A story about 'Dog'

"Tell me then. How did you get the name God?"

We were strolling through woods by an estuary admiring the early morning wonder of sun glinting off rippling water as it played moment by moment with the accompanying pallet of cloud, tree, angle and shifting shade. God, on the whole was in good spirit and pleased with creation and this early morning witnessing of same.

He turned to me, paused for a few eternity's then asked me.

"What do you actually see out there when your eyes are wide open?" The 'out there' being emphasized as Gods arm swept across all creation laid out before us on this bright and early morning.

"Why, beauty and goodness. Yes just so much goodness." I replied, while raising my eyes to demand more of this creative magnitude to enter and swell my heart with the goodness I always felt when walking with God.

We had stopped now. Time in fact had stopped. I was not even sure we were still standing on the path we had been following. More eternity's slithered by before God turned to me and said.

"Touch me."

I reached out and gently, with the lightest of touch, let my hand rest on his arm. My heart swelled again as the goodness of 'simply being' entered me from deep within the heart of this ancient, wise and benign Oak tree. My hand maintained this lightest and most gentle of touches on the rough but welcoming bark for a few seconds, or was it lifetimes longer.

'What do you feel?" God asked me.

"Goodness, pure goodness. Your goodness." I replied

"When you eat do you feel goodness in your food?"

"Yes." I replied

"Are you breathing in and breathing out and do you taste and smell goodness in the very air you breathe?"

"Yes I do." I replied.

God, looking directly into my eyes smiled. No words were needed. My heart, already overloaded burst forth. I expressed the eternal, ancient, instinctive and unstoppable reply to being smiled at. I smiled back. I watched and felt the bodily sensations as goodness flowed between us fueling creation itself.

"There" God said. "See how simple it is? Demand of your eyes. Demand all your senses to open, to awaken, to see. I am named God, 'Goodness On Demand'. Demand that smile. Demand it and direct it at another. See for yourself how unflinchingly it is returned. See how the goodness flows."

He paused as further eternity's slipped effortlessly by.

"Yes, Goodness On Demand. That's my full name. That's the name I have to put on all the paperwork and legal stuff. I much prefer my nickname though. GOD. Much shorter and a lot easier on the tongue don't you think?"

God crouched down as she spoke. A twinkling panoramic vista of stars in her eyes. She reached out to stroke and ruffle the unruly coat of the small animal which had faithfully accompanied us on our walk, never more than a sniff or two behind.

I could not help but to also reach down and be touched by this creature demanding a share of our affection and goodness. It's own love and adoration of us showing with every shaking fibre of it's body and wildly wagging tail.

I asked God another question. "Why is this creature called Dog?"

God rose and we commenced walking again.

"Funny you should ask that." Said God. We walked on quietly through the tangle of Bamboo and skyward reaching Conifers.

"I was in my workshop." God said. "You know, the one down past that massive black hole just inside my infinity. Madame Chaos and her team of Time workers were all out. I can't remember what I was actually looking for. Probably some extra particles.

Madame Chaos had showed me how to plan and make things for myself. She explained to me in quite some detail how she manages and directs Her Time workers too. Wonderful beings you know, make anything and everything out of anything and nothing."

The conversation died away as we slowly continued our walk through time and space.

"Anyway, where was I?" God resumed.

"Ah yes, well I was messing about at the time with a couple of billion Galactic creations, nothing too large mind you, I was pretty amateurish in those early days. I remember clearly now. I had run out of particles and quarks so was in the workshop searching out another box or two of them. Now Madame Chaos can be, well is actually, a bit of an untidy so and so you know. The clue is in her name. I've nothing against her of course, far from it, she's been my creative manager for innumerable eons now and has certainly put substance into my yard full of infinity. But, to put it mildly, she is very untidy which meant I had no idea where she kept the boxes of particles or quarks"

There was a chuckle at this point as he carried on with the story.

"Mmmmm its all coming back to me now. It was so long ago you see. I remember reaching up to pull down a box which I thought contained particles. Only it didn't and it fell and the lid came off. Oh my heavens, and as you know I have quite a few of those. What a mess! What a mess! Live things, it was full of live things. Everything you can, and cannot, imagine from the squillions of galactic constructions Madame Chaos, Time and its sister company, Beyond Time, were involved in at the time. What a pickle. They were everywhere and I had the devils own job, well, actually I can't remember him ever getting in quite this much of a pickle slippery fella that he is and all that. But yes, I had the devils own job catching them all and putting them back in the box. I don't think I ever did get them all and certainly not this little fella here."

At this point Dog scurried up to us from behind delighted to have willing hands to lick in an attempt to tell us how good she had been with the dog we had just passed. How exciting it was to sniff bums and tell each other who they were and who they belonged to.

"I know some escaped," God continued,  "I overheard a conversation between Madame Chaos and the Time team some eons later. They were perplexed as to how life had suddenly started to appear on various of their projects despite the Chaotic plans not including it. I, of course kept very quiet but I think they had their suspicions when they saw Dog faithfully accompanying me everywhere I went."

"So you'd become fond of dog then?" I queried.

"He kinda grew on me." God said. "He was always there just behind me. I really should have put him back in the box but I suppose you're right. I'd grown fond of him. Then of course because I didn't return him to the box all of a sudden there were others. It was so quick, within a million or so eons. That's the problem with life. Once introduced it quickly gains in number and intelligence which mostly means outgrowing its environment and promptly writing itself off. All within a mere squillion eons. Blink of an eye stuff if you know what I mean.

Anyway this sudden expansion of Dog numbers meant I was getting lots of amusement from watching them greeting each other. This gave me the idea for the name. You see they always go round the back when they meet. You know, sniffing bums and doing a circle dance around each other. Also, when I thought I'd lost her, I noticed she was always just to the back of me. Right there almost in that blind spot I have where that slippery old rascal Devil annoyingly keeps creeping in. Only Dog was not causing trouble. Dog was just being good and she made me feel good every time I saw her.

"Go on." I said.

"Well, it suddenly came to me. You're just to the back of me little fella, you like other  backsides. You make me feel good. You can have my name backwards. 'Demands Our Goodness.' Or for short, DOG."

I laughed in appreciation of such a fascinating story. I asked my good friend if I could tell the story to others.

"By all means." Said my friend. 

"Be cautious though and remember. Life is unpredictable and varied. It comes in many different guises. Where life is concerned not all Dogs and not all Gods are necessarily the same."

 

2013 Festive Blog

"Are you alright?" I hear Richard say as he continues the phone call which has already contained numerous 'Oh dears' and a 'Can't be helped these things happen'.

"Mmmmm", I think to myself. "This sounds like bad news".

Turns out that Richard's car, loaned out earlier to facilitate moving of unwanted furniture from his Daughters house, was rather sick having seriously antagonised a faulty roadside manhole.  

'Errrrrr! Manhole did you say?

I did indeed say manhole. A fully qualified, with honours I believe, cast iron mis-behaving manhole. The solid cast iron lid, of aforementioned manhole, was dislodged and askew due to the recent heavy rains. Mischievously it had waited for an unsuspecting automobile to flip it up so enabling a gorgeous crunching and ripping off of rear suspension. The motorist following recounted how he saw a whole coil spring plus associated bits detach from the car and perform a flying parabolic arc before plopping down on the grass verge.

Well what a thing to happen 6 days before Christmas eh! Not exactly the most convenient time for this very specialized wheelchair accessible vehicle to be sick, crumped up and off the road.

To cap it all the inevitable too-ing and fro-ing of phone calls Richard was having to be involved in were eating into his Thursday afternoon of Bridge with the boys!  Not good. Not good at all.

I am here, at Richards house in Salisbury, until after the end of year festivities, at which time Sadie, warm and snug with her new upholstery and now matching bedding, will commence the journey South once again.

Barbara, who recently flew down from Scotland to join me for a week is hoping to do the same next March/April and join me wherever I am on my travels. She enjoyed her time here in and around Salisbury. She also enjoyed the sightseeing trips in Richards, now very sick, car. This was fun as we chose to put Richards electric wheelchair in the car as front passenger seat. We had a few surprised looks from people as we parked, got out of the car leaving wheelchair behind. Naughty I know but it gave us several hilarious and giggly moments.

Tanya, Sadie and I are nearly ready for the off. Except that is for odd niggling problems which will hopefully be sorted soon with more of the inevitable and expensive spare parts which are winging there way to us at this very moment. I'm not sure whether new stainless steel gas connecting hoses come under the category of Christmas present but they will certainly be 'the roast turkey' if they solve my tricky fridge problem.

All that remains for me to do is to thank you, my faithful blog readers for your loyalty and  positive feedback over this past year. Receiving from you a supportive e mail or comment when far from home is always uplifting and welcome.

