Author: apathtosomewhere

I lost the duvet last night.

Not literally, but The Pup beat me into bed and hogged most of it. She’s like several sacks of potatoes when she’s asleep – a dead weight and equally unyielding. She ended up on her back, feet up in the air and dead to the world. I used our “emergency” blanket for such situations and wrapped myself in that – it worked and I enjoyed a good night’s sleep.

We awoke to broken sunshine (whoop whoop no rain!!!) and by 10am it was 18 degrees. The little campsite was very quirky, with nice little touches and we decided that we liked it quite a lot. We were at the start of the Wild Atlantic Way and figured out some places we wanted to check out. First was Red Strand Beach for The Pup as she had so earned a sandy beach. So we drove to the bay passing through Clonakilty, a sizeable town and down some side roads. A wide sandy beach appeared and we eagerly parked up and released the hound. There was a little bow top shed and on closer inspection, we discovered it was a sauna and full of people. They suddenly came pouring out and headed to the sea for a quick dip. I suppose it’s like these Turkish Baths with hot rooms and ice cold plunge pools, but sort of al fresco. There was one of these saunas at the Mullingar site too. The Pup followed the humans into the sea, chasing balls and birds, digging in the sand and letting off two days of steam – she was so happy and we spent a good half hour there. We also found out that you could stay there overnight in your campervan free of charge – we might be tempted to do that later on in this trip.

We jumped in the Van and continued our journey – on impulse and fancying a coffee, we pulled off at Rosscarbery, just off the N71. A pretty little town with brightly covered buildings – it reminded me of Tobermory on Mull – with bright yellows, pinks, purples and greens. It was very attractive and one of a few towns en route decorated in this way. We found The Coffee Drip, a small but busy little cafe on the corner for coffee, a piece of cake and a window seat to do a bit of people watching.

Suitably refreshed, we headed back to the Van and to a place called Toehead, at the end of one of the headlands. On calm days, you might get to see dolphins and whales which attracted us. We drove down narrow country lanes, hoping not to meet a tractor or some other huge vehicle – the lanes had grass growing down the middle and others almost had a meadow going on. They also twisted round on themselves. It was very exciting. Finally the sea came into view and we squeezed into a small clearing to park, grabbed the binoculars and scanned the sea. Small fishing vessels and a buoy bobbed in the waters, but no pods of dolphins. The Pup had a run in the long grass and we admired the view. But somehow, we felt we weren’t in the right place. We decided to carry on and followed the road which opened up to a magnificent panorama of the adjacent bay, with little bungalows and dwellings dotted across the landscape, gentle hills, fields and the sea. It was beautiful. It was stunning. We dropped down and as we did so, we spotted a couple of cars coming down a hill to our right. Mmmm. We let them pass and then drove up the same hill and lo and behold, there was a sign saying Toe Head and more spectacular views! There was an old crumbling tower which was a Signalling Tower and looking along the coast, you could spot other similar towers. The Toe Head one was fenced off so we couldn’t investigate further so we just sat down on the grass and soaked up the views.

https://www.castles.nl/toe-head-signal

We headed back to the main road. The Wild Atlantic Way dives down these country lanes on each little headland, so you could spend a lot of time not getting anywhere. Sometimes the SatNav took you off the designated route, but we didn’t care. We were following our noses and if we wanted to check something out we did.

We drove through the town of Schull, hoping to see the Gourmet Street Market, but it only ran between 10am and 2pm and now it was gone 2.30pm. With it being a Sunday, all the shops were closed so we carried onto our next point of interest which was Crookhaven, down the most southerly tip of Ireland. Again, a series of single track country lanes and around a sweeping bay to a pub called O’Sullivan’s, where you can have the most southerly pint of Guinness, which we obliged. They also did food and we ordered a seafood chowder, which was delicious. We fell into conversation with a lovely local family and their little cockapoo, Dougal. The Irish are so friendly and easy to chat with. We spent quite a bit of time, talking about our dogs mainly before saying goodbye and heading to Mizen Head, a few kilometres further down. Again, the views were stunning, but the phone camera didn’t do it justice. There were fantastic sweeping bays with arcs of golden sand and clear seawater, surrounded by green, lush fields and hills. You wanted to stop and take it in, but the lanes were busy with cars and we would of caused chaos.

https://mizenhead.ie/

We arrived at Mizen Head and a large car park, at the head of which was a modern, seemingly brand new visitor centre. We waddled in and realised it was 4.45pm and they were closing. You had to go through the centre to see the rest of Mizen Head and to cross the Mizen Bridge which was a bit disappointing. We loitered around for about 10 minutes to read information boards and then jumped back into the Van. We needed to find some accommodation for tonight. There seems a lack of roadside notices pointing to small local campsites – so we relied on a book listing campsites or we just Googled them. One we found, didn’t allow dogs so that got crossed off, but the Goat Path Pods and camping near Glanlough sounded promising, though a touch expensive at 45 euros. I gave him a call and they had space so we plumbed the postcode into SatNag and within 45 minutes we had arrived. It was very pleasant – clean, tidy and very neat with at least 6 wooden pods sat on a small hill, one resembling a Hobbit house. They were very cute. We were shown a nice little sun drenched corner and we soon made ourselves at home with a Dutch VW camper in the opposite corner. After tea, we had a wander and peered into the pods with little picnic tables and wooden loungers – they were very sweet. Then we checked out the facilities, had a frantic game of table tennis on a purpose built concrete table and went for a walk to admire the mountains and Bantry Bay until the flies and bugs got too much. Back at base, a family of Canadians poured out of car and a couple in a car arrived. It suddenly seemed quite busy after the relative quiet we had enjoyed, but everyone soon settled down and only the local birds could be heard. It was a lovely warm evening with hardly a cloud in the sky. Tomorrow we had plans to visit Sheep’s Head further down the headland, a bit of shopping in Bantry and then whatever after that. The weather is steadily improving and it’s looking good.

