One more Seasonal memory/reflection.

"Hi Steve, I'm glad I've caught you as this is my last day at work."

Shocked at this disclosure I turned away from my workstation computer screen and replied.

"What do you mean your last day?"

"I've won big time on the lottery." Replied Stefan, a good friend and colleague within the Counselling and Mental Health environment we both worked in.

"You are the last to know and I am so glad to have caught you today to be able to tell you personally."

I immediately rolled backwards on my office chair, swivelled around and rose to my feet. We shared a big congratulatory hug.

"I am just soooo pleased for you." I genuinely said to him while inwardly noticing and pushing firmly aside my mischievous alter ego which of course was a; disappointed it was not me, b; felt it should be me, and c; was whirring away deciding which game I should now play in order to be justifiably at the head of the queue for any generous re-distribution of Stefans newly aquired wealth.

Stefan and his partner Rolly were great guys whom I got to know and became very fond of through both Counselling and Buddhist worlds. Stefan as I learned later, was reaping a handsome return on twenty years, or since the lottery first started, of dedicated and disciplined weekly buying of lottery tickets. His win was no fluke and it was truly heart warming to see well deserved good fortune such as this going to the good guys.

Now. Let us move onto the very next day and a little closer to the heart of this tale.

Again I was at work and had been noticing the severe and upset faces of several of my colleagues as they individually emerged from our team managers office. My heart was sinking as my name was also on this meeting list. It gave a jump and I felt a cold sweat appear as the allotted time came and I entered the office.  

A beaming smile greeted me from Dawn, our team manager.

"Hi Steve and am I glad to see you. I have purposely kept your meeting till last as you are the only one I have good news for."

"Aha! Well I am certainly pleased to hear that." I replied as Dawn went on to explain in detail to me what was by now a puzzling conundrum.

As it turned out it was about pay and how our remote paymasters had cocked up by making salary overpayments to various employees. Hence the severe and upset faces of colleagues as they were informed this overpayment was, over the next few months, to be re-paid via deductions in their salary.

"I am happy to inform you Steve," continued Dawn, "that your earlier increase in working hours also got missed by our pay office and they owe you quite a sizeable chunk of back pay which you will receive in this months salary."

I was stunned and initially felt a bit sheepish about the fact I had not personally noticed such loss of pay. I consoled myself with knowledge of how extremely stressful the last few months had been. My much loved and beautiful wife Kate, over those same few months had moved slowly downhill to eventual loss of life courtesy of a vicious cancer. My personal financial situation had been off the radar for some time. My intermittent attendance at work had been a vital support structure.

However; I also, as I heard this good news, vividly remember another strong, almost wondrous and joyful train of thought.

Only the day before I had genuinely and sincerely, despite mishievous silent inner thoughts, congratulated my colleague Stefan on his Lottery win. Now here was I getting mine.

Wow! How weird, how cool, how spooky is that?

Financially this was nothing compared to a lottery win. In my mind however; it was not only equal to Stefans good fortune it also felt like being rewarded, granted a gift or some concrete sign acknowledging cessation of a period of tremendous heartbreak, suffering and grief.

It was not the season of goodwill but it felt like it to me. My Santa Clause had been Stefan and some of his good fortune had rubbed off on me. Been re-distributed if you like.

Hmmmmm! Maybe, just maybe, for once, my much loved but highly mischievous mind knew what it was doing.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Sadie in a Stable.

Seasonal eh! seeing as how Christmas is just round the corner.  Actually it is not exactly a Stable rather a former, large agricultural livestock building. Now a log store and general storage barn which on this cold and stormy December night is a welcome refuge for Sadie, Tanya and I. It is the first time since I have owned Sadie she has spent a night under cover. We are snug and warm here and very appreciative of our hosts kindness and generosity.

I have known Richard and Lesley from way back when I used to travel the length and breadth of Gloucestershire selling farm equipment. They were wonderful hosts and we spent many a lunch hour enjoying food, chat and putting the world to rights. We even, on rare, in fact very rare, occasions deigned to discuss farm equipment. Richard, however was far too canny a customer to be 'sold to'.

Well, I suppose I might, if I arrived at the right time, had the right piece of equipment, at the right price, paid extortionately for his old equipment and did'nt want paying for months, then I might just make a sale. Only might mind you. There was never any guarantee. Such was a sales reps lot. Especially when dealing with farmers who by their very nature happen to be some of the most skilled dealers, manipulators and negotiators I have had the pleasure to associate with. They make some of the highly paid professional buyers of large organisations look like amateurs in comparison.

I am in this area on the Christmas card run. A few days out from Salisbury to personally deliver a few cards and meet old friends and aquaintances. Slightly more expensive a delivery than the fifty pence for a second class stamp but far more rewarding.

To all my good friends, colleagues and family who have not had a visit from me. Merry Christmas to you all and please be patient. I will get to visit you one day even though as I travel my list of friends complete with promises to visit gets longer and longer and spreads over a Europe wide area.

So, glasses raised, and from me a warm non alcoholic toast to say; Seasons greetings along with good health and happiness for 2013 to all family, friends and my blog readers. You have all touched my heart during 2012 with your encouragement, comments, warmth and love.

Thank you.

Right. Where are we.

Right now, on this 26th day of November 2012, I'll have you know, we are perched quite happily at a local Beauty spot at the Roundway White Horse, Devizes, Wiltshire. I look down over the escarpment and there below me, twinkling orange and white, is Devizes town on a blustery cold, dark and damp winters eve.

Over the last few weeks we have been with my brother Richard in Salisbury. This very welcome haven has seen various odd jobs completed on Sadie and slowly all is being readied for the dash to warmer climes early in January. Sadie now sports new mudflaps and all damage to the side skirts is now fully repaired by yours truly.

In a previous life, a life where make do and mend was a financial but enjoyable necessity, I undertook the rebuild of a fibreglass Reliant Robin three wheeled car. It was a daunting project but at the end of the day an excellent looking little three wheeler wobbled its way around Cirencester, Gloucesrershire, for several years. The repairs to Sadies side skirts and subsequent re inforcing of her leisure battery casing had me dredging up all those long forgotten skills. I am pleased at the result plus I guess I have saved a few pennies.

When in the UK I love visiting and spending time with relatives not seen for years. Also with friends, X wives/girlfriends too, who, incidentally still retain a preciousness to me in respect of how each of us are who we are today only because of those past relationships. All are on my 'visits to do' list which never seems to grow any smaller. Personally, and with a career history behind me of both sales and counselling, conversation and meaningful exchange is important, needed and sought after. For the last few days  visiting of good friends has been the agenda. My dear friend Pete the Poet and lovely wife Anne welcomed me warmly as I gingerly reversed into position in front of their garage. Frome is a very pleasant town and it is good to see them settled, happy and with good friends and neighbours.

Rather than return to Salisbury immediately I battled the atrocious stormy weather plus flooded roads and headed for higher ground here at Devizes. After all the visiting I needed some alone time. I enjoy and often find I am in need of such reflective time and space.

There is quite a raunchy story behind this particular need of a reflective space. Soooo .... If you are not 'adult' or don't do raunchy now is the time to stop reading and put the telly back on!

A few weeks ago I had the very popular and erotic book  '50 Shades of Grey' thrust into my hand with instructions given to; 'go read it!'

Now I am a normal heterosexual male with a chequered history of wonderfully intimate, healthy and conventional relationships. They of course all contained their individual cocktail of erotic physical escapades. I am also well informed through my years of counselling work of other not so normal or healthy, and sadly in my experience, damaging physical and psychological relationships.

So it was with some trepidation that I delved into the first few chapters. Basically; I did not want my tentatively balanced sexuality disturbed unnecessarily at this delicate point in my life where I have so recently lost the love of my life, Kate. I know me. I know how well my strong spirituality and meditative practice supports me. However; I also know how too much exposure to eroticism is deliciously and mischievously capable of 'buggering' my psyche about.

Well; 50 Shades of Grey did not disappoint. The psychological story was good. The author knew her stuff. The erotic physical escapades were also good and, as anyone who has read it will know, filled the majority of the book. The 'turning on' capacity of the book is not to be denied. Yes, '50 Shades of....' did as predicted, bugger me about both deliciously and mischievously. Hence the need for an away weekend, and contact with close friends and  companion to share, understand and dismantle the tangled web of erotic mischief. This final quiet 'alone' time is a facilitative space. One where the psycho-physical tree of stability can find and gratefully rest once again on secure deep roots.

50 Shades of Grey is a trilogy. I can pretty well guess the continuation and eventual outcome of the psychological storyline. And the raunchy eroticism? Well, guess I'm gonna leave that too. Exposure to one book is enough for this pill popping, x heart attack, doggy owning motorhome maniac!

"C'mon Tanya. Time for walkies."

Reflections

'Great art is there to raise the will above the purgatory of daily life'.

