We don't want to go home!!!!!
Monday, 13 June 2016
Sun - one more sleep
It's raining heavily this morning. Liz's foot was very painful walking back from town yesterday. Looks like we are staying in the van today!
Most people are off today anyway. About 30 or so of the 50 vans bid their fond farewells. Glen displayed the results of his moth trapping last night. Several species of moths including 2 or 3 very large, different Hawk Moths species were all imprisoned in plastic cups awaiting release into the local woodland. You know, a lot of fauna just goes completely unnoticed.
A bunch of folk wander off into town in search of lunch. We stay in and read, knit, weave. A quiet day.
A wise decision, early afternoon the rain torrents down and thunderclouds rend the air (baffled our foes, on distant shores --- Stop!! we're not in Scotland anymore!!). Anyone walking back in this would have got soaked.
The evening and a dozen of us gather round Von's awning and swap stories, drink cider and wine. A pleasant evening.
I know what you are thinking, gentle reader - what a boring day! Perhaps you are right, for many folk the simple idea of just reading, doing a bit of craft and chatting with friends might well be the height of boredom. But no TV, no celebrities or politicians, no stress, no hassle. The most difficult decision of the day being "should I go and do the washing up now, or have a cup of tea first". For the curious, the cuppa won. This life may not be for everyone. Occasionally folk can manage to change their lifestyle so they don't need their watch. For the past three months we've also been able to do away with calendar too!!
Had the trip been a success? A wholehearted, resounding, in spades, "YES".
Surely there were times when you got in each other nerves being cramped up in such a small space? Surprisingly, No, not at all.
But you must have missed the creature comforts of home? Well, a microwave or oven would have meant would could have enjoyed the Scottish national dish (pie) but no, not having a TV, computer or reliable internet was not really missed.
So, you'd do it again? Several options for the next trip are already in the planning stage?
Seriously, areyou saying being in the road in the van is better than being at home? Read Monday's blog!
Most people are off today anyway. About 30 or so of the 50 vans bid their fond farewells. Glen displayed the results of his moth trapping last night. Several species of moths including 2 or 3 very large, different Hawk Moths species were all imprisoned in plastic cups awaiting release into the local woodland. You know, a lot of fauna just goes completely unnoticed.
A bunch of folk wander off into town in search of lunch. We stay in and read, knit, weave. A quiet day.
A wise decision, early afternoon the rain torrents down and thunderclouds rend the air (baffled our foes, on distant shores --- Stop!! we're not in Scotland anymore!!). Anyone walking back in this would have got soaked.
The evening and a dozen of us gather round Von's awning and swap stories, drink cider and wine. A pleasant evening.
I know what you are thinking, gentle reader - what a boring day! Perhaps you are right, for many folk the simple idea of just reading, doing a bit of craft and chatting with friends might well be the height of boredom. But no TV, no celebrities or politicians, no stress, no hassle. The most difficult decision of the day being "should I go and do the washing up now, or have a cup of tea first". For the curious, the cuppa won. This life may not be for everyone. Occasionally folk can manage to change their lifestyle so they don't need their watch. For the past three months we've also been able to do away with calendar too!!
Had the trip been a success? A wholehearted, resounding, in spades, "YES".
Surely there were times when you got in each other nerves being cramped up in such a small space? Surprisingly, No, not at all.
But you must have missed the creature comforts of home? Well, a microwave or oven would have meant would could have enjoyed the Scottish national dish (pie) but no, not having a TV, computer or reliable internet was not really missed.
So, you'd do it again? Several options for the next trip are already in the planning stage?
Seriously, areyou saying being in the road in the van is better than being at home? Read Monday's blog!
Sunday, 12 June 2016
Sat - an albino Zebra
Light drizzle to start the day. Not a good omen, but then again this site is on the banks of the Severn so a hot day may be full of insects. In fact the river is only about 20m from where we are pitched and provides a pleasant 20 min stroll into Stourport itself.
Of course there's always the housekeeping to do first. I need to empty the loo (should have done it yesterday, it's heavy now) and wash up whilst Liz decorates a cake. One theme for this 10th anniversary meet was to provide appropriately shaped or decorated cakes. Of course, our peregrinations have rendered making anything somewhat too much of a challenge but Liz had the brilliant idea of buying sprinkle on food colouring and making a paper template based on the Forum's logo. Whilst at my sister's we had access to a printer to print the logo and Liz scaled it to the appropriate size for a Morrison's decorate-it-yourself white iced sponge. The end result of the green logo on the cake was stunning, especially since it was all done in the confines of, and with the limited told and resources of the campervan.
Just about to leave for downtown and Mike popped round with some Farecia G3 and Autoglym polish. For those as ignorant as me, Farecia G3 is a paste with a very fine grit embedded, the idea being too remove the few microns of my van's top coat that has the horrible brown streaks embedded in it and then restore those few microns with a resin polish. Result, several square inches of stripe-free high-gloss GRP and me armed with enough knowledge to do the rest at home. Result indeed!
It's now lunchtime do a meander into Stourport and a possible refreshing point at Wetherspoons. Well it might have been had Stourport Wetherspoons bit been one of the few that has recently been sold. Plenty of other pound but by the time we found Wetherspoons wasn't there any more we'd passed the 2 CAMRA recommended pubs, now on the otherside of town. Still a mooch round, a couple of DVDs and a CD and Liz bought a new pair of shoes in one of the better shoe shops we've seen.
What do we do are these rally/meet things? Not much really, just chill and socialise with friends. Bernard has brought along his home built barrel organ and treats us to a few tunes. It took 4 years of hard work to build, from scratch and is an impressive feat of engineering so, so far beyond my own skillset.
A chance conversation with Colin and Janet this afternoon may have found out next van. It we do Deeside we need something marginally larger the Romahome R30 might just fit the bill. It's only 6" longer but significantly wider and a totally different use of available space. Not that we are looking but ...
The evening is taken up with an American supper, shed loads of food, far too many cakes although I'm sure Graham would say you can never have too much cake. Good conversation, Jayjay brings an amplifier and does a really excellent solo set, trying to entice a couple of us ukuleleists to join in but I've only the electric uke and I can use the excuse that it is too much hassle to mask the real reason, my musical inability. I missed the fact that Glen had rigged up a large screen in his awning to allow watching of the England football. After the match had finished it was dark enough for him to set up a mouth trap - basically a white sheet suspended tautly from a tree and illuminated by a powerful UV strip light. We shall see what he catches in the morning.
An entertaining day.
Of course there's always the housekeeping to do first. I need to empty the loo (should have done it yesterday, it's heavy now) and wash up whilst Liz decorates a cake. One theme for this 10th anniversary meet was to provide appropriately shaped or decorated cakes. Of course, our peregrinations have rendered making anything somewhat too much of a challenge but Liz had the brilliant idea of buying sprinkle on food colouring and making a paper template based on the Forum's logo. Whilst at my sister's we had access to a printer to print the logo and Liz scaled it to the appropriate size for a Morrison's decorate-it-yourself white iced sponge. The end result of the green logo on the cake was stunning, especially since it was all done in the confines of, and with the limited told and resources of the campervan.
Just about to leave for downtown and Mike popped round with some Farecia G3 and Autoglym polish. For those as ignorant as me, Farecia G3 is a paste with a very fine grit embedded, the idea being too remove the few microns of my van's top coat that has the horrible brown streaks embedded in it and then restore those few microns with a resin polish. Result, several square inches of stripe-free high-gloss GRP and me armed with enough knowledge to do the rest at home. Result indeed!
It's now lunchtime do a meander into Stourport and a possible refreshing point at Wetherspoons. Well it might have been had Stourport Wetherspoons bit been one of the few that has recently been sold. Plenty of other pound but by the time we found Wetherspoons wasn't there any more we'd passed the 2 CAMRA recommended pubs, now on the otherside of town. Still a mooch round, a couple of DVDs and a CD and Liz bought a new pair of shoes in one of the better shoe shops we've seen.
What do we do are these rally/meet things? Not much really, just chill and socialise with friends. Bernard has brought along his home built barrel organ and treats us to a few tunes. It took 4 years of hard work to build, from scratch and is an impressive feat of engineering so, so far beyond my own skillset.
A chance conversation with Colin and Janet this afternoon may have found out next van. It we do Deeside we need something marginally larger the Romahome R30 might just fit the bill. It's only 6" longer but significantly wider and a totally different use of available space. Not that we are looking but ...
The evening is taken up with an American supper, shed loads of food, far too many cakes although I'm sure Graham would say you can never have too much cake. Good conversation, Jayjay brings an amplifier and does a really excellent solo set, trying to entice a couple of us ukuleleists to join in but I've only the electric uke and I can use the excuse that it is too much hassle to mask the real reason, my musical inability. I missed the fact that Glen had rigged up a large screen in his awning to allow watching of the England football. After the match had finished it was dark enough for him to set up a mouth trap - basically a white sheet suspended tautly from a tree and illuminated by a powerful UV strip light. We shall see what he catches in the morning.
An entertaining day.
Saturday, 11 June 2016
Fri - a meeting of friends
Once again we return to England. Wales had been interesting for, amongst other things, its language. Welsh was heard on several occasions over the last couple of days and, of course, all the road-signs, street names, information boards etc are bi-lingual. It is a difficult language for the non-speaker, having many letter combinations that don't appear in English and double letters which, unlike English, are, I believe, pronounced differently to their single equivalent. For example I believe D has the same sound as English but DD is more like English TH, and F is like the English V whilst it requires FF to get the English F sound.
Morphing initial consonants depending on case doesn't help. 'Felin' is an often seen word meaning mill, however if you see it in the form 'melin' it's similarity to the French 'moulin' is much more apparent. 'Goch' is red but trying to translate a roadsign requesting stopping at a red light it was probably the mutation 'coch'.
A tie in with French is obvious for some words yglis (church) and ffenestr (window) and where English had borrowed from French then the words sound almost English e.g. ysgol (school).
Of course, phonetics are used for neologisms, hence tacsi, ambwlans, traffig and telefon
Enough linguistics, time to move on through the delightful Elan Valley to Rhayader a small market town with the emphasis on small. One of the claims to fame of the area is that it was the first to reintroduce red kites to the UK and there are a few places where the birds get fed so can be seen as huge, whirling flocks. Today we just saw two in the sky and hundreds on signs, rubbish bins etc as it is the emblem of the country of Powis.
From Powis into England, small very scenic country roads winding around the geography. The law of karma applying here, after a glorious 15 miles with no one in front and nothing in the rear view mirror we get stuck behind a very slow moving lorry for 10 miles. No worries, this is scenery country, Herefordshire and South Shropshire, just like Murray Mints, too good to hurry. Clee Hill just a few miles from Cleobury Mortimer has a fantastic panoramic view spoiled by today's haze. We must come again.
One of the best things that can happen when you get a campervan or small motorhome is discovering the Small Motorhome Forum website. A mine of information and ideas curated by some of the nicest folk we know. It's nice to meet up with friends from across the net so the group has 'meets' a few times a year. This one, today, is a bit special as it commemorates the 10th anniversary of the group. Originally just a web meeting place for a few friends it now boasts in excess of 6000 online members and nearly 60 vans and about 100 people have turned up in a field here in Stourport-On-Severn. It's all a 'do whatever you like' type affair. Tonight has a barbeque, but attendance isn't mandatory and a few folk prefer the option of cooking in their own vans. We don't own a barbecue so blag some space on one, thanks Brian. Tonight was also a bit special because our friends Ian and Sue met up via this group and last month got married. It was nice that we could all get together and present then with a little something.
Morphing initial consonants depending on case doesn't help. 'Felin' is an often seen word meaning mill, however if you see it in the form 'melin' it's similarity to the French 'moulin' is much more apparent. 'Goch' is red but trying to translate a roadsign requesting stopping at a red light it was probably the mutation 'coch'.
A tie in with French is obvious for some words yglis (church) and ffenestr (window) and where English had borrowed from French then the words sound almost English e.g. ysgol (school).
Of course, phonetics are used for neologisms, hence tacsi, ambwlans, traffig and telefon
Enough linguistics, time to move on through the delightful Elan Valley to Rhayader a small market town with the emphasis on small. One of the claims to fame of the area is that it was the first to reintroduce red kites to the UK and there are a few places where the birds get fed so can be seen as huge, whirling flocks. Today we just saw two in the sky and hundreds on signs, rubbish bins etc as it is the emblem of the country of Powis.
From Powis into England, small very scenic country roads winding around the geography. The law of karma applying here, after a glorious 15 miles with no one in front and nothing in the rear view mirror we get stuck behind a very slow moving lorry for 10 miles. No worries, this is scenery country, Herefordshire and South Shropshire, just like Murray Mints, too good to hurry. Clee Hill just a few miles from Cleobury Mortimer has a fantastic panoramic view spoiled by today's haze. We must come again.
One of the best things that can happen when you get a campervan or small motorhome is discovering the Small Motorhome Forum website. A mine of information and ideas curated by some of the nicest folk we know. It's nice to meet up with friends from across the net so the group has 'meets' a few times a year. This one, today, is a bit special as it commemorates the 10th anniversary of the group. Originally just a web meeting place for a few friends it now boasts in excess of 6000 online members and nearly 60 vans and about 100 people have turned up in a field here in Stourport-On-Severn. It's all a 'do whatever you like' type affair. Tonight has a barbeque, but attendance isn't mandatory and a few folk prefer the option of cooking in their own vans. We don't own a barbecue so blag some space on one, thanks Brian. Tonight was also a bit special because our friends Ian and Sue met up via this group and last month got married. It was nice that we could all get together and present then with a little something.
Friday, 10 June 2016
Thur - Black Books and Girl Guides
Wherever you think of sporting universities I doubt Aberystwyth is foremost. Yet it must breed the fittest students in the UK, having its buildings atop a steep hill on the northern edge of the town (I don't think Aber is a city).
Of course our campsite is in the valley on the southern side of town meaning a steep climb out of the campsite, down an equally steep slope to cross the river and then up again to the National Library Of Wales, fortunately just below the Uni. On reaching the library first port of call is the coffee shop for a rest!
