Chapter Eighty - Scotland 2019 (Part 1)

            As I settle down to write this, it’s almost eleven o’clock at night on Saturday and Dan, Josh and I have arrived in Scotland for our wild-camping holiday.


Day 1 – Friday, 31^st May 2019

            After a busy day at work, albeit somewhat distracted on account of my imminent (second) holiday, I returned to the house and finished packing my rucksacks before Dan arrived at seven.
            We were travelling north to Scotland, stopping for the first night in Keswick, just off the beaten track.
            Along the journey we were treated to a wonderful sunset, with bands of cloud, a mackerel sky, and fiery oranges, reds and lilacs. As I’ve said many times before, God is an artist, but more amazing than that He creates His colours from three building blocks (protons, neutrons and electrons), light and atmosphere – which I shall endeavour to recreate with my colouring pencils, recently bought for just such an occasion.
            I was particularly excited for getting into the wilds of Scotland, as I’d recently been watching BBC Springwatch, from the Cairngorms (which briefly featured someone wild-camping, and someone else sketching), getting a little taster of what lay ahead. Soon it would be my turn!
           We arrived at Keswick at quarter to two, and Dan pitched our tents in the blackness for us. Ironically it felt a little un-natural for me, standing around outside at such an hour waiting for the tents to be erected, but I figured if this was to be a formative time I’d just knuckle down and get involved!
            

Day 2 – Saturday, 1^st June 2019

            This morning at six (after about four hours of sleep) I opened my eyes and remembered I was in the wild – not quite in Scotland, but just on the edge. Unusually, I’d had a dreamless night, and only four hours rest left me feeling tired throughout the day.
            I opened the flap of the tent to see green hills and a blue sky, with a few clouds dotted around. There was a cool breeze, but the weather was pleasant.
            After a brief spell outside I went back to my sleeping bag and must have slept till about nine thirty. Then, with no breakfast to hand (the instant porridge I’d bought required boiling water – which I didn’t have, strangely enough), we packed up and drove into the town in search of something to eat.
         Keswick was now a familiar location, giving it a homely air, and we made our way straight to Bryson’s. I got two sausage rolls (baps), because, still thinking of breakfast, they didn’t have enough bacon, and I figured we were trying to be quick. However, Josh’s panini (prepared by a newbie), took forever so frustratingly my bacon rolls could have become a viable option – but alas.
            On our way to Oban we were stuck in a traffic jam at Loch Lomond, but it was actually a relaxing moment, sitting there listening to the Celtic lilt of Iona, the Christian group. Nowhere to be in a hurry.
            As we got nearer to Oban (we would be camping tonight at Kilchurn Castle), we revisited St Conan’s Kirk, barred to us a couple of years ago. Fascinating mix-and-match architectural styles!
            Oban provided us with a spot of dinner, but it was peak dining time at about seven thirty, and there was nowhere much available to eat – we settled for a mediocre fish and chips, although served by a pretty young Scots lass, and sat out on a bench to eat. Dan threw his chips to the seagulls, somewhat to my dismay.
            At Kilchurn Castle, on the banks of Loch Awe, the wild-camping experience returned. But this time, unlike Keswick, we were battling midges as we worked to assemble our tents. I began to have doubts about the effectiveness of our midge masks – had Josh and I bought the right sort? Filtered water, wild weeing and brushing my teeth against the backdrop of nature (albeit very dark nature – the sun going down between ten and eleven) we then returned to the tent, and not a moment too soon, as the rain started, the sound amplified against the canvas to seem stronger than it actually was. Still, a good time to bed down.