As a bonus. I have a Christmas present for you all. I am going to publish on my blog a wee story I've written. I hope you enjoy it. I give full permission, after you have read it, to shake your head in dismay and give free reign and voice to  sentiments such as: 'He's lost it', 'Poor soul, he was reasonably sane once', or, 'So that's what fulltime solo Motorhoming does to old men .... so sad ... so very very sad!'

SEASONS GREETINGS. LOVE & BEST WISHES TO YOU ALL.

New Upholstery .... now done ....Hoorah!

Yes, back to Care A Van I went determined to assertively address the 'Pink' issue. To my surprise, delight and relief they, on closer inspection agreed with me and assured me there would be no further cost involved.

"We've got it wrong so we'll put it right". Says bossman Paul.

It has taken three days as they had to order in fresh material but it has been three days well spent. The final result looks good. I was however; glad to move on. Tanya and I have walked quite enough of Rednall and Lickey Hills Country Park for now thank you very much!

Tonight is Halloween and I am purposefully out in the wilds and well away from the shenanagins which these days are usually accompanied by fireworks. These upset Tanya, often leaving her shaking and needing comfort and assurance. Very quiet up here above Cheltenham though and she is flat out and fast asleep on her bed.

Right. I'll take a couple of fotos of my new decor and publish this for you all to see.

New van, well nearly anyway.

New van, well nearly anyway.

No driver or passenger seat. No cushions on the seats, bits missing from various places around Sadie and my 'stuff' all piled on the bed. Sadie is looking a mess and not as she usually does, a smart, tidy all mod cons home for Steve and Tanya!

We are parked up alongside the wall of the industrial unit where Messrs 'Care A Van' now all gone home for tbe night, are re-upholstery-ing Sadie. Today was strip out day. Tomorrow, fingers crossed, re-assembly with smart new interior day.

There was not much point in me or Tanya hanging around so we took advantage of the blue sky autumm day and set off walking. On our way we stopped at 'Lickey Hill Country Park' to give Tanya a sniffy walk. This large area of woodland park between Bromsgrove and Birmingham is most attractive and was within easy walking range. Topping 'Beacon Hill' Birmingham was laid out before us under the sunny blue sky. Probably one of the more pleasant ways to see this vast metropolis.  Also Topping Beacon hill were groups of children on school walks who once they saw Tanya screamed and shouted "OMG is that your dog mister and can we stroke her?"  Cue fifteen minute delay as I gently hold Tanya while saying to her, "I know, I know," as hands of all shape, size and colour reach to touch her from all sides. She didn't seem to mind and was soon back to normal Tanya/doggy behaviour as we headed downhill on quieter and child free paths.

Few days later now.

I am slowly getting over the trauma of the new look Sadie. This I have decided is a 'male' thing. I have never quite understood the indecision, anxiety and the interminable time it takes for the female of our species to decide on colour, pattern and decor in general. I mean it did not take me very long at all to choose the fabrics for Sadie.

Oh! How the mighty do fall! 

I do understand now!

The re-assembly day was a long one. I was very much involved in re-assembly of the seats. Good they may be to sit on. Good they are not to re-assemble after being fitted with smart new upholstery. In fact they were a nightmare with one still minus an armrest which needs further engineering work to be done on it.

The driver and passenger seats looked good so I could not understand my lurching and fear ridden stomach triggered by the word 'pink' which was the colour I saw as I stared at the big two seater forward facing rear seat cushion.

"Pink", I muttered. "It looks pink, bloody pink." With head in hands I recollected and apologized profusely for any past impatience I may have displayed while accompanying my better halves on the many paint, wallpaper, carpet, clothing, or furnishing trips to the B & Q's, and likewise of this world.  I was experiencing for myself the dread of getting it wrong!

All is not lost however; Tonight Mark my son and his wife Mandi came to view the Pink offering. Mandi has an artistic taste and talent I have always admired. She was honest.

"Yes it is Pinky."

As we looked closely and compared driver and passenger seats with rear seat the problem became clear. The material used on the rear seat is faded! Rectify that and slightly alter the mix of patterned and plain material and I will then have the mix of Terracotta and cream I was aiming for in the first place.

Paul, the boss at 'Care A Van' knew I was unsure as I left. He offered me a generous and honest get out of trouble clause.

"If you want something changed I'll do it for you and you just pay for any fabric used."

I've got the time. I'm still only an hour and a half away so I guess I'll be on the phone tomorrow to get this change organized.

Ho Hum!

Wales

Wales.

"Noooo! Don't tell me that! Don't make me look down. Maa God ah am gonna have to see my shrink twice a week after this. Hey wait a minute, Ah am a shrink!"

This from a retired American standing in the front cuddy of a canal barge as it slowly chugged across the sky high aquaduct spanning the 'river Dee' by the 'Trevor Basin', where, if one is so inclined, one may execute a sharp left hander and carry on to 'Llangollen' here in picturesque North Wales. I was walking alongside the barge on the narrow towpath. I was carrying Tanya due to the rather large drop to one side which had robust iron railings wide enough apart to allow doggy access to the dizzying drop below. The other side of course had a very busy five foot deep 120 year old cast iron channel full of water supporting rather long and chuggy, slowly moving canal barges. No place for a small dog called Tanya.

The retired American was with a party of four and returning their barge to the basin at Trevor from where they had hired it a week earlier. He was 'height averse' and had queried me as to whether any barges had ever fallen into the valley below. I mischievously replied.

"Not for a while anyway!" This had elicited his panicky but jovial reply.

Ireland and an uneventful ferry trip was now behind us as was a day of high gales where Sadie, rocking away in the vicious gusts, slowly negotiated the North Wales coast toward Chester and a CL for the night. (Small, 5 van camping site affiliated to the Caravan and Camping Club).

Llangollen was our destination next day which was much calmer and sunnier. The Dee Aquaduct was our surprise lunch stop where we met the American holidaying on their hired barge.

Carrying Tanya over the aquaduct was as previously explained but also it was due to her having a sore front paw which is giving her a noticeable limp on hard or gravelly surfaces. Hopefully the twice daily bathing in salty water will cure it. Let us hope so.

So there I am with random passer by taking my photo in the same place on Llangollen bridge where approximately 51 years ago I stood with my brother Richard having our photo taken by Ian with my Kodak Brownie 125 camera. Ian was a friend who had accompanied us on our Youth Hostelling walking adventure. I wonder where he is now?

More old memories eh! As I looked over the bridge I said to Tanya. 

"Yup! There's certainly been lots of water flowed under this bridge since I was last here. Best not to think about it too much eh Tanya. C'mon, time for an ice cream."

Beara, Kenmare & Dingle.

"Yu not wanted here. F***k off and make it quick right. Can yu not read the f***king signs. Now get off with yu NOW!!"

Colouful language indeed delivered from a face screaming 'no compromise, no nice'ness, no chance change of heart. It was evening. We were at the totally deserted cable car parking area at 'Dursey point' right on the tip of the 'Beara Peninsular'. True there were notices indicating no overnight camping. As followers of this blog know these notices are no deterrent to big rufty tufty wild camper Steve and his trusty companion Tanya. This rather unpleasant and aggressive enforcing of such a notice, especially at this, 'the end of holiday season' therefore came as a bit of a surprise.

About an hour later and still stinging with vulnerability we were safely and happily parked in a small ad hoc campsite. (read field with gate open and old caravans scattered around ) I willingly parted with a perfectly reasonable €6.00 to a much nicer and friendlier old farmer who grinned knowingly at ..... well I wonder ..!

Now I'd have been quite happy, to have heard from the previous excuse for a humanoid a; 'look, we're a bit touchy about overnight parking around here. Could you go and park on the beach site at Allihies please', which is where I now was.

Motto of the story; keep clear of Co Cork. They don't seem to like Motorhomes and are none too backward about making the fact known. They also specialize in rather off putting notices saying 'NO DOGS ALLOWED' and 'Dogs have been SHOT on these hills!'  These at the start of the well signposted coastal and copper mine trail walks. Hmmmmm!

The drive around the Peninsular however, was stunning. Not to be undertaken by anyone nervous of driving down coast hugging roads designed for horses and donkeys but just stunning.

I called in to the 'Dzogchen Beara Buddhist centre' en route. This centre is affiliated to the school of Buddhism whom 'Sogyal Rimpoche', author of 'The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying' is of huge influence. An author and book which for me has been life changing and indeed still influences my daily mental stability. Others would maybe question the mental stability bit. I guess they could be right too as I, never mind anyone else, am convinced I'm as daft as the proverbial brush. But I'm happy.

The journey around the Peninsular started and finished at Kenmare back in good old Co Kerry. I have had no trouble for two years now wild parking on the concrete roadway/cul de sac adjacent to the harbour and right at the head of the Kenmare Estuary with it's mouth watering west facing sunsets. These spectacles are to die for.

The old Irishman on his evening promenade along the roadway said knowingly; "Ahhh yes that'll be Co Cork right enough," as I reached the end of regaling him with my tale of woe about the unpleasantness at 'Dursley Point' .