Radio 4 start the week with Andrew Marr. The source? Alas author of the quote, although reaching my ears, declined to lodge within mind for later recall

The colour, perspective and horizon absorbing misty-ness, now surrounding me, recalled this quote. As I walked I noticed at every new pace and movement of eye there was the 'great art'. I, for a time, walked slowly, absorbing myself within  and into this low coloured misty landscape of tree shape and reflected autumn leaves upon still water. The sensation, unlike being in a gallery viewing a picture, had the hardly felt touch of minute mist drops pinging cheeks along with the sound of pigeon wings flapping as tree roost was swapped for roof ridge. This total immersion of the senses within 'great art' heightened and sharpened mind to a point where I could not help but notice I was receiving a wonderful gift.

For Tanya and I this was in some way the full circle. This was Avebury and visited last in the frost and snow nine months ago in January. It was just before we set out over the water to France. Personally I find this area bodes a powerful and calming affect emanating as both a physical and mental felt sense. Today did not disappoint.

A final night is being spent wildcamped on the Ridgeway just by Avebury before tomorrow heading to Salisbury where I will spend time with brother Richard. A welcome base where we will be able to catch up on various tasks and maintenance work before heading off to Spain and Portugal early in the new year.

Memory lane + stewed fruit.

I could not believe what I was looking at. They were like a trigger, a mental one, now pulled. What came erupting out from the barrelled depths of my mind were forty six year old files spilling out their megabytes of memory. 

"Gosh." I said, as I was transported down through seven sets of watertight doors, all having to be individually and manually closed above me as I descended into cold metallic depths. My descent took me to the deepest bowels of the twenty seven thousand ton aircraft carrier HMS Eagle. Destination? The explosives locker right on the ships hull and just forward of the armour plating. This in case the lockers content should, for whatever reason, explode. The idea being to limit blast damage to a neat hole in the hull allowing ingress of water only to the locker itself as of course all watertight doors above were tightly shut. I remember it as a spooky, creaky and tomblike place. I used to briefly place my hands on the cold and grey painted thick steel hull plates. Standing quietly in the creaking silence  I would, for a few seconds, visualise the freezing ocean depths flowing by only centimetres away. The quicker I deposited my load of 'out of date' explosive Martin Baker ejection seat cartridges and re loaded with the new ones the better. Reaching once again the workshops of the upper aircraft servicing decks was always a relief.

Now here I was in Steve's engineering workshop on Richard and Lesley's farm near Cheltenham staring at the familiar sight of a set of these bulky shiny brass cartridges as they noisily jostled in the palm of my hand. Thankfully these were not filled with explosive but nevertheless, they were a powerful dredger of old, deeply submerged memories.

It seems the rise in popularity of flyable vintage jets complete with Martin Baker ejection seats is now prompting enthusiasts to seek out engineering capacity to manufacture these cartridge casings. As I handed the casings back to Steve he explained how, because of his workshops particular set of skills, he had been requested to look into the feasability of manufacturing such items.

More chat and further memories were chugged through before the broken arm of Sadies passenger seat was handed over to Steve for a minor repair. This of course was my original intention upon entering his workshop but I left with mind still whirring from the regurgitated memories prompted by sight and feel of those bulky round brass shell casings. Explosive shells, I may add, designed and successfully used on many occasions to save aviators lives.

This visit to old friends in the Cheltenham / Gloucester area was turning out to be productive in respect of minor mechanical ailments afflicting Sadie. Poor Tanya for several days now has not been able to enjoy her frequent visits to the open passenger door window for a blast of travelling air as we roll along. The electrically operated window has been reluctant to close and when, a few days previously, I had managed with some difficulty to get it closed I decided it had best remain so until further investigation.

A visit to the local Mercedes dealer revealed that the door plus window mechanism were not Mercedes parts.
"Oh dear" I muttered as I summoned my helpless and pleading voice to request any ideas as to what to attempt next.
"Have you tried lubricating the cables and window runners?"
"Well no I hav'nt." I replied and the gloomy bubble of ultra expensive and difficult to locate spare parts receded just a little.
He was dead right too. I now have a happy Tanya able to request a briskly opening and closing passenger door window. She can now once again allow the wind to lay back her ears and stream her beard rearward as she thrusts her head out of a happily trundling Sadie.

The fridge and freezer have also been working overtime too. Our walks over the last few days have yielded bulging doggy bags (always in my pocket.) of delicious blackberries. Combined with Richard and Lesleys Bramley and Worcester Permayne windfall apples plus a little heat and hey presto! Enough delicious stewed fruit for pies and deserts a plenty. Yummy yummy!

Travelling East & sad to leave.

"Fifty eight years!" I exclaimed, as his old head nodded in approval of my awe. 

"Aye, fifty eight years at sea and this boat now some nineteen years old and having saved twenty lives." 

Tommy continued with his story of how even he was surprised at how many times he happened to have been in the right place at the right time to pluck a life back from the sea.

There was also a sombre tale. His old fisherman's head swivelled in the obligatory polo necked seamans sweater to give a cursory nod to a plaque on the opposite wall of Fethard quay on this the South East Irish coast. The plaque remembered a 2002 tragedy at sea where three members of a local family had perished. Tommy had also been on the scene then but had the grim task of pulling bodies out of the sea. Anger and resentment were evident in his otherwise experienced seafaring wiseness as he told how the boat involved was known as being rotten as a plum and should have been off the water months before never mind have got a licence to take anglers out to sea.

Tommy went on his way. Tanya and I saw him later further up the estuary by his moored boat as we were on our river mussell collecting walk.  The walk was pleasant and for the first time in two days the thick and clammy wet sea mist had cleared and we could actually see things.

We had left Castle Gregory two days previously. There was a lump in my throat as I waved Keith and Justine goodbye while slowly driving past them waving back from the doorway of their shop. They had been wonderful hosts and had made me feel very much at home and part of their large community/family.

Moving on though is what we do so eastwards we headed into the ever decreasing vision and wet gloom of what I would normally call 'classic Scottish mist'. Guess here it will have to be Irish Mist. The dismal feel and mood of its close clammyness coupled with lack of any distance vision eventually found us quite early on securely set up for the night on a forest track.

There was not much to recommend it as an overnight spot apart from safe to walk Tanya and the barrier preventing entrance into the forest proper had a sturdy metal post which was just what I needed. Earlier in the day I had another scrunch as I reversed Sadie and once again not noticed a low, bright yellow, water main marker. No damage apart from it bending the full width towbar. This is exactly the reason the towbar is still on Sadie. To prevent me damaging her rear end more seriously. Sadie was carefully positioned in front of the sturdy metal post. Rope was tied between sturdy metal post and towbar. A gentle nudge forward from Sadie and hey presto! We now have a 'hardly bent at all' towbar.

Another sightless day of misty wet Irish gloom saw us travel the coastal path and eventually make tiny Fethard Quay our perch for the night. The mist cleared next morning and I was finally able to see what a delightful spot we had found. All the more so when you add in Tommy's seafaring yarns, three fresh herrings thrown up to me from the boat they had been caught in not an hour before, and of course the delicious river Mussells which were later enjoyed for lunch.

Next stop was Wexford and then a touch north to Merton, home to my niece's current boyfriend. Gerald welcomed me to his tidy, clean and efficiently run dairy farm on the grass rich land running down to the river Slaney. I have to admit here to very comfortably slipping back into my, prior to counselling, work role of agricultural rep as I listened to the difficulties Gerald outlined as to farming in Ireland during this time of financial crisis and extremely limited cash flow. My spot for the night was in front of their beautiful and purpose built home overlooking the gently sloping river valley. My three fresh herrings successfully gutted and filleted by yours truly went down a treat for dinner.

Now moving on again. This time with Sadie snug down below on deck three with (fingers crossed) a sleeping Tanya inside her. The Irish coast is now dropping away to stern while Wales, my gateway back into the UK, slowly fetches our helm. It is late at night so cannot see a thing but memories of my trip around Ireland are good. I have a feeling I will be back next year ..... 'to be sure now!'

Derrynane

'Here a man can think, reflect and gain perspective'.

'Governments, large institutions and the church tend to be convenient confusing bureacratic vehicles wherein individual greed may flourish'.

"Watch my eyes yourself now." 

So I did and I observed a gorgeous wink as this smartly dressed and attractive middle aged lady said;

"Well of course you'll be knowing now I can only give you the official line saying no camping."  She continued after she had seen I understood the sub text. "Now be sure to visit the house tomorrow. We'll be there to welcome you and we'll recognize you now to be sure."

She and her younger and equally beguiling colleague completed the locking up of Daniel O'Connell's house and went on their way. A short walk around the tropical feeling and looking gardens soon brought me back to Sadie neatly positioned as is her want in front of the 'No Camping' sign in the car park of Derrynane house. The car park was deserted but it felt more comfortable to stay the night now I had the 'un-official' permission of the two ladies who managed the house. I have found during my travels that out of season most officialdom take a pragmatic view, if treated respectfully, of these 'no overnight camping' notices.