The reason for the slog was a Girlguiding Wales exhibit entitled "Pushing Boundaries", an interesting crawl through the archives of over 100 years of Girlguiding in Wales, including some fascinating home movie footage from 60-70 years ago. A nice display which perhaps didn't push quite as many boundaries as we'd expected.
There are 4 ancient books of Wales. We saw 3 of them: The Black Book Of Carmarthen, The Book Of Taliesin and The Book Of Aneirin. It was fascinating to see 13th and 14th century hand written books in such fantastic preservation. They made the printed Civil War books and Shakespeare First Folio seen positively modern. Curiously the one we didn't see, The Red Book Of Hergest is the only one I personally own a part translation of, as it contains the famous tales of the Mabinogion.
Back down the hill for a mooch around town. Well a mini-mooch (cue Cab Calloway) as we'd spent so long in the library it was now 4pm. Too late to ride the fenicular but we did take the air along the promenade. Personal note to daughters, I took Mum to the Welsh Gold Shop, stood her in front of the window and offered to buy her shiny things. She said there was nothing she wanted. I tried (and now have the evidence documented here)!
There is no doubt that of all the places we have visited this area of mid-Wales has the friendliest folk. A simple shopping transaction inevitably leads to a conversation and everyone is eager to help. Well almost everyone; the group of half a dozen or so 14 year old schoolkids I stopped and asked directions to the Library seemed most bemused that this old git didn't know where such an obvious landmark was. We did, it's just we were standing directly under a signpost to it which pointed 180° opposite direction. Some jolly, drunken, student jape, no doubt.
A very pleasant Italian meal (and despite a busy restaurant, a 5 minute conversation with the waitress re campervans since her hubby did conversions) and then the inevitable pub.
Night, night.
Of course our campsite is in the valley on the southern side of town meaning a steep climb out of the campsite, down an equally steep slope to cross the river and then up again to the National Library Of Wales, fortunately just below the Uni. On reaching the library first port of call is the coffee shop for a rest!
The reason for the slog was a Girlguiding Wales exhibit entitled "Pushing Boundaries", an interesting crawl through the archives of over 100 years of Girlguiding in Wales, including some fascinating home movie footage from 60-70 years ago. A nice display which perhaps didn't push quite as many boundaries as we'd expected.
There are 4 ancient books of Wales. We saw 3 of them: The Black Book Of Carmarthen, The Book Of Taliesin and The Book Of Aneirin. It was fascinating to see 13th and 14th century hand written books in such fantastic preservation. They made the printed Civil War books and Shakespeare First Folio seen positively modern. Curiously the one we didn't see, The Red Book Of Hergest is the only one I personally own a part translation of, as it contains the famous tales of the Mabinogion.
Back down the hill for a mooch around town. Well a mini-mooch (cue Cab Calloway) as we'd spent so long in the library it was now 4pm. Too late to ride the fenicular but we did take the air along the promenade. Personal note to daughters, I took Mum to the Welsh Gold Shop, stood her in front of the window and offered to buy her shiny things. She said there was nothing she wanted. I tried (and now have the evidence documented here)!
There is no doubt that of all the places we have visited this area of mid-Wales has the friendliest folk. A simple shopping transaction inevitably leads to a conversation and everyone is eager to help. Well almost everyone; the group of half a dozen or so 14 year old schoolkids I stopped and asked directions to the Library seemed most bemused that this old git didn't know where such an obvious landmark was. We did, it's just we were standing directly under a signpost to it which pointed 180° opposite direction. Some jolly, drunken, student jape, no doubt.
A very pleasant Italian meal (and despite a busy restaurant, a 5 minute conversation with the waitress re campervans since her hubby did conversions) and then the inevitable pub.
Night, night.
Wednesday, 8 June 2016
Weds - another country
I did warn you the blog might get a bit sporadic. It's all about when time permits. Unlike proper writers I don't have the luxury of waiting for the muse to inspire byt have to shoot from the hip when time permits.
Monday and Tuesday are spent visiting my sister in Ellesmere (where? it doesn't matter, it's in Shropshire but irrelevant to the blog because we didn't really do much there) Tuesday we ran my brave young fireman nephew Peter to the last of his training exercises. To be fair, the poor bloke doesn't drive and somehow had trained to be a firefighter with all the training 35 miles away in an area but known for its public transport. My hat off to him!!!
To save my sister Alison any hassle we kipped in her floor first night and in the van the second. One thing that has impressed me with modern technology is how much harder they can make floors these days. Back when was a youth kipping in floors wasn't too uncomfortable. Now, due no doubt to the wonders of modern technology, I find them much harder!
One highlight was, whilst taking Peter to his training we took the opportunity to visit Bridgnorth which has the UK's only inland cliff railway. There are only about 25 or so fenicular railways in the UK. We'd already done Folkestone and the one at the Centre For Alternative Technology at Machynlleth but at Bridgnorth found a guide to them all. Possibly next year's quest!
Fast forward to today. A beautiful sunny drive down from Shropshire to Aberystwyth. Since we didn't need to arrive until 5pm we could stop at points en route: Welshpool, Newport and Llanidloes. All charming towns particularly the latter where I met a barber's shop with a Sten Gun in the window. Don't ask!!
It's different here. Driving down the Elan Valley you could well be in Scotland but go into the towns and everyone is so chatty and helpful. Not at all like the more reticent Scots. In Llanidloes they had an arts centre with an exhibition on wool and willow. We didn't think we'd get away!
Passing the Girlguiding training centre at Broneirion we carry on to a lake where red kite are fed. At least two dozen are in a flock over the waters, most impressive.
The campsite at Aberystwyth is a huge complex with bars, entertainment etc (i e. not us) but it's low season so they have a bargain deal of £10 per night which includes WiFi and electricity. That really is cheap! We go into town. The students have left for the summer and the summer tourist trade has yet to materialise. It's quiet. Still we find good pubs (was there any doubt?), and have a pleasant evening.
Monday and Tuesday are spent visiting my sister in Ellesmere (where? it doesn't matter, it's in Shropshire but irrelevant to the blog because we didn't really do much there) Tuesday we ran my brave young fireman nephew Peter to the last of his training exercises. To be fair, the poor bloke doesn't drive and somehow had trained to be a firefighter with all the training 35 miles away in an area but known for its public transport. My hat off to him!!!
To save my sister Alison any hassle we kipped in her floor first night and in the van the second. One thing that has impressed me with modern technology is how much harder they can make floors these days. Back when was a youth kipping in floors wasn't too uncomfortable. Now, due no doubt to the wonders of modern technology, I find them much harder!
One highlight was, whilst taking Peter to his training we took the opportunity to visit Bridgnorth which has the UK's only inland cliff railway. There are only about 25 or so fenicular railways in the UK. We'd already done Folkestone and the one at the Centre For Alternative Technology at Machynlleth but at Bridgnorth found a guide to them all. Possibly next year's quest!
Fast forward to today. A beautiful sunny drive down from Shropshire to Aberystwyth. Since we didn't need to arrive until 5pm we could stop at points en route: Welshpool, Newport and Llanidloes. All charming towns particularly the latter where I met a barber's shop with a Sten Gun in the window. Don't ask!!
It's different here. Driving down the Elan Valley you could well be in Scotland but go into the towns and everyone is so chatty and helpful. Not at all like the more reticent Scots. In Llanidloes they had an arts centre with an exhibition on wool and willow. We didn't think we'd get away!
Passing the Girlguiding training centre at Broneirion we carry on to a lake where red kite are fed. At least two dozen are in a flock over the waters, most impressive.
The campsite at Aberystwyth is a huge complex with bars, entertainment etc (i e. not us) but it's low season so they have a bargain deal of £10 per night which includes WiFi and electricity. That really is cheap! We go into town. The students have left for the summer and the summer tourist trade has yet to materialise. It's quiet. Still we find good pubs (was there any doubt?), and have a pleasant evening.
Sun eve - it's hot
Well the festival has just finished. Eddi Reader comes to the end of her 90 minute set, looks at the clock and says ”I'm supposed to be off in 5 minutes, but I can't be bothered with all that going off and coming back on stuff ", she consults her set list and says " I've got 6 more numbers, if that's OK with you, no one got
a bus to catch, eh" and does an extra 30 minutes. A two hour set, without an interval in a very hot auditorium.
Brava, Eddi, Brava!!
She finishes with a comedy routine about her family parties with all the relatives singing which culminates in her singing Moon River. A great ending to the set and the lyrics give me the name of the next blog: ”Two drifters, off to see the world" (there's such a lot of world to see). It's funny though how a lot of acts in the modern folk circuit borrow very heavily from what might in the past have been labeled "lounge music"
One song that certainly wouldn't be hotel lounge material was San Jose sung by the duet Barlow Cree. About the 2010 Chilean mining disaster where 33 miners were trapped underground for 69 days it is the single most haunting song I've heard in a very long time. I heard them do it last year but they've changed it and added some electronics to provide echoes to the chilling cries of "Hear Me". It is moving and disturbing.
One thing this festival does which is a bit different is it has a " Meet the artist " session. This is in an intimate, small, folk club style room where the artists get questions thrown at them and hopefully also add a few songs into the mix. Jez Lowe and his 3 Bad Pennies played an extra half set this way, of stuff the audience requested. Pretty impressive considering just how huge Jez's repertoire is. At least 2 of the songs, the newest member of the band, the bass player had never played before, so was winging it. In fact one request Jez said he couldn't play because of not having the instruments and 2 out of the 3 backup musicians didn't know it. He obviously spent part of the afternoon transposing it and readjusted his official set especially to include it, again my sort of musician.
Flossie Malaville had a different approach to the Meet session and spent most of the hour amusing us with her life story in a very charming French/Geordie accent. She's got a great voice though and I'm quite sad I missed most of her main set (we were just about to leave for it when 3 delegations wandered over and wanted tours of the van!).
a bus to catch, eh" and does an extra 30 minutes. A two hour set, without an interval in a very hot auditorium.
Brava, Eddi, Brava!!
She finishes with a comedy routine about her family parties with all the relatives singing which culminates in her singing Moon River. A great ending to the set and the lyrics give me the name of the next blog: ”Two drifters, off to see the world" (there's such a lot of world to see). It's funny though how a lot of acts in the modern folk circuit borrow very heavily from what might in the past have been labeled "lounge music"
One song that certainly wouldn't be hotel lounge material was San Jose sung by the duet Barlow Cree. About the 2010 Chilean mining disaster where 33 miners were trapped underground for 69 days it is the single most haunting song I've heard in a very long time. I heard them do it last year but they've changed it and added some electronics to provide echoes to the chilling cries of "Hear Me". It is moving and disturbing.
One thing this festival does which is a bit different is it has a " Meet the artist " session. This is in an intimate, small, folk club style room where the artists get questions thrown at them and hopefully also add a few songs into the mix. Jez Lowe and his 3 Bad Pennies played an extra half set this way, of stuff the audience requested. Pretty impressive considering just how huge Jez's repertoire is. At least 2 of the songs, the newest member of the band, the bass player had never played before, so was winging it. In fact one request Jez said he couldn't play because of not having the instruments and 2 out of the 3 backup musicians didn't know it. He obviously spent part of the afternoon transposing it and readjusted his official set especially to include it, again my sort of musician.
Flossie Malaville had a different approach to the Meet session and spent most of the hour amusing us with her life story in a very charming French/Geordie accent. She's got a great voice though and I'm quite sad I missed most of her main set (we were just about to leave for it when 3 delegations wandered over and wanted tours of the van!).
Sunday, 5 June 2016
Sun - by popular demand
It rained yesterday, whilst we were in the concert. First time in a while and the petrichor was wonderful. There, it's not everyday you learn a new word from Ralph McTell, is it? In fact the last week we have been treated to delightful weather and my phone is predicting 26 degrees for today. Even after the rain, last night meant leaving windows and sunlight open to get enough cool air in to allow sleep. Somewhat of a contrast to the start of this adventure, which is a useful reminder if just how long we've been in the road
The site here in the heart of the industrial Wirral borders on to a small patch of woodland. Not just any woodland but proper, original, English ancient woodland that goes back centuries. Camping for vans is around the perimeter of the site so we are next to these venerable trees. What a delight to be awakened to the many and varied woodland birdsongs. A rare treat.
As you have all been such dedicated readers of this humble blog we have a reward, a world exclusive on our potential next venture. Sept 24-Oct 2 is Shetland Wool Week with many workshops about yarn craft and particularly knitting. It is just a thought at the moment but would tie in well with the Radio Society Of Great Britain's convention in Milton Keynes on Oct 9.
The festival is good, very good. Sadly, like most folk festivals the audience is mature but it is great to see new bands on the scene like Granny's Attic which is 3 students. Also last night's Oysterband session inspired a lot of dancing in the aisles, mainly from young ladies a 1/3 of my age, so perhaps there is hope that this musical genre will indeed have a future.
The site here in the heart of the industrial Wirral borders on to a small patch of woodland. Not just any woodland but proper, original, English ancient woodland that goes back centuries. Camping for vans is around the perimeter of the site so we are next to these venerable trees. What a delight to be awakened to the many and varied woodland birdsongs. A rare treat.
As you have all been such dedicated readers of this humble blog we have a reward, a world exclusive on our potential next venture. Sept 24-Oct 2 is Shetland Wool Week with many workshops about yarn craft and particularly knitting. It is just a thought at the moment but would tie in well with the Radio Society Of Great Britain's convention in Milton Keynes on Oct 9.
The festival is good, very good. Sadly, like most folk festivals the audience is mature but it is great to see new bands on the scene like Granny's Attic which is 3 students. Also last night's Oysterband session inspired a lot of dancing in the aisles, mainly from young ladies a 1/3 of my age, so perhaps there is hope that this musical genre will indeed have a future.
Saturday, 4 June 2016
Fri etc - Coming to the end
Not the holiday which has another week to run but this blog is slowly winding down.
