apathtosomewhere

Another cracking night’s sleep and woken at 7:30 with the fabulous news that England beat France 6-4 to get third place in the World Cup.

It’s overcast again, but not cold. We breakfast and manage to purchase 4 coffees instead of two. Hey ho. Then it starts to rain!!!!

We decided to head off and leave Lubben around 10am, following the A roads again. They are all very straight and wondered if there’s some Roman influence, but it’s a lovely route through woodlands. We are fascinated with the metal barriers protecting the trees on the roadside – sometimes just individual trees and the fabulous sign of a car hitting a tree and coming off worse!

The tunnel of trees give way to fields of sunflowers droopy under the heavy clouds, waiting for the sun to come out. Quite a few of the road side trees are clearly suffering with withered brown leaves – get the impression that it hasn’t rained for quite a while and the temperatures have been higher than normal. Sad to see.

We come up to Frankfurt (Oder), the last town in Germany before the border with Poland. There are hints of its communist past with apartment blocks dominating parts of the town, but it’s a nice city. We come up to the River Oder and cross into Poland as we cross the bridge. The remnants of the border control complex still stands, rusting and neglected, two police officers stood by their patrol car under the canopy as we passed. It’s so weird that we have travelled across four European countries and not once had to show our passports. As we’ve crossed into new countries, just a simple roadside blue sign with the EU stars signify this transition with the country’s name emblazoned across it and then you’re in a new country – it’s just like crossing county borders in England. It’s a weird concept, but an easy one!

We went through our first Polish town of Kostrzyn with a different currency (Poland didn’t sign up to the Euro) and a whole new language, but luckily similar road rules. Polish would fun to get the tongue round and within a few miles, just managed to learn “thank you”, thanks to Google Translate. This could be fun.

We followed the main road towards Stargard, wanting a break with coffee and a sandwich. This town seemed our best bet as there didn’t seem to be any lay-bys or picnic areas where we could munch our onboard supply of cheese. We found the cafe via Google Maps and after a quick U turn, we parked in a car park and waddled around. What Google failed to mention was it was a icecream parlour rather than a cafe, so we dejectedly went back to the Van and continued our journey north.

We were going to hit the coast, primarily to reward the Pupster for her perseverance with a beach. The route took us through lovely villages, pretty towns, woods and farmland, but remained resolutely flat. A few substantial hills would be good. Storks had made their nests high on poles which was fun to see. We pulled over briefly to raid the larder of a packet of biscuits to keep us going – it was Sunday and most places were shut so our options were limited.

Finally the coastal town of Mrzezyno loomed into view and we turned eastwards towards Dzwirzyno for a place to sleep – we hadn’t booked anything for tonight so had choices. We were on a long straight road with apartments and hotels in amongst the woodlands separating us from the sea which seemed quite nice, but then the further we went, it got busier with people and realised that it was heartland of all things touristy and garish. Amusement arcades, clothing shops, jewellery stalls, tourist gift shop tat, it had it all. The pavements were full of wandering tourists, young and old – it was like the worst of a British seaside town, but in woodland. This was not our scene and we carried on, hoping it would improve.

It was less frenetic the further we went, but we weren’t going to stay here. We pulled over to mull our options – we needed a campsite first – but with only biscuits as sustenance and driven for many hours, we weren’t in the mood for going round in circles. We did a quick google and found a potential place at Mielno some 18 miles further east. We would check that out and work from there.

Mielno was another busy tourist town, but seemed a bit more upmarket and less kiss me quick. We found Camping Mauritius down a quiet road and pulled in. It was very tiny and the guy who greeted us spoke hardly any English. We fumbled with Google Translate and then abandoned. Somehow we communicated our needs and somehow he obliged, though a woman appeared who spoke English and made things easier. We parked up, slightly cozily between a small caravan and large motorhome in a grassy car park opposite and made a cuppa.

We decided to eat at the Van and had a picnic of the cheese and other nibbles, very aware that the day hadn’t gone quite according to plan. The Pupster went off to say hello to our caravan neighbours (again neither of us spoke each other’s language but we got the message across). The Pupster could smell the sea air and was becoming impatient so we set off down the lane with other meandering tourists, to stretch our legs, popping out onto the main thoroughfare which was full of kebab shops, gift shops, arcades and anything else to amuse the passing visitor. Yuk! We quickly crossed the road down another side road and immediately, the atmosphere changed. It was less busy, much more pleasant and refined and at the bottom was the beach! We checked to see if any other dogs were there, but seeing none and unable to ascertain from the information boards, we walked down to the quieter end of the town, where we spotted hounds on the waters edge and went to join them. The Pupster went mad, not quite believing that she was here, doing zoomies as far as her extendable lead would allow. We walked along the surf, The Pupster running in and out of the waves. It was lovely to see her enjoying herself and so happy – she had spent so much time in the Van and she appreciates a very nice beach.

After a while, we retraced our steps as our phones pinged warnings of thunderstorms. We wandered back to the Van and decided to watch last night’s football match with a glass of beer. With the night drawing in, we started to shut the Van down, noticing some quite towering and threatening clouds to the west. Were these the storms heading our way. It could be an interesting night.

I ended up on the upstairs platform in the campervan as both hubby and hound crashed out and there was no space for me. It was okay really, but not going to make a habit of it.

We decided to hit the road early so skipped breakfast. We would find a cafe somewhere for an infusion of coffee and a breakfast bun. The day was overcast but warm as we headed down the back lanes from the campsite. After the monotony of yesterday’s epic motorway run, we decided we would do the nicer A roads and if necessary jump onto autobahns if we were running out of time. Another long drive of nearly 300 miles. Our lovely Dutch neighbours came over as they were leaving and shook our hands, wishing us safe journeys. Such a lovely couple.

We drove through woodland and reached a junction. To the right was a barrier and lots of signs – we soon realised that it was a military training area. We half expected a tank to appear out of the trees, but another car appeared and allayed any fears that we had accidentally trespassed onto army manoeuvres! The severe military signs melted away and the wooded area became woodland for walks and other outdoor facilities. It turned from Catterick to Clumber Park within half a mile!

The countryside turned into rolling farmland with huge woods interspersed. It reminded us of the Hambleton Hills, east of York with the red pantile roofs. It was very scenic and so much better than yesterday.