I had company for breakfast the next morning too. A big beautiful Terradactile looking Heron within close binocular range of my open door. I watched him gobble up three sizeable fish as I munched on breakfast cereal and sipped tea. Absolute life playing out it's paradoxical connection to death right in front of my breakfast table. Fish - nil. Heron - three. Ho hummmm eh!

Finally to Dingle Food Festival and my attendance at Darach O Murchu's 'Foraging for Seaweed' workshop. Great fun. A hands on, or rather a welly boots on and trip down to the edge of a rocky low tide beach to learn about edible seaweed. Turns out most seaweed is edible but, as usual, there is a wealth of sea food knowledge and expertise already forgotten by the very likeable Daragh, which is far more than I will ever learn.

His quick cook on the roadside, and we all get a taste, of 'sea spaghetti with pesto' and 'Oat and seaweed butter fried patties' were yummy yum yum!

Mind you, lets get things in perspective. I have just enjoyed a delicious locally made Steak and Guinness pie bought from one of the festival stands. OK! Not so healthy as seaweed but still yummy yum yum.

At least now I have a better idea of what seaweed I can munch away at while doing my beachy rock walks. One tip Daragh did share. 

"When foraging with a dog keep an eye open for where your dog pees!" Good advice methinks.

Ireland, Co Kerry and Kaden.

The sand was soft deep and cool to the feet as they sank ankle deep while walking across the tidal flats of the 'River Owenmore' estuary  opposite the village of 'Cloghane'. I felt I was committing a crime as my feet left their untidy trail of deep marks across the acres of geometrically perfect sand wavelets that were obviously 'NOT TO BE DISTURBED' until the incoming tide returned to take possession.

Tanya too left her paw marks albeit not in a straight line and also neatly skirting around any area remotely resembling that dreadful thing called water. My son Keith with fishing rod in hand accompanied me and was soon casting out into the deeper waters of the incoming tide in hope of hooking Sea Trout or incoming Salmon. Lots of Mullet were espied but alas no juicy Trout or Salmon for tea on this night.

For a non fisherman such as myself, the evening and setting were pure perfection. Warm and virtually windless the setting sun glimmered through light emitting cloud which in turn allowed the rippling but flat tidal water to reflect both the light-scape and the stunning mountainous surround of the Dingle Peninsular skyline.

A suitable end to a day where earlier, on one of our bikewalks, Tanya and I had strolled and laid out in the warm sun on the totally deserted beach not five minutes from Keith and Justine's home near 'Castlegregory' and popular 'Brandons Bay'.

We had, a few days ago, undertaken a dull misty and full on drive down from 'Larne' in Northern Ireland after a smooth two hour ferry crossing from 'Cairnryan', Scotland. The cattle market lorry park at 'Ballymahon' served as halfway overnight stop for the two day trek.

"We'll be locking the gates overnight so you'll be secure but listen now they'll be open again early in the morning. Y'have a good night now." Said a cheerful and most obliging guy in the market office as I checked out the OK'ness of my chosen overnight stop. I have always found common courtesy pays off even if it is just a regretful returned smile as someone, for whatever reason, replies negatively.

Soon I was neatly installed and perched on levelling ramps in front of Mr Kaden Woodwards home where parents Keith and Justine are still coming to terms with the changes a new first baby wreaks. One I immediately noticed was how Kaden at only a few months old has magically bestowed total bessotedness upon his parents. A joy to see and to be a part of.

My first wife Sue and mother of our children had visited earlier, just after Kaden's birth. She'd left photos of our children and herself. Photos many of which I had taken but photos I had not seen since the early eighties. I had a surreal hour as I gazed at these wee smiling toddlers and babies who gazed back at me and magically transported me back to exact time, place and feeling of finger pressing down on camera shutter. A very long time ago but there in front of my eyes were photos which were the living image of Kaden as he quietly nestled in mum Justine's arms feeding contentedly just across the room from me.

As I watched number two son and now Daddy Keith holding baby Kaden and fully into total besottedness I was reminded of my first child Mark and how different those first few months after his birth were for me. I was many thousands of miles away in the Far East serving aboard aircraft carrier HMS Eagle. Mark and I met for the first time when he was approximately six months old.

The smiling chubby faces peering back at me from these old photos spoke of happy times though. They spoke creation. Creation of strong loving and lifelong family bonds.

Domesticity

A beautiful country cottage within doggy walking distance of the sea and not far from the famous St Andrews golf links. East Neuk of Fife countryside with the charming and historical university town of St Andrews only 4 miles away. A laid back and gutsy lady called Barbara in residence in said beautiful country cottage, who by the way cooks up a mean rhubarb crumble. Well; I think you can see for yourself can't you? The temptation to return to conventional domesticity, to a static as opposed to a wandering life, is quite strong.

Barbara and I have separate journeys to travel and are agreed now is not the time for either to dramatically change course. Compromise of both our present time hard fought for individual positive lifestyles is not the desired agenda. Enhancement of both our lifestyles through sharing times together wherever and however seems to be more of a feasible plan. Hmmmm: did I say plan just then? OK; lets just look at that for a moment. I think I will change the word 'plan' to 'process'. Yup, sounds healthier to me. For now we sit back, enjoy what is and just trust the process. There, that feels a whole lot better. What do you think?

Barbara, incidentally, loved her week sharing Sadie with myself and Tanya. She fitted in well. Amusingly so as she is physically on the smallish side. This holds many benefits when living in close proximity to a male of the species with all his many, and well known, unsavoury characteristics. Especially when that 'living with' happens to be in the confined space of a motorhome. Also, any woman who without fuss or complaint delves competently into the intricacies of chemical toilets immediately gets my vote. Overall it worked well with Tanya relishing double the attention.

Life never stands still though and the day of parting soon dawned. Barbara left early, taking a few tears with her, (Awwwww! I was sad too.) for a pre arranged meeting leaving me to load up Sadie, turn the key, fire up her engine and roll onward to our next destination, Ireland.

Well I did turn the key. I then heard the distinct and stomach sinking sound of starter solenoid kicking in but no juice left to turn starter motor. Sadie had been sitting for a week quite comfortably in Frank and Bernice's very tidy farmyard, just across from, and viewable from, Barbara's cottage. For once though she was not plugged into mains electricity nor had she had her engine running for the whole week. That equals no top up charging of battery. Not a problem for a good battery but definitely problematic for a tired battery which it now seems Sadie is the proud owner of.

"Damm, guess you don't want to leave either eh Sadie! Whaddya reckon Tanya?"

Tanya raised her head from where she was curled up ready to travel on the passenger seat. She gave me a querying disdainful look, shuffled round and curled up again as if to say, 'no good asking me, I'm a dog, just sort it will you n leave me in peace!'

So I did. This was a highly efficient, highly mechanized arable farm with farmer Franks son busying himself just round the corner preparing the Gi-normous self propelled potato harvester for the forthcoming potato lifting season.

My years of selling agricultural machinery were on stony Cotswold land. Not good for potatoes. The size and technical wizardry of this machine enabling clean and scuff free potatoes to reach the consumer fascinated me. For a few moments I forgot completely why I had clambered up the steps to the machines cab where Franks son was engrossed in setting up the monster machine's computerized controls.

It was not long however before this highly skilled and without question helpful farmers son was backing up to Sadie in a big green John Deere tractor. Jump leads were quickly attached and without further ado Sadie sprang into life.

I had already left a parting gift with Bernice in gratitude for Sadies parking spot but more grateful thanks and a cheery wave were given as we finally drove out of the farmyard and hit the open road.

More expense. But for now the Battery will have to suffice and should in theory be no problem as Sadie will be on the move, and therefore charging said tired battery, for the foreseeable future.

Ireland and my new Grandchild 'Kaden' await.

A dead shot.

The shot was a loud 'crack' over in the rough meadow to our right.

"That's the stag dead then." Said Barbara.

"Oh I do hope so, he's been such a nuisance lately." Answered our host Denise.

Hearing the rifle shot I rose from the table laid out with our generous meal and excused myself. I needed to go and see to Tanya. She is terrified of loud bangs and was alone in Sadie who was parked close to where the rifle shot rang out. I met Colin in his truck as I stepped out of the house into the darkness. Colin was the Roshven postman plus deer manager for the local estate. He had been after this particular stag for weeks as it was refusing to follow the hinds back up into the hills come evening. Preferring instead to cross a busy road after juicier menus in the hay meadows and rough pastures bordering Loch Ailort around our location of Roshven.

Colin gave me a torch and invited me to see the still warm, stone dead but handsome stag before he expertly bled it, loaded it onto his truck and headed off to the estates game larder. We may well see a repeat if we stay in the area as we had all viewed the second 'nuisance' stag silhouetted against the evening gloom of the loch.