This weekend we are at Wirral Folk Festival all weekend and days will all be similar: mooch around and listen to music. The more curious amongst you can use Google to see who we've been listening to and I'm not sure I'm sufficiently experienced in the art to turn this blog into a music critic's column (although Ralph McTell was rather good last night!). And there be no rants about people, all the people here are lovely, friendly and helpful. They really are!
Monday is off for two nights with my sister in my home town of Ellesmere, in north Shropshire, followed by 2 days in Aberystwyth where Liz wants to see some Girlguiding archives on display at the National Library.
The adventure finally ends at a gathering of friends at the Small Motorhome Forum's 10th anniversary meet at Stourport-On-Severn next weekend before rushing home the following Monday. Or old life meets us both with a bang - we both have calendar entries for next Monday evening.
Keep checking back, if anything noteworthy happens I'll document it here. There's likely to be at least a couple more posts but not one every day.
This weekend we are at Wirral Folk Festival all weekend and days will all be similar: mooch around and listen to music. The more curious amongst you can use Google to see who we've been listening to and I'm not sure I'm sufficiently experienced in the art to turn this blog into a music critic's column (although Ralph McTell was rather good last night!). And there be no rants about people, all the people here are lovely, friendly and helpful. They really are!
Monday is off for two nights with my sister in my home town of Ellesmere, in north Shropshire, followed by 2 days in Aberystwyth where Liz wants to see some Girlguiding archives on display at the National Library.
The adventure finally ends at a gathering of friends at the Small Motorhome Forum's 10th anniversary meet at Stourport-On-Severn next weekend before rushing home the following Monday. Or old life meets us both with a bang - we both have calendar entries for next Monday evening.
Keep checking back, if anything noteworthy happens I'll document it here. There's likely to be at least a couple more posts but not one every day.
Friday, 3 June 2016
Thurs - going the back Waze
Even though we are back in England it's still well over 300 miles to home and about 150 to our next destination, the Wirral Folk Festival just outside Ellesmere Port.
An early awakening this morning. About 5:30am there is a rapid tapping noise on the van. This is a worry, has one of our camping neighbours spotted a problem? Have we slept through some disaster?
No, it's not a neighbour but a murmuration of starlings setting up camp on our roof. I get up to suggest an alternate venue and they move on. Not before one of them has made a political statement about the fact that England should embrace Scotland's more liberal Land Reform act by defecating all over my sun roof. So if you were wandering the road near Dalston, Carlisle at 5:30 this morning your eyes were not playing tricks. That really was the top half of a nightshirt attired bloke poking out from his campervan trying desperately to reach bird poo with a sponge tied to the end of a large plastic serving spoon!
Before leaving let's sing the praises of this Carlisle campsite. Location isn't great, although if you are happy to walk a mile down a treacherously fast road the Spinners Arms makes up for it. What the site does have is the best facilities, bar none! It is a Caravan Club certified site so limited to 5 pitches. Each is a huge bay of rolled stone hardstand with its own electric and water and adequate grass for awnings. Overkill for our tiny van of course. But what really makes the site special is the toilet and shower. OK so there is only one of each but they are superb. Well heated they are cosy warn and just like you might expect in an expensive large house. The shower itself is nearly the size of our van, and that's just the wetting bit, the palatial changing room is complete with huge radiator, comfy chair, hairdryer and sink. Luxury I tell you! Certainly better than what we've been used to on the road and even bettered then my own humble facilities back home! Definitely worth the £14 a night!
Back roads for a while until the inevitability of the M6. At least the motorway tedium is alleviated by Bill Bryson reading from his biography of Shakespeare. However LPG would be good and there are a couple of likely candidates in the Kirby Longsdale area so the tedium is broken as we leave the M6 in search of gas. That was easy. A full tank of LPG, the entire trip around Scotland has used just 2.64l of gas, at a replenishment cost of £1.55. I reckon the tank holds about 4.5l so we can defer filling until the dial is firmly in the yellow. At least now we can test running the fridge off LPG and see how much that uses. Will be trying that this weekend.
Onward into Kirby Longsdale but just outside the town centre we stumble upon a Booths supermarket. Oh, frabjous day, callooh callay, out favourite food shop. Imagine the best of Waitrose, M&S and huge well-stocked off licence all in one building. Well, Booths is better!
Some more back roads and then the M6 again. We leave early, close to Warrington because Liz has 4 phonebox libraries earmarked. I'm glad to get off the motorway onto roads with a little shade. It's a glorious sunny day and just a little hot in the van. Air con would help but the real concern is the sun on my bare arms as I drive. Amazingly all 4 of the boxes are easy to find, even more amazingly all are easy to park at too. Mission accomplished as was a short, uninspiring visit to Northwich.
Time is pressing now, we are a little later than hoped (the 45 mins in Booths being the main culprit) and it will be rush hour as we try and negotiate Chester. Still everything seems to be moving well.
Alas! TomTom tells us it is 0.6 miles in this non-moving traffic to the roundabout where we turn left towards Chester. We ask Waze for a second opinion and it confirms that and also adds that at least the next two miles or so towards Chester to connect with the M53 have an average speed of 6mph. Oh bother! Waze has a cunning plan, don't turn left towards our destination but at the roundabout go right, totally the opposite direction. This is double good because everything is going left on the roundabout which means as we approach we can pull out into the oncoming lane and drive up and pull back into the unoccupied right turn lane and almost instantly get around the roundabout. But we are definitely heading away from our destination! Then we are directed into a small back road, just wide enough for two passing cars, then another, then a short stretch of B road, another country lane, a mile of so of A road, another back road and there are signs to Cheshire Oaks, next for to our destination. Now we are back on main roads, well clear of any traffic and almost there. Absolutely fantastic. Bravo Waze!!
It's been a good day today and the evening's sing around as a precursor to the Folk Festival rounds it off nicely. This is a lovely friendly Festival, large enough to mainstream Ralph McTell, The Oyster Band, Eddi Reader et al but small enough for the Folk club to have a packet of biscuits (packet not box) as one of its raffle prizes.
Oh and this is Merseyside, Deeside, everyone is cheerful and friendly and speaks to strangers. My sort of town!
An early awakening this morning. About 5:30am there is a rapid tapping noise on the van. This is a worry, has one of our camping neighbours spotted a problem? Have we slept through some disaster?
No, it's not a neighbour but a murmuration of starlings setting up camp on our roof. I get up to suggest an alternate venue and they move on. Not before one of them has made a political statement about the fact that England should embrace Scotland's more liberal Land Reform act by defecating all over my sun roof. So if you were wandering the road near Dalston, Carlisle at 5:30 this morning your eyes were not playing tricks. That really was the top half of a nightshirt attired bloke poking out from his campervan trying desperately to reach bird poo with a sponge tied to the end of a large plastic serving spoon!
Before leaving let's sing the praises of this Carlisle campsite. Location isn't great, although if you are happy to walk a mile down a treacherously fast road the Spinners Arms makes up for it. What the site does have is the best facilities, bar none! It is a Caravan Club certified site so limited to 5 pitches. Each is a huge bay of rolled stone hardstand with its own electric and water and adequate grass for awnings. Overkill for our tiny van of course. But what really makes the site special is the toilet and shower. OK so there is only one of each but they are superb. Well heated they are cosy warn and just like you might expect in an expensive large house. The shower itself is nearly the size of our van, and that's just the wetting bit, the palatial changing room is complete with huge radiator, comfy chair, hairdryer and sink. Luxury I tell you! Certainly better than what we've been used to on the road and even bettered then my own humble facilities back home! Definitely worth the £14 a night!
Back roads for a while until the inevitability of the M6. At least the motorway tedium is alleviated by Bill Bryson reading from his biography of Shakespeare. However LPG would be good and there are a couple of likely candidates in the Kirby Longsdale area so the tedium is broken as we leave the M6 in search of gas. That was easy. A full tank of LPG, the entire trip around Scotland has used just 2.64l of gas, at a replenishment cost of £1.55. I reckon the tank holds about 4.5l so we can defer filling until the dial is firmly in the yellow. At least now we can test running the fridge off LPG and see how much that uses. Will be trying that this weekend.
Onward into Kirby Longsdale but just outside the town centre we stumble upon a Booths supermarket. Oh, frabjous day, callooh callay, out favourite food shop. Imagine the best of Waitrose, M&S and huge well-stocked off licence all in one building. Well, Booths is better!
Some more back roads and then the M6 again. We leave early, close to Warrington because Liz has 4 phonebox libraries earmarked. I'm glad to get off the motorway onto roads with a little shade. It's a glorious sunny day and just a little hot in the van. Air con would help but the real concern is the sun on my bare arms as I drive. Amazingly all 4 of the boxes are easy to find, even more amazingly all are easy to park at too. Mission accomplished as was a short, uninspiring visit to Northwich.
Time is pressing now, we are a little later than hoped (the 45 mins in Booths being the main culprit) and it will be rush hour as we try and negotiate Chester. Still everything seems to be moving well.
Alas! TomTom tells us it is 0.6 miles in this non-moving traffic to the roundabout where we turn left towards Chester. We ask Waze for a second opinion and it confirms that and also adds that at least the next two miles or so towards Chester to connect with the M53 have an average speed of 6mph. Oh bother! Waze has a cunning plan, don't turn left towards our destination but at the roundabout go right, totally the opposite direction. This is double good because everything is going left on the roundabout which means as we approach we can pull out into the oncoming lane and drive up and pull back into the unoccupied right turn lane and almost instantly get around the roundabout. But we are definitely heading away from our destination! Then we are directed into a small back road, just wide enough for two passing cars, then another, then a short stretch of B road, another country lane, a mile of so of A road, another back road and there are signs to Cheshire Oaks, next for to our destination. Now we are back on main roads, well clear of any traffic and almost there. Absolutely fantastic. Bravo Waze!!
It's been a good day today and the evening's sing around as a precursor to the Folk Festival rounds it off nicely. This is a lovely friendly Festival, large enough to mainstream Ralph McTell, The Oyster Band, Eddi Reader et al but small enough for the Folk club to have a packet of biscuits (packet not box) as one of its raffle prizes.
Oh and this is Merseyside, Deeside, everyone is cheerful and friendly and speaks to strangers. My sort of town!
Wed eve- England, my England
8 weeks ago we visited the Spinners Arms just a mile from the campsite and so it was our port of call again tonight. Walking the 3/4 mile from the bus stop we skirted the Pirelli works and as the sun set low in the sky we hear the plaintiff cries of the bowling side seeking the umpire's complicity during the local cricket game.
We sit here now in a 1930's pub, awarded CAMRA heritage status because of how little has changed architecturally since that time ( both fireplace's have wonderful period tiles)
To the left three generations of a family have dragged out a formica board on which to shuffle their dominoes. Just like my old Dad the, probably not quite legal aged, son is being introduced to alcohol in a controlled and sensible manner.
To our right a group of musicians are playing for no applause nor reward, just their pleasure in playing. And, of course, they are so much the better for that.
The bar in front of us may now offer several cask dispensers but 3 plain wooden hand pumps bear the identification of the local Carlisle Brewery's beers, brewed until very recently behind the pub. And very good beer it is too.
On the edge of the bar the 1930's assert themselves again: a sofa syphon and a jar of pickled eggs. The latter being an important supplement to the pub's food menu, other delicacies on offer are crisps of various flavours and peanuts. No, there is no waitress service, all food orders must be given at the bar.
There's a couple of blokes on the bar stools. Of course, the conversation can only be football, even in this midst of cricket season. Next to them, a women in her thirties with her border collie. The lad from the dominoes family uses the time between games to throw a bone for the collie to scamper after
I just need John Betjeman on my Kindle and all would be perfect with the world. Or maybe just one more pint of Carlisle Nut Brown Ale.
We sit here now in a 1930's pub, awarded CAMRA heritage status because of how little has changed architecturally since that time ( both fireplace's have wonderful period tiles)
To the left three generations of a family have dragged out a formica board on which to shuffle their dominoes. Just like my old Dad the, probably not quite legal aged, son is being introduced to alcohol in a controlled and sensible manner.
To our right a group of musicians are playing for no applause nor reward, just their pleasure in playing. And, of course, they are so much the better for that.
The bar in front of us may now offer several cask dispensers but 3 plain wooden hand pumps bear the identification of the local Carlisle Brewery's beers, brewed until very recently behind the pub. And very good beer it is too.
On the edge of the bar the 1930's assert themselves again: a sofa syphon and a jar of pickled eggs. The latter being an important supplement to the pub's food menu, other delicacies on offer are crisps of various flavours and peanuts. No, there is no waitress service, all food orders must be given at the bar.
There's a couple of blokes on the bar stools. Of course, the conversation can only be football, even in this midst of cricket season. Next to them, a women in her thirties with her border collie. The lad from the dominoes family uses the time between games to throw a bone for the collie to scamper after
I just need John Betjeman on my Kindle and all would be perfect with the world. Or maybe just one more pint of Carlisle Nut Brown Ale.
Wed - crossing the border
Driving the scenic route back to England. We should stop and look round Dumfries but we are hoping to see Carlisle instead. So, Dumfries is confined to a quick trip to an out of town shopping precinct. Whilst in Oban we stumbled across Sue Reid Sexton's book Writing On The Road where she details trips through Scotland and France in a Romahome. One of the photos showed 30cm cube boxes as a way to organise the van's over-cab Luton storage area. We've got some IKEA ones at home but if we could find some cheap this would be an excellent opportunity to see how weill they fit, especially since storage space in the van is now very limited. Guess what, B&M are discontinuing then so they are on sale at £1 each! Perfect we take all that Dumfries has to offer - 2.
Gretna, and another distraction. Not the blacksmith's forge where I suspect for some outlandish fee we could have a mock ceremony to remake our wedding vows but a huge outlet village full of brand name stores that, under normal circumstances, would have us running in the opposite direction. But there's an M&S outlet and Liz needs some new under garments whilst I still haven't found the 1/4 zip heavy fleece I want for cold evenings in the van. Even at outlet prices Berghaus is still beyond my price range, and didn't have what I wanted anyway. Trespass and Mountain Warehouse similarly came up blank. I had hoped outlet stores would have clothing that had been on sale back in September when I'm sure the sort of top I'm after might have been in the shelves. But who knows, even outdoor clothing is more about fashion than function so maybe this winter such garments weren't around. Still Sports Direct have bought the Karrimor brand and had exactly what I was looking for - sorted.