Day 3 – Sunday, 2^nd June 2019

            Today we woke to the pouring rain, and as it came down, loudly drumming on the canvas, we sluggishly got dressed and a bit reluctantly took our tents down, getting soaked all the while. With all our wet stuff, I wondered how we’d dry the tents out for later use – I was to find out later, that we planned to stop by a bothie this evening, giving us some flexibility in case things still needed to dry.
           Once ready, we drove into Oban to visit the baptist church. The sermon was a continuation of a series about the role of the church, talking about how none are excluded from the grace of Christ (Acts 2) and how we serve each other as the body. There were many other points, but I was finding it hard to focus on, despite trying to take detailed notes.
            Following the church service, we had tea and biscuits, and I got into a conversation with Liz, a local lady, who had been in Scotland for sixteen years; I was able to share my story (testimony) with her. Such a joy to fellowship with other believers, and I love how close knit the Scottish congregations are – a real family feel!
            During the service there was a young American couple in front of us, the girl was enthusiastically telling some other folks how they’d visited Castle Stalker. It seemed rather fitting that this was where we headed next, and I even got some inspiration for a pencil sketch. Not a bad attempt.
            Onwards we progressed, passing along familiar roads (from a couple of years ago), on to Glencoe. We stopped at the Glencoe falls, a roadside waterfall with a magnificent presence. However, I didn’t feel comfortable traversing a ledge to get a better view, particularly given the changeable weather.
            Our next stop was at the Kingshouse Hotel, where Dan wanted to introduce us to some favourite whiskies. However, a recent redevelopment meant that only a basic selection remained, and the bar had lost its homely appeal (the ‘walker’s bar’ no longer existed). Disappointed, we moved on.
            In the familiar surrounds of Fort William we enjoyed dinner at McDonald’s (that great Scottish establishment) and did a brief food shop at the Morrison’s – our last opportunity for a few days.
            This evening the adventure really kicked off – with a vengeance! We stopped the car in a layby and loaded up our rucksacks with overnight kit. The walk to Peanmeanach Bothie would take an hour. I donned my walking boots (rather than walking shoes) for this, as this was serious stuff.
            The path wound up and down over ridges and over sodden rocks and boggy ground. The walking poles came in handy for keeping balance and choosing the best ground ahead of me. However, it was slower going than we had anticipated and at one point I overbalanced and buckled my walking pole – never quite the same after that. The route was unknown to Dan, and he soon became aware that we were unable to reach our destination in good time, and were struggling with the terrain. The inclement weather wasn’t helping.
            An executive decision was made to turn around, and head back to the car via a more level route. The time was approaching nine, but there was still a fair amount of daylight left, making it feel earlier than it was. The rain came down during this time, soaking us at least twice more, and spirits literally dampened, we set up camp by the nearby loch. We were about an hour from the car, but were low on energy, so a night’s rest would help things.
            Dan’s misjudgement certainly took me out of my comfort zone and made me feel like more of a man for it, if only it wasn’t for the midges (Josh agreed our nets were useless) and the rain and our wet stuff. Still, we had a reasonably dry tent.
            So, just approaching eleven, and slightly colder than I would have liked, I’m rounding off here – I hear rain again and outside so I’m hoping I don’t need to nip out there again. Till tomorrow.


