C, but you’d need to ask her.

In the meantime we’re off tomorrow – Shetland in a tent. And that is going to be an adventure. I’d like to think we’ll make 5 weeks before we find ourselves at mum’s in Colchester. Those of you holding a sweepstake almost certainly have us lasting a week. We’ll see. You could be right.

loving Bradley Stoke

[And, for the record, we did C’s nephew’s classy wedding in Aldermarston on Friday, and either side lots of prep for the trip.]

Henry eating sand

Stay safe everyone.

We’re going whether you like it or not

I’m not feeling the love for our upcoming trip to the Shetlands. In fact everyone has sucked their teeth – friends, relatives, blog and SM mates. Apparently we should either be taking Doris or using Air B&Bs. 

I love this photo of Henry

It’s a long story. We have been extremely lucky with our travels since I semi-retired. Since 2014 we have been to a lot of places. We lived in Doris 1&2 for four and half years, so were pretty ‘on holiday visiting’ the whole of that time. But looking back over the last 7 years … we did the 8-month long trip to Europe, including Sicily and Greece. We’ve been to Bavaria, to the south of France four separate times, Croatia, we took the kids on their honeymoon to Berlin and, before that, a three week trip to the Loire with them. We’ve done Skye and that part of Scotland 4 times, we’ve skied every year apart from last winter (due to covid), and we’ve done Brittany and much of the UK (I’m confident I’ve missed some Doris travels). We’ve flown to New York, Bahamas, Virginia, Tunisia and to a wedding in Italy. Oh, and we’ve spent 6 weeks backpacking around SE Asia with Bex and Steven.

Many of the Doris trips lasted 6 weeks … one of the ski trips was for a month. Even during covid we managed 6 weeks in Yorkshire last summer, a couple of trips to the Midlands and then, for Henry’s birth, we travelled to Korea for 5 weeks (two of which were in a ‘government facility’). And, just recently as you remember, we’ve had 5 weeks in the Lancashire Pennines and onto Ayrshire. 

I don’t list this by way of boasting, although it really does me good to write it down. I say it more matter of factly. And to lay some thoughts for our upcoming trip to the Northern Isles.

Doris is free, apart from fuel and campsites – noting that free camping in Scotland is acceptable. But she’s big and, and I don’t know why, sticking her on a ferry to the Orkneys and then onto Shetlands where a big white bus would be a blot on the landscape, doesn’t do it for us. Doubtless when we get there the place will be covered with them. We’ll see. So a car it is. If we B&B it we can expect to pay about £70 a day for accommodation … more, when you consider that we might have to eat out every night. Let’s assume we’re away for 30 days … that’s a £3k holiday, way beyond our normal operating budget.

In September last year we were going to drive the old Focus to Baku on the Caspian Sea. The plan was to tent camp in Western Europe where hotel prices were high, and then ‘boutique hotel’ it in Turkey and beyond where, like SE Asia, you can get good quality hotels for £30 a night. I know this because the year before a friend of mine did the trip on a motorbike. That, obviously, fell through. But the idea remained. Interestingly, and with no connection at all, my pal has just finished Orkney and Shetland, and including the North Coast 500 on his bike. So that’s the plan. He took 11 days – I think we’ll take three times as long.

Heath Robinson does camping …

Will we survive in a tent? Who knows? From my perspective we couldn’t be closer to nature … and we both love that. The issue is whether or not we cope with being cold, wet and eaten by midges. All of those three things are possible. And any one of them might break the camel’s back. We’ll see. And all you scoffers could well be right. We might last no more than a day. I suppose the beauty of our approach is that we can always revert to Plan B – B&Bs, etc.

Henry and nursery with his Korean mate

Anyhow. We have a wedding to go to on Friday and I don’t think we can see ourselves leaving before the schools go back on Tuesday. We have test-packed the car and spent about £200 on equipment … I know, that’s three nights B&B – (BTW, the BBC report that the cost of self catering has almost doubled in a year. Another reason to camp.)

So we’re going, whether you like it or not.

Stay safe. We know of two friends of friends who have the disease and the numbers are getting poorer. Wear a mask and keep your distance. Please.

Feel a little bit useless?

Do you not feel a little useless every so often? I’m not so much talking about local things, things you have influence over, but global ones. For me, locally, if things aren’t working well I try very hard to do something about it. I will talk to someone, or tackle the problem … or go for a run – or play my guitar. Somehow I manage to move the thing along, or find a solution, or the passing of time makes the issue irrelevant (apart from my recurring sinus issue, which I’ve tried multiple things, multiple times, and still I feel plagued).