We came across an Aldi and I went inside for provisions. Bit flustered as a) we don’t shop in big supermarkets b) didn’t know where everything was and c) it was a lot of German products! Grabbed snacky tea items and some food and treats for Pupster and escaped. We wouldn’t starve now. We carried on – we still needed that breakfast and coffee, despite wolfing down one of those double packaged chocolate brioche bun things. Google found a potential place in Bad Gandersheim, just off the main road and we headed there and parked up. The first cafe looked nice, but flies buzzed in the chill counters, so we went across the road where there were tables and chairs on the pavement. The waiter approached me and spoke in German. I mangled his language, but we agreed between us that we required 2 coffees for starters. Hubby had gone inside and was negotiating two slices of creamy cake. We sat down outside and good job we were sitting – these slices, no they were more like slabs, were enormous, topped with cream and sauce. It was now 11:30 and we wouldn’t need feeding for the rest of the day!

We waddled back to the van and continued our journey east, through little villages and towns, past woodlands, hayfields and tree lined roads – it reminded us of the Canal Du Midi in France. Then it changed to huge industrial fields of wheat and corn stretching like a sun scorched plain.

By now the sun had come out and it warmed up considerably. The villages and towns were typically German, tidy and very pleasant. There were a few ancient buildings looking rather dishevelled and need of some TLC, but it was a lovely relaxing drive. What we did notice was that there was not a soul about – the shops seemed shut and if you saw one person, that warranted a comment. Where was everybody? It seemed that we were the only humans around – had there be an apocalyptic event that we weren’t aware of?

We decided to jump on the motorway at this point and headed east towards Berlin. It didn’t seem so busy and crazy like yesterday and no hold ups! We admired the huge amount of graffiti that adorned anything that didn’t move – mainly roadside fencing and bridges. Some of the artwork was daubed on the most inaccessible spots possible and we wondered how the artists achieved their mission.

We were soon coming into the town of Lubben where we pulled into another Lidl as I had forgotten to get wine and beer this morning before finding the Knaus camping ground and checked in at 5pm. We quickly set up between two trees which offered shade, just across the way from the main reception. We relaxed for a while and then headed off to town via the little bridge spanning the river and past the marina area which was delightful. Within 10 minutes we were in the centre deciding where to eat. We chose a lovely little restaurant by the Town Hall and opposite a square rather than the pizza place where live music was being played across the way. We initially sat inside, but it got quite warm and ended up on an outside table, which was perfect. We ordered tapas and drinks and enjoyed the evening warmth. An insistent wasp and his mate kept buzzing around which was slightly annoying, but it was lovely food and I practiced my German on the poor waitress – she kindly spoke English, thank goodness! Again ChatGPT and Google Translate helped with the menu – point the camera and the German melted into English. Fabulous!

The Pupster made friends on both tables on either side of us before lying down and enjoying the cool air. Later she played in the little fountain. We strolled back to the campsite where a singer was performing near the reception, so we sat in the van and listened to him entertaining the clientele of the Bistro. Mainly German songs, but very nice easy listening. As night fell, we realised that we could be in quite a noisy spot – a kiddie playground behind us and the main thoroughfare, but the kids went back to their respective tents/campers and the place settled down for the night.

Another fabulous day. Tomorrow we slip over the border to Poland and hopefully a beach for our very patient pup.

Slept like a log despite the Pupster hogging most of the bed. Woke up at 6:30, but laid in for another hour.

We got up to bright sunshine, showered and decided to walk back into town for breakfast. Found a different route to avoid the roadworks of last night, but still popped out by the river. So much easier.

We found a cafe overlooking the square, almost opposite to the restaurant we ate at last night and ordered breakfast and coffees. The square was full of parked cars with other vehicles circling the periphery including lots of bikes being ridden by everyone from young kids, teenagers, ladies in dresses, families and elderly people. It was fabulous to see so many people on bikes, joining the cars, vans and buses in the seemingly organised chaos of the town square traffic.

From our vantage point, we could also study the beautiful buildings and architecture, wondering how old it all was, considering it was one of the central battlefields of the World War One. After a bit of Googling, we discovered that Ieper was basically flattened during the First World War and then rebuilt within 10 years, exactly as it was before the hostilities. Everything was replicated including the intricate stone carvings, plaques, towers of the original medieval town. How amazing is that? It was stunning and anyone not knowing the history, would have thought it was just very well preserved. It wouldn’t happen today.

https://www.discoveringbelgium.com/the-reconstruction-of-ypres/

We waddled back to the campsite after finding yet another route through the woods, packed the van and hit the motorway towards Germany under the mistaken belief that it would be quicker ……….

We had 300 miles to cover through Belgium, the Netherlands and Germany, across a fairly flat landscape with corridors of industry with new modern buildings. Agriculture passed over to woodlands and back to fields as we skirted big cities, only to get caught up traffic queues around their ring roads – it must of added up to over an hour of lost time. The outside temperature hit 29 degrees.

The German autobahn proved interesting as we hurtled along at 70mph and felt that we were doing 40 as German motorists shot past us. We noted that with all the long delays we had encountered today, not one involved a collision which seemed amazing – it was just either roadworks or sheer volume of traffic.

After 6 hours of driving we were glad to find Campingplatz am Furlbach, get checked in and make a strong cup of Yorkshire tea. Think we were the only British vehicle there and with every sign written in German only, figured that Brits rarely visited. My appalling classroom German went completely AWOL so we either asked ChatGPT or used Google Translate to work out all the signs. I did manage a “Danke” and said good day instead of goodbye but felt accomplished. Thanks to Google, I also refreshed or learnt a few more basic words and phrases. It’s pretty shameful really, but thank goodness for technology!

Our plan today, as of yesterday too, was to stop at a supermarket before we arrived at the campsites and get some food in. Alas, we failed yet again to visit such a place and today relied on the few packets of crisps and biscuits we had on board. Tonight’s campsite did have a tiny shop and I came out feeling flushed having supplemented our meagre rations with two bottles of beer and a packet of plastic cheese.

We set up the van, met the couple next door from the Netherlands who were heading to Italy and settled down outside to eat the cheese. Afterward we walked the Pupster around the campsite and to have a nose. It was quite a big campsite with the pitches around the periphery having private enclosed areas which some had turned into proper little gardens. It seemed one of those places that catered for long term residents as well as tourers.

We returned to the reception area where on the large grassed area, there seemed a congregation of people listening to a speaker. They had food and drink laid on too. It was intriguing and we wanted to find out more, but my splattering of German wouldn’t stretch that far and we might be signed up for some organisation. We smiled and returned to our campervan, happy to listen to the person playing the accordion.