It’s rained again. Awoke to rain drops streaming down the Van window and the sky overcast.

Enjoyed a lovely hot shower in slightly antiquated surroundings, but it did its job and I was happy. The well oiled team that we are, we soon had The Van ready for the road and headed to Kinsale, some 130 miles and 3 hours to the south.

We gave the SatNag instructions to avoid any tolls (yes, all 4.60 euros) but not necessarily all motorways so we had a mixture of A roads, motorways, single track country lanes and everything in between. We passed through towns and villages (which seemed to be clogged with traffic), spotted distant mountains and enjoyed lovely countryside, albeit a bit flat. We loved the names appearing on road signs – Twomileborris, Horse and Jockey (yes, really) and Watermillgrass. Hubby said they reminded him of what3words codes. In some distant rural back road, the SatNag had a breakdown and lost our route and refused to bring back the original. We seemed to be stuck in deepest Ireland and a feeling of going nowhere, but suddenly we were back on the motorway and zooming down towards Cork. The weather is spectacular today – sunshine, big black brooding clouds, sudden downpours lasting minutes and back to sunshine. Big skies. Stunning.

We managed to get confused on a relatively new motorway layout on the outskirts of Cork and went back and forth twice before we got into the right lane and the right road. We sailed through suburbia on a major N road and headed to Kinsale. Soon we were parking and walking into town, finally stretching our legs and The Pup’s. What a beautiful little town, full of independent shops and brightly coloured buildings. We had a good wander around, getting bits and pieces and investigating little side streets. We waddled down to the port area and found a lovely little cafe with chairs outside – it overlooked the harbour, full of boats and yachts and the houses on the opposite bank. It reminded me of the Dartmouth in Devon. I was liking this place. Another rain sodden cloud released its contents on Kinsale and delayed our walk back – the rain bounced in the road. Once it finished, we walked back into town and had another look around the streets. The sun comes out and the temperature rises – its very humid and sticky.

We find the Van and jump back in – time to find a place to sleep. Our first choice that we found on the internet, didn’t float our boat and we carried on through beautiful hilly countryside to Timoleague (another fabulous place name) and just beyond, the Sexton’s Caravan and camping site. Perfect. Lovely views and plenty of personal space. The sun is now out permanently or for the rest of the evening at least and we chill. Hubby catches the bus to nearby Clonakilty for a music festival and a well earned Guinness. I stay with The Pup and relax and write this blog. Tomorrow we have places to find and check out – but top of the list, is a fantastically sandy wide beach for our Pup to discharge her excess energy. Boy, she so deserves it, she’s been a star on this trip.

Stranraer. Probably better known as a ferry port and a link to Northern Island rather than a true holiday destination, but me, Hubby and The Dog were heading up there in the Van for a 3 day break.

Well, just me and The Dog actually. Hubby was nipping over to Belfast to connect with some old work colleagues for a couple of days. Initially we had thought about taking The Van too, but it was very expensive for less than 48 hours, so we decided to base ourselves in Stranraer while Hubby went over as a foot passenger. In the meantime The Dog and I would check out Stranraer and the surrounding area.

So we got up early, packed our last bits and headed off, picking up the northbound M6 on a day which hadn’t really decided what it wanted to be – bright and sunny or showery. Big puffy clouds were all around us, but the sun shone in between them.

We then spent a little time debating whether to have breakfast en route – actually I don’t know why we even bothered to debate, it was a no brainer. We did our usual, pulling off the M6 and heading into the village of Shap to our favourite little cafe when we headed north, for a Full English Breakfast. It’s now a ritual, a pilgrimage. And as usual, they didn’t disappoint and even The Dog got a sausage, neatly cut up and served in a dish………

https://theabbeykitchen.co.uk/

We were soon back on the road, suitably replenished, abandoning the M6 for the more relaxed A6 which runs parallel. It’s like a mini geography lesson with the M6, A6 and the West Coast Mainline railway line criss crossing each other as they meander up the Eden Valley. We drove through little villages, through Penrith before coming up to Carlisle. The Sat Nag wanted to take us through the city centre, but not fancying that, we jumped back on the M6 briefly until Gretna Green, where as we hopped over the border into Scotland, we turned left onto the A75 and headed west.

You think you’re nearly there at this point, but we had another 2 hours and nearly 100 miles to go, all on the same A road. I wanted to check out the town of Annan as a few years ago, on a solo trip, I nearly visited it and regretted not doing it. People had said it was a nice town. So we peeled off, following a road into town, wondering why motorists were all turning right into a housing estate. We quickly found out – the road was closed for roadworks further down so we had to turn tail and followed the road through a new build estate, most of the front gardens devoid of any greenery and lavishly paved or gravelled to plonk a car on. So we had a tour of Annan’s housing estates before being burped onto a rather handsome High Street, full of dark sandstone buildings with bustling shops. It had a certain charm about it. I had it in my head that Annan had a pleasant harbour area, but the road we took ended in a low industrial park, full of fish processing plants and other industry. There was a car park and notice board, so I think we could of walked along the river, but it wasn’t floating our boat today. We nosed our way back to the High Street, pausing whether to park up and have a wander. We weren’t in the mood of just wandering around shops, so we decided to drive on – we turned left across a very pretty bridge over the river and was immediately out of Annan. We picked up the A75 again and headed west.