Time is short and so perhaps we should run to Carlisle as fast as possible but no, we stick to alternatives to the motorway. For several miles we run on a pleasant A road with almost no other traffic, parallel to and just a few tens of metres away from the M6 and all its chunner.
The campsite is a little confused. The owner is away but by phone tells us to pick a pitch, #4 being free, #3 might be free too but we should take #4. Driving on to pitch 4 we see the electric hookup has been used by the guy in pitch 5 because pitch 5's own hookup has been taken by a caravan parked on the turning bay. We take 3 to save hassle and hope almost will be sorted on our return from Carlisle.
Fortunately we meet the owner as we leave, all is OK and we get to pay rather than have to waste time tomorrow.
The bus stop outside the camp seems to only have buses every hour but a mile and a half away is a much more frequent route. Actually a mile and a half is probably half way to town! Still it gives a miserable bus driver the opportunity to announce sternly that there's no such thing as a return to town but I need a dayrider. To be fair the bus stop was in the midst of a housing estate and I suspect we were the first ever out-of-towners to catch a bus from there.
It's too late to take in the sights of Carlisle, just head to Wetherspoons for dinner, via a city centre B&M for 2 more of those storage cubes. Fed and watered it's back towards the campsite, we have an evening appointment with another brewery
Gretna, and another distraction. Not the blacksmith's forge where I suspect for some outlandish fee we could have a mock ceremony to remake our wedding vows but a huge outlet village full of brand name stores that, under normal circumstances, would have us running in the opposite direction. But there's an M&S outlet and Liz needs some new under garments whilst I still haven't found the 1/4 zip heavy fleece I want for cold evenings in the van. Even at outlet prices Berghaus is still beyond my price range, and didn't have what I wanted anyway. Trespass and Mountain Warehouse similarly came up blank. I had hoped outlet stores would have clothing that had been on sale back in September when I'm sure the sort of top I'm after might have been in the shelves. But who knows, even outdoor clothing is more about fashion than function so maybe this winter such garments weren't around. Still Sports Direct have bought the Karrimor brand and had exactly what I was looking for - sorted.
Time is short and so perhaps we should run to Carlisle as fast as possible but no, we stick to alternatives to the motorway. For several miles we run on a pleasant A road with almost no other traffic, parallel to and just a few tens of metres away from the M6 and all its chunner.
The campsite is a little confused. The owner is away but by phone tells us to pick a pitch, #4 being free, #3 might be free too but we should take #4. Driving on to pitch 4 we see the electric hookup has been used by the guy in pitch 5 because pitch 5's own hookup has been taken by a caravan parked on the turning bay. We take 3 to save hassle and hope almost will be sorted on our return from Carlisle.
Fortunately we meet the owner as we leave, all is OK and we get to pay rather than have to waste time tomorrow.
The bus stop outside the camp seems to only have buses every hour but a mile and a half away is a much more frequent route. Actually a mile and a half is probably half way to town! Still it gives a miserable bus driver the opportunity to announce sternly that there's no such thing as a return to town but I need a dayrider. To be fair the bus stop was in the midst of a housing estate and I suspect we were the first ever out-of-towners to catch a bus from there.
It's too late to take in the sights of Carlisle, just head to Wetherspoons for dinner, via a city centre B&M for 2 more of those storage cubes. Fed and watered it's back towards the campsite, we have an evening appointment with another brewery
Tues - the flavour is orange
The Castle Douglas campsite is council owned and part of a larger municipal park alongside the loch. It is mainly for long term, seasonal caravanners and pitches are quite cramped. We elect for one on hard-standing, i.e. one end of a tarmaced place that at one time might have been a car park.
There had been an interesting thread on Small Motorhome Forum recently about being forced to have electricity if that is the only pitch available, and the fixed cost per night versus a metered cost. This site has electricity to all pitches and it is metered. But the metered use is only for seasonal hires, for tourers there is a fixed nightly rate should you elect for electric. To enable the electric the warden had to come along and insert his card, so if you don't pay for it your electric point is disabled by default.
Tuesday we take the couple of minutes walk into town. It seems a much more interesting place now all the shops are open. The shops look small but once inside you really many go back a long way and are really quite considerable retail spaces. The art and wool shop being a good example, where, at last, Liz found the bamboo needles she's been searching for since Orkney.
Castle Douglas' claim to being a food town is now more evident, 3 or 4 small bakers, a similar number of independent butchers and a couple of fishmongers, shops that it is generally rare to find even one of in most towns. From one baker we buy a brodorinsky loaf, bread of Russian origin that we'd not encountered before and the whole-food shop provided us with some Cuban coffee beans.
Off in search of some LPG, a local garage not too far away is supposed to be Gaslow direct-fill friendly. Alas we'll never know, it's one of those tiny family run petrol stations of yesteryear and the LPG retailing is the sole domain of hubby who won't be back for another hour or two. Unfortunately it'll be a lot longer before we are back, we must press on to Kirkcudbright, the artists town. A pretty little town, but then again artists tend not to colonise tower blocks. Like St Ives it is not only arty but also seaside-touristy so a mix of shops. Nothing really to captivate us but we did get a more than decent lunch in one of the coffee shops.
We had planned one or possibly two National Trust visits but time is getting on and we have an appointment with a brewery. Now, lest anyone should deem it necessary to tar me with the sobriquet "old soak" I should explain that one of the great joys of traveling for me is finding small brewers whose wares are unknown to my palette and sampling such wares. Apart from last night's sneaked half pint, Sulwath Brewery was such an unknown which is a surprise as it is one of the UK's oldest microbreweries, having been in existence 20 years. It is also one of the few that still uses real hop flowers. Most brewers have moved to compressed hops in the form of pellets or even hop oil. Using flowers possibly limits Sulwath to more traditional style beers with English Hops such as Fuggles or Goldings rather than the new higher alpha acid (i.e. more bitter tasting) US or New Zealand hops that are so prevalent in many UK beers. In any case I'm not sure what it is but most Sulwath beers aren't to my palette, there's a raw graininess that just doesn't work for me. With the exception of Solway Mist, described as a wheat beer the style is closer to Belgian Wit (think Hoegaarden). Sulwath's version has a hint of banana that characterises most wheat beers but that is totally overpowered by a beautiful spicy orangness. Delicious and perfect for a hot summers day (well it would be if it wasn't quite so strong at 5.5%). If you are ever that way try it, don't be put off by the murkiness, wheat beers are normally cloudy.
So after the orange tasting beer back to the van for dinner, Bavarian sausage with orange butternut squash and sweet potato - another whole lot of orangness. No potatoes, we have that unusual brodorinsky loaf. It's a rye sourdough with coriander and had a distinct sharp orange tang to it
The flavour of the day was indeed orange.
There had been an interesting thread on Small Motorhome Forum recently about being forced to have electricity if that is the only pitch available, and the fixed cost per night versus a metered cost. This site has electricity to all pitches and it is metered. But the metered use is only for seasonal hires, for tourers there is a fixed nightly rate should you elect for electric. To enable the electric the warden had to come along and insert his card, so if you don't pay for it your electric point is disabled by default.
Tuesday we take the couple of minutes walk into town. It seems a much more interesting place now all the shops are open. The shops look small but once inside you really many go back a long way and are really quite considerable retail spaces. The art and wool shop being a good example, where, at last, Liz found the bamboo needles she's been searching for since Orkney.
Castle Douglas' claim to being a food town is now more evident, 3 or 4 small bakers, a similar number of independent butchers and a couple of fishmongers, shops that it is generally rare to find even one of in most towns. From one baker we buy a brodorinsky loaf, bread of Russian origin that we'd not encountered before and the whole-food shop provided us with some Cuban coffee beans.
Off in search of some LPG, a local garage not too far away is supposed to be Gaslow direct-fill friendly. Alas we'll never know, it's one of those tiny family run petrol stations of yesteryear and the LPG retailing is the sole domain of hubby who won't be back for another hour or two. Unfortunately it'll be a lot longer before we are back, we must press on to Kirkcudbright, the artists town. A pretty little town, but then again artists tend not to colonise tower blocks. Like St Ives it is not only arty but also seaside-touristy so a mix of shops. Nothing really to captivate us but we did get a more than decent lunch in one of the coffee shops.
We had planned one or possibly two National Trust visits but time is getting on and we have an appointment with a brewery. Now, lest anyone should deem it necessary to tar me with the sobriquet "old soak" I should explain that one of the great joys of traveling for me is finding small brewers whose wares are unknown to my palette and sampling such wares. Apart from last night's sneaked half pint, Sulwath Brewery was such an unknown which is a surprise as it is one of the UK's oldest microbreweries, having been in existence 20 years. It is also one of the few that still uses real hop flowers. Most brewers have moved to compressed hops in the form of pellets or even hop oil. Using flowers possibly limits Sulwath to more traditional style beers with English Hops such as Fuggles or Goldings rather than the new higher alpha acid (i.e. more bitter tasting) US or New Zealand hops that are so prevalent in many UK beers. In any case I'm not sure what it is but most Sulwath beers aren't to my palette, there's a raw graininess that just doesn't work for me. With the exception of Solway Mist, described as a wheat beer the style is closer to Belgian Wit (think Hoegaarden). Sulwath's version has a hint of banana that characterises most wheat beers but that is totally overpowered by a beautiful spicy orangness. Delicious and perfect for a hot summers day (well it would be if it wasn't quite so strong at 5.5%). If you are ever that way try it, don't be put off by the murkiness, wheat beers are normally cloudy.
So after the orange tasting beer back to the van for dinner, Bavarian sausage with orange butternut squash and sweet potato - another whole lot of orangness. No potatoes, we have that unusual brodorinsky loaf. It's a rye sourdough with coriander and had a distinct sharp orange tang to it
The flavour of the day was indeed orange.
Tuesday, 31 May 2016
Mon - The Curse of Arran
OK this is getting stupid, we may have to run to England to escape the curse we are currently under.
I'm getting ahead of myself again, first things first. It's time to move on from Muirkirk and after yesterday's unsuccessful Sunday lunch forage we decide to go to a town known for its food, Castle Douglas in Galloway, just west of Dumfries.
It's a pleasant, sunny drive down through the rural cattle land of Ayrshire. Despite being a Bank Holiday (we believe it is such in Scotland as well as England) we pass a local butcher advertising pies etc so have an excellent sausage roll for lunch. The road south is good too, a new surface much of the way and long straights. However we have picked the time where the local power company is laying cables beneath the road surface. Since the cables are just crossing the road not running parallel then the road works are short-lived but they seem to be doing this every couple of miles so we encounter several such breaks in our otherwise good run.
Rather than make a beeline for Castle Douglas we have more than enough time to drive through the Galloway National Forest towards Wigtown. The forest is a lovely drive, much like the New Forest. We are driving along part of the Galloway Red Kite trail. We fail to see one. This is also an area with Red Squirrels. We fail to see one. Finally we do see red, Red Deer, a first for us, at a Forestry feeding station (similar to the one at Bolderwood in the New Forest). An interesting drive too with lots of good bends. One was made far more interesting than need be by meeting a Merc traveling far, far faster than safe exiting a bend well on our side of the road. Oh well I suppose we know the van's brakes work. I may well have let it a wee swearie-word too!
So far the Curse Of Arran seems to have deserted us but then it starts! Wigtown is Scotland's book capital, a northern Hay-on-Wye. It is also the first large town we've stopped at that has public loos and we've been driving a while. The ladies are closed for repair but we could do with a coffee and I spot a Brew Dog bar just across the way. Oh, most excellent, several good, different craft beers to choose from. A half of something interesting would go down even better than a coffee and they will definitely have the now urgently needed toilet. Except for the fact that they don't open on a Monday. This is a pub, one of the few in Scotland that has interesting beer and it doesn't open on a Monday!!! But wait a paragraph or so, gentle reader, and discover how the curse really hits home.
Wigtown's book shops doesn't seem like bookshops. Many seem like houses with books in, some like cafes with books in. One smallish looking shop advertises itself as Scotland's largest bookshop. On inside this tardis there are a lot more rooms than we expected and a lot of books. We didn't buy any!
Castle Douglas is Scotland's food town. I know this because it says so on its website. It is certainly home to Sulwath Brewery, still going strong after 20 years it is one of the UK's most venerable micro-breweries. So the plan tonight is, park up, leave the van just after 6, a couple of pints at the Sulwath Brewery Bar and then some nice local produce at some small restaurant. Ah but, The Curse Of Arran [ cue suitable "dun dun dooon music"]. Sulwath Brewery does have a bar, it is open on a Monday. But it shuts at 6pm - hopefully no local magistrates are reading this but the owner took pity on us and sold us a half, to share.
Still we can find a nice restaurant [sinister music plays once again]. Not really, there is an Indian, a Greek and a Chinese but apart from the local fish and chip shop nothing selling such rare delicacies as local fish or farm produce. We stop in one of the many hotels, standard pub fare with sub-standard liquid classed as beer. In desperation we try the Co-op or Tescos for a ready roasted chicken to take back to the van. Nope!
I have to admit depression has set in at this point. As the hunter/gatherer leader of our tribe I had failed to source Sunday lunch and now Monday was a washout. Was this the point where I walk out to a lonely place never to be heard from again? No, the Market Hotel seems to have reasonable food. Never mind the crap beer, we'll drink wine. It was actually quiet good and huge portions.
Back to the van and the last of the Aldi whisky.
I'm getting ahead of myself again, first things first. It's time to move on from Muirkirk and after yesterday's unsuccessful Sunday lunch forage we decide to go to a town known for its food, Castle Douglas in Galloway, just west of Dumfries.
It's a pleasant, sunny drive down through the rural cattle land of Ayrshire. Despite being a Bank Holiday (we believe it is such in Scotland as well as England) we pass a local butcher advertising pies etc so have an excellent sausage roll for lunch. The road south is good too, a new surface much of the way and long straights. However we have picked the time where the local power company is laying cables beneath the road surface. Since the cables are just crossing the road not running parallel then the road works are short-lived but they seem to be doing this every couple of miles so we encounter several such breaks in our otherwise good run.