We sat outside until we felt a bit of rain which in turn, turned into an unexpected shower lasting a good 30 minutes. We retreated indoors and had to close the door as the rain was coming in (we couldn’t be bothered with our awning).

So we prepared for bed. The Pupster has been brilliant. She’s always been a great traveller, but at nearly 3 (hardly a pup I know) she just sleeps on her mat between us and barely moves. She’s now slept through 4 countries and Le Shuttle……..

Sorry there’s not many photos – motorway driving isn’t really conducive for such activity.

This sudden and totally spontaneous trip to Poland started off innocently enough in early June as we said goodbye to our Polish friends in Spain after staying with them for a week. Heading back to their homeland, they mentioned they needed to build a garage and an off the cuff remark of “we can come over and help” turned into a two week road trip to Lodz.

So on one warm Thursday morning in July we left home at 5am and headed to the M6, hoping to beat the morning rush hour around Manchester. The Pupster settled between the front seats and basically stayed there all day. Overall it was a good journey – M6, M1, M25 until we were approaching the Dartford Crossing and then we slithered to a halt and crawled glacially towards the bridge. It sounded by the radio traffic reports, that the whole area around the M25 was gridlocked and any thoughts of a sneaky detour were futile so we gritted our teeth and hung on in there.

It must of been a good 40 minutes before we were able to engage 3rd gear and we hurtled across the bridge to the M20, onwards to Folkestone and Le Shuttle. We were greeted by huge signs “Welcome to Le Shuttle” before stopping at a kiosk and being checked in by a member of staff who then declared that we needed to take Pupster to the Pet Reception and pointed vaguely in the distance.We didn’t really have a clue where to go and tentatively followed lanes lined with cones (hoping we were heading in the right direction) until we were ushered by staff to carry on and finally parked in a broad area of tarmac with several other campervans, motor homes and caravans.

We grabbed the Pupster and followed the signs to the Pet Reception, hoping the £100 plus piece of paper that acted as her passport was all present and correct. After a quick microchip scan, she was checked in and ready to hit France. We hit the Passenger Terminal for a well deserved coffee and headed back to the van to munch our previously purchased sarnies from one of our stops at the motorway services, enjoying the hot sun and fresh breeze. There was a large board announcing departures and when to go to border control so we kept an eye on that. Our 15:30 train had already been delayed by 40 minutes (like all the other trains that day) when Le Shuttle announced that they had “unexpectedly lost a number of their trains” (careless of them) which we found hilarious and quite mind boggling! The electronic announcement board inched closer to our number and we hoped to see “Go to Border Control” very soon. Sadly instead, we got “wait 23 minutes to be updated” and when that time was up, a further 15 minutes. This was getting rather frustrating. Then imagine our dismay, when our departure time was changed to 18:30! Despondent and desperate for the loo, we wandered back to the Passenger Terminal and finding it cool and air conditioned, decided to sit it out there. We hadn’t been there 10 minutes, when we were called to go to border control. Not quite believing it, we trotted back to the van, and meandered along with other vehicles around various roads until we hit another row of kiosks and our passports checked! Now this was more like it! Our next hurdle was the French customs about 100 yards beyond, but we were diverted to a shed on the side together with a Discovery and a Volvo. Oh no, hope this wasn’t going to be a full “empty the van” search, but all they did was waft a wand over our steering wheel and to check our gas was off (couldn’t check the actual bottle as they had parked the Discovery two inches off our back door) so we turned on the hob and burnt off the residue gas and that apparently satisfied them.

Finally we rejoined the queue for the French customs and then followed the signs for “Large Vehicles” as instructed. Another labyrinth of lanes, another kiosk and finally first in the queue in Lane 14 where a red traffic light halted us. We reckoned we had more than an hour to wait so we flung the doors open until we noticed the traffic light had turned green. Yikes! Back into the van, follow the coned lanes and we suddenly found ourselves on the platform for the Le Shuttle. We couldn’t quite believe it. After a short wait, we were ushered on, drove to the bottom of the carriage, parked, wound the windows down and breathed a sigh of relief. It was 5pm. Somehow we were late, but earlier than expected.

Le Shuttle is quite shabby really. Grubby and tired and losing trains unexpectedly, but it did its job and soon we were back in daylight in Calais. Easily escaped the terminal and began to follow the satnav to our campsite in Ypres. For some reason we had told the satnav not to take motorways, so we had a rather scenic route through some very agricultural landscapes with acres of harvested corn fields, sweetcorn and other crops interspersed with pretty villages – it was like driving through Suffolk – which was lovely, but a bit time consuming.

We arrived at the Urban Garden campsite in Ieper at 8:30pm and promptly made a cup of tea. A quick check out of the site – which was full of British vehicles – and we were soon recommended to walk to the town centre some 12 minutes walk away. We all needed to stretch our legs so we followed a woodland path that came to a road which in turn was cordoned off for roadworks. A British couple had sneaked across by slipping through the railings surrounding the works and we snucked across too. We walked along the river until we reached the magnificent Menin Gate, a memorial for over 54,000 men killed during World War One. It was quite thought provoking to look at the names and the sheer number of them. It sent a shiver down the spine.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Menin_Gate

We walked through the Gate and down the beautiful main thoroughfare before it opened up into a fabulous square, surrounded by the most amazing architecture. It was stunning. We found a lovely restaurant with a terrace and settled down for a celebratory drink and some food. Being slightly overwhelmed with our day, we failed to realise that it was 9:50pm and the menu stated that last food orders were 9:30pm. But the wonderful waiter checked with the kitchen and gave us the full menu. We chose a quick snack as it was so late and felt a tad guilty. The waiter struck up conversation with us through the Pupster and managed to end up talking about Ypres war history and his 20 year old grandfather fighting, getting captured twice and escaping twice, the second time with success and ending up in England. We even got a photo of the young man. It was fascinating.

We said our goodbyes and waddled back to Van in the dark and basically crashed.

At home, with fail, The Pup wakes us up by whimpering and pacing around 6am. She’s a Labrador and therefore starving. If we’re not quick enough, we get booped by a wet nose until our resolve gives in and we head off to make her breakfast. However, in the campervan, she sleeps in. No desperation for food or relieving herself. I awoke at 6am to find her curled up under the duvet and half expected her to start her list of demands. But no – it was gone 9am before she started to fidget and we finally got up.