Tanya, when I finally got to her, was fine but mighty glad to see me. She trotted along beside me as we headed back to Denise's beautiful and brand new cathedral like glassed home to finish our meal. Bugsy, Denise's dog once again became very keen to bestow sexual favours upon Tanya. Tanya solved the problem by perching herself right behind me on my seat.

We ate, drank and talked till late. We listened as Denise outlined some of the difficulties, frustration and joys of living in such a beautiful place running a business comprising several holiday chalets, 50 acres, and a local burial ground. Not an easy task for a single widow of similar age as ourselves.

We were here as this was a special place with many good memories that Barbara wished to share with me. Good memories for me too now. I love the Scottish West Coast so to be able to stay in this location and enjoy the stunning scenery under sunny blue skies with an attractive and lovely lady friend was complete bliss.

Tonight we are both in awe. Not only have we enjoyed a picnic on a silver sanded beach under warm sunshine at Traigh farm beach, just North of Arisaig we are now, at 7.00pm, preparing to enjoy our evening meal while the spectacular panoramic vista in front of us comprising the islands of Skye, Canna, Rhum and Eigg are painted in ever changing and infinite golden glory by the slowly sinking Western sun.

We sit quietly in contemplative silence for a few moments. Each of us thankful, amazed and deeply humbled that such visual glory is ours to enjoy for the evening.

Fun in the highlands.

"Stop it. Stop it." Cried Barbara as the tears of laughter rolled down her cheeks.

 
"Thausage curry for thix. Thatth what I'll do. Yeth. Thausage curry for thix."

This statement, delivered by yours truly, came after downing one large Whisky and while inappropriately wielding a wooden spatula. Barbara and I were in a similar childish but merry state of mind. We were trying desperately but without success, to bring some seriousness to the task in hand, the unexpected agreement, by myself I have to add, to provide the main course of a progressive meal for the remaining motorhomers from the weekend rally we had been enjoying.

Barbara, brave but foolish girl, had agreed to accompany me. I had picked her up from her beautiful country cottage near St Andrews in the 'East Neuk of Fife'. We knew each other from our respective past working lives and like me, Barbara is only recently embarked on an adventurous journey. She has moved from city living in Glasgow to rural living in a small but busy farming village. A big change of lifestyle.

This was of course a brand new part of the Sadie, Tanya and Steve journey. How were we going to manage and accommodate a female passenger? I need not have worried. Sadie's  double bed and en suite bathroom gave ample privacy for her ladyship, whom, I have to add, has taken to all the compromises of motorhome living like a duck to water. The overcab drop down bed has so far provided very comfy and roomy sleeping for me.

Scotland with warm sunny weather in August and September is simply stunning. So it is no surprise that here we are 9 days later at Roshvin on the West coast still together and having enjoyed another good meal and stunning sunset. Barbara, much to my surprise, has not thrown a wobbly or panic attack when wildcamp spots such as forest tracks, mountain tops or beach sites with 'No Overnight Camping' have been thrown at her. In fact she has relished them. Plus, and this is the really good bit, she does the washing up. Y'know sumptin? I could actually get to like this!!!

Grandchildren & Cheesy Pasta.

"Having cheesy pasta for lunch." was the enthusiastic answer from 8 year old Aidan. 

The question? What has been the best bit of our 2 day camping excursion to Loch Lomond?
Hmmmmmm! Sometimes I wonder if I am maybe getting a wee bit out of touch with my grandchildrens world.

The Caravan and Camping Club Loch Lomond Forest site at Cashell placed us right at the Loch's edge and conveniently within walking distance of 'Granny's Mountain' where the memorial Rowan tree and wooden seat mark the spot wherein Kate's ashes lie. Lovely views and a walk were enjoyed by all albeit it was a slow one which of course is always the case when Grandchildren accompany.

After a family celebration in Salisbury at the end of July my arrival in Scotland gave limited time for 'camping with grandchildren' before their return to school on August 14. Two trips with two grandchildren each time to the Loch Lomond site turned out to be a good compromise. Not too far to travel and something different for them all.

The weather was kinder to us on the first trip. Mia & Jenna demanded the camping chairs at one point so they could sit in the water at the Lochs edge just like the couple in the classic Volkswagon camper next door. Mia & Jenna however; did not have a rapidly emptying bottle of wine which seemed to be fuelling increasing hilarity for the young couple next door which was followed by increasing closeness followed by two empty chairs left sitting in the loch and a Volkswagon camper van with all blinds closed. This then developed an agitated rocking movement towards its rear end. Most strange!

Dad Chris came along on the second trip with Aidan & Rebecca. A full Sadie with 3 bikes on the back as well. The breezier and showery weather made the pebble skimming slightly more tricky but the bikes were a bonus as was the close proximity of the lovely toilet and hot shower block.

The highlight though, the cheesy pasta straight from the box cooked expertly by Chris, was wolfed down rapidly by Aidan and more sedately by Rebecca as Aidan, licking his lips, watched closely just in case she did not want it all.

The strange thing was the question I asked of Aidan was as we were all enjoying a Macdonalds special at 'Lomond Shores Retail Park'. This was just prior to us all racing erratically around a small lagoon, in a Pedallo. I guess that makes for a scoreline of Cheesy Pasta 1, Macdonalds Zero.

I'm afraid there has been a knock on affect too. Tanya Sadie and I are tonight once again on our own up in the hills. I think Tanya is quite pleased to have her home back again rather than having her bed shunted around to whatever small floor space is available. Usually under the table or in the drivers footwell space. We are in 'Wanlochead' after having enjoyed a pleasant afternoon visiting a lead mine, the miners cottages and the local lead mining and gold panning museum. Well worth a visit. The weather has now closed in and outside is misty and wet. Who cares! For I have just enjoyed a scrumptious meal of ....... yes you've guessed ........ Cheesy Pasta. Mine however; is not from a packet. Oh no no no!  This unique and personal 'what have I got in the fridge menu' contained genuine cheddar cheese, ham, mushrooms and a hefty last minute addition of fresh Parsley. Deeelicious!

Anniversary & a loss.

Yes; definitely an anniversary of note. 2 years ago on July 29th 2011 Sadie was delivered by her previous owners and became mine and Tanya's. December 16th of that same year was when Sadie, Tanya, and I left 'East Kilbride' to start our travelling life. The rest is history as they say. Recorded history though with my blog containing many entries, telling it as it has been over those two years, and of course, is still ongoing.

Tonight is no exception. We, that is the team, Sadie, Tanya and I are wild camped high in the Cumbrian hills just East of Westmoreland services on the M6. The plan was, on this journey up to Scotland, to stay the night at the services. The plan changed when I discovered it was going to cost me £22.00 to park my wheels overnight.

Out came the Caravan and Camping Club book and a CL (Small site very often on local farms.) Was located not too far away. A quick phone call to check availability and we were on our way to a site which would cost me only £9.00.

Plan 3. En-route this delightful wild spot was espied where with well practised skill Sadie was soon parked, levelled and ready to provide home for the night with views of the hills to die for. Cost?   Zero!  Am I not just a tight fisted old so and so eh!

We know all to well that we are moving North as well. The weather was kind & warm all the way up a busy but thankfully free flowing M6. Tonight though is a mixture of sunshine, cloud and cool showers. The last few weeks of being based in 'Salisbury' and of living in shorts, sandals and light summer shirts is, I feel, about to come to an end. Light jacket, socks and trainers had to be donned for a walk with Tanya up to the rocky bluff above the village of 'Orton'. A small price to pay however; for such a beautiful spot and reminder of all the similar wonderful spots throughout Europe we have experienced and enjoyed during the last two years.

So; here is to another year of successful and exciting travel with my trusty companions Sadie and Tanya. Picture me here if you will with cup of tea raised in one hand toasting my good fortune. The reality is raising my half filled mug of tea has reminded me I must take my pills tonight. I forgot them last night.

Ahhhhh; such are the lofty aspirations of this increasingly forgetful, bearded, tight fisted, and definitely mad as a hatter old man!
- - -
Next day.

"Hmmmm! Be careful of what you think, verbally state or write down, for it may come back to bite you on the bum!!"

Annadale services on the M74 about 60 miles South of Glasgow. We'd stopped for a Tanya walk and bite to eat. Imagine my panic upon returning to Sadie to find no keys attached to my belt. They, for the first time since I have owned Sadie, had become detached somewhere without me noticing. Worse still, I had also left my mobile phone inside Sadie. If anyone found the keys, which have a tag on them with my phone number and name clearly written, they would perhaps ring me and get no reply.

I carefully retraced my steps right back around the lake where Tanya and I had walked. Especially the bit where I had walked down the steep bank and into the bushes for a quiet pee. No such luck. I was by now seriously questioning my mental ability in respect of  being left on my own in charge of an expensive motorhome.

"A home for the elderly and forgetful is where I belong" I muttered to myself.

Finally I walk into the services to ask if anyone has handed them in. A lady directs me across the foyer toward an 'in charge lady' who, to my absolute relief, was chatting to someone else while swinging my set of keys around her finger.