Rather than make a beeline for Castle Douglas we have more than enough time to drive through the Galloway National Forest towards Wigtown. The forest is a lovely drive, much like the New Forest. We are driving along part of the Galloway Red Kite trail. We fail to see one. This is also an area with Red Squirrels. We fail to see one. Finally we do see red, Red Deer, a first for us, at a Forestry feeding station (similar to the one at Bolderwood in the New Forest). An interesting drive too with lots of good bends. One was made far more interesting than need be by meeting a Merc traveling far, far faster than safe exiting a bend well on our side of the road. Oh well I suppose we know the van's brakes work. I may well have let it a wee swearie-word too!
So far the Curse Of Arran seems to have deserted us but then it starts! Wigtown is Scotland's book capital, a northern Hay-on-Wye. It is also the first large town we've stopped at that has public loos and we've been driving a while. The ladies are closed for repair but we could do with a coffee and I spot a Brew Dog bar just across the way. Oh, most excellent, several good, different craft beers to choose from. A half of something interesting would go down even better than a coffee and they will definitely have the now urgently needed toilet. Except for the fact that they don't open on a Monday. This is a pub, one of the few in Scotland that has interesting beer and it doesn't open on a Monday!!! But wait a paragraph or so, gentle reader, and discover how the curse really hits home.
Wigtown's book shops doesn't seem like bookshops. Many seem like houses with books in, some like cafes with books in. One smallish looking shop advertises itself as Scotland's largest bookshop. On inside this tardis there are a lot more rooms than we expected and a lot of books. We didn't buy any!
Castle Douglas is Scotland's food town. I know this because it says so on its website. It is certainly home to Sulwath Brewery, still going strong after 20 years it is one of the UK's most venerable micro-breweries. So the plan tonight is, park up, leave the van just after 6, a couple of pints at the Sulwath Brewery Bar and then some nice local produce at some small restaurant. Ah but, The Curse Of Arran [ cue suitable "dun dun dooon music"]. Sulwath Brewery does have a bar, it is open on a Monday. But it shuts at 6pm - hopefully no local magistrates are reading this but the owner took pity on us and sold us a half, to share.
Still we can find a nice restaurant [sinister music plays once again]. Not really, there is an Indian, a Greek and a Chinese but apart from the local fish and chip shop nothing selling such rare delicacies as local fish or farm produce. We stop in one of the many hotels, standard pub fare with sub-standard liquid classed as beer. In desperation we try the Co-op or Tescos for a ready roasted chicken to take back to the van. Nope!
I have to admit depression has set in at this point. As the hunter/gatherer leader of our tribe I had failed to source Sunday lunch and now Monday was a washout. Was this the point where I walk out to a lonely place never to be heard from again? No, the Market Hotel seems to have reasonable food. Never mind the crap beer, we'll drink wine. It was actually quiet good and huge portions.
Back to the van and the last of the Aldi whisky.
Sunday, 29 May 2016
Sun - ensuring harmony
Orkney was great, NW Scotland is a very special place, Mull was a disappointment although the weather didn't help, Islay was wonderful and as friendly a place as we've ever been too.
The universe needs to maintain a balance. We didn't like Arran and only seemed to meet it's less courteous citizens, and now here in Muirkirk we are having just an "OK time". Nothing bad, just nothing particularly to write home about (which, of course, makes life difficult for a blogger)
What do I mean? Well yesterday's trip to New Lanark was OK and it was fascinating to see the spinning mule in action but as far as we could see the only things that had changed in the 22 years since out previous visit were a new roof garden and improved café and shop! And the shop didn't have a single book on "King Cotton" or the industrial revolution, other than specific ones on New Lanark or Robert Owen.
Today we went to Culzean Castle an 18th century stately home for the Scottish Kennedy dynasty designed by Robert Adam. It's a nice house with huge gardens but, nothing stood out. There were no individual pieces of architecture, furniture or art that produced the "Wow!" response. Still the weather was nice and despite parts of the gardens being a little disappointing it was a pleasant enough few hours out.
It's Sunday and a nice Sunday dinner would be good, driving back towards Muirkirk in pleasant agricultural scenery it was soon obvious that we wouldn't stumbled across a wayside tavern offering a huge Sunday roast. The only largish town en route was Crummock but apart from Asda shops weren't just closed but shuttered against real or imaginary vandalism. Again the welcoming hostelry was both unlikely and undiscovered. A quick check of the CAMRA Good Beer Guide and there's an inn in Sorn, good beer and a bit of a gastro-pub. Might be expensive but let's go, have a pint and take a look at the menu. Hmmm, a note to Ayrshire CAMRA is in order, no real ale. Being thirsty and Tennant's lager being the best choice (even the Guinness was ruined by being served through "extra-chilled" dispense) our mood was not inclined to peruse the menu. The Egon Ronay sticker on the door didn't help either, that alone probably bumps the food prices by 50% and reduces portion size by a similar figure. Oh well, dinner in the van.
You grumpy old git, surely the must be some redeeming points to the day. Well there were two. Firstly between Ayr and Culzean we drive through the "Electric Brae". I'd heard of this, possibly as a school kid but forgotten it was here. Basically if you stop on the road and release your hand brake you start to roll uphill. Actually if you stop on the main road you will almost certainly cause an accident so the council have provided a short length of layby to experiment with this phenomenon. Originally it was thought to be some strange magnetic anomaly or something, hence the " Electric " name. In fact the road runs very slightly downhill (1 in 86, so the information board says) but the surrounding hillsides trick the eyes and mind into thinking it is actually significant uphill. And yes it really is weird, you stop, you know which way is uphill but the car rolls that way for a couple of feet or so, a most bizarre illusion.
Secondly Muirkirk is just 3 miles away from the now non-existant village of Glenbuck. Non-existant, partly because this is an area in decline but more directly because open-cast mining has claimed most of the space where the village used to be. So why is Glenbuck famous? It was just a tiny village but for some reason produced many top-flight professional footballers; way, way more per capita than anywhere else in the world. The most famous of these, Bill Shankly, went on to be one of the most famous football managers of all time and the tiny 200m no through road that once would have been the village's main thoroughfare now terminates at a memorial to him.
This is a fairly run-down rural area but it has been the home to many a household name. As well as Bill Shankly and the other footballers of Glenbuck, Muirkirk itself was the home to John Loudon McAdam. Who? Well if I mention he had a foundry that melted tar would it help? In fact the road this campsite is on, foundry road used to lead to his workshop and was the very road on which he first experimented with tar and stones to create a durable road surface. My sister also tells me he invented the concept of a camber to allow water to drain off the surface of his new flat roads. Curiously Wikipedia tells me tarmacadam wasn't patented until 1901 (by Edgar Purnell Hooley) despite Muirkirk's claim to fame a century earlier.
Remember me mentioning Crummock - it's the birthplace of James Keir Hardie, leader of the labour party just before the first world war. 2 miles up the road is Auchinleck, home of James Boswell (the bloke wot wrote a about Sam Johnson). Considering this is middle of nowhere, rural Scotland it's amazing how many people came from here!
The universe needs to maintain a balance. We didn't like Arran and only seemed to meet it's less courteous citizens, and now here in Muirkirk we are having just an "OK time". Nothing bad, just nothing particularly to write home about (which, of course, makes life difficult for a blogger)
What do I mean? Well yesterday's trip to New Lanark was OK and it was fascinating to see the spinning mule in action but as far as we could see the only things that had changed in the 22 years since out previous visit were a new roof garden and improved café and shop! And the shop didn't have a single book on "King Cotton" or the industrial revolution, other than specific ones on New Lanark or Robert Owen.
Today we went to Culzean Castle an 18th century stately home for the Scottish Kennedy dynasty designed by Robert Adam. It's a nice house with huge gardens but, nothing stood out. There were no individual pieces of architecture, furniture or art that produced the "Wow!" response. Still the weather was nice and despite parts of the gardens being a little disappointing it was a pleasant enough few hours out.
It's Sunday and a nice Sunday dinner would be good, driving back towards Muirkirk in pleasant agricultural scenery it was soon obvious that we wouldn't stumbled across a wayside tavern offering a huge Sunday roast. The only largish town en route was Crummock but apart from Asda shops weren't just closed but shuttered against real or imaginary vandalism. Again the welcoming hostelry was both unlikely and undiscovered. A quick check of the CAMRA Good Beer Guide and there's an inn in Sorn, good beer and a bit of a gastro-pub. Might be expensive but let's go, have a pint and take a look at the menu. Hmmm, a note to Ayrshire CAMRA is in order, no real ale. Being thirsty and Tennant's lager being the best choice (even the Guinness was ruined by being served through "extra-chilled" dispense) our mood was not inclined to peruse the menu. The Egon Ronay sticker on the door didn't help either, that alone probably bumps the food prices by 50% and reduces portion size by a similar figure. Oh well, dinner in the van.
You grumpy old git, surely the must be some redeeming points to the day. Well there were two. Firstly between Ayr and Culzean we drive through the "Electric Brae". I'd heard of this, possibly as a school kid but forgotten it was here. Basically if you stop on the road and release your hand brake you start to roll uphill. Actually if you stop on the main road you will almost certainly cause an accident so the council have provided a short length of layby to experiment with this phenomenon. Originally it was thought to be some strange magnetic anomaly or something, hence the " Electric " name. In fact the road runs very slightly downhill (1 in 86, so the information board says) but the surrounding hillsides trick the eyes and mind into thinking it is actually significant uphill. And yes it really is weird, you stop, you know which way is uphill but the car rolls that way for a couple of feet or so, a most bizarre illusion.
Secondly Muirkirk is just 3 miles away from the now non-existant village of Glenbuck. Non-existant, partly because this is an area in decline but more directly because open-cast mining has claimed most of the space where the village used to be. So why is Glenbuck famous? It was just a tiny village but for some reason produced many top-flight professional footballers; way, way more per capita than anywhere else in the world. The most famous of these, Bill Shankly, went on to be one of the most famous football managers of all time and the tiny 200m no through road that once would have been the village's main thoroughfare now terminates at a memorial to him.
This is a fairly run-down rural area but it has been the home to many a household name. As well as Bill Shankly and the other footballers of Glenbuck, Muirkirk itself was the home to John Loudon McAdam. Who? Well if I mention he had a foundry that melted tar would it help? In fact the road this campsite is on, foundry road used to lead to his workshop and was the very road on which he first experimented with tar and stones to create a durable road surface. My sister also tells me he invented the concept of a camber to allow water to drain off the surface of his new flat roads. Curiously Wikipedia tells me tarmacadam wasn't patented until 1901 (by Edgar Purnell Hooley) despite Muirkirk's claim to fame a century earlier.
Remember me mentioning Crummock - it's the birthplace of James Keir Hardie, leader of the labour party just before the first world war. 2 miles up the road is Auchinleck, home of James Boswell (the bloke wot wrote a about Sam Johnson). Considering this is middle of nowhere, rural Scotland it's amazing how many people came from here!
Sat - a discourse on cotton
Emily and Lucy may recall that 22 years ago, on the way to North Uist we stopped in at New Lanark, the mill village set up by Robert Owen in the early 1800s. Certainly walking down the steep slope from the car park with its panoramic views brought much of it back to us.
New Lanark is a cotton mill and it stills spins today, these days there is more money in spinning wool for home use and the craft weaving trade though. We end up buying a couple of balls, look out for interesting Willy hats when autumn comes around. The mill a fully working spinning mule which is very impressive to watch. This single large mule has 382 spindles, not only does it spin much. much faster than a single woman on a spinning wheel but it does the work of 382 of them! Incidentally, before the industrial revolution spinning by hand on a spinning wheel was mainly the work of women whereas hand weaving was mainly a male occupation. Should a women get married then maybe her husband earned enough for her to cease having to work and to become housewife and mother, those who remained unmarried we generally consigned to a lifetime of being a spinster.
Spinning is a complex operation and it must have been incredibly difficult to design machines to do it well. The earliest, Hargreaves' spinning jenny was hand operated but had the advantage of spinning 8 spools simultaneously and had a moving bar that would draw out the threads thus producing fairly fine yarn. Arkwright's water frame replaced the hand power with water and upped the spindle count but used rollers and didn't draw the thread as fine as the jenny. It was faster and produced good, but fairly thick yarn. Apparently Samuel Crompton accidentally stumbled upon a way to combine both different action machines into a single machine, two dissimilar beasts giving rise to one with the best qualities of both, hence the name spinning mule. It is impressed to watch the huge long bars move out drawing the fibres off the back roller and simultaneously spinning them, at about 3/4 way through this forward movement the back roller stops rotating and the thread is just stretched and twisted. Then the front bar moves swiftly back to meet the back bar during which time the cones on the front bar, onto which the yarn is wound, rotate to take up the newly spun slack and the process is ready to repeat.
Of course to be efficient the machines need to be stopped as little as possible. I shudder to imagine the injuries to the child "scavengers" employed to scamper between the moving rollers to tidy broken ends, clean accumulated cotton dross etc. Incredibly noisy, dusty, everything and everyone coated with the fine cotton lint, lungs included, machinery that lacked basic safety mechanisms and stopped for nothing, it must have been Hell.
One disappointment with New Lanark was the lack of context for the importance of the industrial revolution. Often we think of it in terms of steam but mills like New Lanark were essentially water powered, only using the costly steam power as a backup when water power was inadequate, such as times of drought. However it is spinning and weaving, particularly spinning that is the real heart of the industrial revolution. It's the huge mills that started the switch from rural to urban living and from agriculture to factory culture.
Without the revolution in textiles in the beginning of the 19th century there would have been no Manchester slums to provide Marx and Engels with the basis of the communist manifesto. Without the improvements in spinning making cotton preferable to wool there would have been no need for the US southern states to plant vast estates of cotton fields and no need to conscript slave labour from Africa, and so no impetus for the US Civil War, not the festering struggle for racial equality that has lingered ever since. Remember too, much of Gandhi's focus was on the right for Indians to produce home-spun cotton.
