Awoke to a chilly morning, but clear blue sky. As the sun began to rise in the sky, for the first time this winter we experienced a feeling of warmth on our faces. We sat and had breakfast in the sunshine, and planned our day.
Since Howard had done a lot of driving yesterday, we decided to give Oscar rest day, and try Spanish public transport. There was a bus stop directly outside the campsite entrance, which for the grand sum of 1.70 euros took right into the centre of San Sebastian. Not only that, but the bus arrived spot on time, and Howard was able to pay with contactless on his card – cheaper than Edinburgh buses, and not requiring handfuls of correct change.
The ride into town took us through several small typical Basque villages, with very attractive old stone farmhouses. As we descended down the steep hill into the city, the stunning horseshoe shaped bay came into view. I am ashamed to confess that before yesterday I had never heard of San Sebastian, such is the dearth of my knowledge of the geography of Northern Spain. Our guide book (Lonely Planet) states ‘It is impossible to lay eyes on stunning San Sebastian and not fall madly in love’, and I am inclined to agree with them. Granted, we were seeing the city of a clear sunny day in winter, without the heaving summer crowds it is famed for, but I must say that both Howard and I were both really taken with the city.
We alighted at the cathedral, and then took a lovely stroll to the large sandy beach called La Concha. As we walked through the old town, we were struck by the beautiful architecture of elegant buildings with ornate wrought iron balconies looking out over the narrow streets. As we came to the waterfront, the tide was coming in, and there were several brave souls out in the bay swimming or paddle-boarding, just in their trunks, no wetsuits – the water must have been freezing. We walked past the Marina towards the old harbour wall, then backtracked along the promenade to the area where many locals were taking their morning exercise – walking, running and beach volleyball. Stopping at a pleasant restaurant /bar, we sat in the sunshine and enjoyed a coffee and plate of pintxo, the local variant of tapas, which in this case turned out to be a special way of presenting potato chips in a spicy sauce (yes, the phrasebook was still left in the boot!).
We continued round to the far side of the bay, known as Millionaire’s Row, where the most expensive holiday homes snake up the hillside. Heading back, we walked through some of the old city and came across a number of attractive tree lined squares, one built in commemoration of a battle in 1813 when the English and Portuguese teamed up to destroy large parts of the old city. But despite the history, we found the locals charming, and helpfully re-directed back across a bridge spanning the River Urumea (whick looked remarkably like Prague) to find the square where our bus departed from.
On return to the campsite, we sat outside in the sun with a cup of tea, but as the sun went down the temperature dropped rapidly. Down on the beach earlier in the day, a large thermometer had read 17 degrees, and now it felt nearer 2. We put Oscar’s windscreen cover on, and are now sitting indoors, while Howard cooks tea, and I type the blog, listening to Oliver’s Army by Elvis Costello (thanks again to Sandy – good choice!). Howard even seems to have discovered how to make a rather splendid garlic bread using our Ridge Monkey grill, as well as developing a taste for Basque beer.
Tomorrow we plan to head towards the Picos de Europa, the mountainous region named by explorers returning to Spain after long voyages abroad. The snow peaked mountains were one of the first sights they spied as they approached their homeland.

 