"Oh don't worry, this is a frequent everyday occurence." she says as I grasp swinging keys and clutch them tightly.

It took some time for the emotional roller coaster I was on to slow down and stop. About 30 miles I reckon. During the remaining 30 miles I reflected upon the genuineness, honesty and just plain good human being-ness of folks.

Every day at that service station some kind soul is finding keys and handing them in much to the relief of an equal number of distressed individuals such as myself. I expect it is the same at most busy motorway service areas which makes for an awful lot of very good folk.

Not a world changing reflection at all. Just one that put a smile back on my face and one that I hope in some way touches the good folk who had so kindly and unknowingly relieved my growing despair, panic and distress by handing in my keys.

Family

As I slowly drove into the farmyard I instantly recognised the red brick buildings originally constructed for horses.  Memories tumbled out from their secure storage within the many folds of my hippocampus. Mental images as fresh as the day 50 years ago when they were collected and placed deep in a young boys mind. The buildings, I noticed, were once again full of horses as Cousin Eddie capitalized on the equine livery business in order to survive on this small, unchanged and delightful rural haven.

We Woodwards are a scattered family with mainly rural roots. I hardly know my cousins let alone any detail of family history further back than my own  parents, now deceased. This latest trip to Derbyshire is aimed at addressing such a lack of knowledge and getting to know my cousins and their families a little better.

Two pleasant heatwave affected days were spent with cousin Anthony and wife Avrill. Cousin Pauline also joined us for one of Avrill's delicious meals. An enjoyable visit where I feel I now know them better. I also filled in a few historical family unknowns as we delved into letters and sundry paperwork only recently seeing the light of day after the passing away of elderly Aunt Mary, sister to my late father.

No long lost papers here at Cousin Eddies however. Just a small and little changed farm that like so many others is no longer commercially viable as a conventional agricultural farmstead. So now locally owned horses grace the red brick stables and a small herd of cows with their calves add a genuine agricultural flavour as they wander around feeding on the recently cut hay meadows. These meadows surround a wonderfully mature and much loved 4 acres of woodland.

A very pleasant day was spent with Eddy, wife Kate and their two boisterous boys out in the garden playing numerous games with everything from trampolines to water pistols to Badminton rackets which annoyingly caught and held the shuttlecock in their loose strings every time you attempted a hit. 

"Hmmmm!" Said Kate; "Maybe Tesco's best are not the best after all!"

Grottos, war & s**t weather.

As we pulled away from the delightful and totally unexpected grotto with the inevitable, but none the less beautiful and spiritual, statues of Mary, who was both on her own and, a little further on, comforting her dying/dead son Jesus, I looked towards Mary and said. 

"You are some lady you are. Right there with it too. fancy you knowing about and messing with my sat nav again and bringing me here."

We were on our way from a pleasant visit to the very touristy, dull and misty, but good all the same, 'Mont st Michel' to our next destination at 'Arromanches les Bains' and the still visible sections of the massive Mulberry harbour.  A good place, I figured, to start a few days of visits to the 'Plages de Debarquement' of Normandy. These are the beaches where on June 6th 1944 Allied troops landed and fought their way over the following 12 weeks to Paris. 37,0000 Allied service personnel and 55,000 Germans gave of their lives in the combat. Plus the civilian loss of life, property and way of life.

I am one of the beneficiaries of all that suffering. I have enjoyed a life of peace, wealth and health which, had that dreadful but eventually successful day not have occurred, may have been very different. 

The Mulberry harbour's huge semi circle of floating concrete pontoons were towed over the English channel in sections and anchored in place. This amazing feat of human inventiveness and ingenuity enabled thousands of tons of equipment to be disembarked from over 7000 ships. Sections of it can still clearly be seen poking out from where they now lie on the seabed tilted and askew. Some are still in position and showing the size of the semi circle. Others, ravaged by the stormy seas during the previous 69 years lie scattered closer in to the beach.

Now; and here we go back to my visit to 'Mont st Michel'  and in particular the excellent €12.50 camping car Aire at 'Beauvoir' which is a straight, dead level, and easy peasy bike ride from the Mont itself. We had done our usual and walked as much of the Mont as we could. Not unusually the best bit, the tour of the Abbey itself which surmounts the Mont, was 'No Dogs'. All the same a must visit and very picturesque, impressive etc. Back at the Aire we were snug and settled for the evening with goodish internet access.

"Great," thinks I, "lets update things." Things like the maps on Mrs Sat Nav.

"Good idea" says I.

Uh-ho!!  This statement was quickly followed by a string of expletives as Mrs Sat Nav blithely informed me she had very efficiently deleted all my maps and would now download the new updated ones. Maps, by there very existence, contain a lot of information. This was a huge download. OK; so I had a 'goodish' internet connection but not a fast internet connection. A download such as I was about to embark upon can be likened to Londons rush hour traffic having to all divert down a narrow country lane. Not good! Indeed it was not good at all. 2am passed before all was restored and Steveyboy hit the pillow.

Mrs Sat Nav was of course forgiven and programmed next morning to take us to 'Arromanches' using main roads. This to facilitate a reasonably speedy trip. Indeed off we went on the main road away from the Mont. About an hour later I noticed we were certainly not on anything remotely resembling a main road. Mrs Sat Nav with, I am convinced, spiritual or whatever you want to call it, intervention, had re set herself to toddle down the wee back roads. And the first place to stop and investigate? Yup! You've guessed. The delightful little Grotto on a cross roads just outside the village of 'Torigny sur Vire'. The sun was shining too.

If you remember the beginning of this story you will remember I said 'again' indicating this is not the first time Mrs Sat Nav has been 'meddled' with. My re-visiting 'Eymet' was down to the same thing only in a subtle manner where the mistake was recognized equa distance from returning to my intended route or continuing to 'Eymet'. Very clever. Very subtle. Very 'the Universe knows'.

So here We were at a beautiful Grotto dedicated to the feminine and in particular to Motherhood. And here was I, noticing as I sat peacefully in the sunshine in this beautiful place, that at this precise moment I had three Mothers to be appearing in my mind, Emily my stepdaughter, Justine my daughter in law and Ruth my niece. A time of reflection which was enjoyed before a gift of Euros was donated in exchange for a lighted candle dedicated to the health and well being of the three new Mums to be and safe arrival of the legendary Stork with its lively, noisy and kicking package.

-  -  -
How things change. Friday today and the plan was to visit 'Pegassus bridge'  and possibly 'Caen'. However; the weather is the pits! Relentless and heavy rain and no let up in sight. On top of that Sadie is developing leaks. This is not good news for motorhomes. Consequently mood is rather on the low side at present. Ho hum. Never mind ferry to UK next week and hopefully we can get all sorted then.

Sequel; Sadie is under cover tonight, surrupticiously!  Last night we parked outside a farmers barn amid the grain fields. He was there when we arrived and indicated no problem. The barn is on the edge of a prosperous small village called 'Fontaine Henri.' We left amid the pouring rain this morning but after a desultory and wet visit to 'Ouistrehan' I decided to return, be cheeky and park in the virtually empty but dry barn to investigate the main leak and put some extra sealant around a couple of suspect points. Mr Farmer has not been back. We have done a walk around the village and it's mainly comprised of three farmsteads but I cannot identify which one the barn belongs too. I'll stay here overnight to let the sealant dry. Fingers crossed he wont be back or if he does, that he wont be too upset.

If you read about a British motorhomer being arrested in Normandy for squatting in a farmers barn ......... well I guess that'll be me then!!

Eymet & Northward bound.

"Well Tanya. This is the exact spot where all the trauma of last year began. This is where I ran you over."

I hadn't planned to return but a missed turn and a re-route by Mrs Sat Nav plus Universe  herself made the decision for me. I have a large blue mug in Sadie which I use daily for my tea and coffee. It was a going away present given to me by a dear friend and former work colleague. On the one side it reads; 'Trust the Process'. Turn it around and you read; 'The Universe knows'. So true on so many occasions.

This return visit to Plum Village Buddhist centre, with the circumstances leading up to it, and the actual happenings and energy upon arrival once again left me in no doubt whatsoever as to the profound and wonderful truth of those words circling my favourite drinking mug.

Later we slowly meandered down from 'Thenac' and 'Plum Village' toward the town of ' Eymet' and in particular the crossroads by the reservoir at 'St Sulpice' where I wildcamped last year while Tanya recovered from her dislocated hip operation. A beautiful spot and very different this year with the reservoir full to the brim.

I really like the area around 'Eymet' (pronounced 'Amy') and the town itself. It helps that there are a lot of Brits in the area which made the return visit to 'Kismet cafe' very pleasant with a lovely meal and lots of conversation in English. I was so stuffed afterwards it took a good two or three kilometres on the bike for 'things' (like muscles!) to start functioning again. In total it was about seven or eight Kilometres back to Sadie via the back roads and scenic walk/bike route round the reservoir. All in all a very pleasant day.