Today's homework question "The spinning mule and flying shuttle have had more impact upon human politics than any other of mankind's inventions" - Discuss.
New Lanark, of course, is of interest because Robert Owen was a social reformer who actively strove to improve the lot of the worker through education, leisure and shorter working hours. This was a time when huge fortunes were made through exploitation of the poor so New Lanark was a bold social experiment which appears to have between a huge success. Perhaps out of the choices of Hell, New Lanark was one of the better ones.
Lanark itself is not such a bold experiment and a fairly mundane town. Like so many Scottish lowland towns alcohol seems to be a problem. That said the homeward route was deliberately chosen to take us via the town of Strathaven which has a brewery (of the same name) and so we stopped at a local hotel to try a pint. One problem of this area and it's proximity to Glasgow is the impenetrability of the accent. You know that at least some of the words presented to you may possibly be ones included in the Queen's English but any attempt to parse the sound steam to determine which sets of phonemes may be familiar is impossible to anyone born south of the border. The only hope is to study the universal communication system of body language and nod/shake as you hope is the appropriate response.
We decide to give the singer down at the lounge bar on site here a miss. No real reason, the beer isn't something we would choose to drink and it sounds LOUD. We're getting old!
New Lanark is a cotton mill and it stills spins today, these days there is more money in spinning wool for home use and the craft weaving trade though. We end up buying a couple of balls, look out for interesting Willy hats when autumn comes around. The mill a fully working spinning mule which is very impressive to watch. This single large mule has 382 spindles, not only does it spin much. much faster than a single woman on a spinning wheel but it does the work of 382 of them! Incidentally, before the industrial revolution spinning by hand on a spinning wheel was mainly the work of women whereas hand weaving was mainly a male occupation. Should a women get married then maybe her husband earned enough for her to cease having to work and to become housewife and mother, those who remained unmarried we generally consigned to a lifetime of being a spinster.
Spinning is a complex operation and it must have been incredibly difficult to design machines to do it well. The earliest, Hargreaves' spinning jenny was hand operated but had the advantage of spinning 8 spools simultaneously and had a moving bar that would draw out the threads thus producing fairly fine yarn. Arkwright's water frame replaced the hand power with water and upped the spindle count but used rollers and didn't draw the thread as fine as the jenny. It was faster and produced good, but fairly thick yarn. Apparently Samuel Crompton accidentally stumbled upon a way to combine both different action machines into a single machine, two dissimilar beasts giving rise to one with the best qualities of both, hence the name spinning mule. It is impressed to watch the huge long bars move out drawing the fibres off the back roller and simultaneously spinning them, at about 3/4 way through this forward movement the back roller stops rotating and the thread is just stretched and twisted. Then the front bar moves swiftly back to meet the back bar during which time the cones on the front bar, onto which the yarn is wound, rotate to take up the newly spun slack and the process is ready to repeat.
Of course to be efficient the machines need to be stopped as little as possible. I shudder to imagine the injuries to the child "scavengers" employed to scamper between the moving rollers to tidy broken ends, clean accumulated cotton dross etc. Incredibly noisy, dusty, everything and everyone coated with the fine cotton lint, lungs included, machinery that lacked basic safety mechanisms and stopped for nothing, it must have been Hell.
One disappointment with New Lanark was the lack of context for the importance of the industrial revolution. Often we think of it in terms of steam but mills like New Lanark were essentially water powered, only using the costly steam power as a backup when water power was inadequate, such as times of drought. However it is spinning and weaving, particularly spinning that is the real heart of the industrial revolution. It's the huge mills that started the switch from rural to urban living and from agriculture to factory culture.
Without the revolution in textiles in the beginning of the 19th century there would have been no Manchester slums to provide Marx and Engels with the basis of the communist manifesto. Without the improvements in spinning making cotton preferable to wool there would have been no need for the US southern states to plant vast estates of cotton fields and no need to conscript slave labour from Africa, and so no impetus for the US Civil War, not the festering struggle for racial equality that has lingered ever since. Remember too, much of Gandhi's focus was on the right for Indians to produce home-spun cotton.
Today's homework question "The spinning mule and flying shuttle have had more impact upon human politics than any other of mankind's inventions" - Discuss.
New Lanark, of course, is of interest because Robert Owen was a social reformer who actively strove to improve the lot of the worker through education, leisure and shorter working hours. This was a time when huge fortunes were made through exploitation of the poor so New Lanark was a bold social experiment which appears to have between a huge success. Perhaps out of the choices of Hell, New Lanark was one of the better ones.
Lanark itself is not such a bold experiment and a fairly mundane town. Like so many Scottish lowland towns alcohol seems to be a problem. That said the homeward route was deliberately chosen to take us via the town of Strathaven which has a brewery (of the same name) and so we stopped at a local hotel to try a pint. One problem of this area and it's proximity to Glasgow is the impenetrability of the accent. You know that at least some of the words presented to you may possibly be ones included in the Queen's English but any attempt to parse the sound steam to determine which sets of phonemes may be familiar is impossible to anyone born south of the border. The only hope is to study the universal communication system of body language and nod/shake as you hope is the appropriate response.
We decide to give the singer down at the lounge bar on site here a miss. No real reason, the beer isn't something we would choose to drink and it sounds LOUD. We're getting old!
Saturday, 28 May 2016
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!
I've just spent well in excess of an hour writing part of today's blog when the Nexus tablet shut down on me because it ran out of power. No warning, no chance to save work. It was plugged into a 2A PSU at the time so goodness knows what background task was consuming power at a greater rate than I was stuffing in to it. Google's offline blogging app Blogger does not do timed backups nor seems to have an option to set such so my entire work was lost.
Blogging without internet is incredible fraught, the Android apps seem very poor. Having mains I suppose I should have delved into the van's lockers and found Liz's laptop.
Oh well, that's what I'll do now
Blogging without internet is incredible fraught, the Android apps seem very poor. Having mains I suppose I should have delved into the van's lockers and found Liz's laptop.
Oh well, that's what I'll do now
Friday, 27 May 2016
Fri - A rant about Arran
Well we are eating cereal not porridge for breakfast! Actually at some stage after 10pm last night another van turned up and parked next to us.
The problem is, of course, bank holiday and school half term next week. We had assumed that planning would be easy whilst travelling but 3g and WiFi is such a rare luxury. Of course we can (and do) pop to pubs in the evening to use their WiFi but by then the batteries in our phones are so shot we don't have a lot of time to do the vital research. One thing we have learned this trip is that managing the technical resources when you don't have mains electricity or internet requires planning. One purchase already scheduled for when we get back is a large USB backup battery. Even then without electric we can only charge 2 devices overnight (i.e. both our phones) so any such additional device needs thinking about. Of course, parked up on a sunny day our handy, dandy new solar panel charger will be useful.
So, what's the plan for today? The regular reader, and I'm sure you all are, will recall we changed our ferry time and decided to leave Arran without really visiting it. So we have just this morning to discover the delights of Brodick. Firstly the Arran Brewery which I must admit has the best porcelain breweriana bits we've seen. A few years ago when such nice plates etc weren't considered "stuff" to clutter the house we might have been interested. So just 4 additional beers to augment the dwindling van stock. Actually it's the first bargain of the day since they had some nice German lagers just out of their sell by date at very half price or less - we just had to buy a couple of bottles.
Next the Arran Cheese shop which seemed more a tourist attraction than anything else. Later in the day we saw a flyer for "The Real Arran Cheese Company" so there are obviously branding wars going on, reminiscent of Popular Fronts in Judea.
Ok the tourist attractions done let's take a look at the local shops, Active Arran outdoor shop had some good clothing in at decent prices but not the heavier weight quarter zip fleece I've been looking for.
Next to the tourist information there is a little charity shop - bargains of the day #2. I picked up copy of the recently released DVD "Carol" for 50p (yes David, the old serendipity mojo works even up her) as well as another Ladies Of Letters CD and Liz picked up several wonderful knitting patterns for 10p each including a fantastic vintage Aran wool hat. Yes, that is correct, apparently Arran the island is spelled differently to Aran the wool!
Finally the Co-op where, to be brutally honest we really only went in because they had customer toilets. There on the shelf was one of the questing beasts I'd given up the search for - a Nook Simple Touch Light ereader. We love our Kindles, they are absolutely brilliant in the van. Liz has read about a dozen or so books this trip, even as paperbacks that would have been a lot of van space. However we decided we'd also get either a Nook or Kobo to augment the Kindle. Nook and Kobo can read books loaned from UK libraries, Kindles have a wealth of Amazon books and the Amazon 99p daily deal or even free books. Having both would be best of both worlds. Also we wanted to try an ereader with backlight to decide whether it would be worth upgrading the Kindles at anytime. I missed the cheap Nooks when Barnes and Noble were clearing them through Sainsburys et al, about 6 months ago but here was one on the Co-op shelf at a real bargain price. I tried to get two but alas...
So all was good in Brodick and our moods uplifted by these bargains? Not quite, it was still very cold and grey but more importantly was the demeanour of Arranians, particularly shopkeepers and last night's camp site owner. Apart from the final gentleman till operator in the Co-op most had been at best uncommunicative, some a little curt and in one case downright rude. Had I not really, really wanted the Nook I may well have told the cashier at the quick service desk where to stuff the ruddy thing after she brusquely informed me there was a queue. Firstly there wasn't when I approached the desk from the side and secondly I only wanted to ask her to call someone to confirm that despite empty boxes in the shelves there really wasn't any hope of a second one. I did try to explain this only to be met with "There's a queue!" once again.
If you are from Arran and reading this then may I suggest taking a holiday over in Islay where people know the meaning of the word "friendly"!
The boat was late leaving (and jam packed) so we couldn't even get off the place quickly. 50 minutes later we arrived across the water on the mainland at Ardrossan. First thing to be done is remove the jumper, the grey cloud and cold wind that so reflected the mood of Arran shop keepers had instantly been transformed into bright sunshine. Talk of omens!
It was weird being back in the mainland. Buildings, traffic, traffic control, and being late it was now past 5pm on a Friday, rush hour and traffic queues. For the past week or two a traffic hold up means slowing for sheep on the road.
Still the campsite seems OK. The main thing is that the owner was very friendly and helpful. We already have a couple of changes of plan for tomorrow based upon attractions she mentioned that we were unaware of. She's obviously not from Arran!
Thursday, 26 May 2016
Thurs - No room at the inn
Ferry day today, two ferries to be precise, one to Bute/Kintyre, a quick drive across and a second ferry to Arran. We are up early - actually later than our original 7am alarm, set so we could phone Lucy on her birthday.
Plenty of time before the ferry so we pop in to Lagavulin to get a taste. We tasted two expressions, their standard 16 year old and their Distiller's Edition. The 16 year old is matured in bourbon casks for, well what do you expect, 16 years. Distiller's Edition is almost exactly the same but matured for 15 years, 9 months in bourbon and then a final 3-6 months in Pedro Jimenez sherry casks. The difference is amazing. The 16 year old is much less peaty than its neighbours (Laphraoig and Ardbeg) and the extra age adds a little more refinement. For the Distiller's Edition those few months in sherry casks change the character completely, a much fuller mouth, sweetness masks much of the peat but still the long finish in which the peat starts to assert. Wonderful, amongst my favourites of all the whiskies I've ever drunk. The downside is it is £75 a bottle compared to £45 for the 16 year old. Amazing that changing casks for a few months can command such a price hike so I ask. Apparently the sherry market is in steep decline, casks are in very short supply. Some sherry makers make money out of filling casks, pouring the sherry away without selling it and the selling the empty casks to the whisky trade. Whereas once a sherry cask cost £50 they now can command up to £2000. So folks, if you like the odd sherry tipple or enjoy a good trifle then buy more sherry, then perhaps one day I can afford a bottle of Lagavulin Distiller's Edition.
The crossing to Bute is, as all the others, uneventful and smooth. It takes just under two and a half hours. Now the ferry lands at Kennacraig and it is a little over 5 miles across to the opposite side of the peninsula to Claonaig where the ferry to Arran departs from.
This is where the day starts to unravel! Rather than drive directly to Claonaig we decide to drive 5 miles north to the town of Tarbert for fuel, also because the Kintyre Service Station does LPG and will fill our Gaslow bottle. Ah, I said "does" there, present tense. What I meant was the past tense - "did". That's past tense with regard to LPG and to fuel as the garage has closed down. It's raining, the last mile the road has had its surface ripped off ready for retarmacing and is a horrible drive which we have to backtrack along. Once back at Kennacraig the road to Claonaig is single track and we run into the group of cycle tourists that were on the boat and who have now spread themselves over a two mile stretch meaning finding a passing place each time we encounter one of them. Pain! Still we get to the ferry with just a 40 minute wait. This ferry is not bookable, it's turn up and go on the next one, they run every 75 mins during the day. They just about squeeze us on with the van being too tall to fit under the side gallery I have to drive carefully inches away from it the length of the boat.
We don't see much of Arran on the 25 mile drive round from Lochranza to Brodick (the main town) and on to Lamlash where we plan to stay at Middleton campsite. It is raining fairly hard and despite the dual lane road having resizable service it twists its way round the mountains and had an advisable 30 mph speed limit which i don't exceed by much.
Middleton Campsite is completely full. We'd have been OK had we booked two or three weeks ago apparently. The owner didn't look amused when I said we hadn't planned what we were doing two or three days ago! I asked for thoughts on alternatives, knowing there was at least one other site a few miles away and one back at Lochranza. She suggested finding a lay-by; no mention of other sites, no offer to phone one for us or even look up their numbers so we could phone ourselves. I was distinctly unimpressed and the site goes on that very small list I will advise friends not to use.
Back to Brodick, we park up and it is lashing it down, too wet to even walk the 50m or so to the pub for a coffee (nothing stronger as we have no idea how much more driving the day will require). Now I've had decent phone signal all day (and I'm writing this less than I mile away where I've got good 3g). In this particular car park neither Liz not I had internet phone signal, despite being on different carriers. To make matters worse my WiFi kept picking up and connecting to a BT Fon signal but this was frustratingly weak enough to allow log in but no further access
Grrrrr! We are on an island we've never visited before, it's lashing down with rain, we don't have a bed for the night and don't have any network connection to find one. Grrrr, indeed!