Derrynane certainly is a beautiful spot. Mild too with lush vegetation, beaches and a wee harbour to die for. All is snuggled neatly below high peaks and overlooking the Kenmare estuary and Atlantic ocean. I did visit the house and now am far better informed as to Daniel O'Connel and his key role in the creation of Ireland as we know it today. I feel the sad part of the story is how his eventual falling from favour was partly due to his lifelong conviction to, and use of, non violent means to further his causes. His exposure to the ravages of the French Revolution resolved in him this flame of non violence, but as I trod his footsteps around Derrynane I could not help but agree as to how the very beauty and peace of this place must have played an equal and continually sustaining part in his life.

Awoke this morning to a mist-ical sunrise from my lucky find of a wild camping spot right on the Kenmare estuary at Kenmare quay. The mist is just lifting from the mountains across the estuary on the Beara peninsular. Down the estuary slowly creeping over the glass smooth estuary is the Catamaran I watched last night as he changed sails at his mooring just off the quay. I wonder where he is headed? Maybe he is slowly heading south too.

First nasty crunch for Sadie

"Oooooh! I did not like the sound of that Tanya. That, if my thinking is correct, was an expensive crunching type of sound!" 

I had not seen the low brick wall on my offside as I turned sharply into the harbour front car park at Portmaghee  on my way round the Kerry Ring.

We left Castle Gregory earlier in the day but intend to return for the weekend to accompany Keith and Justine to the Dingle food festival. I had heard a lot about the Kerry Ring so thought we would take a couple of days to sample it's delights. Weather was good, road was shite! Good views but narrow, bendy roads with years of 'patch me up' repairs giving a surface that rattles the b'jesus out of Sadie. Plus, being a main road it was quite busy. This is a combination I do not like. It means slow. In Sadie terms that is very slow. To other road users it is annoyingly slow. Personally I get anxious when I see traffic impatient and up my arse! Consequently I am always seeking out a place to pull in and let them by which of course gets tedious and slows you down even more. Ideally I like to get off such roads and take a longer route using back or minor roads. This is what I did at Portmaghee with a quick decision taken to pull into the virtually empty car park to give Tanya a walk plus explore the village. That is when the nasty crunch was heard and I knew the result was not going to be nice.

Sadie was duly parked and round we go to view the damage. Oh dear! Two of the lower skirting panels damaged and blowing in the breeze but thankfully not completely detached from Sadie. I picked up the sorry looking scratched and scraped wheel trim and managed to push that back into place. A half hour later and thanks to plastic cable ties, a bendy piece of tin and some sticky tape the two panels were rendered secure enough for the journey to continue. There looms a costly professional repair job for the future methinks. I tried to console myself with the fact I knew this day would come at some point and overall it could have been a lot worse. However; I could not shake off the low ebb of my mindset as we continued.

A pleasant night was had by the waters edge south of Portmaghee before next morning heading over the bridge and onto the Island of Valencia. A walk to Bray head above the stunning cliffs under sunny blue skies was a real bonus. Especially the views out to the Skelligs. These two phallic like rock promontories sit about 13km offshore and the bigger of the two is a UNESCO world heritage site due to it's 1400yr occupancy by monastics up till the twelfth century. Their 2300 steps and beehive shelters, all laboriously hacked out of the Atlantic gale lashed bedrock, still survive to this day. This was all clearly explained at the excellent Skellig experience centre on Valencia where a welcome lunch of yummily good Irish Stew was enjoyed.

At one point on the circular walk around Bray head we were high on the cliffs and walking on the stiff, coarse bog grass. There was a good path but I had diverted to cut out a corner and was walking across this grass. Tanya lagged behind and in the end stopped. I walked back to her, placed my hand on the grass and understood why she was reluctant to follow me. Even lower than the grass there grows a prickly type of green gorse. To sheep, cattle or goats with their cloven hooves it is no problem. To a small dog with soft paws this bed of prickly gorse must be like walking over a closely packed bed of upturned drawing pins. I tucked her under my arm and carried her back to the well worn and soft grass path. Off she went quite happy to be back to plain old grass, bog and black mud!

Thank goodness for all the doggy blankets I carry in Sadie!

Made it to Castle Gregory

Ireland is wet! Not the raining on my parade type of wet, no not that because my drift down the west coast has been a pleasant mixture of sunshine and showers. Wet underfoot is what I mean. The hills, bogs and glens are sodden and going one inch off the tarmac is a definite no no for a three and a half ton home on wheels called Sadie. I, in a way expected this but I expected it to be more 'the norm' In the Outer Hebrides and Western Scotland. It was a genuine surprise to find those destinations had enjoyed one of the driest summer's on record whereas here in the west and south west of Ireland they have had a washout Summer.

The exposure to Ireland is working its magic though. Westport and the Conemara loop including 'Sky Road' were stunning. Couple this with a program on Radio Kerry which included a history of marriage fixing in agricultural communities alongside an item on traditional milking of cows. Gather all together in a bundle of gently and humorously spoken Irish dialect and I am hooked. I think next year my trip north will be earlier in the year and include more time for Ireland.

I am now with number two son Keith and wife Justine in Sunny, well it is today, Castle Gregory on the beautiful Magharee peninsular between Tralee and Brandon Bay. An area well known for it's superb surfing waves. Keith paints the other side of the Irish equation of how the local community are not only suffering from Ireland's general financial hardship but being an area very dependent on a robust tourist trade they are markedly affected by the dreadfully wet Summer season.

One example is the small cycle hire business that Keith and Justine run from 'Beach Box' their popular centre of village gift and souvenir shop. Saturday is a busy change over day for all the holiday cottages, hotels and B & B's. Lots of enquiries are made about hiring of bicycles. Mmmmm! Prospects look good you would surmise. Then the rain sets in, for the week. No one turns up to hire the bikes. Keith nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders and continues to expertly fling the professional steam iron across the latest batch of B & B linen to have progressed it's way through their launderette in the backroom of the shop.

Later I watch from the beach where Keith himself is put through the rinse cycle as he attempts to battle his way through ten foot breaking waves to the pristine surfing rollers behind. Again another shrug as he acknowledges defeat and accepts this evening he made the wrong choice of beach for his skill at long board surfing. 

"always a good way to work off a hangover though," he throws in for good measure!

As we drove back to Keith and Justine's home in their 1973 all original blue and white Volkswagen camper Van I could understand why these vehicles have become so iconic and loved. Not, I hasten to add, iconic or loved enough to tempt me away from Sadie. I gave her a gentle pat upon our return; 

"you'll do for me old girl, you'll do very nicely thank you."

Ireland & 'I don't believe it!'.

Struggled I did, really struggled with my tools all cluttering up the floor of Sadie and Tanya giving me bored 'I want a walk' stares. Eventually though I turned on the radio and there it was. A clear and non distorted sound issueing forth from the New speakers neatly fitted and now once again unseen under the replaced dashboard panelling. The dashboard panelling had been the conundrum. How to remove it? I now know, which is a good job as tonight I have had an; 'I do not believe it' moment as one of the new speakers has failed and is now giving out ...... Go on, have a guess...... yup, you've got it...... a highly distorted sound.

Sat here as I am, in Glenariff forest park, County Antrim on this dark, cold night of heavy and continuous rain small things in life, such as a radio speaker giving up the ghost take on quite a significance. I enjoy listening to the radio and my music. It is quite important to me in this small and compressed motorhome world of mine. Now, suddenly it is compromised and has become another job to do and a double expense as with travelling it is once again the case of original retailer now being many miles behind in East Kilbride.

However; despite me also having a head cold all is not doom and gloom. We left the Glasgow area a few days ago spending time enjoying the sunshine as we travelled down the beautiful Ayrshire coast  stopping off at Croy bay to walk the beach along to Culzean castle where lunch was enjoyed. Many happy 'Kate' memories here. A further stop for a cup of tea and Seal viewing just past Girvan allowed arrival at David and Dorothy's beautiful home just in time for a much enjoyed steak pie supper. Their home just above Port Patrick is always an enjoyable visit not only for the delights of meandering around such a lovely and unspoilt harbour but also to catch up on all the gossip and stories of which David and Dorothy (when she can get a word in that is!) revell in. Them being a hop skip and a jump across Stranrear bay from the Cairn Ryan Irish ferry terminal is sort of useful too!

Cairn Ryan to Belfast was an uneventful ferry trip with their new ferry being very well appointed, clean, with sensibly priced meals and free wi fi. Tanya was not allowed to leave Sadie and the vehicle deck but managed fine and I had no loud tannoy announcement requesting my presence to attend one stressed out and noisy dog. She was very pleased to see me at the end of the relatively smooth crossing though.

Sat Nav set for Giants Causeway on the North Antrim coast and off we drive into the persistent heavy rain. Phew! It was bad too with sections of road flooded and in parts starting to lift under the pressure of water rushing off the rain sodden hills. Quite dramatic. We gave up in the end and swung right into Glenariff forest park and a large, sheltered by the trees, car park.  