It’s quite cold in the van so the heater went on. Outside it’s eerily misty with the sun unable to poke through and a heavy dew dripping from the awning. We did our ablutions, tidied up, washed our breakfast things and decided to go for a walk. The mist has lifted, but it’s still very hazy – though strangely warmer than the conditions suggest. We decided to walk into Leyburn and followed a couple of hikers dressed in thick coats, woolly hats and gloves. I’ve just got a thick jumper and my gilet on and feeling hot. Am I going to regret this?

It’s a pleasant walk through fields to town and we had a quick walk around though it’s Sunday and lots of the shops are shut. We walked past the pet shop with a bowl of drinking water and a brimful pot of doggy biscuits outside. The Pup does have manners and delicately helped herself to one little gravy bone though she would have had more. I just images of a large dog just inhaling the lot in one go as it passed. Lovely idea though.

We wandered out to the edge of town before turning right through a modern housing estate before being burped out into countryside again. There were really no outstanding views with the misty conditions, but it was warm. We dropped down into the village of Harmby again and walked past a little sign marked “waterfall”. Hidden behind housing and just off the road was a little glen/steep valley with a cascading waterfall at one end. Without the little sign, you wouldn’t know it was there. It fed a little beck that tumbled down the hill surrounded by tall trees – a beautiful little gem of a place. We followed the dirt path and found ourselves in a little estate of bungalows shortly after. We trotted down to the main road and picked up our footpath that cuts across from Harmby to our little camping site.

Once back, The Pup retired to her dog bed outside and watched blackbirds looking for worms. The birds were in full flow with their singing again and it was so peaceful. We chilled with a cuppa before making some lunch. Afterwards we sat inside the van with the side door open as it was a bit cool and the sky seemed to darken one minute and lighten up the next. A really weird day.

It was soon time to break camp and pack away which was done fairly leisurely. Richard walked past and explained that it was so cold last night that there was ice in his water pipes at 6:30 that morning. Blimey! Just love British weather! We said our goodbyes and headed back along Wensleydale, a wide broad dale with the River Ure running through its valley bottom. Through little villages – West Witton, Aysgarth, Bainbridge and Hawes before climbing out of Wensleydale and over the tops to Ingleton. The weather was still undecided – looking decidedly black as if it was about to storm to seeng the sun briefly puncture a hole through the foreboding clouds. Weird. We arrived home, and settled down for the evening, thoroughly refreshed and relaxed. Just perfect.

With good weather forecast over the weekend, I decided to head to Leyburn with The Pup for a couple of days camping – the first of 2026.

So we headed off early and with only just over an hour to travel in the trusted campervan, we soon found ourselves in Leyburn, a pretty Yorkshire Dales town on the east side of the Pennines. I parked up and went to the local Co-Op for some provisions and then some cheese straws from Thomas the Baker – it’s almost a law in our family to purchase cheese straws! The Pup and I then drove about a mile from Leyburn to Craken House Caravan Site, a small, family run, adult only place which we stumbled across a few years ago. Since then we’ve made sporadic visits, but it’s great for a quick getaway.

https://www.crakenhousecaravansite.co.uk/

We rocked up and were met by Richard the guy who owns it. He’s very gregarious and friendly and greeted me like an old mate. He put us in a fabulous little sunny corner with a lovely view of Wensleydale. We happily nested, happy to be in the campervan again after weeks of wet miserable weather. After a cuppa and a quick rest, we headed off for a walk after I had changed into shorts! Yes it was that lovely! It was 21st March – so we’re making the most of this glorious weather (this could be our summer). So we waddled down through fields of sheep and lambs, following a route off the Ordnance Survey app on the phone. Just a quick circular one (see map below) – we came to the local water treatment works and followed a lane to open fields where lambs basked in the sunshine or gambolled with their friends. Crossing a little bridge across a beck which was muddy and slippery both ends. (The Pup watched indifferently as I negotiated this treacherous patch with a few minor yelps and a couple of “urghs” as my foot slithered into the goo). We then found a track leading to the little adjacent village of Harmby, peaceful and sleepy before peeling off across the fields again to our little campsite. It was beautiful – gambolling lambs, daffodils swaying in the sunshine and hawthorn budding in that glorious lime green of spring. In the distance, motorbikes could be heard as their owners opened up their throttles and sped along country lanes.

The Pup and I arrived back at base and listened to the cacophony of birdsong – I found my Merlin app which identifies birds by their singing – blackbirds, wrens, robins, chaffinches , pigeons, blue tits, chiff chaffs – it was beautiful. I made a quick lunch and while The Pup had 40 winks, I relaxed and soaked up the sun and wrote this blog. There are several long stay caravans in our field, but nobody was visiting – just another motorhome down the field with its occupants out cycling. This was ours!

With the sun starting to set and the temperatures dropping, we headed inside after a couple of wanders around the site. We had tea and then set up the bed as it darkened outside. Warm and cosy, I listened to a podcast and woke up some 2 hours later, having missed the majority of the podcast – doh! Had a cuppa and with The Pup snuggling up with me on the bed, we fell asleep.

Guess what – yes it’s raining!

We hatched a plan to end up at Malin Head tonight as it’s the most northerly point of Ireland and in between, investigate the Rosguill and Fanad headlands. We left Creeslough and meandered to Carrickart, along some very pretty countryside.

At Carrickart, we headed onto Rosguill, following the WAW signs which were also part of a designated scenic tour. We stopped at Rosann beach, a beautiful sweep of sand where The Pup met a collie and they chased each other – saves walking them. The clouds were dark and angry on the horizon and as we got back to the Van, it started to spit. We carried on- the landscape was stunning. In fact, I couldn’t keep up with the note taking, it changed so much. Just majestic coastal mountains, craggy outcrops and delightful little valleys.

We headed back to Carrickart and was going to continue down toward Milford, but the WAW signs took us east and over a bridge that connected Rosguill to Fanad which was a bit of a bonus. That saved us a considerable amount of time and mileage of going all the way down to Milford and back up again!

So we toured around Fanad, heading to the lighthouse, still being flabbergasted by the landscape. Donegal is amazing. We arrived at the lighthouse, just as the heavens opened so dashed into the little cafe and visitor centre and had lunch, which was lovely from a little eatery. We looked at the little gift shop as it was still pelting down and when there was a slight window of drizzle, we scampered back to the van.