So we have decided that the fates don't want us on Arran so we drive to the ferry office and change our departure to tomorrow afternoon. I'm sorry shop keepers, restauranteurs and pub owners of Arran, none of my pension allocation will be coming your way. Blame the unhelpful owner of Middleton Campsite, Lamlash.
Actually the woman in the ferry office was much more helpful and suggested a car park in Brodick which is where we are. Parked up we did go to the local pub for dinner, if we get free camping then giving something back seems only fair. As we return a police car pulls out of the car park just before we get there. Nothing posted on our windscreen, let's hope they don't move us on in the night. The car park doesn't have any "No Overnighting" or "No Sleeping" signs but does say "Cars Only". Well the police know we're here, let's see what happens (the barman at the pub concurred with the ferry lady that we ought be OK).
I'll post the address where cakes with hidden files should be sent.
Wednesday, 25 May 2016
Wed - a party at a brewery, and they invited a distillery
Today is Islay Brewery's open day and the weather is set to be good so the plan is to sun ourselves and have the occasional pint whilst listening to the music.
For a complete change this holiday Liz has agreed to drive so this afternoon I can enjoy a pint out three. Mind you the plan is nearly scuppered at the offset. We so enjoyed Bruichladdich last Sunday that a bottle is the least we could do. Now, attentive readers will recall that they also do a gin - The Botanist. It's one of those 'exclusive' premium gins full of 'hand-foraged botanicals' which is just another way of saying expensive. I'd be tempted buy a bottle only if it is very much to my taste. So we pop into the distillery (what a lovely phrase that is 'pop into the distillery') and I ask if I could have a tasting. Normally this is a tiny taste in a wee plastic glass but this is Bruichladdich - healthy, at least full size measure in a really nice glass. This is nice gin too but before midday? Where is the sun in conjunction to the yardarm? OK, sold to that man as well as a bottle of there Classic Laddie whisky.
Two distilleries we've yet to visit Caol Ila and Bunnahabhain both down on isolated coves on the east side of the island. Caol Ila is owned by the big spirits group Diageo, and whilst blagging a taster we talk to the shop manager who is from Marchwood just a few miles from home. As well as a taster he persuades us to sign up for the Diageo whisky passport. This amazingly gives us to two complimentary nosing/tasting glasses, exactly the same glasses we paid for money for a couple of weeks ago so we could drink in the van. Nice, now we can invite guests to drink our whisky. I fear they may get accidentally damaged on the way home (We've been in the company of Scots for too long!)
Bunnahabhain is interesting, a 4 mile twisty drive down a single track road with not so many passing places. We are just about to pull in to the distillery as a laden wagonl wants to pull out so we park precariously close to the sea just outside to allow him to pass. This means we get to walk all through the distillery. It is a pretty desolated place. Forget the mash tuns and stills, the money is in the vast warehouses full of future product. The ship is small, in the old general manager's office. Alas a sudden influx of Europeans with money to buy the more expensive expressions mean we don't get chance to chat and taste. It's a long 4 miles back to that single track without a taste.
But for the record Bunnahabhain was my #1 whisky so I wasn't too worried. I think I really need to do a Bunnahabhain v Bruichladdich taste off, it's close but I think the Laddie might edge it.
On to the brewery but first a small detour about a mile away to the Islay Woollen Mill. OK, I'm biased but having a the well past retirement age owner describe operations and seeing a 100+ year old loom in operation was a highlight for me. The industrial revolution was just that, a real revolution, and having done craft weaving seeing the equipment that replaced it was wonderful and brings home the real revolution this actual was. It's noisy, oily, and mechanical but watching those flying shuttles shooting across pick after pick must have been magic 300 years ago. We buy a couple of small pieces. The person in the shop confirms that local drivers will wave as you pass. If you don't spot an obvious wave then you could possibly have missed the "Islay Claw" where the driver maintains both hands on the steering wheel but, crab-like, raises a single, crooked finger in recognition.
The brewery is in Islay Square which has a couple of other craft shops and a community garden. The garden is run on behalf of the community and produce is available to buy on an honesty system. We were too late for any vegetables for next week; Liz was tempted by several of the plants available but aware of the limited van space erred on the side of caution.
It was a lovely day, the sun was out, nice music poured out of the music tent, I had a good local pint (and Liz a coffee). All was well with the world. We discovered there was a limited edition of just 1000 bottles of Big Peat's ale, brewed in conjunction with a distiller that produces a whisky of the same name (and who was offering tasters, which we tried). I had one, it was good. I had another. We took two bottles home! Liz will probably have one tonight.
But first another meal at the campsite's bistro.
Walking back we comment what a lovely bright, clear evening it is. But there is just enough haze that the far side of the island has soft edges. Where has Ireland gone? Clearly visible from the campsite last night, today the tiniest haze and there is no hint of it. Bizarre!
Tuesday, 24 May 2016
Tues - the eagle is landed
We've been members of the RSGB probably for a couple of decades or more. We enjoy watching birds and the charity is a driving force behind all forms of wildlife conservation in the UK. We discovered that there are a couple of guided walks on this week, but the Thursday one will finish as our ferry is due to leave so we have just today's walk which is down on The Oa, on the other side of the island about 50 mins. drive away. So a 7:30 alarm call! We leave in plenty of time.
Islay is a very friendly island. On Mull I got used to drivers waving an acknowledgment when I pulled over into a passing place in a single track road but here the roads are dual lane, yet this morning we seemed to get a cheery wave from every car we passed. Lovely!
Now if I was to criticise Islay (it's hard, you probably appreciate we really like this island) it's the lack of signage, particularly off the main roads. It took a few map checks to be confident we were heading in the correct road to the exactly correct remote car park where the walk originated. The plus point of the journey was spotting a female hen harrier flying low over the moor. The not so good point was grounding the underside of the van twice.
It turned out to be a huge group, 25 of us and some people who looked as if they might even be slower than Liz and I. Excellent! The walk was excellent. A big thanks to the 2 Daves, the walk leader and the RSPB warden for the reserve. We learned a lot. For example The Oa is the RSPB's biggest reserve and it is a working farm but part of the RSPB's "Farming for wildlife" project. Some examples of what that means. Corncrakes are shy, secretive birds that spend most of their lives hiding in long grass. Once common across the UK they are now rare and mainly confined to the Scottish Islands. Their decline is mainly through modern farming literally mowing down chicks that remain hidden during the harvest. On the Oa nettles and irises have been planted, these provide good high cover early in the year, proving ideal breeding ground. At harvest time fields are cut centre outwards, driving birds to safety in the margins of the field rather than trapping them in the middle. Simple things. Islay also has a small Chough population, about 40 breeding pairs of these rare birds. Chough might be cliff dwellers but their diets are insects and grubs, many of which are supplied when choughs forage through cow pats in search of dung beetle larvae. The RSGB is carefully monitoring medication given to cattle in the Oa (necessary to provide resistance to disease and kill parasites) and the resultant suitability of the cow pat as breeding grounds for dung beetles (and hence food sources for Chough). This sort of ground breaking research is new and it's good to realise at least part of my annual membership goes to a woman who spendsher days often in the eye of a gale, up to her armpits in cow poo!
Before describing the walk, the weather. A lovely bright sunny day with barely a breath of breeze. Absolutely perfect conditions for mist to roll in from the sea (we're not that far from the Mull of Kintyre) and obliterate everything. It's really weird, where there is no mist there is really great clear sky and we can easily see all the way to Northern Ireland but where the mist hangs visibility is very limited. Annoyingly that mist is hanging directly over the valley this region's pair of Golden Eagles like to hunt. We probably wouldn't spot one if it was flying, but one wouldn't fly anyway as this mist makes spotting prey somewhat difficult.
So we walk on round, no eagle, no Chough either but a really cheeky little Reed Warbler singing close by on a fence post completely unphased by our presence. Quite a few Stonechat too as well as the ever present Meadow Pipit. Then Dave has spotted a eagle. Not flying, it's sat on a crag several hundred yards away, just about discernible with binoculars but you really have to know where to look. The Raven half the distance away is easier to spot. Even in the spotting scope the eagle is tiny, but it is unmistakable. Another first for us. Another 'rarity' are the wild mountain goats which seem to defy gravity, or at least any sense of fear, as they graze at precarious angles on the extreme cliff edge
It's not just birds, one Dave points out a Buterwort, a carniverous moorland plant. Later on Liz and I find an even better example complete with burgeoning blue flower. The other Dave is trying to catch a tiny but very rare moth (I forget the species). Liz photographs Thrift, a small pink flower that only grows on clifftops, famous as the motif in pre-decimilsation thrupenny bits.
Now did you notice the name drop of "Northern Ireland". Islay is actually closer to Ireland than Scotland and as the mist recedes we can see along the coastline from Antrim to Donegal with Rathlin Island in the fore. To the south we can also see Bute, that bit of Scotland that hangs like a flaccid phallus.
Walk over, we headed back towards the campsite. Islay has two roads south, a new dual lane road and the old single lane one which runs pretty much parallel. We took the road less travelled, back to Bowmore and on to Bruichladdich to a craft market; the half dozen stalls were interesting but nothing for us. So on to the newest distillery Kilchamon. This is a farm distillery that only started in 2005. I'm not sure if it is privately owned, it must be hard for a small distillery to generate return on capital in the short term, remember Scotch Whisky has to be a minimum of 3 years old to even claim the name Whisky, and single malts tend to need a much longer pedigree to make their mark in a very competitive market. However Kilchamon have done just that, their standard expression 'Machir' having won several prizes.
They might be young, they might have a great shop, they might have an award winning whisky but without better staff they will fail to sell to the casual tourist market. Two very disinterested sales girls ignored us in the shop until I went up and specifically asked for a taster. A small sample was offered up with a modicum of charm. Trouble was it was good, the whisky is not in the supermarket so fairly unusual , so a bottle just had to be bought. On the plus side, this being Feis week they had invited Angels Share a glasses blowing company to demonstrate on site. A very skilled young lady demonstrated the twin arts of creating glass ornaments whilst simultaneously keeping an audience enthralled. We thought about it but the chance of getting one home intact...
The farm is a few miles down a single track road, the last few metres of which hosting a hard to spot bridge which bounced the van and thumped the sump frighteningly hard. Looking at the tarmac scars we're not the only one. But the road is also the road to Loch Gruinard RSPB reserve so we follow it round to the visitor centre. Apart from the two brown hares and male hen harrier en route there was nothing exciting and time was too short to allow a visit to the hides.
We wanted to press in to cover the last part of the island: Portnahaven and the Rhinns. Without boring you with geology I am unsure of, this part of the island is on a different tectonic plate to the rest and comprises very old rocks, so old that they were formed before life on earth and so are barren of fossils. It really would be good to come back here better read and look at the amazingly different geology on such a small island. We missed checking out the seal colony in the harbour and just had a swift drink in the local before heading back for an evening meal on a beautiful eve.
Mon - finding the plot
Decisions, decisions - do we carry on with Feis events and go over to the Caol Ila distillery for their open day or do we do our own thing. The deciding factor is actually tomorrow's plan. Tomorrow we hope to get up early enough to go down the bottom of the island to a wild area known as The Oa to join an RSPB walk. Trouble is the walk starts at 10 and although only 25-30 miles away it is getting on for an hour's drive.
So we decide on a dummy run, let's go down and make sure we know the small road we need to turn on to, no time tomorrow to get lost. This means a trip down to the bottom of the island and the ferry port of Port Ellen, where we depart on Thursday.
Now along the coast from Port Ellen is a line of 3 distilleries, Laphraoig, Lagavulin and Ardbeg. Get any tourist guide of Islay and you will get the iconic shot taken from sea of these three pretty white distilleries all in a line. By road or foot (there is a tarmac footpath) it's a 3 mile flat trip from Port Ellen to Arbeg passing the other 2 en route. We do this. Stopping at Ardbeg to look at the gift shop for prices we take a complimentary sampler of the standard 10 year old expression, very peaty with an enormously long finish, I'm still trying it when we stroll into Lagavulin's gift shop. No samples on offer here, a much lower key visitor experience. I'm sure that had we asked we could have sampled but we'll leave that for another day.
By contrast, Laphraoig, the island's best selling brand, is all about visitor experience. A well stocked gift shop, a museum and a samples bar where I'm sure we could have sampled all 6 expressions on offer. I'm driving don't forget and despite these samples being less than a standard dram the whiskies are high strength, the special 2016 Feis expression (Cairdeas if my memory serves) being cask strength 56% by volume as opposed to the normal blended whisky's 40%. So I try that and Liz tastes the Triple Wood and we swap so we each get a taste.
Now Laphraoig are masters at the marketing game. Many years ago they introduced Friends Of Laphraoig, the idea being that on each bottle there was a unique number which you registered with them and, in return, you became the owner of 1 square foot of their peat fields, here on Islay. Pure hokum, of course, but here's the twist, should you visit the distillery and present them with your ownership certificate they will pay you rent, 1 dram. Actually in this case the 1 dram is a little 50cl miniature bottle of Laphraoig, a double measure to enjoy at your leisure. Now, a long time ago I sent in my magic number and got issued a certificate. Long lost in the intervening history, partly because I only did it to share in the joke. However at the distillery they have the first several thousand FOLs lovingly inscribed in copperplate in several large ledgers. My membership is old enough I could be there, certainly it is so old my Gmail or IVARC email addresses aren't on their system, so it probably predates 2004 when I moved off Pipex. I can't remember my Pipex mail account but wonder if my FOL even pre-dated email!!! An assistant tries to help but we can't find any trace of me on the system (not to say I'm not there, there system isn't geared for this sort of search). So no photo of my name writ in their annals sadly. However the assistant did inform me how to reregister there and then without needing a bottle and so claim my rent. Liz did the same and their printer churned out two nice certificates on decent quality cartridge paper. There is a small map showing the location of our adjacent 1' square plots. Laphraoig play this game well, there are racks of wellies to change into and flags of the world so you can wander out and stick a flag on your claim. Crazy, yep! Got to be done, hell yes!! We got as accurate as we could but the GPS was showing an error of up to 5m so apologies to anyone finding a Union Flag already in their plot.