Full wet gear was flung on including Tanya's raincoat with legs. She looks cute in it but more importantly it does the job and keeps the main part of her body and upper legs dry. Off we went to explore this Glen and the two swollen and rushing rivers deep in it's bowels. Now they were dramatic and two locals I met confirmed this drama when one of them said, "No, never seen anything like it and I been here forty years."

There were timber walkways along some of the really narrow sections of the glen. We walked rapidly over these as the torrent rushing and tearing at the supporting legs looked kind of determined to dislodge them and fling them into the raging brown and foaming cauldron of water and debris coming down from the hills above. Especially at Rainbow bridge which we had to cross. Exciting and scary with a welcome feeling of relief and security as we climbed up the Solid steps the other side which led us away from the noise, soaking spray, and the furious torrent of the death inviting waterfall. Tanya, may I add, was on a short and secure lead all the way.

I'm happy to say I am writing this last little postscript at Giants Causeway. Impressive and refreshing on this dry but cloudy and savagely windy day. The walking route we chose was clifftop. Hmmmm!  We returned to the visitor centre on the lower, shoreside road which was a little less windy but with jaw dropping eye level sight and sound of the huge storm waves rolling in and smashing into the jumbled and jagged hexagonal shoreline protrusions.

Well worth a visit.

Motorhome meet, characters & Andy Murray.

Such a beautiful clear and star studded sky with only the intermittent haze of woodsmoke from the bonfire misting the view at the whim of the breeze. 

"Wow! Did you see that shooting star Trish?" 

She did and reluctantly tore her eyes away from the vista to briefly tend to her expertly set woodland bonfire.

Trish and her self modified transit van complete with woodburner and two dogs were pulled into a convenient spot on a wee road through the forest. I had stopped, as you do, to have a chat which at the offer of a redbush tea had me backing Sadie alongside and disgorging Tanya to meet her two new doggy companions, Kelsey and Merlin. All three dogs were soon best of friends and exploring the forest as Trish and I sipped Redbush tea and, as you do, shared stories.

Trish lived and worked in Dundee and was re visiting some of the camping spots she had used on her epic walk a few years ago from John O Groats to Lands End. A fascinating lady with a fascinating story to tell.

I had some quality beef and lamb burgers left over and cooked up a scrumptious meal with the wild mushrooms Trish had gathered. Agreement was reached that I also do the washing up while Trish, a real outdoors lady, got a campfire going where, after our hot chocolate and tot of whisky we quietly and in hushed awe viewed the universe above us.

I was slowly wending my way back to Glasgow after attending a social weekend at Brin Herb Gardens. Our hosts Angus and Margaret had once again hosted a successful gathering of Motorhomers together with Barbeque and visit to the Dores Inn on the shore of Loch Ness for a very tasty meal.

It was at the Dores Inn where wee whisky drinking civil engineer, and sometime Scottish Buddhist Drew suprised us all by stripping down to swim trunks and leaping into the Loch for a quick swim before the meal. Brrrrrr! For once I was quite happy to see someone else taking the plunge as it was a non sunny day with a cold breeze blowing. He survived and joined us positively glowing & just in time to order his 'todays special' of roast pork loin with an extra portion of the caramalised onion and apple gravy.

Drew and his wee dog Hamish were another two interesting characters. They were on a two week trip around the area in their small camper van which was very basic but again Drew was a real outdoor food forager type of guy whom I was delighted to get to know better as we shared a long walk on the Monday after all the other Motorhomers had left.

I'm now settled for the evening in a Forest car park not too far from Perth. We had a great walk earlier to the forest hilltop and lovely views of Dundee, the Tay Estuary and all the way back to the Cairngorms where we had travelled through since saying cheerio to Trish and her dogs earlier this morning. Poor Tanya is now back to once again having to put up with just me after the last few days of having a real variety of other dogs to converse and sniff bums with.

Well we finally made it back to East Kilbride but not before a visit to Perth Caravans where I drooled for sometime over the motorhomes on display. I left after discussing battery 'happenings' with their service department and decided to wait and see before forking out an uncomfortable two hundred quid for new batteries. I also had a quick look around Sadie as we rolled down the A9 and thought; 

"you're an OK motorhome and you and me has a few years of travelling to do yet." Tanya of course fully agreed with me.

The Dunblane sign hove into view. Well! With Andy Murray just winning his first grand slam and becoming US champion how could I NOT visit. For a town with such tragic a history (1996 Dunblane Massacre) forever lurking in its archives there was a good feeling tinged with poignancy attached to this visit. To walk from the memorial stone in the cathedral to the Andy Murray Olympic Gold painted post box is to walk from a gun enabled tragic waste of human endeavour to the peak of human perseverance and sheer guts. Yes, Dunblane was a vibrant and sun blessed place to be on such a day.

Sadie seemed to roll on a little lighter and faster afterwards and it was not long before we were settled and plugged in on Chris and Michele's driveway. Big hugs and shouts of delight from grandchildren Becks and Aidan made the arrival a welcome return to East Kilbride.

Fishermen (and women) and Gold.

Phew! 

We had abandoned number one plan of heading for John O Groats and opted instead for plan one hundred and six. Get the hell out of the fierce coastal gales and travel inland to a sheltered valley.

The Gillie turned in and parked just in front of us. His two clients and their posh cars with fishing rods neatly stashed on magnetic bonnet and roof brackets also turned in and parked. 

"Uhh ho" thinks me. "Am I in bother for parking here in this lovely sheltered riverside spot in the River Naver valley just below Bettyhill?" 

I need not have worried. Both Gillie and fishermen/women were not in the least bit concerned about my presence. They were in fact quite happy to chat as they busied themselves preparing to fish for more Salmon on this stretch of the river. Seems like it was not the best of days as the water level had dropped seven inches overnight and the bright sunny sky was also not ideal.

The area is very popular with the fishing and over the next few days I got quite used to pulling in to the frequent passing places on these single track roads to let the numerous, and mainly Mercs and Range Rovers pass by, complete with their obligatory magnetic fishing rod carriers.

Oh! The calm, NON 'rock n roll' night of sleep enjoyed at that first delightfully sheltered stop was bliss indeed.

Tanya, next morning, found half a dead sheep and gorged at it for nearly  ten minutes before I found her. Not quite so blissful but thankfully no re-gurgitation inside Motorhome either!

"Wow!" I said. "Is that really proper gold from this river?" 

Ian assured me it was and showed us all the other small vials he had with differing amounts of gold in them. All were dated to show when he had panned it. I was in the Goldfields, as they seem to refer to them up here, above Helmsdale on the Suisgill and Kildonan Burns. Ian regularly panned this area and it soon became apparent that many hours and many tons of riverbed had been moved and painstakenly panned to yield up the small amounts of gold we were looking at. No matter. I had never seen raw gold before and was mightily impressed.

The three tents and parked motorhome on this bend in the road had grabbed my curiosity and seeing as it was late afternoon I pulled in for the night. I was soon in awed conversation with this small group of real characters who were regular visitors to this 1868 goldrush site. Another curious couple on holiday from Essex with their tent soon joined us and a very pleasant evening and next morning were spent swapping stories and lives. Bill, a Scot with Australian roots entertained us in his motorhome in which he lived fulltime with his cross collie dog named Robby. Bill had a murky past attested to as he eagerly showed us his ankle tag explaining that was why he could only travel areas local to Peterhead. What a pair of characters they were. I still have Robby's 'playfully administered' teethmarks on my arse to prove it!

It never ceases to amaze me how, within a very short space of time, all the rawness, tragedy, richness, tenderness, violence and nonsensical humour of life is laid out for witness by a group of people who, only a few hours previous, were not even remotely aware of each others existence. I hope, pray even, I never lose such humbling a gift as 'being amazed and awestruck'. To me that was and always is the Gold.

Gales .... again & future in chaos.

' ...... and there will be severe gales in Northeast Scotland .....' Issued forth from the radio. 

"Well you needn't tell me cos I bloody well know!" Says a tired and fed up me from the sunshine of a quiet glen just south of Bettyhill on the north coast of Scotland. 

Last night, however; was very Different and frightening. It had been windy during my two nights at a clifftop campsite at Durness but the wind was tolerable and spirits were positive and high as we set off toward John O Groats via the strangely named 'Smoo cave'. Then it was onward through the stunning scenery of this wild, russet and purple coastal road. I proposed a stop at Strathy lighthouse and  when a convenient spot presented itself we decided to spend the night there. Sadies rear end was strategically placed facing the stiff breeze with the forward view being a wide vista taking in both Douneray across the bay and the Orkney Isles to our left. Beautiful. A walk to the lighthouse once again gave no Whale or Dolphin sightings at this, renowned for such sightings, peninsular. On returning to Sadie I noticed the breeze had stiffened somewhat although nowhere near the intensity of the previous two nights.