The fluffy clouds of the morning were now getting together and looking rather menacing. As we were bypassing Dumfries, the heavens opened and we were lashed with heavy rain, so much so that we had to employ the double wash wipe to see. The roads soon became a river as the drains struggled to cope. This was aquaplaning territory. Then, as if someone had turned a tap, it stopped. It went on like this for a while. Sun-angry clouds-deluge-sun. There were parts where it hadn’t even rained and the road was dry and at one point, it was raining on us, but the field next door was in brilliant sunshine. Just one of those days.

The countryside was getting prettier and more undulating as we headed further in. This area of Scotland is very much overlooked and in my mind, a hidden gem. The further west you go, mountains start to rear up and the road hugs the Luce Bay for a while. There’s the Galloway Forest Park, a large area of forest It’s is quite stunning and even more so, in the sunshine with the spectacularly stormy clouds as a backdrop.

We stopped briefly at a roadside cafe and deli place looking for something for tea later, but nothing appealed so we headed to Newton Stewart, a small town just off the A75. We’ve been to this town before as our eldest daughter lived in a nearby village for a few months during her university gap year. We drove into town and managed to park up on the High Street. We decided to have a stretch of the legs, find that elusive something for tea and generally have a nose. So we pottered around, looking in shops, chatting with the friendly locals and got a few provisions. We only had an hour parking, which was enough – it had been a long journey and we just wanted to get to Stranraer and put our feet up!

Our campsite was just off the main road as we entered Stranraer, but before we drove in, we had a bit of a recce primarily for me to figure out if it was worth the walk into town tomorrow with The Dog.

You get it into your head that port towns are just full of ferry terminals, tatty harbours and industrial units, the town down on its heels, but we found a thriving and rather large High Street and handsome buildings. Another road closure thwarted our intended route so another unscheduled tour of the town’s outer edges. There were some quite lovely houses, but mainly long terraces of the traditional Scottish single storey cottage with pitched windows in their roofs in this part of town. Of course, as in most British towns, some pen pushing bureaucrat had given permission for a competition to design the ugliest building possible, plonk it somewhere totally inappropriate and then totally fail to maintain it, ensuring it becomes a real blot of the landscape. Words just fail me. And here it was, an awful block of flats sat in amongst some really nice buildings. I think the council members back in the 1960’s were definitely sniffing something when they passed the plans for these monstrosities, under the pretence of architectural utopia. We averted our eyes until we dropped down onto the shoreline.

Stranraer nestles in bay of Loch Ryan and as we drove along the road, parallel to the sea wall, we looked out towards the mouth of the Loch where it joins the sea. The tide was in as the water lapped the sea wall. In the distance, down the side of the Loch, were the twin ferry terminals of Cairnryan, serving Northern Ireland’s Belfast and Larne ports. No wonder the A75 is chocker with lorries, vans, juggernauts and cars with two ferry companies disgorging vehicles on a regular basis.. We decided to go and check in so had to do a U turn to get back. Here, modern bungalows hugged the road, with fantastic views over the sea wall of the Loch and beyond. Personally I would have an upside down house here – bedrooms on the ground floor and a huge picture window upstairs to make the most of the view, but everyone seemed content with their bungalows. We weaved through an abundance of these properties (was it another pen pushing trend?) before we drove down a narrow lane and found the Aird Donald campsite.

We checked in and chose our spot, perhaps not the best as it was close to the loos and washing facilities, but we had neighbours and wouldn’t be Billy No Mates over in the adjoining field. It was quite a nice campsite, with nice facilities and pleasant surroundings. We set up quickly to make the most of the sun, but to our dismay, cloud barrelled in and promptly rained on us. Still we had our awning and we sat outside for awhile until it got a bit too cool. The Dog had a wander and a sniff around the campsite and with 10pm approaching, we prepared for bed. Hubby had an early start – up at 5am to get a taxi and his Belfast ferry – but with it being the longest day and further north, it wasn’t really getting dark. So we blacked out The Van as best we could though The Dog joined us on the bed and pinned us into not so comfortable positions (she was not for moving and actually she does keep you warm) and settled down. Tomorrow would start slow and we would go for a wander somewhere, but there was no rush to make decisions. Weary from our travels, we snuggled down for a good nights sleep.

I woke up to rain.

It had been predicted but still annoying. I had planned to drive down to the Mull of Galloway – a recommendation from Eldest Daughter – but didn’t fancy spending the day in possible mist and low cloud and not see anything.. There again, did I want to hang around in the campsite all in day in drizzly rain? So after a bit of mulling and definitely deciding that staying at the campsite would drive me insane, I started the chore of packing up the Van and suddenly realised that the sun was poking its head out. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

When you look on a map of this area, the land west of Stranraer looks like the head of a Hammerhead shark and it was at the bottom of this that we were heading. The Dog and I headed out towards the town centre, briefly popping into a Morrisons for milk for a cuppa and a couple of other bits. We followed the A716 to Drummore, some 18 miles south. It was a lovely drive in the sun past pastures, fields, little hamlets, woodlands – it was ever changing. Just past the village of Ardwell was a picnic area and I instinctively pulled in as now we were starting to hug the coastline. I was after a decent beach for The Dog. A big sign said “No Overnight Camping” but the few campervans and tents had evidently ignored that. The beach was muddy and didn’t really inspire, though it was a pretty little bay, so we turned around and carried on.

The scenery was stunning. We were now overlooking the Luce Bay, a fantastic arch of land and sea. We pulled into another parking area, but although pretty with a woodland backdrop, the beach wasn’t a sandy beach – to be honest, I didn’t want to get clagged with mud and it being traipsed into the Van. We carried on passing little hamlets which were very pretty – a lot of the traditional crofter style cottages, painted white. This was a lovely drive.