Tonight we are in 'Vezins' which is way North of 'Eymet' Sadie has been carrying us via the smaller roads slowly toward 'Cherbourg' and a ferry to the UK at the end of this month. 'Vezins' is nothing special but has the advantage of being 'en-route' while having a very pleasant 'Complexe de Sportiff'. All French towns and villages have these good, well maintained and well used facilities which have bags of parking space where no one seems to mind the odd motorhome stopping the night. They also usually butt onto the village or town park which Tanya especially enjoys as they are doggy walking zones with of course doggy-sniff stories every couple of paces.

This one had a good lake too where Tanya did her usual by mistaking green algae weed on the surface for solid ground. 

OH! What a laugh! 

She was running at quite a lick and went careering into and under the green slimy looking water with such a splash as to frighten the ducks at the other end of the lake who immediately took flight upon noisily flapping wings. She climbed back out, shook herself off vigorously and carried on running and sniffing around as though nothing unusual or humorous had happened at all. I, on the other hand, am still laughing now. One of those funny moments which really make a day as they continually regurgitate hilarious laughter.

'Mayenne' was also en-route enough to warrant a visit. Why? 'Mayenne' is the home and manufacturing base of 'Rapido' Motorhomes. Impressive site it is too with row upon row of new motorhomes, some under different names, lined up in the finished area which was right next to an equally large area containing all the different manufacturers base units awaiting their turn to have a spanking new Rapido home bolted to their chassis.

I did attempt to get a look around the factory but accepted the fact they only allowed visits for pre arranged groups via their dealer network. All the same quite impressed. Tonight we are wildcamped not far from the factory and right on the edge of the Mayenne river.

Walkin boots on!

Definitely an unfamiliar feeling as I pulled on socks and walking boots ready for a walk high up in the Picos Mountains. I have not worn socks for months with my day to day footwear mainly being sandals. I often hike/walk in sandals too but this was mountain terrain with rough tracks, snakes and lizards. Never saw any of them but the walking boots did turn out to be the right choice of footwear.

'Oviedo' was our last cosmopolitan visit and I am afraid it was a quick one as parking within sensible range of the city centre was not to be had. We did enjoy a good walk around a huge park in the suburbs where Tanya was in her element with doggy stories to sniff out at every tree and post. There were amazing views too of the 'Cordilera' with snow covered peaks. Very Alpine.

We motored on after locating a supermercado and topping up the larder. A stop for the night at 'La Isla' where a pleasant evening was spent entertaining two young 'surfers' from Portland, UK. They had just come off the ferry at Santander and were hungry for knowledge of good surfing beaches in Portugal. I was able to give them some detailed info of the area south of Lisbon down to Sagres. They were eager to get down there but also very typical young men. At ten thirty the next morning as I left there they stood bleary eyed by their cramped van full of surfing/windsurfing/kite surfing gear with bowls of cornflakes in hand. I stopped to say cheerio and handed each of them a huge juicy Portugese orange to go with their breakfast. Good luck to them. They were two nice lads.

I headed up into the hills of the 'Reserva nacional de Sueve'. In particular the 'Mirador del Fito' directly above our wildcamp spot on the beach. What a fantastic viewpoint it was too. We got there quite quickly, which was good. Not until evening did I realise we were at a different 'Mirador' than the one I had planned to visit. What a place though. Fantastic views, good parking for Sadie and a detailed information board showing a five K walk to 'Pienzo' an 1160m high peak. We were soon on our way and soon stripping down as it was hot and musical. The music being provided by the many grazing cattle and horses all with their individual bells. As they munched away the bells dingled and dongled with at times a tuneful bell melody ringing out from a group of head down munching herbivores.

We did not quite make the peak. The last half a kilometre was extremely steep and rocky. After talking it through in detail with Tanya we decided for a 65 yr old man and a 75 yr old dog that was quite far enough in this heat thank you very much! Especially as we had to walk back. We trudged a few more metres and surmounted a lower ridge which again gave breathtaking views. Lunch was very much enjoyed and so was the total strip down and wash of self, Tanya and clothes at the nearby cattle watering trough. Huge it was and spring fed. Gorgeous! Walking in wet shirt and shorts kept me cool for a while.

I have to say we were both glad to see Sadie at the Mirador appear below us once more. I have not done serious mountain walking for some time and had forgotten how tough it can be. Ten years ago Kate and I would have loved it. We would have reached the peak and we would have done it a lot quicker. Guess I am aging eh!

We're in 'Bermeo' tonight. Right on the dockside. The weather, as forcasted is overcast with some rain so we are using the opportunity to travel. A milestone day too. A full circle day with our starting point back in January of 'Bilbao' being crossed and then left behind.

I had picked Bermeo purely as a sensible distance to travel in one day. What a find though. A busy little port with of course no central parking available and in fact no place to turn except on the actual dockside just by the ice making plant for the fishing boats.

"Caravanar unos noche camping OK senor?" I said tongue in cheek to the guy manning the ice making plant. Usually port areas are 'Prohibido' for overnight camping. To my suprise though he answered;

"Si si senor. No problemo. Sleep no problemo."

I did not hesitate but stopped right where I was. The 'Policia Locale' came round later and I stopped them also and asked them if it was OK.

A big shrug and a stream of amiable Spanish amply signified to me that it was fine by them, it was 'no problemo', and have a good night!

A great spot with all the goings on of a reasonably busy port plus all the locals promenading the exceptionally long sea wall.

The rain arrived overnight, with a vengeance, and has not stopped since. Today we slowly meandered along the beautiful coastline toward France. We did not see much; it could just as easily have been Scotland or Ireland where sea level mist and driving rain is the norm for much of the time. Agreed: this was warmer, a bonus, but in all other aspects .... miserable!

It got worse too as 'Donostia San Sebastion' hove into view. Lovely though such a town may be in the sunshine today it was decidedly wet, crowded and giving out a strong message saying; "You can forget your wildcamping ideas around here sonny. This is serious built up, wealthy, and not for the likes of you coastline!"

"Hmmmph" says I as I re set Mrs Sat Nav for an Aire (Motorhome parking area.) not too far away and out in the country. Well. Either Mrs Sat Nav got it wrong or I misheard/misread her cos all of a sudden we were headed up the tiniest and steepest of concrete roadways with water rushing down it like it was a river bed.

"This is no right Tanya. In fact it is looking decidedly dodgy. Thinks I'll just turn round between these two gates and get the hell outa here."

It had been a long day. I was tired. There was a sickening lurch to the left as Sadies back wheel slipped off the steep narrow concrete strip and there we were, well and truly stuck with Sadies back end firmly wedged in the grassy bank and no way she could pull herself out. It was also still raining cats and dogs by the way. I was not happy. In fact I was pretty close to shedding tears of despair and frustration at this mess of my own making.

Suddenly the electric gate at the end of the long posh looking driveway where we were stuck started to open and a car duly appeared. Luckily we were not blocking the road, just narrowing it a touch. I approached the male driver to offer apologies and to see if he knew where I could get someone to tow me out.

He turned out to be a very genuine guy. Two hours later his father appeared with his big 4x4. We were very quickly roped up (I always carry some) towed out and back on solid ground plus they gave me assistance to safely turn around. They then gave me the correct directions (miming and gesticulating left or right is really very effective in times of no verbal mutuality!) to the solid and wide tarmac'd Aire I had been seeking. They would not accept a thing for their invaluable help.

Sadie has a rather muddy and dirty looking offside rear end but miraculously no damage. I'll clean her up tomorrow morning. For now....well I'm just glad we're safe and sound and on solid ground. It could have been a lot worse. It is still raining cats and dogs by the way. 'Ho Hum!!'
-  -  -
I am pleased to report today has been a very different and better day. For a start the sun has been out. We have also crossed over into France which inexplicably felt like coming home. A pleasant feeling though and very welcome after yesterdays trauma. Finally; we hit Biarritz and daringly drove Sadie right into the thick of it. Good fun but not to be recommended except for old and rather crazy pensioners who like sitting up high and creeping up the narrow, cafe lined boulevards slowly, very slowly in fact when you're in a bloody great motorhome and the car in front is having a job to squeeze through. The bonus? ..... plenty of time to admire the gorgeous women who seem to inhabit this city and make it their own. Honest! I've never seen so many classic expensive looking beauties in one place. I probably could not afford one side of the top half of their, not much left to the imagination, bikini's. Thankfully on our later bike walk around the place we were treated by all and sundry exactly as expected. Totally ignored and viewed, quite correctly too, as a rather scruffy old tourist with an equally scruffy looking dog. There is something rather comforting in now being old enough to no longer get even sidelong glances from females eying you up, or males sizing you up in order to warn you off.

Biarritz is a beautiful resort though. Humming and lively with a big surfing crowd who were all out today catching the huge waves rolling in off the Atlantic.