Well dear reader let us now move on to two am in the morning. I've had a little fitful sleep but the now screaming gale hitting Sadie square on her rear and, incidently, four inches from my pillowed head, had me wide awake and concerned for survival. There are two rear facing opening roof vents and these were giving noisy rattling notice of wishing to immediately and dramatically separate from the roof.  Thank goodness for the garden wire and bamboo canes I had purchased to repair my kite. Vents were duly secured from inside. I then gingerly ventured outside through a door that needed both strength and care if it were to retain the title of door rather than gaping hole and 'gone with the wind' piece of shredded plastic. Thankfully what was alarming and frightening from the inside of Sadie was actually holding together well upon outside inspection.

Morning finally came accompanied by bright blue sky, scudding clouds and an amazing whitecapped, enraged seascape. The wind however showed no sign of abating. I was at right angles to the road and it was getting busy. Five sheep, yes five with two more not ten minutes later, came trotting by totally unaffected by what must be to them normal weather. Now I am not a sheep and Sadie, side on would be presenting fifteen square metres of wind resistance rather than a sheep's woolly wind adapted profile.

"If I back out and turn ninety degrees we are gale fodder!", I muttered as I visualised a wheels up Sadie slithering down the coastal slope toward ultimate destruction on the wave lashed rocks way below us.

"Whoa! Whoa! C'mon Tanya, time to stop this destructive thinking, get out of Sadie and see what it is really like and how we get out of this mess." 

I tell you that was fun. Ever seen a three and a half legged small dog walking diagonally and leaning into the wind with her Schnauzer beard blowing into her eyes and her ears flapping like demented butterfly wings. I would have been doubled up with laughter had I not been struggling to stay on two feet myself. We managed to reach a deserted building about five hundred metres distance where I calculated I could tuck Sadie into the lee. Dare I attempt to drive her there though?

Sadie was started up and I waited for a quieter spell between the savage roof ripping gusts. 

"Here we go Tanya, here we go!" 

A clumsy and bumpy reverse out and then a quick dash to the lee of the building. Phew! We made it and the difference was noticed immediately with Sadie still rocking but not alarmingly so. I was exhausted and immediately stretched out on the bed where I remained fast asleep for the next hour.

I was awakened as another motorhome blithely, in the still screaming but bright and sunny winds, drove by. I felt a right wimp!  Until, that is, they returned, very much slower, stopped right by us, wound down the window and shouted across. 

"I see why you're there. Swear I went on two wheels just back there over the crest." 

I wished them safe journey and watched them gingerly move on and crab their way on down the exposed road.

They did however; give me the encouragement I needed to move on myself a little later. I backtracked to Bettyhill where I have come inland and South to this secluded little pull in at the side of the road on the Altnaharra estate.

Last night's whole experience was particularly difficult as my continuing this lifestyle had been thrown into disarray earlier in the evening. I received a phone call from my letting agent informing of my tenants giving one months notice to quit. This was Indeed unexpected and added a 'doom and gloom' mental attitude to the already storm induced worry and anxiety

This evenings mental state?  Ah well! Everything is for a reason. Guess it will sort itself out one way or the other.

North, North, North & blocked view.

"Well; will you look at that Tanya. A nearly empty campsite and they have to park right next to me and block my lovely sea view!" The grumpiness continued till after I had grabbed a late lunch snack and had a wee Woodward speciality, the five minute nap.

We were at Sango Sands campsite, Durness. After several days of meandering slowly up through the narrow roads and incredible scenery of West Scotland I fancied a campsite with long hot showers and also a mains hook up to fully re-charge my batteries. There was another 'blow you off yer feet' gale blowing with low visibility, horizontal rain, and in short, everything a North of Scotland Atlantic storm should be. Sadie was duly parked facing into the gale, electric was hooked up and there we sat, snug and rocky atop cliffs overlooking a beautiful beach. Yes; it was wind and rain swept but it was still beautiful. Tanya and I donned wet gear later in the evening and had a bracing walk along the golden sands right at the edge of the crashing and wind agitated waves.

This morning was very different. Still a strongish wind but clear blue sky and scudding white clouds. So it was off for a good coastal walk through the huge sand dunes and stunning beaches. Binoculars always at the ready too as it is a very good area for whale and Dolphin spotting. No sightings unfortunately. Until that is, we return tired and exhausted to be faced with this whale of a motorhome parked right next door and obstructing my lovely view. I was going to move but hey! Life is too short and grumpiness only makes it shorter. I've changed seats instead so now I'm looking out landward to the dramatic hills and, as the afternoon progresses, their cloaks of darkening grey fast moving clouds.

Tomorrow we move on toward John O Groats and then turn South toward Inverness where next weekend I'm re-visiting the Highland mini meet of Motorhomers which last year was my first proper outing in the newly purchased, and now much loved, Sadie.

Gales & barriers.

"No kite flying in this eh Tanya." I said as we slowly emerged into the morning after a night of rock n roll sleep as Sadie weathered the continuing force nine going on ten gale. Our spot just above Bostadh beach, Lewis, with its restored Iron age house and the tide and time Bell, one of twelve distributed at various beaches around the UK, was a wild location and the weather a dramatic change on the previous day. Such are the Hebrideas.

Indeed the day before we had enjoyed a wonderful sun drenched walk and climb to Ceapabhal followed by a skinny dip in the sea this time at the breeze sheltered end of a glorious white sand beach about a mile from where we had spent the night at Taobh Tuath, just up from Leverburgh, Isle of Harris.

I am sometimes reluctant to spend more than one night at a wildcamping spot where I see it is regularly used by locals for various leisure activities. So with the sun still shining we had slowly made our way to our current Atlantic gale bearing site. Very slowly in fact as narrow roads, stunning scenery at every twist and turn of the road and frequent 'passing place' stops do not equate to even medium, never mind fast, speed.

The weather was not improving so on we went. This time to the Butt of Lewis with a stop to visit the Callanaish stones. The site of the stones had a very good and well designed visitor centre. Even with the gale still blowing as it was I was able to sit in the sheltered courtyard with Tanya and enjoy a cup of coffee, half a sausage roll (guess who had the other half?) And a slice of very yummy apple pie.

Refreshing also was the emphasis the visitor centre exhibition put on not knowing the real meaning behind these circles and lines of stones. My take on it has an Olympic theme. "Right teams ready..... you've got your stones, rolling timbers and ropes and you have to move it one hundred deer leaps to before standing it up in the prepared hole. On your marks ...... GO!!" I figure it's as good a guess as any other with the winning team getting first pick at the barbecued seal.

The Butt of Lewis was interesting too albeit in a different way. Such a treeless and bare promontory in a force ten gale is no place to try and stand for a human never mind a three and a half going on four legged dog. We kept well away from any edges that was for sure.
The northern end of the Isle of Lewis is a flat and treeless landscape of peat moor, lakes and scattered communities. Sadie being a large box type house on wheels was, now we were heading across the island toward Stornaway, finding it quite difficult to stay on the road in the savage crosswind and horizontal rain. Slow going and dedicated concentration saw me pleased to finally drop down into Stornaway and its slightly less windy ferry terminal where we booked ourselves onto the six am ferry across to Ullapool.

A bollocking and a 'made to wait delay' was received from the 'jobsworth' ferry queue attendant before we finally boarded, set sail & enjoyed the full breakfast on offer in the cafe. Well I am getting older and I thought last arrival was 35minutes before boarding not 45minutes which is why I was faced with a barrier and the ferry queues on the other side of it. I thought I showed intelligence and initiative by noticing my obstruction was an unmanned. I unlocked the barrier which was very quickly negotiated placing me on the right side and at the back of the boarding qeue. Hmmmm! CCTV.  Need I say more! Never mind. Jobsworth seemed to thoroughly enjoy his power wielding and I managed to keep a straight face as I offered my abject, and of course completely sincere apologies.

You just have to laugh as these continual 'barriers' to life pursue you......!

Godfellow and his pictures

"Heavens above will you look at that Tanya and let's just shut this window like right now!" 

It was just before eight am, the sun was shining and there was not a breath of wind to rustle the purple heather landscape in our secluded perch above Loch Sgiopoirt in South Uist. Tanya was, as usual, having her morning tummy rub on the bed as I lazily came to after a good night's sleep. I often open the sliding window at the head of my bed which is at the rear of the motorhome. Tanya loves then to put her nose outside and have a good sniff of morning and all its doggy promises.
However; ..... sunny warm morning ....... not a breath of wind ........ Scotland in all it's colourful Hebridean August glory ....... Well; It means only one thing ........ Midges!! ....... Huge clouds of them cavorting in ecstatic dances of blood sucking anticipation of Sadie disgorging its human and doggy content.

They really are a sight to behold when appearing in such vast numbers outside of every window. But the morning was beautiful and I knew brisk movement would render the number of midges able to bite face and hands tolerable. So it was on with the recently purchased 'George from Asda' hoody which was duly tied tightly round the face. Binoculars and camera in pocket. A quick spray of 'Avon Skin so soft' to further deter the blood suckers. A leap from the door into their midst and away Tanya and I went at a brisk pace which thankfully did the trick of providing a moving target accessible only to the fittest and most intelligent of midgy society.