We dropped into Drummore, following a sign that said beach, The Dog getting giddy as she could smell the sea air. We drove past the small harbour and along a narrow road, past cottages and bungalows facing out to sea. It ended on a tiny straggly piece of grass which already had a car on it. Perhaps I was being fussy here, but again it wasn’t ticking my box for some reason. So we turned tail, much to The Dog’s disappointment and retraced our steps back to the High Street. Drummore was a charming little community, again with that lovely mixture of cottages and houses, painted or just left in stone. Apart from a shop, there wasn’t much else and by now we weren’t far from the Mull of Galloway. So we nosed our way out of Drummore and was directed down a single track road with passing places (the signpost said for 4 miles – I just hoped I didn’t meet anyone coming back, I was in the Van after all). As we turned into the lane, we could see the lighthouse on the Mull in the hazy distance. The scenery was now more exposed – fields and the odd bent tree. We were on top of a headland with hardy sheep and cattle. There wasn’t much there at all. At one point, we could see the sea on either side of us as the land narrowed. We had met no other vehicles and we felt we were the only ones on this isolated landscape.

https://mull-of-galloway.co.uk/

Finally the car park hoved into view as we passed a grass roofed visitor centre. There was about six other vehicles parked up and as I turned the engine off, the wind rocked the Van. The sunshine had disappeared and a huge blanket of cloud, as far as the eye could see, covered us. Looking back up the coast, it was actually quite low and misty. Perhaps we had the best of the day.

I watched two people being whipped by the wind, their coats flapping furiously. There was nothing to stop it, so I donned my waterproof to keep warm and in case it rained. We jumped out of the Van and went off to explore. We went through a gate and decided to follow the sign that said “circular path to Lighthouse”, which took us along a mown pathway between stubby grassland where ground nesting birds fluttered against the wind. We came up to the RSPB building, a low slung building painted white, which was shut, so we peered through the windows instead. Another sign pointed us down another grassy path and the very southern point and the very edge of Scotland. It hadn’t been on my bucket list to stand on Scotland’s most southerly point, but here I was with my hound and we looked at each other. I gave her a congratulatory pat, and walked a few more feet south to peer over a sheer drop. Perhaps we would stop here, it was southerly enough for us and anyway we were getting a bit fed up being battered by the relentless wind. It was quite humid too, so with my waterproof on, I felt quite warm, but knew if I took it off I would feel chilly. Couldn’t win. We turned around and plodded back up the hill with the Lighthouse peering down on us, hoping to get some respite. However, we got distracted by another sign, pointing down a path, declaring “Path to Foghorn”, so off I set, dragging The Dog behind me, her eyes rolling.

The path turned into a steep stone stairway with the huge dark red foghorn at the bottom, pointing out to sea. As the amber light wasn’t on (it wasn’t foggy enough to have to blast at passing ships) we could go down right up to it. We passed two large gas tanks (presumably to supply it with gas to work) and walked underneath the horn. It was huge and could be cranked to face in different directions. It was perched on the edge of a cliff (how someone had built that there, goodness knows) where seabirds nested on perilous crags, as waves crashed against the rocks way below. This was unforgiving and raw. It was amazing – the power of the sea, the foghorn ready to warn of danger, the inaccessible cliffs and the swirling birds gave it a real atmosphere and a feeling of awe. Again, you felt you were the only person there. Just you and nature.

The Dog was itching to get back, so we pulled ourselves back up the steps and followed the garden wall of the lighthouse, apparently featured in the film The Vanishing/Keepers, starring Gerard Butler. The surrounding outbuildings of the lighthouse house an exhibition, but we couldn’t go in as I had The Dog. The lighthouse itself was closed too. So we pleased ourselves looking at the huge stunning photographs pinned on the wall surrounding the lighthouse by some wonderful photographers. They were stunning and I spent many minutes studying them.

Unable to go in the lighthouse, we walked to the viewpoint and checked out some other paths (all circular to the lighthouse), coming across various views and looking at the Lighthouse at different angles. It must of been a very lonely spot to live and work, but very very special. I was glad I had come and quietly thanked Eldest Daughter for her recommendation.

Desperate to escape the wind and fancying a coffee and possibly a large slab of cake, we headed down the road to the Visitor Centre. It declared itself to be opened six days a week, but evidently Fridays weren’t one of them. It was firmly shut. I thought Friday would of been one of your best trading days but I was wrong. Anyway it didn’t allow dogs in either though they did have an outdoor seating area which was perched on a balcony, so you could peer down the cliffs as you supped your cappuccino. I would of liked to have done that actually, but on this overcast, windy Friday I just had to be content at peering over the barrier to the sea crashing against the rocks far below.

Having exhausted Mull of Galloway and fed up being battered by the wind, we jumped back into the Van and decided to wheedle back. Halfway along the single track road, there was a little bay with a sandy beach. Yes, The Dog deserved a treat after being dragged around by me! A quick U turn and to my dismay, as I committed myself, realised that it was a rather rocky track down. Halfway down, I also realised that the field below and where the Van would be parked, was full of cows and their calves. Vehicles and tents were down there already but I didn’t fancy coming back to find a cow satisfying an itchy ear against my Van’s door. So we did another U turn and The Dog settled back on her mat in disappointment. We weren’t doing well on beaches.