I’m talking about global issues. Those which clearly have an impact on me and my family, but over which I have almost no control. The biggest is climate change. Sure, C and I do our bit with recycling, cutting down water and electricity use, trying not to buy new – make doing and mending, etc. But without wholesale, governmental action you just know the weather extremes are going to get worse and more persistent and that, whilst C and I are unlikely to be badly affected, Henry, our grandchild, is going to have to live with our ineffectiveness. It pains me most days.

And others. Afghanistan, Yemen, covid-19, women’s rights in Saudi, Belorussia, Haiti … the list of oppressed people, of civil wars, of dictators making normal peoples’ lives misery, is endless. And then closer to home. Of corrupt and inept politicians. Of lies and deceit (the Health secretary tweeted yesterday that he was opening up one of the 44 new hospitals promised by Johnson, when in fact he was opening up a cancer unit in an existing hospital. Don’t get me wrong – that’s good news. But why lie about it?). And then the factional nature of much of our discourse. Right v left. Brexit v remain. Christian v atheist. Masks v no masks. Vax v antivaxx. Nearly everyone, including me (although I try not to), is encamped with their opinions and the other side has got it all wrong.

Or maybe this is just because news and opinion is so much more readily available? Should I stay off social media? I don’t do Facebook madness – I get very little news from there. But I do get a lot of good quality (and, yes, positive reinforcement) news and comment from Twitter. I work hard to skip past the obviously insane, but with BBC, CNN, a number of right and left politicians – many international, and plenty of bright commentators, I do feel I get a world view untainted by falsehoods.

Or do I? More positive reinforcement? Probably.

Henry at playgroup with his Korean pal It is what cheers me (and C) up in this difficult world

Clearly it is frustrating me. Nowadays I can’t watch or listen to Boris Johnson without my skin crawling. But I could listen to Angela Merkel all day, for example. And you can amplify both of those lists at your leisure. Raab. Hancock. Williamson. Farage. Conversely, Starmer, Jess Phillips. Caroline Lucas – even Nicola Sturgeon. 

The good news is that once we’ve finished visiting mum (where we are now), we can count down to our planned camping trip to the Northern Isles. I know most of you think we’re mad, but I think we’re both really looking forward to the basicness of camping. But … will we be too close to nature? We’ll see.       

Stay safe everyone.

Over the moon

We’ve made it to Mary’s and then off to mum’s on Saturday. It’s part of our ‘see people we care for’ package which we try very hard to do at least once a month. It’s easy, but travelling does get in the way.

In between time we’ve been sorting ourselves out, including a trip up to Jen and James’s for a ‘birthday supper’ for C … which she produced. The good news was we caught up with a v old pal of Jen’s. Pippa. They went to school together and afterwards, she joined the army and now has a senior post in an artillery regiment. It was hilarious to listen to her stories and to be reminded that soldiers have not changed one jot over the past two decades. Fabulous.

Now that’s proper birthday cake

And on Tuesday we cycled into Bristol to see the ‘moon’ hanging in the cathedral. It’s an art exhibition which has been circling the world (do you see what I did there?) and is now in Bristol. We met up with school pals and, afterwards, had a picnic on the docks. We love Bristol!

blue moon …. followed by a picnic

Once we’d emptied Doris, C sorted the inside of the house and I attacked the garden and the trees in the front garden which seem to have a mind of their own. We also started to pull together all of the stuff we need for our planned camping trip to the Northern Isles. It is turning into quite an adventure. We head off in early September and plan to be on Orkney/Shetland pretty soon after. And, yes, we are taking a tent. Neither of us have any idea how long it will last … that is, before we pack it all in and head off to the local B&B. We’ll see. We are going to try and make it work, but our bones are not what they used to be.

And we’ve been trying to sort our phones. Currently for not a great deal of money we have meagre SIM only contracts. The aim was to update them and get more data so we might stream TV in the van. I think I’ve sorted. I think. I made a mistake and upgraded Jen’s contract (which we run) instead of C’s and then, hopefully, tried to correct my mistake. But you know what these phone companies are like.

Finally, the blog tour for of Black Bulls and White Horses is on for the first week of October. The cost to me is $139. The outcome should be a number of influential book bloggers reading and then writing about the book. That’s a bit scary, isn’t it? What’s the old adage? There’s no such thing as bad publicity … I remain to be convinced.

In the meantime, stay safe. I know we’ve moved on from the disease but the average deaths remain just under 100 every day and that moving average is rising. 

rewilding outside the cathedral