There were puddles everywhere from the downpour along the little roads. We trundled along the little back roads, cursing as yet another car came up behind us. This was getting a bit of an annoying trend, so it seemed – we could be on normal main roads and have nobody behind us for miles but as soon as we got on the remotest backwater of a lane, a car would appear in our rear view mirror. It was uncanny. As we go fairly slowly, we don’t like holding people up, so we indicate and pull over to let them pass. It seems a new concept for the Irish driver as they have a tendency to hesitate, wondering what we’re up to, before gingerly passing us.

The scenery on these headlands are just jaw dropping and at every corner, there’s another fabulous surprise! Ballymaststocker viewpoint was no exception – half way up a craggy hill just beyond a couple of hairpins, the view was amazing – overlooking sandy bays, the distant headlands, Carrickart in the background – it was one huge amazing vista.

We headed down the lovely east coast of the headland through Rathmullan and Ramelton, two small delightful towns and onto Letterkenny, where the heavens seriously opened up – so hard that we were on double wash wipe with the windscreen wipers. It had eased off as we skirted the edge of Letterkenny – full of roundabouts, traffic lights, commuter traffic and queues. It’s always a bit of a shock to the system touching a large town or city.

We headed back up towards Buncrana, stopping along the way for fuel. As hubby was going to open the fuel cap, a staff member appeared out of the blue and took over the responsibility of filling up the van! Blimey, that hasn’t happened for many years, a petrol station attendant! It was a bit weird to just stand there and let someone fill your car up!

We went through Buncrana, picking up the WAW up to Fort Dunree, perched on its rocky promontory and built for the Napoleonic Wars. Then the long straight climb up the Mamore Gap, where the holy well of Saint Eigne is found and is one of Ireland’s “magic roads” – an optical illusion whereby a stationary car appears to roll up hill. As we were the only ones up there, we were unable to verify the theory. The view on the other side was far reaching and spectacular as we trundled back down.

We tracked down the possible campsite down a plethora of back lanes to find a long line of elderly caravans greeting us which sort of put us off and then we found out that dogs weren’t allowed. Well, that solved that problem, but created another in the fact that there seemed to be no alternatives. On the way up to Malin Head, we were frantically googling and not getting very far.

It was howling a hoolie at Malin Head, an extremely exposed piece of headland with a signal tower. There are many old stone signal stations along the Wild Atlantic Way, built between 1804 – 1806 in preparation of a possible Napoleonic invasion which never happened in the end. Each station is spaced so they can see each other and signaled by using a flag system. The one at Malin Head had been rendered which was now falling off, so it had a rather neglected, if not brutalist look about it.

https://www.irishtimes.com/news/environment/ireland-s-napoleonic-era-signal-towers-1.1253929

We fought to get out of the van with the wind and had a wander around, taking photos to prove we were there. A band of rain was coming across the bay, so we went to the little coffee trailer and ordered coffee and cake from the young girl sheltering there. There were a few brave souls braving the weather, wandering on the headland, but we retreated back to the Van to consume our most northerly Irish cup of coffee and our most northerly Irish piece of cake before heading off.

During our earlier wander we had also spotted “Eire 71” on a prominent piece of grassland, created from large white washed stones. We had seen two or three on our travels and we had learnt that they were a WWII navigational tool, mainly to let aircraft know that they were approaching neutral Eire and whereabouts they were. Apparently there’s not many about, but this one look in good condition.

https://coastmonkey.ie/eire-signs/

With the weather closing in, we had no option than to go to the nearby Farren’s Bar for a most northerly Irish pint of Guinness in the most northerly Irish pub as we had celebrated this moment in the south and west. It was a convivial place to scratch our heads for our campsite conundrum. As we were leaving, one of the pub guys started up a conversation while scratching The Pup’s ears and suggested we should go to Kinnagoe Bay, down the coast and go off grid. So we did. We dropped down a steep road onto a tarmacked parking area which overlooked the most amazing bay, surrounded by tall grassy cliffs and a sweep of sand. It was perfect. There was one other car, the owner letting his dog have a run on the beach and so Hubby and The Pup went to join them. Another car arrived, but after a few photos, they disappeared again.

Then we were all alone, just us and the gannets, diving into the sea for their tea, in one of the loveliest spots you could find. We were totally self sufficient, The Pup could be off lead and it was just perfect ending for our last night on the Wild Atlantic Way. We fell asleep with the gentle sounds of waves crashing on the beach and felt very happy.

I liked this campsite – you got a private bathroom. A whole room with toilet, basin and shower together and it’s all yours while you use it! No separate shower cubicle, no trying to wash and keep your dignity when people keep walking in. No abandoning of belongings while you nip to the loo. All contained in one space. Call me a prude, but I rejoice when I find this kind of arrangement. Hubby just thinks I’m weird.

It’s broken sunshine today, but there’s dark rainclouds appearing over the hill – big, black and angry and one of them spilled its wrath upon us making us dive for cover and shut the van doors until it passed. It just hammered down for about ten minutes and then the sun came out again. The angry cloud was last seen sitting and disgorging its contents on a local mountain,

We waddled to the Ti Linn cafe and gift shop next door for breakfast – Ireland doesn’t seem to do a veggie full breakfast, so I settled with avocado on toast which was very nice. We were the only ones in – The Pup stayed in the van for a lie in and afterwards we had a quick wander around the gift shop, baulking at the prices of the jumpers.

Our first point of call today was Malin Beg, the furthest west you can go in Donegal. We arrived at a large parking area which overlooked a fabulous beach, far below. It can be reached by negotiating a several flights of steps and it’s well worth the effort. Once again, beautiful soft sand leading to a clear sea with gentle waves surrounded by tall cliffs. It was just magical especially in the sun. We stayed for quite a while, with The Pup wragging seaweed (we forgot her ball) and having a whale of a time, before steadily ascending the stone steps. That’s worked off breakfast.

We jumped into the van and headed vaguely north, past tall majestic cliffs on the coast – before veering in slightly inland, first to the little village of Glencolumbkille nestled in the rolling coastal hills before snaking across to Glengesh. The landscape was changing again as we headed across the countryside – upland moorland, mountains, peatlands, crags. Donegal was the most dramatic of all the counties we had visited on our trip. Constantly changing and so awe inspiring. The road took us up high, across an empty landscape until we summited and the valley opened up before us. Glengesh is a fantastic viewpoint looking down the valley towards Ardara. We pulled into the little parking area and found, to our delight, one of those little coffee huts (they seem to be quite popular at these viewpoints). Perfect timing – coffee and cake while soaking in this splendid view.