We drove back to Drummore where I kept seeing signs for Port Logan. It piqued my interest – what was there? Checking on Google Maps it was on the opposite coast overlooking the Irish Sea but just some three miles away and it looked like it had a sandy beach. So with some confidence, we headed down more narrow roads and dropped into the tiny hamlet of Port Logan, hugging the most perfect sweeping bay of sand. Oh yes! We excitedly parked up right on the edge of the sand and jumped out! The Dog was ecstatic, her face delighted. Finally her human had found a beach at long last! She loved it and chased stones into the sea, frolicking in the waves. We walked right round until we could go no further and turned around and retraced our steps. Back at the car park, we checked out the stone harbour wall with a disused tower and wandered the single village road. Feeling peckish, I made some lunch and perched on the side step, sharing bits of cheese with The Dog. We had a great view of the bay and were feeling quite contented, when a large campervan pulled up in front of us, blocking our view! Oh for goodness sake! Luckily the occupants quickly realised, and with a mouthed “sorry” pulled up a little further along (not far enough in my book, but hey ho). Blow me, 5 minutes later, a huge motorhome rocked up on our right and completely obliterated most of our view. There was a whole expanse of car park here and they sit right on top of you. I was also slightly peeved as up to that point, I had the whole car park to myself, so I wasn’t a happy bunny. Perhaps it was time to go.

https://scotlandstartshere.com/point-of-interest/port-logan/

We rejoined the A716 and I stopped briefly to check out a campsite as it had looked spectacular as we passed it earlier – on the edge of a sweeping bay bathed in the sunshine. Now under leaden skies, it didn’t look so alluring and anyway it was a Camping and Motorhome Club site and guess who are not members……

https://scotlandstartshere.com/point-of-interest/sandhead/

So we headed to Sandhead, a place we’ve been before and has the best beach around, miles of it, a doggy paradise and very beautiful. We parked up and walked along the beach together – we walked so far until The Dog decided to head off, indicating she wanted to go back – why do I let my hound make all the decisions? Back at the Van, I made a cuppa and sat, out of the howling wind, watching the world and ended up chatting to a lady. She was Scottish and was telling me of other places to visit. She had a really lovely accent, but the way she pronounced these place names, sounded like she was bringing up fur balls. I didn’t recognise any of the place names and didn’t have a clue where they were, so I just nodded and made the right noises and hoped I was convincing.

With black clouds appearing on the horizon, we trundled back to the campsite and quickly set up the Van again before it rained. It was feeling humid and damp, but we had managed to escape the rain and got the best out of the day. I was pleased that we did what we did. The Dog was happy to snooze on her mat and I watched newcomers come into the campsite and set up. Hubby was due back from Belfast late tonight. It had been a lovely day of exploring and seeing some beautiful countryside. Tomorrow we would head back home.

(Hubby appeared at the Van door at 12:30am after some ferry issues – namely the ramp unable to be lowered).

Awoken by an alarm and a Hubby preparing for his trip. The Dog and I dozed while he got himself sorted and left at 5:45 for his taxi. We had a slow morning watching fellow campers doing their camping ablutions – emptying toilet cassettes and filling water carriers at 7am in the morning. Me and The Dog fell out of the Van about 8:15 and promptly sat in the sun, like a pair of lizards warming up on a rock. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and it was warm already. Perfect. Britain had been basking in hot weather for about a month already but this past week we had actually welcomed the first big doses of rain for a long while, so while we kind of rejoiced in the dampness, we readily welcomed the sun back.

We decided to go for a walk down to the sea before it got too warm, so headed off about 10:30 down the lane to the main road. Then across and down a side street – The Dog was not impressed by this route and dawdled, looking fed up – she’s not one for walking the streets. But this gave me a chance to nosey at the properties, mainly bungalows, but they were all individual, all slightly different, well kept and tidy. It was nice rather than a line of identical houses and it was fascinating comparing the different styles. It was a lovely road. We soon found ourselves at the bottom of the road and overlooking the loch.

There was a utilitarian grubby concrete sea wall separating the road from the loch, so we went down some steps to find ourselves on more concrete, looking at an expanse of mud and damp seaweed – the sea being a few hundred yards out. So much for a paddle and anyway, it was impossible to access the mud if we were inclined as there were no steps. The Dog looked at me still unimpressed. So we walked along the concrete path towards town before rejoining the main road. On the loch side, it was industrial, surrounded by high metal fencing with derelict areas in between (though not looking run down at all), the other side of the road, neat houses, an impressive hotel and a pretty public garden. We came up to a junction and followed the sign marked Town Centre and found ourselves almost immediately in the shopping area. We carried on, not really knowing where we were going, when we came across an impressive stone tower in the middle of the shops! It was the Castle of St John apparently. I dithered whether to go inside as though it was free entry, I wasn’t sure if dogs were allowed in. Maybe I would check it out on the way back.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Castle_of_St_John

So we carried along the road (Stranraer seems to have two High Streets running parallel to each other) and running out of shops, we dropped down a side street. I was liking Stranraer’s town centre very much with its higgly piggly buildings of varying heights, all different to each other and painted various colours. Most were either rendered or pebbledashed which in its raw state is downright awful, but painted looked very smart. It was compact and very pleasant. We dropped down onto a road across which was a car park and a harbour. It looked like that it had been landscaped and renovated. Again, it was very nice. Spotting a fisherman with a line, we sauntered to the railings and looked down. The tide was in! I checked the OS map on the phone and just along the way, there seemed to be a beach! I informed The Dog that I had found a beach for her, but she still looked dubious. So off we set, past a wide entrance to another working harbour and down a wide expanse of road before we came across a bay with a sweeping beach. The Dog’s attitude changed completely as I let her off lead and she galloped into the water, a big happy smile on her face. She swam after stones that I threw in and ran around like a puppy. We spent a good 20 minutes messing around here, but was aware that The Dog was now 15 and we had a way to walk back to the campsite. So reluctantly we wandered back towards the High Street.