Oh! And what a reward. To be overlooking a western Isles sea loch, deathly still and mirroring the morning sky of benign blue and fluffy white is to see Godfellow and his/her artistic skills in the no walls or roof gallery of 'now' or 'in the moment'. Human artists can capture and portray skillfully such vistas and indeed they too take your breath away with their accuracy, use of colour and individual perception. No one though, can provide such a gallery as this Godfellow artist. Every millimetre twist and turn, of the eye, a new three sixty degree panorama of unsurpassed beauty presents itself. My attempts to photograph wee bits of this breathless vista were, I knew, mere pin pricks of mediocracy against such incalculable perfection. Plus we could not stop moving or within milliseconds the squadrons of midges gathered together in numbers also incalculable!

We were soon back in Sadie enjoying breakfast along with a few guests who, as is the Midgy way of life, died off relatively quickly and left us in peace. The door was opened again at ten thirty. Not a midge in sight and another pleasant walk was enjoyed. The magnificence of the early morning was now not to be seen. No; there was now a breeze rippled bluish grey sea loch under an amassing mixture of high hazy stratus and rolling grey Cumulus. Bright, benign and with blue sky to the north it still was, but the unwordable beauty of the early morning had gone.

What now then Tanya eh?" Says I as I mentally struggled with 'shall we move on? Shall we stay? Or whatever. When I reach this point in my deliberations there is usually a shrug of the shoulders as once again I acknowledge the 'don't know' aspect of this new life of mine. As usual too, something always turns up. This time it was two local ladies taking advantage of the weather and arriving for a walk and a picnic. They pointed out a particular walk they had done previously which of course saw Tanya and I well into it ten minutes later. I guess, looking back, it was the icing on the cake. The sun re appeared as we meandered around the sea loch and I just could not resist working down to the shoreline, stripping off and skinny dipping in the cold, but not as cold as expected, loch. Exhilerating!

The wonderful day continued as we drove over the causeway into North Uist and perched for the night on the magnicent North coast beaches between Machair and Solas.

I reckon Kite flying tomorrow eh Tanya?

Outer Hebrides

Last night I was at the top of the hill overlooking Oban, Forth of Lorn, Lismore and in the distance the Sound of Mull which was to be the ferry route I would travel tomorrow to Lochboisdale in South Uist. I had arrived earlier in the afternoon to a sunny, warm and bright Oban. I have to add here this is most unusual. Kate and I travelled to Oban several times but this is the first time I have experienced a dry and blue sky Oban. A nice bonus. I had intended to wild camp overnight but unintentionally arrived at Oban campsite.  At fifteen quid another bonus as I could 'do all the necessary's a motorhome demands plus luxuriate in a good hot shower.

The evening was gorgeous with the not too strenuous walk up the hill a pleasant exercise after the evening meal. Tanya had her exercise too as she strained on the lead with, I may add, splendid use of all four legs, trying to get free and chase the sheep which were in no particular hurry to scatter themselves as we approached. Yes. I am afraid she does have that discrepancy of doggy brain which means lead on whenever the woolly jumpered grass engined beasties are encountered.

So here we are a day later wild parked at the southernmost point of South Uist. The waves are gently crashing onto the white sandy beach and Sadie is neatly perched just above on a convenient stony area. Evening is drawing toward night now with the westward panorama turning to darker shades of blue and grey as the sun rolls away behind firstly, her cloud cover, then horizon and so taking her myriad coloured pallet onward to yet more sunset adoring eyes.

The ferry was five hours but what views as we sailed up the Sound of Mull past Skye, Rum and then out into deeper waters as the Hebridean Isles slowly presented themselves ahead but then disappeared in the mists of squally showers.

I'll give Cal Mac full marks too for allowing well behaved dogs into the passenger areas. She thoroughly enjoyed the experience and the 'not too rough' sea movement did not for one moment spoil her enjoying her pre prepared evening meal.

After five hours on a ferry though we were both glad to finally settle Sadie and release and relieve with a good romp along this beautiful wild and desolate beach.  Actually not so desolate as there is an Inn about half a mile further on at roads end. There is a surprising flow of traffic going to and fro. Never mind. The search for real isolation starts in earnest tomorrow. For now a wee bit of traffic along with no intelligible radio, no internet and no mobile phone signal will have to suffice. TV I hear you say? Well you are certainly correct to ask as Sadie is of course proud owner of a fully functioning satellite TV system.  I'm afraid though the 'emotion grabbing drivel' electronic hypnotizer screen has no appeal whatsoever to me. I'm not a regular TV person under normal circumstances and most definitely not when the whole of  universal creation is majestically displayed before me through a panoramic motorhome windscreen.

D'you think Michele is right? 

Perhaps I am y'know. Am turning into one of those recluse type of elderly, eccentric (read, 'daft') grumpy hermits. Ahhhh well! At least I'm enjoying it!

Sticks, Canoes and Midges.

I only went in there for a fibre-glass gel coat repair kit. 

"How come then, Stevey boy, you are now driving away with another new blow up two man canoe?". "Awww, c'mon, give me a break, it was just too good a deal to walk away from!"

I was on my way to Cashel forest to complete my journey from the special beach at Port Lligat in Spain. The three pieces of driftwood faithfully collected from the beach were soon to be resting with Kate at her beautiful spot overlooking Loch Lomond. The Chandlers in Glasgow were on my route and I needed the fibre-glass gel repair kit for a couple of small repairs to Sadie. I was not to know that on display was a really good quality, last of the stock, blow up two man canoe. A good price too which became even less after a bit of bargaining. Well. I just could not resist it. Especially with a trip to the Hebrides coming up and the potential for fun already established over the past few weeks with the little one man canoe.

Budgets? "Errrr yes! They will need to be re jigged a bit......again!

Canoe was duly flung into Sadie and the journey to Cashel continued. A quick lunch conveniently taken during a heavy shower then Tanya and I headed up the track to Kate's bench and memorial spot at the viewpoint.

The views were as usual spectacular. More so as there was a mixture of heavy shower clouds over the hills with equal amounts of sunlight giving a forever changing breathtaking panorama. There was a crowd up there too. Unfortunately they were not there for the panoramic sunshine and cloud driven video show. They were there for my blood! They were serious too and in vast numbers.

Midges!

I was in shorts, short sleeved shirt, sandals and carrying an umbrella to fend off the showers. There was no doubt about it. I was manna from heaven for these squillions of voracious Scottish Midges.

I did reverently place the sticks. I did manage a short reflection but then had to move swiftly as they were literally covering me and biting like hell. Tanya was also getting affected so was equally pleased to be moving which thankfully gave us some relief from the hovering clouds of sharp jawed and blood lusting terrorists of the Scottish heather. As I write this my arms, legs and face are like pin cushions with little red Midgy bites.

A different visit but with mission achieved and still only late afternoon. I had booked a site for the night just across the road at the Caravan and Camping Clubs Forestry site. This was right on the Loch and thankfully clear of Midges.

Water. New Canoe. I guess it was a 'No brainer' really. An hour later saw Tanya and I on the Loch Lomond island directly across from the campsite. New Canoe was OK!  Swim in the Loch was OK too and gave relief and curative balm to a skin hot and stressed with the effort required in dealing with the recently experienced Midge holocaust.

I am informed the Outer Hebrides are not too bad in respect of Midges!

Hmmmmm! I'll let you know.

Still away with Grandchildren

"Grampeeeee!"  The look said it all as Jenna screamed at me. The largish stone aimed and delivered and causing large splash just by her had the desired effect. Hilarity all round as Grampy was once again admonished as the wicked purveyor of unpleasant and scary happenings.

I was away this time with Grandchildren Mia and Jenna on our way North West to the silver sanded beaches of Arisaig & Mallaig. The weather forecast indicated 'dry', always a bonus in Scotland, and parents Kirsten and Kevin indicated no rush to return them. Hmmmm!

Sainsbury for supplies, Dalrigh car park for lunch. The afternoon saw us over Rannoch moor, through Glen Coe and then over the Corran ferry where upon disembarking we hung a left. Hey presto, wild camping for the night on the edge of Loch Sunart at Aberay forest car park.

Graham the Kayaker arrived later and pitched his tent. I was quite glad to see that as the 'No overnight camping' sign was clearly displayed. It is always good to be in the company of other like minded mature, OK elderly, camping rebels. Graham was grateful for the invite to Sadie for tea, chat and escape from the evenings dose of midges. He seemed exhausted so it was no surprise when Mia spotted a note outside Sadie the next morning. Poor Graham had suffered his third bad night of chest pains and had decided to leave early, head home and see his doctor.