The road snaked its way down towards Ardara, a pleasant little town and we followed the Wild Atlantic Way up towards Maas, taking a slight detour down towards Naran and Portnoo. We just had a quick nose and turned around – we like our small empty beach coves too much.

We headed to Dunglow, realising that we didn’t have much of an itinerary today and seemed to just be driving for the sake of it. I wanted to check out the sea stack at Crohy Head, so drove up to Dunglow as we missed the first turning and followed a narrow lane to Maghery, small community towards the end of the headland and onto Crohy Head where the road hugged the coastline. We were expecting a little parking area as it was mentioned in one of the guide books, but there was nothing, not even any signage. We peered down towards the sea, hoping to catch a glimpse, but to no avail. We retraced our steps, thinking we would see it on the way back, but again hidden from view. So we stopped and Google mapped it – thank goodness for technology as it highlighted the stack and we zoomed in on its precise location. Finally, after passing a fantastic Grand Designs house buried into the earth like a Hobbit dwelling about four times (we must of started looking suspicious) we stopped in a little lay-by/passing place behind a car who’s owner was having a nap. Grabbing The Pup for a bit of fresh air, I finally saw the sea stack! But how did anyone to get down to see it better? Eventually we spotted a path line in the grass in a field, which lead down to the edge of the cliff, but there was no signs to say whether you could go down or not. It was quite steep too. I ummed and aared before deciding not to go – it’s suppose to be the most photographed stack, but I wouldn’t get a great shot where I was. So we headed back to the car and decided to concentrate on finding somewhere to stay.

Ever since we arrived in Ireland, we have spotted county flags flying everywhere, mainly in private gardens. All the Irish counties have their own county flag – a bit like Cornwall or Northumbria and Donegal was no exception. Each county has its own colour and the flags can be chequered or have the county emblem emblazoned on them. It’s quite a splendid sight.

Dunglow had a site in the centre of town, which we noted, but a quick Google revealed a place called Sleepy Hollows campsite near Crolly about 12km from Dunglow. It also had Leo’s Tavern just down the road, famous for being known as the home of music artists Clannad, Enya and Moya Brennan, and most nights had live music. This sounded perfect and we found both easily. However, Sleepy Hollows was full – the first time we had failed to secure a pitch! That was rather disappointing to say the least. The lovely owner told us we could park overnight in Leo’s car park if we asked nicely otherwise the nearest campsite he knew of was a good 45 minutes away. The day was going slightly pear shaped at this point, so we drove back down the road slowly, contemplating our next move when we came across some little camping pods. An idea struck us – why not stay in one of those tonight? Then we could go to Leo’s after all! So we found the phone number and gave them a call. Yes they had space – yippee, but dogs weren’t allowed, but we could try Leo’s car park…….

Leo’s car park was okay, but it was a pub car park at the end of the day. We were in a slight pickle now, but hubby found another possibility in a place called Creeslough, in north Donegal. So we plumbed in the town and followed the satnav to Gweedore, turning east. We were abandoning the Wild Atlantic Way, lopping off the northwest bit of Donegal as we followed the R251 which was a bit annoying, but oh my goodness, what a fabulous route! It took us into the Derry Veagh Mountains, passing an impressive quartzite eminence called An Earagail (Errigal mountain) all 752m of it as well as other summits. It was absolutely stunning and actually a pleasant change of scenery to the coastal routes – sometimes it’s great to go off piste – you never know what you will come across! The satnav took us down some little back country roads before burping us out in the town of Creeslough and we quickly found the Wild Atlantic Campsite – an unusual place in its set up, as it seemed rather open and public – more of a community area than a campsite. There was wine bar/cafe, launderette and pizza place by the entrance, then the reception surrounded by a play and games area which the local children used, a small amusement arcade which seemed open to anybody, various holiday accommodation in the shape of villas and pods and then motorhome pitches. We were getting too tired to travel further and it looked fine, just a bit different to all the other sites we had stayed at. There were quite a few other campers already set up, so we booked in and was allocated a pitch over looking a large grassy area. Anyway it had a pizza shop which solved our dilemma with what to have for tea (again we had been useless at getting in supplies – at one point, tea would of been a hodge podge of what we could find in the fridge).

We wandered up later to get the pizzas and was going to check out the pods and villas, all lined up in a semi circle, while we waited for the pizza to cook. They looked quite attractive, but were sat right next door to each other and as they were quite modern with floor to ceiling glass windows, there seemed a lack of privacy. There was no hedges or fencing separating them – they would look fabulous in a Centreparc type setting. This whole site looked pretty new, so perhaps things were ongoing. We were going to press our noses up against the empty ones to have a look inside, but a stern notice about “No Dogs in this area” made us change tact and we sat on the verandah of the cafe, sunning ourselves which was very pleasant.

We waddled back with our pizza boxes and sat in the van to eat them. The wind was quite cool and then relaxed, planning what we would do with the last two days of our Irish adventure. The end was rushing up too soon, but it seemed weeks ago when we first set foot on this wonderful island. We decided to stay at Malin Head, the most northerly point of Ireland and toast it with a pint like we had done with the south and west and on Friday, follow the WAW to its end in Londonderry and a quick dash to Belfast ready for the ferry on Saturday morning.

What a difference twelve hours make – the day dawns with bright sunshine and blue sky.

We skip breakfast and head to the gorgeous wide sandy beach of Rossnowlagh, primarily to give The Pup a big reward after being cooped up all day yesterday. She just loves the beach and she got a good workout as we walked quite a way to the other end to find a coffee. Armed with two steaming cups, we headed back to the beach, found a suitable rock and watched the surf school set up.

We wandered back to the campsite along the beach again – there seems a lot of stranded jellyfish here. There’s also quite a few surfers riding the waves too and you get the impression that it’s a surfers hotspot.

It’s 11.45 before we hit the road and weaved out of Rossnowlagh. Despite a couple of large static caravan sites and a windblown seaside vibe about it, there’s quite a lot of new builds going up, but built with sensitivity and with character and charm. They are quite smart houses. We pondered why the sudden surge in building here – it’s only 45 minutes from Sligo so is it becoming a small commuter community or are the static owners upgrading to bricks and mortar and making Rossnowlagh their permanent home?