There was a low squat building that seemed to be a tourist office so I aimed towards that, hoping to find out more about Stranraer. But as we arrived we found out it was shut and actually didn’t allow dogs in. They wouldn’t of appreciated my hound dripping water across their floor anyway. So we retraced our steps back to the High Street and stopped at a cafe opposite the Castle of St John where I ordered a coffee and a piece of cake and The Dog turned her nose up at a bowl of fresh water – probably too clean. We shared the cake and basked in the sunshine which was good as The Dog kept shaking and showering me with loch water.

While sitting there, people watching, I noticed an abomination across from the tower. A 1960’s flat roofed concrete carbuncle had been built, so neglected that it had bushes growing out of its guttering. It housed several cheap looking shops with cheap hoardings over their shop fronts. It was quite tatty and depressing, especially adjacent to the ancient building with its attractive square. What were they thinking all those years ago? So I kept my eyes trained on the tower and to the right as I sipped my coffee. With The Dog getting restless, we decided to head back with me studying the buildings of Stranraer – we didn’t go into the castle due to my very soggy doggy. There seemed a good mixture of independent shops as well as the usual national chains which was nice. We came across a couple of impressive buildings on our wanderings – one with a lovely turret – that were falling in disrepair, rendering falling off, foliage growing out of the roof and looking shabby – one was marked with a date 1902. I had seen a similar building shrouded in scaffolding earlier so I liked to think that these buildings would be restored some day. Stranraer had its fair share of empty shop fronts like any British town, but it felt homely, rather charming and seemed to be ticking along quite nicely.

So we got back to our Van to find our neighbours had upped and left (explains all the vehicle ablutions this morning). There was just us and two other motorhomes, but as we relaxed together, another couple of motorhomes arrived and set up. I made lunch, The Dog snoozed in the sunshine, drying off but leaving a salty tide mark on her fur. Mid afternoon, I fancied checking out a nearby woodland walk which didn’t excite The Dog at all. We couldn’t access the woodland from the campsite so had to do a loop onto the main road and into a residential cul de sac with big bungalows in big gardens. We found the entrance of the woodland between two properties and sauntered along the earthen path – The Dog found a stream and jumped in, taking big slurps of water. At least the salt would wash off. We walked down a wide path, between a mixture of tall pines and deciduous trees. It was very pleasant with the dappled sunshine. We crossed over the railway line where we could hear trains rattling along from the site and discovered why we had to do our tedious loop – we could actually see our Van through the trees, but unless you fancied climbing over a barbed wire fence, wrestle your way through thick rhododendron bushes and plunge down a steep ravine, the loop seemed the far better option. We crossed a busy road and could of walked quite a way, deeper into the woods but again, thinking about The Dog, we stopped after about 10 minutes, took a photo of the surrounding countryside and sauntered back the way we came. It was a pleasant hour’s walk.

So we got back to the Van and hung out. It was perfect weather and with us facing the evening sun, it was lovely and warm. The Dog soaked up the sun until she got too hot and went and laid under the nearby hedge. I made some tea and together we enjoyed each other’s company, nodding hello’s to fellow campers and watching them potter about. A final lap of the campsite for The Dog and we settled down together in The Van as night slowly fell. It had been a very interesting day.

We were heading back home today after our weekend in the Lincolnshire Wolds, so we decided, before going back, to go and visit one last place. Daughter had mentioned that Louth was worth a visit, so after a slow start, we packed up and headed along the A631 to Louth, some 20 minutes away. We crossed over The Wolds – Market Rasen on one side and Louth on the other. It was quite pretty – mainly farmland, but with lovely villages nestling in hidden valleys – it was a pleasant drive. We dropped into Louth and headed to the town centre, down roads lined with sturdy old brick houses and tree lined avenues – it was very handsome. We found the town centre, but missed the turn off for car parking and found ourselves heading immediately out of Louth again! We pondered about just carrying on back home – it being a Sunday and nothing really would be open – but we had just driven 13 miles in the wrong direction, so we turned around, found the car park and had a wander through the High Street.

It was a typical British High Street, but seemed to have more independent shops. There seemed to be a main thoroughfare, but with numerous little offshoots and alleyways leading to other streets, a mixture of shops and residences. It was a little rabbit warren. Louth town centre seemed to be full of elegant old buildings and any modern ones, sympathetically fitting in – nothing seemed to make us wince. We were liking this place and thanked our daughter, in absentia, for her great suggestion. Just off the High Street, was St James’ church with its impressive steeple – we had seen it on the way in, dominating the town. The steeple was exceedingly tall and now, standing next to the church, you had to bend your neck right back to see the top. The church was offering tea and cake, so we sauntered in (they even allowed The Dog in) to have a look. What a beautiful and stunning place of worship. A chap came up to us to chat (he had just read a sermon apparently, but was dressed in a shirt and slacks). He started to tell us the history of the church and how all the local churches, in days gone by, tried to outdo each other with the highest steeple. Louth won with its 300 foot one (it’s got the second highest steeple in the land behind Salisbury Cathedral apparently) – we stood under it and looked at the ceiling some 100 feet up, realising there was another 200 foot beyond that. Apparently, some ladies had decided to knit all 7 local churches and put them on tour – the chap had us in stitches with his recount of how St James church dealt with 7 rather large knitted churches in its midst. We could of listened to him all day as he was rather politically incorrect, but very funny with it, regaling stories of rival churches getting each other drunk and pinching their buried martyrs back in the mediaeval times. We didn’t partake in the tea and biscuits, but hovered near a television screen showing the Peregrine falcon chicks nesting high up in the steeple!