Day 4 – Monday, 3^rd June 2019

            This morning, as we awoke in the valley where we had pitched our tents, the rain was drumming fiercely and incessantly on the tent, as if to make a point that had it not been for our thin layers of canvas, we would be at the mercy of the elements. The wind shook our tent vigorously, and I had no desire to leave the tent – although I also had no real desire to stay in this isolated spot longer than we needed to. I had slept poorly, with a rock underneath me, a half damp sleeping bag (which seemed to dry out), and feeling very cold – my fleece was damp from Sunday’s walking, so I was reluctant to put it back on.
            The time passed slowly from six to half past eight, when we decided to find out if Dan was awake. We then passed more time waiting for the weather to calm down so we could set down our tents and be on our way. This should have been relaxing, but I was restless, feeling somewhat trapped between the horrid wetness outside, and the stifling interior, where I tried to deliberate with myself whether I needed to go outside, spade and sanitary wipes in hand – I really didn’t want to have to. I waited uneasily.
            In due course the sun started shining through our tent, and the structure stopped shaking in the wind, so, with the weather calming down we got up and set the tents down. Packing up the two man tent tightly so I could carry it was not as easy as I thought, and it was an effort carrying it along such a physically demanding route back up the hillside. (I later discovered where we’d camped – at the ruins just south of Mullochbuie, Peanmeanach being much farther south.)
            Rather exhausted, we made it back to the car at midday, seeing a glimpse of the Hogwarts Express at the end of our walk. I was aching all over, particularly my left shoulder, but maybe this all served to increase my manliness.
            The course of the afternoon was spent on the road, heading towards Skye. We stopped along the way at the Glengarry viewpoint (where Dan drove off without me), the Cuilin Inn (closed for renovation) and a few shops, including a return to Fort William. We even spent time relaxing in a layby – like typical Brits!
            After a satisfying dinner at Seuma’s Bar (I had a simple mac and cheese, as I was feeling a little delicate again) we set off for our evening location – slightly different, a proper campsite with facilities, at Glenbrittle (we visited for the day a couple of years ago). I was glad of the arrangement, having been making the most of the various facilities throughout the day, but how long could I go without needing to use the shovel and wipes?
            The day rounded off with three separate tents pitched at Glenbrittle, overlooking the sea. Dan let us try out his one man tents for the night, and I felt it nice to have my own space, reading and writing to my heart’s content, and knowing there were facilities nearby. A peaceful end to a taxing day, considering how we spent the morning.
            Tomorrow evening we would hopefully enjoy a breather in a local Bed and Breakfast. But for now, this was perfectly sufficient, despite the drizzle, confining us somewhat to our tents.


Day 5 – Tuesday, 4^th June 2019

            Today had the makings of a perfect day – we awoke to glorious sunshine (not a drop of rain to be felt), and after a leisurely breakfast (or two) – bacon roll, croissant etc. etc. – we packed down our tents and made our way to the first stop of our day, the Fairy Pools.
            This was a gentle walk up a slight incline, to savour some beautiful mountain pools and waterfalls, the water almost clear blue, and the waterfalls particularly dramatic and full of personality. In the midst of such natural beauty I prayed that others might sense our Creator’s hand, and gave a prayer of thanks for this wonderful gift, and for this time to enjoy creation.
            As the day drew on (much later than it felt, due to our leisurely start), we visited the Aros Centre on Skye, for some gift shopping (I bought a few items for friends), but the centre closed at five, so we soon had to leave. We didn’t go far, however, only moving to the outside table to discuss the evening’s plans. The original plan was to find a Bed and Breakfast, but a quick internet search showed us to be short of (if not out of) options locally.
            However, undeterred, we kept an eye out for vacancy signs as we drove along – I must’ve knocked on four doors and tried one hotel, all booked up – before it became clear that a campsite was our best option. The leisure of a B&B would have to wait, but perhaps that was alright, as the evening was dry and promised some beautiful scenery.
            So we came upon the Kinloch campsite, already familiar to Dan. Feeling bold and confident, I elected to put up my one man tent on my own, but it soon became apparent that I was fighting a losing battle against the strong winds – everything I did was almost immediately undone, and I struggled for a long time, embarrassingly, with what had now effectively become a kite! Meanwhile, adding to this sense of underachievement, Dan (his tent up) was casually striking up conversation with some American girls nearby, who gifted him some whisky.
            For me, a German lady took pity, seeing my hapless efforts and offered to lend a hand. I swallowed my pride and accepted, hitting in pegs while she held the tent steady. Her husband(?) arrived with a rock, intimating that it would be helpful to hit the pegs in with – and it was! I enthusiastically set to hitting the pegs firmly into the ground, making totally sure the tent wouldn’t blow away. Satisfied with my work, I raved to Dan about how useful the rock had been.
            Shortly afterwards Dan pointed out how my tent was slightly skewed, leaning backwards, leading me to try to remove most of the pegs which I had hit (almost completely) in. In my efforts to pull out the pegs, using other pegs for leverage, I drew blood and hastily went for my first aid kit and patched up my finger. Dejected and rather apprehensive of further injury, I quietly and tentatively re-pegged my tent. I hated that rock.
            As a slight consolation we relaxed with Frioch (heather ale), while Dan savoured cider, and conversed about tents. The night was still young. There was a stunning sunset to be enjoyed, but soon the wind picked up, pushing us back under cover. There was word of rain to come later.