Back to the visitor's centre to claim our rent.
That was fun, on round to Bowmore, which despite being on the coast is the centre of the island and it's largest town. Which means to say it has a bank and half a dozen shops. Any guesses as to what else it has? Did I hear someone say "Distillery"? Well done, someone's been paying attention. We look in but no tasters on offer unless we ask and we can't really be bothered. To reiterate, to anyone concerned over the state of our health, these tasters are, I'd guess between 1/3 and 1/2 a standard measure. With a taster each at Ardbeg and Laphraoig we'd consumed about one single whisky measure which would normally have the same units as half pint of beer; the higher strengths here may have pushed that up to 3/4 pint equivalent. Much more and I would be in danger of the stringent Scottish drink driving limits.
We did get a drink in Bowmore, a coffee! Back to the van for a chill (and for Liz to do the clothes washing - before there are too many feminist screams, I have been driving along holiday, we decided on role allocation early on), I've got blogs to write. But first The Times crossword, less than a hour. It's been a while since I could claim that. Dinner tonight is eating out, the campsite has a bistro. It is so good I write my second ever TripAdvisor review saying so. Liz and I both had a Chicken Supreme with bacon and pepperoni in a peppercorn sauce. Dessert was something called "Stairway To Heaven", a 3 different chocolate dish with islands ice cream. All washed down with a very nice bottle of merlot. Merlot?! Red wine with chicken?! The bacon/pepperoni meant it worked and only a reasonable red could have accompanied that dessert.
Sadly the day ended on a low. Whilst eating dessert a local police officer came in for a casual chat with one of the staff. Probably just a routine weekly visit, this is very much a community island. Overhearing the conversation it appears to many campervan and motorhomes had been camping where they shouldn't have at Bruichladdich. But far worse, at least one had dumped the contents of their chemical toilet over the grass. The bright blue toilet fluid is formaldehyde based and doesn't do much good to living material, without considering the effluent within it. Thoughtless and disgusting. Residents will focus on this not the tourist dollars brought in. I foresee many places being festoonex with No Overnight Parking notices. Scotland does have a right to access law which means you can legally camp on unenclosed land but that right does not apply to motor vehicles driving into the land. Currently a blind eye is turned in most places but the actions of one cretin can so easily influence the future for many. The policeman was saying that he hoped one day to catch someone in the act, the implication being the proverbial book would be thrown at them. I would certainly hope so, how can anyone be so stupid.
Actually sensible disposal of chemical waste is a problem, it obviously shouldn't be dumped but less obviously it shouldn't be poured down a toilet. Here in Scotland most sites will allow "non-resident" dumping, some for a small fee, others for free. Many sites have external disposal points that the public can just drive to to without even needing to inform the campsite, they also have points to dump dirty (grey) water and take on board fresh water. There really is no need for anyone to leave their byproducts out in public.
Sadly the day ended on a low. Whilst eating dessert a local police officer came in for a casual chat with one of the staff. Probably just a routine weekly visit, this is very much a community island. Overhearing the conversation it appears to many campervan and motorhomes had been camping where they shouldn't have at Bruichladdich. But far worse, at least one had dumped the contents of their chemical toilet over the grass. The bright blue toilet fluid is formaldehyde based and doesn't do much good to living material, without considering the effluent within it. Thoughtless and disgusting. Residents will focus on this not the tourist dollars brought in. I foresee many places being festoonex with No Overnight Parking notices. Scotland does have a right to access law which means you can legally camp on unenclosed land but that right does not apply to motor vehicles driving into the land. Currently a blind eye is turned in most places but the actions of one cretin can so easily influence the future for many. The policeman was saying that he hoped one day to catch someone in the act, the implication being the proverbial book would be thrown at them. I would certainly hope so, how can anyone be so stupid.
Actually sensible disposal of chemical waste is a problem, it obviously shouldn't be dumped but less obviously it shouldn't be poured down a toilet. Here in Scotland most sites will allow "non-resident" dumping, some for a small fee, others for free. Many sites have external disposal points that the public can just drive to to without even needing to inform the campsite, they also have points to dump dirty (grey) water and take on board fresh water. There really is no need for anyone to leave their byproducts out in public.
Monday, 23 May 2016
Sunday - a party in a distillery
It's Feis here on Islay. A week long whisky and music festival, although the emphasis seems to be on the whisky! This means the island is busy with campervans. Note, I said "campervans" rather than "motorhomes". Whereas these were relatively rare on Mull and Westeros compared to motorhomes, particularly the large horsebox type. Interestingly the tourist population is much younger - campervans are for young folk, motorhomes for the retired wrinkly brigade. Our little Romahome has characteristics of both a campervan (it's compact) and a motorhome (it's a purpose built shell rather than van conversion) so maybe that means we are wrinklies who are young at heart. Sounds about right!
Of course camping with youths carries several advantages, less dogs on the campsite and live music as a band practice mid morning (possibly even Skipinish, the band we get to enjoy later today, it certainly was a similar sound).
Today's agenda is a trip to the Bruichladdich (pronounced brook-laddie) distillery for their open day, part of Feis. Several bands are on, including Skipinish, there will be traditional dancing, craft for sale, the local brewery are there plying their wares, prior to their own open day on Wednesday. A party at a distillery where they've invited the local brewery and have good music - what's not to like?
It's a 2.5 mile walk along the road from the campsite; the sun is shining on the merry band of pilgrims plodding their way joyfully towards the distillery. It's slightly downhill and after about 3/4 of a mile the pier at Bruichladdich hoves into view, not quite nearly there yet, it's a good mile and a half to go. We know when we are getting close by all the parked/abandoned cars. We arrive just after 1:30, an hour into the proceedings and it is packed. Two urgent things on the agenda, find a seat to take the weight of Liz's painful foot and get a beer, the walk was thirsty work. No hope of a seat but one of the sheds has a low wall we can take advantage of. In the midst of the crowd Liz sits, takes her shoes off and I give her a foot massage. Looking up we are sat right next to a large stainless steel tank full of the distillery's new venture - The Botanical gin.
Beers quaffed, foot relieved we can go and enjoy the entertainment. And it's good, Skipinish are a young vibrant Scottish folk band that play a mix of classics, their own material, a smattering of country and western and even a Mark Knopfler number. We buy a CD.
Beers quaffed, foot relieved we can go and enjoy the entertainment. And it's good, Skipinish are a young vibrant Scottish folk band that play a mix of classics, their own material, a smattering of country and western and even a Mark Knopfler number. We buy a CD.
Bruichladdich is an unusual distillery, known for doing things a little differently. For example their branding is based upon an "aqua" color which is definitely at odds with the more conservative branding of some other brands.
This branding even extends to colouring their bottles an opaque aqua colour. Most unusual. I believe they were privately owned until very recently when they were picked up by the Remy Martin cognac group. Also unusually for Islay, their whiskies are unpeated (as are Bunnahabhain's but the rest of the island has very peaty malts)
Back to the party, it's excellent! Skipinish are exactly the high energy Scottish band needed to get the crowd both dancing and singing, and lubricated by a dream and a beer or two we join them
Now we missed the auction, we were in the craft shed buying a small print. However I gather the last bottle sold (if, indeed, there was more than one bottle sold - we missed the auction remember) was a huge 4.5l bottle of the 1991 Yellow Submarine expression. It went for £2,500 I think. Imagine the crowd's surprise when another two bottles were produced. Not for auction but for sharing with the assembly! So we got to taste a £2,500 bottle of whisky (OK, so it was a huge bottle but pro rataing to a standard 70cl bottle and we are really still taking of about £300 a bottle). To be fair we watched carefully and made sure everyone who wanted to partake had done so and it was only folk going up for seconds before we joined them for a second sample ourselves
For some unknown reason Liz's foot didn't seem to hurt on the walk back!! But it was a long way and there were two (very packed) hotels in Port Charlotte. We needed to rest and spent and hour or so in the delightful company of Robert and Christine from Seattle who were on they way home after working for a while in Tokyo. Apparently going home the scenic route was as cheap as direct so they decided to add a few adventures en route.
A great party and a lovely day.
Sat - avec mois le deluge
Last night's choice of car park to overnight in was excellent. Despite being close to the train line it was quiet enough as few trains use the line. Wi-Fi was available via CalMac whose ferry terminal was just over the line or BT Fon. A decent night's sleep too.
Rather than brew up in the van we might as well indulge ourselves and go to Wetherspoons for breakfast. Yes I know it's a pub but they do a good breakfast cheap and their filter coffee is "bottomless cup" as our transatlantic cousins like to refer to free refills. It's only a couple of hundred yards and the rain has eased off to light (some very heavy downpours overnight). We sit down and I'm about to order when I realise that my wallet is back in the van. Now Liz could pay but yesterday I withdrew £200 from a hole in the wall so we had cash for next week. Not comfortable with that in the van,still it's only a little stroll, off I set in the light rain. Within 50m the rain has turned heavy which is just a passing phase on the way through to torrential. By the time I reach the van I am dripping. Dilemma, stay in the van until it passes over risking a cold breakfast, or head back. The decision was made for me when I saw how much water was coming off my raincoat into the van. No point in getting both me and the van interior damp so I hood up and set off back into the deluge.
The good news is that my Paramo jacket is completely waterproof. The bad news is that I wasn't wearing over trousers and my legs are soaked. Grasping my trouser thighs it is not difficult to wring out a steam of water. Not comfortable. So a waddle to the gents is called for and performing movements akin to an Apache rain dance (how totally inappropriate) I raise both thighs under the warming caresses of the hand drier. Repeat until the drier sulks from overuse and refuse to play any more, then try the next one. Wetherspoons you need more than 2 hand driers for these trouser drying moments!. Fortunately no one entered during this procedure, I fear my actions might have been attributed to severe incontinence!
We breakfasted, hunkered down in Wetherspoons until the rain abated, wandered the streets of Oban in the drizzle. Annoyingly I discovered W H Smiths did have a couple of copies of Para Handy on the shelves after all. Oh well, my eBay copies should be with David by now.
Oban is a nice neat little town, basically one long shopping street with all the through traffic funneled through it. They've added a marginally out of town complex with Aldi. Lidl and Tesco, just a couple of hundred metres out of the centre. Imagine what happens to all that traffic flow when the traffic lights to turn right into the supermarkets are not working. Yep, gridlock throughout the town. In addition, the entire pavement network is being redone so pedestrians are similarly inconvenienced, it's a mess! Fortunately our little haven of a car park is just out of the main flow on the ferry side of town so no problem for us! I did say it was a good choice!
High street shopping merely provided a whisky measuring cup (it seemed a good idea) and a book. The book being " Writing On The Road ", Sue Reid Sexton's tales of traveling Scotland (and France) in a tiny Romahome campervan. As a humble blogger there's nothing worse than someone else beating you to the publisher!
Supermarkets not only provided essential food restocks but also a foldable solar charger that will hang in the van windows and recharge phones etc. We've been looking for one for a while and Lidls turned up trumps.
It is interesting that I blog about the mundanity of shopping in Oban when we have a 4 hour long ferry trip to Islay (via Colonsay). But the crossing was unmemorable, apart from the television broadcasting the history of Hibernians winning the Scottish Cup and Crystal Palace being denied the English equivalent.
Arrival on Islay was latish. 8:30pm so a quick run across to a campsite. Lots of campers parked along the shoreline, so maybe we'll wild camp later in the week, but let's get our bearings first and go for the Pont Mor site.
Friday, 20 May 2016
Friday, this is the life
Back to the mainland (briefly) today, with the midday ferry to Oban. Nothing to report of the morning, just the usual routine of breaking camp: showers, empty the loo, ready the van, check for tyre damage after yesterday's "thump".
Let's just finish last night first. We wandered across the road from the campsite to the local and most excellent pub. Found the only reliable WiFi on the island and got taking with a couple of fellow travellers. They told us where a white tailed sea eagle eyrie was to be found (we just didn't have time this morning) and also that they'd seen an otter by the campsite the previous evening. A few minutes after they left one was back telling us that if we were quick we might catch a glimpse of the otter. So pints half downed we scurried out of the pub and across to quickly catch a distant glimpse of an otter playing about a hundred yards away.
Back to the pub to finish our beers. I got talking with one of the local locals. I wish we could have stayed, bought him a dram and heard tales of the isle. I'd already made a favourable impression by pronouncing " Islay" with a short A as in Africa rather than the long A as in Day. Apparently he had one American visitor seeking directions to "Ten-en-ay". Well I suppose IONA could be read that way!!
Oban was fine, but we have nothing to do for this afternoon and tomorrow morning. We walked the shops and bought nothing other than food and newspapers. The prime problem is tonight's accommodation. There is a campsite quite a way away, in town there is a free 24 hour car park but annoyingly it is height barriered. The adjacent lorry/motorhome park wants a tenner. I don't mind paying but we are car size and being penalised for our vertical space requirements. We hunt around and all the free parking seems to have" No overnight sleeping " covenants. We did find free parking at McCaig's Tower but it wasn't flat and was a bit out of town.
Eventually we found a private car park that was parking for the sadly closed bowling alley. £5 for 24 hours and no apparent caveats. So we park up and wander into town for a pint.
Eventually we found a private car park that was parking for the sadly closed bowling alley. £5 for 24 hours and no apparent caveats. So we park up and wander into town for a pint.
McCaig's Tower is interesting. A Victorian folly commissioned by a wealthy banker who realised that many of the masonry workers in the area struggled with no work throughout the winter months. So he commissioned his folly, only to be worked on during the winter. It's not a tower but a circular structure, a short of cross between amphitheatre and aqueduct. It commands a wonderful view over Oban town.
Currently sitting at a window table in Wetherspoons, stealing their electricity to recharge out phones and looking out across the bay. Nice way to spend an evening!
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