We left the church and had a wander around its periphery before making our way back to the High Street for a coffee and something to eat. We were wandering down a side street, admiring the buildings and generally minding our own business, when we passed an old lady outside her front door, chatting to a chap about to get on an ancient motorbike. She called hello to us and we acknowledged her as she started to tell us something. Well, before we knew it, she said goodbye to the chap, called us over and invited us down a little alley to her front door. “Oh please come in, the dog can come in too, I’ve got something to show you” and the next thing, we’re in her little lounge room, full of pictures, cards, memorabilia, ornaments and much more. She starts telling us all about her life and various other people, pointing to the many photographs adorning her wall. She casually dropped in the conversation that she had received a MBE from the then Prince Charles pointing to a framed photo, a little reluctant to reveal why (we later found out it was for her contribution to the community) and later showed us her medal. She flipped from subject to subject in quick succession, but she was absolutely fascinating. She certainly had lived a life – she told us that she had a big birthday coming up the following week. We wanted to sit down and just listen to this wonderful lovely lady, but we only had another hour on the car park! She wasn’t showing off or boasting, just wanted to chat and enjoy some company. After a while, she said “oh I mustn’t keep you, you must have better things to do than listen to me” and reluctantly we began to shuffle towards her front door though it still took us many minutes to leave as she kept showing us more stuff, finally wishing her a lovely birthday and soon we were back outside, wondering if the last 20 minutes had really happened. It felt quite surreal. An elderly lady invites two complete strangers and their dog off the street into her house and tells part of her life story as if we’re long lost relatives. Even The Dog looked bemused. I wondered if her family knew she did this and was happy about it – I’m not sure if I would be with my own mother. But we definitely needed to do some research and see if we could find out more about this lovely lady.

We finally found a little cafe for coffee and cake, deciding to dine outside in a seemingly sunny square, but the wind was an easterly and decidedly cool, so we didn’t linger. A little shopping was done and with the time ticking on, we decided to head home. Of course, with time to spare, we didn’t go the easiest, fastest direct route, but meandered home via Gainsborough, Doncaster, Wakefield, skirting the edge of Leeds before heading home in our little corner of the Northwest. What a splendid weekend, if somewhat unusual.

We later Googled our lovely little Louth lady and discovered more about her. The University of Lincoln had interviewed her about her wartime childhood and the complete transcript was available. We sat and listened to her remarkable story, told simply as if it was yesterday. We were quietly in awe of this wonderful lady that we were so lucky to meet albeit for just a short time. And to think we nearly drove off – looked what we would of missed!

With our eldest daughter living near the Humber Bridge, we always make a weekend of it as it’s just too far for a day visit. But for ages we have always said that we would like to spend some time in the Lincolnshire Wolds which are not too far from Daughter’s house, so we arranged to stay at a campsite in the Van with Daughter joining us for the day.

So mid afternoon on Friday, we stuffed The Dog in the campervan and set off eastwards. There’s no easy or quick route from west to east – okay, it is all A roads, but they’re typically twisty and turny, making overtaking difficult. Inevitably, you get stuck behind a tractor or some other slow moving vehicle until finally you reach the A1 and the it’s all motorway for the rest of the way.

We had booked a Caravan and Camping certified site just outside the village of Tealby, which in turn is about 3 miles east of Market Rasen. We arrived just after 7pm and it doesn’t take us long to set up. The certified site this time was just a farmer’s field with very basic facilities. This one had drinking water, a chemical waste area and a small brick building housing a loo, handbasin and shower, tastefully tiled and reasonably large (I even showered in it – I’m not one for campsite ablutions normally). There was also electric hook ups too. With just two other caravans, it was just perfect. Quiet and with a lovely view across the sheep field to the Wolds.

The Dog was itching for a walk, so we wandered down in the evening sunshine to the village to find the pub. We took the long route to have a good nosey and found two fords across the road – the first one was relatively easy to cross in an ordinary car, but the second one was deep and quite long in length. Firm signs informed motorists not even to think about traversing it – even a Land Rover would find it difficult. We strolled along a country lane and turned right into a road full of 1970’s executive homes – big brick houses surrounded by large gardens. They were all different. Here and there were bungalows and older cottages dotted in between. We were expecting quaint 17th century houses and cottages – obviously there had been a bit of a housing boom some 40/50 years ago and it had extended the village along this road. We abruptly turned right again by a sign saying “Pub this way”. Some new housing was still being built down this lane, a small development of terraces, tastefully designed to fit in with the local area and in the typical style of stone with brick edging doors and windows. It was in the middle of the village and not taking more of our precious green belt either. See, we can build properly when we think about it and try!

We found the pub – a beautiful thatched building dating from the 1300’s and declaring itself the oldest thatched pub in Lincolnshire (as our daughter noted, it’s probably the only one as there’s not many thatched places which are pubs!). We sat inside as it was decidedly cool out and ordered a couple of pints, a bag of Cheddars (shared with The Dog) and a bag of peanuts. Happy, we wandered back down another route for more staring at houses and came across a delightful old mill stream running through a garden, next door to a lovely cottage. It was very pretty. We carried on down the lane to the campsite and the sun setting, we sorted out the bed in the Van and settled down for a good night’s sleep.

The next morning was bright and sunny and we sunned ourselves as we ate breakfast. The Daughter appeared with her Labrador who just loves everyone and gave us a boisterous welcome. After a cuppa, we decided to walk to Ludford, a nearby village following the Viking Way which runs for 147 miles from the River Humber, through Lincoln and finishing in Rutland. (A possible long distance walk to tackle in the future!) So we set off back towards Tealby village and walked through the Sutton Estate, along tracks and footpaths in between undulating fields of cows and ploughed fields. It was very pretty and at one point, a long distance vista opened up looking west, the spire of Lincoln Cathedral could be seen and the Drax power station on the horizon.