Our departure was much later. Lunch though was a pleasant affair on the sun blessed seafront car park at Arisaig village after a pleasant ride through stunning scenery with the mountains on either side of the single track roads brooding omminously under their blanket of stubborn grey cloud.

Two days of glorious sunshine have now been enjoyed at a campsite right at the end of the road leading to 'Back of Keppoch'. We are parked next to the silver and pink sanded beach amid, and to the delight of the girls, coves, rock pools, clear water, and safe paddling. In short a children's paradise. Canoe has been inflated and the girls plus the neighboring vans two girls have all 'had goes'. I have even managed a good paddle around some of the little rocky islands that eventually become part of the main beach as the tide recedes.

A delightful spot and to be recommended. The views alone are five star. They really do reinforce my love of Scotland. When the sun shines there is quite simply no place more beautiful.

Tomorrow we head back and there will be a tinge of sadness for me. As I headed north from Salisbury I had mixed feelings about 'having' the grandchildren. Bit of grumpy old pensioner syndrome I guess. Well; how that has changed eh!  They have all been different but each one a delight and without doubt they have given me far more unexpected pleasure and joy than I deserve. Kate, I know would have loved this time with every fibre of her being. I've said it before and I make no excuse for repeating it. I am just so privileged to be living this way.

So thanks to all my grandchildren, OH! And thanks to Dad Chris too. You were also fun to have aboard and that eggy bread for breakfast was yummy!

Sunset & away with Grandchildren.

To the left of Sadies panoramic windscreen the three bladed electric dance of the Whitelees forest wind turbines. To the right a falling away of the hill to the Clyde valley, Glasgow and beyond to the Campsie and Dumbarton hills.

In the centre the best show on earth. A setting sun sliding between rolling banks of eastward bound Cumulus. The ever deepening red and gold depths walking across the landscape on slanting heaven given rays of joyful light.

This ability to park Sadie facing west in order to collect another sunset has undoubtedly been one of the greatest joys of my travels. Unlike the TV this nightly show suffers no interruptions from adverts or news bulletins. The occasional break to make a cup of tea maybe. Even then I find myself bending forward to look out in case I miss a particularly stunning moment. It is a show I never tire of and frequently I have passed a good overnight spot ending up in a less suitable but westward facing spot. Invariably the reward has outweighed the disadvantages

Location - Kettrick Bay - Isle of Bute. 31/7/12

Another glorious sunset last night but this time with a difference. Aidan, Rebecca and dad Chris were sharing it with me as we settled for the night next to Kettrick beach here on the Isle of Bute. A difference indeed for myself and Tanya to share our home with guests. But what a good time we've had paddling our blow up canoe, flying the kite and revelling in Scotland at it's best. Calm, warm and dry. You cannot ask more than that when this far North and West.

The rain very conveniently delayed it's arrival until late this evening which is fine as tomorrow is our return ferry trip and home to an anxious Mum. Michele dared let her two treasures be taken away in a house on wheels by two men daft enough to go swimming in the 'cold enough to instantly deep freeze you' waters of the Clyde Estuary. Hopefully we will return the 'treasures' happy, sunburned and not too badly traumatized.

Location - North again - Oxenhope, Yorkshire.

I seem to be on a 'Relative' trip. Relative meaning kith and kin as opposed to 'relative to this and that.'

I left the comfort and stability of Salisbury a few days ago (19/7/12). The leaving was, as expected, with mixed feelings. I enjoy my time with brother Richard. I feel comfortable and welcomed whenever I am there. Being looked after so well by Richard's carers is also a lovely treat for me. I feel very privileged, and fortunate to be able to enjoy such luxury amid the dysfunction and deprivation of which, on a daily basis we are reminded, surrounds us on all sides.

One such reminder, and a particularly relevant one, came via the radio in Sadie within ninety minutes of leaving Salisbury. I was at Tidworth, having lunch in Tescos parking lot after topping up with a few fresh supplies. Radio 2 was on doing an item about hunger in the world. There was a report of starving and dying children in the Yemen which is awful and horrifying but sadly fell on ears hardened and conditioned to automatic emotional dullness plus a considerable degree of immunity to emotional response. This due to a lifetime of hearing and seeing regularly on TV such harrowing reports. They invariably render me helpless to do anything meaningful about the situation apart from making a charitable donation in order to throw balm and calm at my own disturbed and troubled mind.

The second report however; was from Salisbury and about young Mums who had hit hard times and were going hungry themselves in order to feed their children. That did emotionally affect me. There was I listening to the report and sinking my teeth into a sweet sticky pecan nut cake while in the very town I had just left there was, in this age of modern day social care and responsibility, a young Mum who had not eaten for 5 days because she could only afford enough food for her children.

Tears, personal thoughts, and sadness for all who suffer followed.

A new perspective to my journey perhaps? I don't know but it gave me a determination to at least 'be there' in the best way I can for my grandchildren. Even if that means something as menial as just writing a blog so they can keep up with, and perhaps be mentally fed and encouraged by their totally mad motorhome travelling Grampy.

So; onto Swindon to touch base with two of my grandchildren and then a whole evening with my step grandchildren, their Mum and Dad and a very nice 'Harvester Pub' meal.

The next day found me in Derbyshire for an overnight with my cousin David and his wife Debbie. More stories and more appreciation of just how difficult the so say 'normal' task of raising children can be. An added dimension to this visit was a guided tour of David's veterinary practice in the near by village of Ashby. Impressive and nice to be on the vets side of the counter for a change without a sick Tanya. Credit card still got a bashing though as I topped up Tanya's flea and tick treatments taking advantage of the very generously offered staff discount.

On again to Oxenhope, Yorkshire to meet younger brother Robert, wife Alison, her sister Penny and husband Chris plus various children and wives. A sloped road in front of their house became home for Sadie, Tanya and myself for two nights with Tanya charming everyone and deciding she very much liked the sofas.

From Yorkshire via the hills and dales to Stavely in the Lake District to stay with old friends. Finally to this wild camping spot in the depths of the Scottish Borders for a quiet night before heading north to East Kilbride.

Interesting little spot this and found due to me being tired, missing the sat nav cue, and seeing just the right sort of level gateway. Everywhere was very wet so a level gateway with a firm hardcore base was very welcome indeed. Especially as Mr farmer came by shortly after I parked. He stopped, chatted and thankfully said. "No, I caaant sees no problem bein there the one night."

A few minutes later we came across a ford as I walked Tanya down the sharp zig zag road. "Phew," I said as I looked at the torrent of swiftly flowing water swollen by, as Mr farmer had explained, four days of rain. There is no way I am going to risk driving Sadie through that. Guess tomorrow it is back the way we came for a few miles.

For now though this spot is very very peaceful and it's not raining. (Tues 24/7/12)

Sick dog walking.

Hmmmm! I thought, she is right. " Well Tanya"  I said, "I guess I did hurt you, by driving a motorhome on top of you an all that, but doggy, you ain't daft when it comes down to knowing where I hurt."

I, of course, like Tanya, suffer great pain in my hip area, particularly the left hand pocket region where my credit card lives snuggled neatly in my wallet.  

Guess where we were as I was feeling this pain? 

'Yes you and Tanya are right?'  The vet's again, of course! And what was I being advised to do?

Organise some expensive moving floor doggy hydrotherapy to kick start Tanya's brain into four legged mode.

Tanya was healthy and her leg was healing well. But use all four legs ..... naaah! Why bother when you can manage perfectly well with three. Try as I might I did not seem to be able to persuade her to walk using her injured leg.

So. Out from the vet's we go and back into Sadie to ring round the Doggy Hydrotherapists recommended. As luck would have it 'Top Dog' in Andover had a free appointment that very afternoon.

 "OK, we are on our way." Says I.

A couple of days have passed since that first appointment with Sara and Maggie at Top Dog. I am, however; very pleased to announce Tanya's initial and reluctant Immersion into a large fish tank complete with warm water and moving floor has proved highly successful. Tanya is now starting to walk with all four legs and, I hope, another couple of sessions plus regular short walks should very quickly get her back to normal.

One of our short walks was from 'Wrays Hill' near to where we had been staying with my sister and family for a couple of days. As we drew in to the 'Wray Hill' car park there was this wonderful motorhome conversion of a vintage Bedford Green Goddess fire engine with modified caravan perched atop. I managed to chat to the couple who owned her and who were being hassled by the traffic cops for some infringement of the law somewhere. Mr owner did not seem overly hassled and intimated this was a common occurrence. 

" They all get bogged down in the end as no one, including DVLA can decide what vehicle this is."

Certainly his strategy of sitting with cup of tea high in the, difficult to access, living area while Mr Plod stood outside trying to fill in forms and having to shout up to him for information...... weeeelll .... put it this way...... as I left Mr Plod was looking none too happy with his lot!

I kept my eyes firmly averted as we drove slowly by. I did not want a frustrated and 'wound up' traffic cop turning his attention my way.

3 legs n one spare and Sophie.

29^th June 2012 – Location – Comfy chair at Richard's home in Salisbury with Sadie parked up outside.