With the trauma of the day before still haunting me we are now headed to a campsite at 'Mayotte', near 'Biscarrosse'. A couple nights luxury and catch up with the washing etc is, I feel, what we need for the moment.

Colder, travellin, now hotter.

I guess its out with the winter woolly's again. After the last weeks of gorgeous hot weather in the Algarve it is a shock to the system to suddenly wake up to 10degrees Centigrade and a north wind blowing strong enough to severely rock Sadie about. Kinda depressing too.

At least it gives a chance to travel and that is what we have done arriving at 'Salir do Porto' In order I may see where my Sister and family holiday'd last year. We had spent the previous night away from the coast and its wicked winds tucked snugly in a forest.

Unfortunately a very short time was spent in 'Salir do Porto' as the wind was gale force with a sandblasting effect which would have rendered Sadies  plastic windows opaque in no time at all. There is not a huge great sand dune there for nothing!!

We moved. Round the bay to 'San Martino' where there was a flea market going on which, and this is where I say the Portuguese just don't seem to get it, was sighted all along the front where again the wind was horrendous. Some stallholders could not even get stuff out of their vans. Further down, or indeed on the opposite and shop fronted side of the street was emptiness and shelter from the wind. I enjoyed lunch and coffee at the grassy corner of the esplanade where out of the wind it was pleasant and warm. Quite deserted too. Strange!

-  -  -
"OMG I'm really very sorry about this Tanya." This was said way after Tanya's normal suppertime. It was said through gritted teeth as the b'jesus was being vibrated out of Sadie by yet another narrow, uneven and badly potholed cobblestone road.

I had driven for too long and was tired. Pulling onto a side road I expected to find, as usual, plenty of space to park Sadie up for the night.

Bad mistake!

This particular area of Portugal was well populated, very agricultural and with every bit of land in use and separated from said excuse for a road by stone walls. In the end I had to re set Mrs sat-nav for the coast where I figured there would be empty seafront car parks. That thinking was correct. Unfortunately it was 14km of cobblestone roads to get there. Not funny! I was bordering on insanity by the time we reached a very nice, flat, totally empty, beautiful smooth tarmac covered seafront car park. It was at a remote, ghostly and nameless resort near 'Mindelo', North of 'Porto'.

My advice? Don't, whatever you do buy a car from this area. They drive insanely spitting out cobblestones behind them as they go. Twice I heard one bouncing and banging the underside of Sadie. Thankfully no damage as far as I can see.

Resolution number 976 was made there and then: -  'Do not drive for so long!'

The result?

Tonight we are at a lovely little resort in Galicia, Spain called 'Boria'. We arrived, parked up and had time to unload bike and go exploring the many totally rural and unspoilt little coves abounding in this area. I even managed to find a spot sheltered from the keen North wind where it was warm enough to don trunks, goggles and snorkel and go exploring among the undersea rocks. Not for long though. The Atlantic, as we move further north, is noticeably cooler.

One local fisherman was on the beach doing something to his boat. He was fully clothed in wet gear and hat. One crazy motorhome driving tourist was also on the beach donned only in trunks, goggles and snorkel. He was entering the sea. Crazy tourist noticed fisherman stop, stare and shake head in dis-belief and in unison with old man who was sat just above on the sheltering sea wall.

Crazy tourist emerges from sea fifteen minutes later smiling mightily but also very grateful for  the sheltering sea wall and beautiful warm sun. Crazy tourist sat in sun for some time with small black dog laid out in sun next to him. Old mans eyes nearly popped out their sockets a little later as tourist passed him by with small black dog in green plastic bucket on back of bicycle!

Tomorrow it's 'Santiago de Compostella.' Only an hour away.
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I am afraid I prefer arriving in Santiago in Sadie as opposed to on foot complete with obligatory Pilgrims staff and Clam shell. Not that I do not admire the steady stream of Pilgrims/Walkers I passed by on the busy main roads. I just do not fancy a pilgrim route where you are pitched against articulated lorries, motorbikes and cars with only a white line as boundary between you and the traffic.

The old city and magnificent Cathedral are all as per the Rough guide and very touristy but with that added realism of being surrounded by the many pilgrims who had completed their trek. Quietly moving. The inside of the Cathedral was well worth the effort of discretely carrying Tanya and surrupticiously avoiding the vergers and security guards.

We left mid afternoon on the road to 'Lugo' with Mrs Sat nav set to divert us down to 'Embaise de Portodemouros', a large reservoir. And here we are  perched at the waters edge down a wee lane. It was hot when we arrived so it was out with trunks and goggles and in for a swim. A freshwater swim for a change. I thought the water level looked high and this proved to be the case as ten metres out I could see below me a road sign with the 'no swimming', 'no boating' and 'no fishing' logos clearly visible through the greenish but clear water. I was literally swimming around amid tree tops and shrubbery. I guess it shows how low and for how long the reservoir has been half empty. This year, according to a family of locals who turned up to fish (there is a sign you know!!)  the water is higher than they have ever seen it.
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Today, Sunday May 5th it is another wild, hidden in the forest, not a soul to be seen, beautiful edge of reservoir stop. We arrived yesterday afternoon as we travelled the road from 'Lugo' where we walked round the well preserved Roman wall before enjoying lunch and people watching in the main square. All very pleasant and civilized.

We're headed for 'Oviedo' which is not a fast trip with the excellent road twisting its way up and down and around this green, hilly, bordering on mountainous, landscape.

'Do not drive too far!'

Remember, resolution 976?  Well I did, hence here we are stopped, indeed hidden, on a forest track with directly below us 'Embalse de Grandas de Salime'. A long narrow man made lake between steep forested hills. The sun is out, it's hot, we've not moved today but instead biked down the amazingly smooth windy minor road to a simply magic little spot where the road disappears into the lake. Needless to say swim, rest and enjoy were the order of the day before we commenced the slow and steady 'Bike-walk' back up to Sadie's lonely forest track pitch.

We are just so fortunate to be enjoying, to be gifted if you like, such wonderfully benign, peaceful and beautiful moments/spots. Time for reflection/contemplation is always made in such places. Usually there is a bit of praying too. This time it was for the strength to Bike-walk/slog/trudge up the long steep incline to the welcome Sadie sanctuary.

Never fails! We made it and we Had a cooling shower too, half way up in one of the wee waterfalls tumbling its way down the hillside and splashing onto the road. It was so hot even Tanya was glad to be given a soaking.

Sea food & well ... more seafood!

"Ten Euro one Kilogram." I said to the dark bronzed young and very good looking Portugese man stood opposite me with his large plastic re-usable supermarket bag full of freshly picked Barnacles.

He loked suitably crestfallen and glanced across at his equally young, dark, long skirted and attractive female companion. I knew I had a deal when I caught the almost indiscernble nod of her head. He was a male however; so one more go at getting what he considered should be the proper price for his wares was the game requiring completion.

"These good Barnacles. These very very sweet Barnacles. Seventeen Euro one kilogram in shop. Fifteen Euro to you now. Eees good eh?"

Meanwhile I was getting amazed wide eyed looks of horror from the very nice Yorkshire lady stood next to me and who I had only just met. They had also wild camped overnight on this little 'Camper car bay' here at 'Porto Covo' where the huge Atlantic rollers had been entertaining us as they thundered and crashed into the craggy cliff, cove and surfing beach riddled coastline.

"You mean you are going to buy and then eat those things." She muttered to me. "My husband would throw me out of the van if I went in with something like that."

I have to confess I have never encountered freshly picked Barnacles before let alone tasted them. I also had no idea how to prepare them. I enjoy a deal however; and I like to support local enterprise and initiative especially here in Portugal where hard times and material poverty are to be seen everywhere.

I repeated firmly. "Ten Euro only. One Kilogram. OK?"

The despairing look of the trader having a deal in his hand but not the deal he had envisioned briefly creased his face before; "OK, OK." Was uttered as he pulled small plastic scales out from his pocket and proceeded to weigh out the required one kilogram.

I duly paid the ten Euros but crossed female companions palm with a two Euro coin giving her a smile and a wink while inclining my head toward her erstwhile male companion. Bless her, she understood, gave a beaming smile and rapidly spoke a stream of Portuguese to handsome swarthy Barnacle seller. They both laughed and he shook my hand while clapping me affectionately on the shoulder. A useful change of mood as I was then able to extract from them via broken English and gesture that barnacles require boiling for a short time in very salty water.

Out of the occupants of the five camper vans on that park I was the only one they were successful with. I thought that quite sad and quietly wished them both well.

I suppose I would have wished them differently if it were later to be the case of toilet bowl and myself having close aquaintance as I vomited up said Barnacles. Boiled as instructed, however; with some plain buttered potato's as accompaniment they were delicious albeit a little messy. Snipe nosed pliars were the answer. The ideal tool for separating the juicy morsel of muscle from the claw and shell. Very messythough as however you seemed to do it water squirted out from one orifice or another in random directions. Fun though and, as already said, with no after effects.