We headed to Donegal for lunch and parked in the riverside car park where we had to pay the princely sum of 70c for two hours parking! Whatever next! We wandered into town within minutes, hoping to find a recommended bakery, but discovered it was closed. So we hunted down the second recommendation, the Old Castle restaurant, a beautiful stone building by the church and castle and enjoyed a seafood lunch outside. Afterwards we walked back to the van admiring Donegal for being very pleasant and having a lovely feel about it.

We had a plan to head to Killybegs and beyond and so followed the main R263. From this road we could see across to yesterday’s mountains, now free from cloud and rain. They looked very majestic and we were sorry to have missed all their glory – further in the distance, we could also see the Ox mountains and the Mayo coastline. We soon arrived at Killybegs and discovered that it was a huge fishing port with many sea trawlers tied up at dock with other associated industries that supported the fishing surrounding the dock area – fish processing plants, boat repairs, haulage and warehousing amongst others.

As fascinating as the scene was, we decided to continue on, stopping and having a coffee at Largy viewpoint, which gave us a panoramic 180 degree view of Donegal Bay, the mountains and County Mayo. In the sunshine it was truly stunning. We travelled a little further, a road sign invited us to take a lower back road to Muckros Head and the little village of Kilcar. With the Slieve Mountains in the background, the scenery here was probably the best and prettiest we had seen yet. Pretty bays and estuaries, lush green countryside with houses nestling in the hills, coastal fields running down to the sea, tiny hidden sandy coves – it had the lot.

We came up to the village of Carrick and followed the signs for Slieve League mountain which was an apparent must to visit. We ended up at the Visitor Centre as we were unable to get the viewpoint by car. Visitors could either walk there (2 miles and all up hill) or take the regular shuttle bus at 8 euros return each. We voted for the bus and fell in conversation with the English driver as we were his only passengers. The visitor centre information sheet told us the last bus back was 5.10pm but our kindly driver informed us that his last run would be 5.50pm. We double checked with him again as we disembarked and went off to admire the Slieve League cliffs and mountains.

The cliffs are better than the Cliffs of Moher, being as tall as the Eiffel Tower and plunging straight into the sea. The views were stunning and we walked up the stone steps to see if we could see into the Bay of Donegal. People were even higher, reaching the ridge and walking along. It was so beautiful and our day was made, as we came back down, spotting dolphins playing in the water – there was at least twelve of them, swimming in a group. Amazing and we watched them for many minutes. We sauntered down to where the buses picked people up and waited. There was a large Indian family too. A shuttle bus pulled up, but it transpired that it was a rival company, but we asked if our bus was coming. “Oh yes” came the reply, seconded by a private coach driver. 5.50pm came and went, but we were reassured again by the shuttle driver as he disappeared down the road. By 6.05pm, with no way of contacting the visitor centre, the Indian family set off to walk back while we remained optimistic. However when the icecream vendor told us that the last bus went ages ago, we had no option but to follow the Indian family as well down the sliver of tarmac.

It was a 2 mile walk, mercifully downhill, but at least 50 minutes! It was actually a very pleasant walk as we had chance to peer down to the sea and the little inlets as well as admire the long distance views. We overtook the Indian family with ease – we felt sorry for them as they had several young kids in tow. Thank goodness it was a lovely warm evening with the sun high in the sky still. It was to nice to actually stretch the legs to be honest. By sheer luck, there was a campsite right next to the visitor centre saving us having the stress to hunt down a campsite gone 7pm and it was our first point of call as we arrived. The Pup worked on the chap in charge and we checked in, left to choose our own spot, which was a sunny corner. The chap told us that the visitor centre had a habit of getting a tractor to tow vehicles away after a certain hour and put up barriers to stop overnight parking. That’s all we needed so we retrieved the van quickly, found our spot in the sun, got the chairs and beer out and thankfully sat down.

After some tea, we wandered down to the Rusty Mackerel around the corner for a pint of Guinness – a lovely traditional old pub with little cubby holes. It was heaving with people, while a small group played Irish music. Great atmosphere. The Pup was totally exhausted and crashed on a bench – she’s so tired. She sleeps while we’re driving, but it’s not a proper deep sleep – think it all catches up with her. So she was not impressed when we tugged her lead to wander back to the campsite gone 11pm. It was a gorgeous evening, not a cloud in the sky as we finally rested our weary heads on our pillows.

We heard the patter of rain on the roof of the van as we stirred.

Peering out with bleary eyes, yes it was raining. Actually stair rodding. It wasn’t a surprise to be honest, checking the weather apps had shown a long line of black cloud icons with double raindrops for today. It wasn’t going to be a nice day.

We packed up and headed to Ballina to check that out, hoping to have a wander around. It was a pleasant enough town, but not a tourist town and with the rain becoming heavier, we changed our minds. On reading the guide book last night, it mentioned a cafe in the coastal community of Easky so fancying a coffee and most likely a cake, we toddled off there, though we had an inkling that it might be closed after giving it a quick Google. Their website stated it was temporarily closed, though some site owners don’t keep their information up to date. Unfortunately this one did and as we pulled up, it looked very closed with its windows covered up. Back to the drawing board.

It was really quite misty and miserable with low cloud hanging low, erasing any scenery to be had. We didn’t have a clue what was out there – it could be flat as a pancake or have magnificent mountains. Occasionally the cloud lifted ever so lightly and you would get a hint of a silhouette – we were level with the Ox Mountains, was that a whiff of their foothills and they went even higher? We would never find out.

We arrived at Ballysadare, south of Sligo and found a coffee shop and a SuperValu opposite each other. We parked down a side road as there didn’t seem to be any public car parks and I nipped out to do a quick shop (another supermarket that was higgley piggley) before getting coffees to go and a couple of cakes. Hubby took The Pup for a wander. We met up again and headed off on the WAW, but didn’t go far when we came across a little parking area overlooking Ballysadare’s little estuary and had lunch. As we ate, the rain eased off and we could see a little further – Knocknarea, a local prominence standing at 327m and overlooking Strandhill appeared from the mist, which we weren’t expecting and looked back to see if the Ox mountains would make an appearance. Unfortunately no. Saving one the cafe’s cakes for later, we headed towards Knocknarea, looking for The Glen. The scenery as usual, was constantly and subtly changing from bare coastal fields to roads lined with hedgerows.