Yes. This really is quite cosy and welcoming and just as before I left the UK last February. Both Tanya and I enjoy our time here at Salisbury and really appreciate the hospitality. There is a difference this time though. I notice I have been reluctant to completely move out of Sadie, my home for the last 6 months. I am sleeping in the sumptous guest suite and spending most of my time with Richard in his home. Mornings though see me getting up, taking Tanya for a walk and then breakfasting and spending time in Sadie.

As indicated in the previous blogs. I am here for a reason. Tanya's recuperation back to fully functioning four legged dog. She is doing very well. The vets prognosis this morning was positive and signaled the next stage as 'Go Go Go!

'Go Go Go'; means that now is the time to disturb the mental condition Tanya is happy with; which is …. '3 legs n one spare is OK n guess we'll just get on with that.' I  somehow have to now intercede and change it to ….. 'Ok, Ok ! I get the message, 4 legs is go, 3 is soooo NOT Go Go Go!'

This is to be done over the next few weeks by gentle walking and increasing, by various methods her use of the injured leg. One tip I have been given is baby socks. Insert some sharp stones in one and fit it securely to her one good rear leg. This should encourage her to use her dodgy leg a little more. On the other hand it could be, and was, a good excuse to sit on doggy bum and spend a few minutes chewing baby sock off. Much more fun!

If all fails then more money needs to be thrown at the problem and in turn Tanya gets thrown into a Hydrotherapy pool for some doggy paddling exercises. I am not sure my credit card will sanction that one so am keeping silent in case credit card hears and gets the jitters. Best to surprise the poor little plastic being at the last moment with a quick and definite thrust into the dreaded machine rapidly followed by pin number before it realizes and starts curling up it's corners in violent plastic protest.

Certainly Tanya is benefitting from having a 'non moving floor' combined with a regular walking route around the local 'Middle Street Meadow.' She is back to climbing up and down stairs but not yet able to leap in and out of Sadie or, once in, jump up to her rightful place on the passenger seat. She has discovered however; that a bungalow beautifully converted for wheelchair use with liberal amounts of slippery wooden floors is a trifle difficult to negotiate with only three legs. She is getting there though and has no problem in rapidly moving to the kitchen once Yvanna or Jurate, Richard's carers, start to prepare food.

Tanya has also met Sophie while out walking. Sophie's mistress coincidentally is a local lady who owns a motorhome and has travelled the western Isles in it. Something I hope to do. She in turn was equally interested in my going 'Fulltime' in a motorhome and travelling on the continent. Well; such a meeting naturally prompted a wish to know more and so, and with much ribbing and hilarity from both my brother, partner, and the assembled bridge foursome, I now have, 'a date'. I on the other hand will look forward to a day trip out as passenger in a very different and smaller motorhome.

….. date indeed.......... Hmmmmph!!!!

Doggy Op & all day breakfast.

"We've used this spot two or three times before."
"Ahh! And you've not been moved on at all?"
"No. Never had any bother at all."

This conversation with the young couple in their smart red van conversion camper van made me feel a lot more comfortable about wild camping on this Wiltshire Council car park. Especially as it had a 'no overnight camping' sign, was near to Avebury stone circle and time-wise near to Summer Solstace and weird and wonderful crop circle time. It was between Walkers hill and Knap hill on the Marlborough Downs.

I was here for a reason. I had arrived back in the UK a few days ago and gone straight to the 'Companion Care' vet in Salisbury for a consultation as to the best way to get Tanya's dislocated hip sorted once and for all. I was expecting her to be going in for an op the next day and then to convalesce at my brother's house in Salisbury.

Hmmmm! Expectations eh!

The vets opinion and clinical advice did not meet my expectations but was the best clinical option for Tanya. I left having taken her advice and booked an appointment for an operation with a specialist Orthopedic vet 25 miles away in Devizes for the following Monday morning.

I tucked Tanya gently under my arm and walked back to Sadie. Now I swear. During that brief walk I could feel pain coming from my 'hip' pocket, where I keep wallet and credit card, as it digested the words vet, orthopedic, specialist and operation.

For now though, we are, peaceful, calm and parked up for the night not too far from Devizes and the vets premises. I felt more comfortable doing it this way rather than driving 25 miles from my brother's home in Salisbury during rush hour/school Mum time on a Monday morning. Especially as I am anxious over the operation and do not want Tanya reacting too, or picking up, my anxiety.
_-_-_-_-_-

Oooh! that was a treat! My first Morrison's all day breakfast since Dec 2011 when we left Scotland. I have to admit Morrison's of Devizes do a cracking one too. Not to be repeated on a regular basis but well deserved on this occasion when a bit of personal TLC was required after leaving Tanya at the vets for her operation.

A professional and confidence giving consultation was had with the vet. All options were discussed and a balance between 'best for Tanya' and 'financial sensibility' was agreed. What that means is as the state of the dislocated joint is seen the vet now has a clear choice of options to consider.

My hip pocket developed sharp pains again!

I will now head back out to the downs for a walk. It will help pass the time and also work off the inevitable  'just want to sit and sleep' feeling, which invariably follows a copious Morrison's all day breakfast.

Here's hoping n praying all goes well for Tanya.
_-_-_-_-

Back now in Salisbury with one 'done' and dozy Tanya. No drama and no difficult choice for the vet. It was a clear and simple case of remove the 'ball' of the joint and put her back together. The work now, over the next few weeks will be to work Tanya slowly and steadily toward using and developing her fourth leg rather than continuing with just three, which she was getting on well with and starting to regard as normal.

Guess it is now settle down here in Salisbury for two to three weeks of doggy TLC. I also get some as well. Iwona (ivana), Richards carer is quite happy to cook for me as well. That alone will be a lovely treat for me.

And the credit card?  ........ In severe shock!

Trouble & decisions.

"Tanya stay! what the ***** you're leg, it's wrong, the hip joint is out again is'nt it!"

I could not believe what I was seeing. We were in 'Notre Dame St Mort". Nothing special about the place apart from it was in the Vendee area and on our way north and had a convenient Aire where we could stop the night.

It had been an OK days drive but through some horrendous rain which made it awkward to walk Tanya as I was supposed to be keeping her bandages dry. There had been one small walk earlier where both her legs were fine. But here we were in the late afternoon with one leg at a peculiar angle and Tanya hopping around on 3 legs. She was not looking too happy about it either.

I was pretty well knocked sideways by this latest turn of events. I did not know what to do and would have been quite happy at that point if the world just went away and stopped troubling me. I'd had enough, was tired, hungry and pretty low.

I was also reluctant to go back to Eymet. Tanya was now going to need another operation and this latest disaster was probably due to a moving motorhome not being the ideal place for doggy convalescent care. I needed a stable base.

Map out, hmmmm! Nearest is Ian and Brownie's place at 'Redon' in Brittany. I had met them back in March on the Loire and they left me with a phone number and an open invite to visit any time. I phoned them and a plan was soon in place. An appointment with a local vet near Redon to see where we go from here.

Food, bed, a cuddle with Tanya, who apart from having a dangly leg was not in pain and managing ok. Up early next morning to drive the 140km to Redon.

That's when the next disaster hit. My phone blared at me with a warning I had used fifty quids worth of mobile data and Vodafone, thank goodness, had stopped it at that. My phone had somehow been hacked and someone is stealing my data allowance. Just what I needed along with Tanya and continuing heavy rain. I still have not figured it out but by altering a couple of settings I have managed to stop it for now.

By this time I am starting to question just who the hell has got it in for me up there in the thundery heavens.

We make it to the vets and x ray confirms hip joint is once again dis-located. It seems in small dogs this is not uncommon even when pinned. The final alternative, I am told, is removal of the ball end on the femur (thigh bone) and let the muscles and ligaments heal and hold the bone in place on their own. For small dogs this works well, I was informed. This was confirmed by a phone conversation between this vet and Mme Crochelet in Eymet. I was sent away with a recommendation to return to Eymet and a distinct impression Mr Redon vet did not want the job.

In despair I then went round to Ian and Brownies lovely home where I was welcomed and we all three thrashed out the various scenarios available. In the end and after phoning the Pets at Home vets in Salisbury I decided a return to the UK was best. Tanya was travelling OK. She was not in pain or stressed and a recuperation base in Salisbury where I could stay with my brother Richard seemed to me to be the best option for Tanya.

Online we go. Brittany ferry Cherbourg to Poole is booked. Back to vet next morning for worming tablet and doggy passport signed by vet to enable Tanya's return to the UK.

So here we are. Parked by a harbour wall just west of Cherbourg on a sunny and warm evening. Ferry is tomorrow morning (Thursday 14/6).

UK here I come. Sad but necessary and only a couple of weeks before my planned return. I will be back. Despite the difficult times of the last week or so there is still so much more of France I want to see.
Let us just hope while reflecting on my present run of misfortune, the ferry stays afloat tomorrow!