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Now the two young lads called Mario and Coya were after something different. I met them just after I had sneaked into an out of sight wild spot up a little hardcore track with an old 'Camper car Prohibido' sign on it. I could not just pull off the road here as this was 'Peninsular de Troia' which is literally a huge sand dune with a road running down its spine to the plush resort of 'Troia'. Now Sadie is not good at all in soft sand so 'off road' was 'off limits'. Troia though is opposite 'Setubal' and 'Lisbon' which is where I was headed. Conveniently a good ferry service runs between the two.

So there I was settled in this lonely out of the way spot having enjoyed earlier in the day a trek across the dunes to the now calm Atlantic Ocean and a welcome skinny dip from the endless beach.

A car suddenly pulls up. Then another. Five in all. I engaged Mario and Coya in conversation, or what passed for conversation with signs and gesticulations filling in for lost words of both languages. This, I learned, was the favourite spot at low tide for harvesting Razor fish. With buckets, welly's and pots of salt Mario and Coya were very quickly mere specks out on the sand/mud flats of this the 'Rio Sade' or lee side of the Peninsular.

Now a razor fish is called a razor fish because it's shell resembles an old fashioned cut throat razor. This according to my David Le Maistre's book 'Low water fishing' . One of the ways of catching them is to pop a little salt down the tell tale little holes they leave in the sand. This fools them into thinking the tide is coming in and up they pop. But only for a second. They are not slow in realizing they have been conned. So it's salt in hole and grab quick. Razor fish are rarely fooled a second time.

About two hours later as the light was fading they returned. I presented them both with a welcome can of fridge cooled Fanta orange and granted their request to use my outside light to sort their catch. Needless to say it was not long before my fridge welcomed another plastic bag full of new guests. Razor fish, Lovely fresh and still moving and squirting. Ten Euros were  handed over willingly. Coya had a job as chef in one of the hotels and explained to me how to cook them. Mario indicated this foraging for sea life was his only income. Sure enough he was back early next morning this time with his girlfriend also kitted up with plastic bucket welly's (and not your colourful M & S ones either!) And obligatory salt containers.

Well the ferry to Setubal for Euro twenty was very efficient and off I set complete with new fridge guests along the gorgeous mountainous coast road to 'Sessimbra'. Unfortunately no one told me it was 'Liberty day'. A national holiday celebrating the coup that finally ended Portugal's long dictatorship in 1974.

The Portuguese were out in force and wherever there was access to a beach the narrow cliff hugging road was packed with parked cars on both sides. A Motorhome trying to get through was difficult to say the least. The Portuguese are lovely though. No swearing or road rage. Just an agreement between four of five cars to reverse up and allow me through. We even got cheery waves as we passed. Eventually I decided enough was enough and, with difficulty, parked up myself. We then walked down to 'Portinho da Arrabida' A gorgeous little cove where I enjoyed a lovely swim and Tanya got loads of attention from the steady stream of passers by on their way to the main beach area where, as is normal, dogs are not permitted.

"Well Tanya, even though I say it myself, that was a gorgeous meal and lets just hope that, like the Barnacles, there are no after effects!" This was said later the same evening as I surveyed the large basin of empty Razor fish shells and patted a pleasantly rotund but very satisfied stomach.

Coriander I did not have. The substitution however; of Tumeric with a dash of Thai Sweet Chilli sauce had worked wonders with the razor fish. They had flavor and were bigger and juicier, and a lot easier to get at, than Barnacles. OK! So the frying pan was a bit of a mess, well actually the whole kitchen area was a mess, but who cares when you are pleasantly full, have had a wonderful day and are snugly settled in a level parking spot overlooking the beautiful but highly developed bay of 'Sessimbra'.

Misty mornings, contemplation and doggy vomit!

"Awwww c'mon Tanya, not now, it's only half past six in the morning." 

This was drearily intoned as I struggled out of bed, opened the door and let Tanya out for a morning roam. I then boiled the kettle and with hot cup of tea, crawled back into bed, opened the window and pondered, as you do with that early morning half awake mind, the situation, place and the different life we were living.

Tanya is very much the decision maker of our varied wild camping overnight stops. We had chosen well last night. High on cliffs overlooking the Atlantic between 'Luz' and 'Burgau'. A level spot off a rough track amid flower filled rough clifftop pastures. A place with no traffic and certainly no other motorhomes and with houses and plush villas at a respectable distance. Yes; this was a place where Tanya could roam to her hearts content.

The downside? Hmmmm! I think she must have found something a tad unsavoury as two sessions of vomiting up her tea on the floor of Sadie were not a welcome addition to the pleasant, warm and balmy evening we were enjoying. Hence my reluctant but necessary early morning start. I did not want a repeat of the previous evening.

Tanya, by the way, wandered off, returned about 20 minutes later, climbed back onto her bed and has been there ever since, some 3 hours ago. She has also declined her breakfast! I wonder why! These 'tummy upset' days are not unusual although thankfully not too often either. Breakfast goes in the fridge and comes out again at tea time when usually her appetite has returned to normal.

The morning has continued in a slow, slow very slow way. I am also compromised this morning with aching joints and one dodgy knee. I felt it go yesterday as we were climbing down a rather dodgy and very steep cliff path to a secluded beach where I could take Tanya. This was between 'Lagos and Ponta de Piedade.' A stunning area with sea sculpted caves, coves and grottos in clear blue water. We had earlier walked down many steps to take a tourist trip on a wee boat around these cliffs. The little boat with just 4 of us, Tanya, myself and a young couple from Slovakia, slipped in and out of these amazing cave, grotto and sink hole, sea slopped cliffs. The boatman pointed out a tiny beach with some rough steps and, grinning all over his face, said. 

"Is nudist beach". We all laughed, noted it was deserted and carried on. I noted it in particular as it was at the end of, and separated from, all the plush beaches complete with their 'No Dogs' signs. I don't mind the fact of  'No doggies on the beach' as we were on the edge of the large, plush and busy city of 'Lagos'. But here was a beach, if I could find my way to it, that offered a chance to do some snorkelling amid the stunning cliffs and in the clear blue water that, would in all probability, be free of a 'no doggy' sign. The beach was also tiny which meant I could safely leave Tanya as I disappeared out to sea. She wanders around up and down the waters edge wondering where the hell I go!

We eventually did find the way down. I had nearly given up as we had already attempted several downward paths that disappointingly ended at high clifftops. I suddenly spotted a couple of timber steps eroded away to a point where they were a jumble about 2m below a crumbled away part of the footpath. That was the story all the way down, a scramble down a badly eroded, but just feasible cliff path, with my knee giving notice about half way down that it did not approve.

We made it though and I managed my swim/snorkell in the clear blue water amid the rocky cliffs. Caution is the name of the game when on my little snorkelling trips. Especially in such a place where tourist boats are dodging about and tidal eddies and flows could take you too near undercut cliff edges. Stunning though with amazing fish, Octopus and colouful gardens of sea flowers clinging to the many rocks below.

Oh! And after my swim I did strip off and lie out in the sun to dry off. That gave the tourist boats something to look at. Poor tourists!!

The early morning pondering continued. Particularly around the stunning beauty which is just everywhere you look. Out of Sadie's window as I supped my tea there unfolded a majestic play of light upon the immense canvas of the Atlantic. Artists cannot but be in awe of all this magnificence. Their works, wonderful as they are can only ever be an approximation of  'Godfellows' 24/7 creative capacity.

I was raised Catholic and as such my early life was very much influenced by the Trinity, God the father, the son and the holy spirit or ghost as I used to know it. Today I still have a Trinity but termed very differently.

There was this couple you see called Mr & Mrs Infinity. They were pretty much successful and had a yard full of everything you would ever need to create anything. They really needed a good manager though. Well, they thought, lets pop down the job centre and see who is about. They interviewed a couple without success when all of a sudden and very unexpectedly a feisty lady barged in and said.

"Hey! I hear you're looking for someone who can manage everything and create anything. Look no further I can do that standing on my head. My name is Chaos and I ask for only one thing."

Mrs Infinity was a bit skeptical. Another woman on the team and all that. Mr Infinity however; was impressed and asked.

"Tell me Ms Chaos, what is the one thing you ask?"

The reply came quickly. "You employ me you employ my team too. OK?"

"Who are this team?" Queried Mr & Mrs infinity in unison.

"My team are called 'Time'. I have worked with them many times and they are highly sensitive to my creative management as well as being a relentless work team"

A deal was soon agreed with initially a couple of Big Bangs and their ensuing debris set as a trial run and .... well ..... the rest is history really. Infinity, chaos and time. Still a trinity and still there creating anything and everything.

Right. The sky and sea are blue. The waves are big. I think, here at 'Boca de Ria' its time for a swim.