So we kept an eye out for The Glen, a hidden 1km walk along a narrow canyon. It’s not easy to find said the guide book, so we followed the written instructions, driving up the side of Knocknarea looking for a scenic lay-by some 600m from the junction. We pulled into a lay-by and hoping it was the right one, walked back down some 200m looking for a well on the right side. Sure enough, a little stone trough hugged the hedgerow and opposite was a little opening.

A propped opened metal gate with a severe sign that said “keep out, danger, falling rocks and trees“ had been evidently ignored as there was a narrow, but well worn path diving into the undergrowth. Foliage overhung the path, making a little green tunnel with a fair drop on one side. It was really quite pretty. Branches had fallen across the path, so we picked away across them and ducked under low branches until the path opened up with two walls of rock on either side. In the middle, several trees had been uprooted, their rootballs at 90 degree angles while their trunks blocked our way. We tried to see if we could find a way through and walk further along, but it was impossible. What a shame as it was really wonderful. Moss clung to everything, the flora and fauna dripping with moisture. You half expected a little fairy to appear – it was quite magical and had a serenity about it. Unable to go any further, we retraced our steps through the bushes and picked up the van.

The weather had closed in again (it was spitting while we investigated The Glen). We climbed higher around Knocknarea, still unable to see very far – we kept getting tantalising glimpses of the local area, but nothing more. It wasn’t a day for taking photos at all, though it was beautifully green and lush.

We decided to head to Glencar Waterfall which was just north east of Sligo and with all this rain, it should be reasonably spectacular. We neatly navigated our way through the city’s outer limits, getting held up slightly for some roadworks and where we had a little chuckle. We had come across a few roadworks on our little Irish trip and out, deep in the rural backwaters, the stopping of traffic was overseen by a man on each end of the works, with his-vis jacket, hard hat, walkie talkie and a stop/go sign which they twisted after consulting each other. We had commented that surely traffic lights would be easier, but maybe a bit of manpower was quicker to arrange than a traffic light permit out in the country. So imagine our surprise to find the manual traffic management in operation on a busy road in Sligo except these guys sported a large golfing umbrella to keep the deluge at bay!

We carried on following the route to Glencar – the misty rain obscuring this beautiful valley – it’s suppose to remind visitors of a Swiss valley apparently, but we could only see the bottoms of the trees. There was a parking area, cafe and toilets at Glencar and as we parked in a bay, we commented that we hadn’t been charged for parking at all at any of the tourist spots we had visited and all the public toilets were free too (and spotless as well). It was so refreshing. In the Lake District, you might as well just hand over your credit card to the National Park and let them drain it for you – there’s a hefty payment for almost everything which is a bit off putting, but here, it’s free. We tried to work out how they did it.

The waterfall notice board said it was a quick ten minute walk away and that no dogs were allowed. So we left The Pup in the van for that short time and did a quick dash – it was actually less than five minutes and the waterfall was impressive. A family were reading the board by the waterfall, but there was no one else – the rain was obviously putting people off, so it was lovely and quiet (must get fairly busy on a warm summer’s day) and we could look at the waterfall at our own pace. The rain started to fall heavy again and we retreated back to the Van.

The Pup had curled up on my seat and refused to move. I jumped in via the side door, peeled off my coat and between us, shoved The Pup off – she went to the back seat, gave us a withering look and sulked for the rest of the afternoon.

Not wanting to visit anywhere else that involved getting out of the van whilst it was raining, we settled on the idea of having a drive round, in the hope that the weather would lift – it was apparently quite spectacular around here – and we would be rewarded with a magnificent view. We plotted a route to Manorhamilton, then up the valley on the R280 up to Kinlough. It was on this road that the heavens really opened up and the rain lashed down. Somewhere out there was the 1,726ft Benbulben Mountain with its flat topped summit – we managed to get a hazy picture of it as 50mph when the cloud lifted slightly. At Kinlough, we did a right and headed down the side of Lough Melvin with the plan to go northwards to Ballyshannon, doing a big loop.

Just before Garrison at the end of the lough, we stopped for a cuppa, looking back over the Lough, and to devour the other cake left from this morning. The sky and water were the same grey colour and so melded together – there was no horizon. We packed away and carried on passing through Garrison, keeping to the 40 speed limit when a couple of impatient drivers overtook us and sped off. We snorted in disgust at them until it suddenly dawned on us, that all the road signage had changed abruptly – we had unknowingly just crossed back into Northern Ireland and therefore Britain (there’s no border signs or anything to declare that you’ve just left Europe) and we were back into good old British miles and familiar road signs. Even the satnav reverted back! Suddenly we felt very much at home – this could easily be England! Then we realised that we had been poodling at 25mph through the village instead of 40mph – no wonder those motorists overtook us!

We were still babbling over the weirdness of it all when within a few miles (or was it kilometres) at the village of Belleek, we parted company with Northern Ireland and the brief comfort of familiarity, and found ourselves back in Eire with the sudden change of road signage! It was like visiting another dimension – did that just happen?

By this time, it was nearly 5pm and we needed a place to rest our weary heads. As we were coming up to Ballyshannon, we decided to check out a campsite there. As we approached the entrance on the main road, we noticed that it was right next door to a huge electrical sub station – perhaps we just plugged our van straight into there. It wasn’t floating our boat so we decided to head to Bundoran just down the road as that boasted at least three options. However as we entered the town and through its main thoroughfare, it felt a little rundown and a bit too “kiss me quick”. The campsite was down a side road, next door to a cinema complex and a Lidl – we were starting to prefer the hum of 40,000 volts.

We resorted to Google and found a possible site in a place called Rossnowlough, north of Ballyshannon. The rain was relentless, wiping out everything as we followed the signs which took us again through Ballyshannon, this time through its handsome and attractive High Street and we were quietly impressed. Quite a lovely town. We were now in County Donegal and we weaved our way down little lanes, catching glimpses of the sea until we arrived at Rossnowlagh and the Boortree campsite, a small tidy little place near the beach and the cheapest site so far. We quickly set up and sat in the van as the rain continued to fall, making little sorties to the toilet or giving The Pup a quick walk – poor thing had been cooped up all day.

About 7.30pm and after a sophisticated tea of fajitas, the rain finally gave up and stopped. Hurrah. But with the skies remaining heavy and broody and everything was feeling a touch damp, we had no enthusiasm to go anywhere so curled up, quietly steaming up the van until darkness fell. Let’s hope for better weather tomorrow.