We had a brief but exciting walk along the B1225 road (bit of a race track) before returning to the peaceful fields via a gap in the hedges. We dropped onto A631 and walked along the pavement to the edge of the village. We were aiming for the pub, (we discovered later that it was another half mile or more up the road) but a small garden centre cafe beckoned and we ended up having paninis and coffee there. The Dogs sucked up all the water out of the nearby doggy bowl before enjoying a sausage each and a quick siesta, recharging in the shade under the table. Suitably refreshed, we followed the same route back, the sun high in the sky, but with a cooling breeze. We passed a cordoned off field with the odd motorbiker racing across the brown earth – there seemed to be some sort of motocross being organised. Further down the hill, we came across a herd of cows by a gate with a huge lumbering bull in the middle of them. He seemed a gentle giant, pushing his way forward to enjoy a scratch on the nose while his harem warily watched, though they were happy to follow us as we walked along the adjacent footpath, the bull bringing up the rear.

We were soon back in the village, coming across yet another little ford which The Dogs happily stood in and drank copiously. It was a warm day for them. We seemed to be in the older part of the village, pretty cottages draped in wisteria and surrounded by cottage gardens. It was such a typical English village scene and really lovely. We came across the village shop where we bought icecreams and sat in the park next door, under a shady tree. We had booked a dinner table at the pub f0r 5.30, but we had a bit of a dilemma (it was only about 4 o’clock) as the campsite was way out on the opposite side of the village and it seemed pointless to walk all the way there to spend a little time by the Van and then having to come back for the pub. So we made an executive decision and waddled straight to the pub, sitting in the garden, basking in the sunshine and nursing pints. It was so warm that we ended up eating our booked meal out there while The Dogs snoozed under the table. They were so tired that they didn’t even bother scrounging for titbits. Finally we wandered back to the campsite and had a cup of tea and relaxed, apart from The Labrador who discovered the farm cats mousing between the farm buildings and a nearby caravan. He was itching to chase them. Our elderly hound had crashed on her bed in the passenger footwell and was sound asleep.

Later we discovered that there were 17 feral cats lurking, from just one cat last year. The farmer admitted he had a bit of feline issue, but probably no rodent problem!

The Daughter reluctantly said her goodbyes and headed home as the sun set on the horizon. We tidied up and got ready for a well earned sleep, though The Dog beat us to the bed and refused to move. We squeezed ourselves around her and gradually fell asleep. It had been a lovely day!

Today, there was very little walking to do. All we had to do was get back to Melrose to pick up the car and drive home, but we had to get there first.

Of course, there wasn’t a daily bus service to the island, despite all the numerous visitors. I had phoned a lovely lady at Borders Buses yesterday and had spent a considerable amount of time discussing the various ways of getting back. The buses served Lindisfarne on Wednesdays and Saturdays only (why are we so hopeless at public transport?) but she went beyond the call of duty with her research to get us to Melrose by public transport (bless her), informing me that we had to get a taxi to the A1, catch a bus from there to Berwick upon Tweed and then another bus to Melrose. With the information scribbled over three takeaway boxes, we decided that if we needed a taxi to get to the mainland anyway, we might as well go the full hog and get him to take us straight to Berwick. Let’s make life easy and less complicated. We had ordered one for 9:30 this morning.

So we rose early again and had tea in bed with biscuits. No need to snuffle today. We stuffed all our gear down to two bags – rucksack and suitcase – as we had a lot of lugging to do between here and Melrose and wandered down for our final English breakfast.

To be honest, we didn’t really want it, but as we had already eaten five, we felt it only right to have a sixth to celebrate again. We clinked our orange juice glasses together. The chap from the bar last night was serving breakfast and he was in the same clothes as last night – had he been up all night or had just collapsed on his bed for a few hours, too tired to undress? We didn’t enquire.

We bounced our bags down the stairs and went outside. Our taxi was already waiting which was perfect. We chatted to him as we drove across the causeway and looking at where we had walked yesterday. The sun still shone and it was beautiful.

He dropped us off at the rail station, busy with anxious travellers as trains had been delayed or cancelled. We stood by the bus stop in the sunshine and waited for our bus to appear. The bus finally chugged its way to where we were waiting and we climbed aboard, getting window seats. We had a delightful 1.5hour magical mystery tour of the Scottish borders, through towns and villages and lovely rolling countryside. The bus never got full at all and when people got off in a small sleepy community, you wondered what they were going to do there. Finally, we could see the Eildon Hills rise in the distance – it seemed we had climbed them years ago, but it was only 5 days ago. We looked at them through steely eyes – they looked small and unremarkable now after our hilly walks over the Cheviots. What a fuss we had made over them. The bus pulled off the main road and dropped into Melrose, stopping outside Burt’s Hotel. It was weird to be back. We dragged our luggage to the car, thankfully still in the car park untouched – no parking ticket, no wheel clamps and still with 4 wheels. We dumped the bags in the boot and headed for a coffee shop for sustenance, sort of reluctant to leave. The holiday was practically over and deep down, we didn’t want it to.

Eventually, we went back to the car and pulled out of Melrose. We took the A7 back to the M6, a very scenic route through Border towns and through a stunning valley of towering hills. The sun shone, but there were dark clouds all around. The three of us were quiet as we drove home, each of us in our own little thoughts.

We arrived back mid afternoon, our eldest daughter coming to visit us for the weekend and had the kettle on. And on the dining room table, she had bought two bouquets of flowers and a big box of sweets with a congratulatory message underneath. It was the perfect ending to a really fabulous week.

We used Walk With Williams who booked our accommodation and transferred our luggage. They offered an excellent service with a detail itinerary with the option of maps and a St Cuthbert’s Way guide book – which we never got round to burning…………….