Awoke to a brilliant blue sky and sunshine. The short drive the night before from the ferry port to our hotel had been quite stressful – the first time Howard had driven Oscar on the wrong side of the road. We seemed to go in circles for the first ten minutes, but eventually found the right route to our hotel. Once checked in, we decided to do what the Spaniards do, and take an evening ‘promenade’ along the wide sweeping bay of Santander. We then searched out a small Pizzeria just a few blocks from the hotel, which turned out to be a gem. It was frequented by locals, and we were served by a charming young man, who did his best to speak English to us. When we asked for the bill, the waiter gave us complimentary limoncello, and seemed bowled over by his 5 euro tip (a lot, I guess, since the total bill was only 17 euros).
We slept well in our comfortable room, with a small balcony looking out over the bay.
The next morning, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. We took a Sunday morning promenade along the beachfront, and delighted in watching an impromptu football game on the beach, which seemed to accommodate many more than the statutory 11 players per side, maybe nearer forty. We also noted that Spaniards clearly have no regard for rules, since despite the multitude of signs along the whole length of the prom stating ‘no dogs on the beach’ – we observed at least thirty very happy mutts romping around the sands. I was also pleased to see several Golden Retrievers and a couple of English Setters, and concluded that the people of Santander were my kind of people!
We then set off towards Bilbao. A few tense moments ensued as we tried to negotiate our way to the Autoroute, but once on the motorway were able to relax a little. That is, until we came to the toll exit, which necessitated us driving through the narrowest of passageways, as Howard and I winced and sneezed ourselves in, for all the good it would do. Prior to leaving the UK, we had purchased Sanef toll tags for France, Spain and Portugal, and to our complete delight, as we drove through this minuscule concrete channel our tag peeped, and the barrier rose. More through luck than judgement, we had selected the correct lane for tag holders. Lucky, considering our Spanish phrasebook, was unhelpfully packed in the boot.
Arriving in Bilbao, we then were faced with where to park. We followed a ‘P’ sign, which led us to a scary underground car park, the entrance to which made our toll lane channel seem positively spacious. The height of the entrance also made us draw breath, but once in there were fortunately tons of spaces for us to negotiate into. Howard commented that next time, bring spare underpants.

Stepping out into the sunshine, we beheld the most amazing sight – the Guggenheim Museum, Frank Gehry’s masterpiece. Wow! What an amazing building! It’s hard to describe in words the sight in front of us. Gleaming in the sunshine, the irregular curved titanium clad structure seemed to make no sense, but at the same time looked absolutely brilliant. I wondered what sort of a magnificent mind could have dreamt this whole structure up. The builders must have thought Gehry was on drugs when he muted the design, but remarkably it works so incredibly well. We stopped for a coffee in an outdoor cafe and admired the structure. As we started to walk around it’s perimeter, clouds of gaseous CO2 was pumped out over the water of the moat that bounded one side of the building, creating a rather ephemeral effect. Further round, the building reflected in the water, and a giant spider stood astride another walkway. The whole thing was genius.

Time was marching on however, and it was with reluctance that we left Bilbao, and headed towards San Sebastian. We did well until our Garmin

satnav tried to direct us to the campsite. Initially we laughed at our posh lady’s pronunciation of the Spanish road names. But humour turned to irritation as she led us up a very steep windy track, which did, remarkably, end up at our campsite. We were informed, however, on check-in that buses went into San Sebastian every half hour, and no way on earth was a bus getting down the track we had just negotiated!

The camp site is well situated overlooking a wooded valley. The facilities are clean, and the from the camp shop we managed to purchase enough to cook a tea of vegetable pasta and garlic bread, accompanied by Sauvignon Blanc and Bendicks Bittermints (the latter brought from home, of course). Now sitting in Oscar listening to Sandy’s playlist and looking at the family picture that Thomas and Katy gave us for Christmas – hello boys!

Tomorrow we explore the Basque Country.

We have spent the last couple of nights staying with our dear friends in Cranleigh.

After some last minute packing and unpacking of the van, and with some help photocopying and scanning some vital documents, we deposited the last of our dirty washing with our friends, and set off on our adventure.
We stopped at the Devil’s Punchbowl near Hindhead, to stretch our legs and grab a coffee, a popular walking spot that both of us remembered from our childhoods. We took a walk around the rim of the ‘bowl’ like valley formed by soil erosion, and now maintained by the National Trust.
Then it was on to Portsmouth, to catch the Brittany Ferry to Santander. Ferries seem to have changed an awful lot since I was last on one. We were shown to our rather nice double room and asked if we wanted to make a reservation for dinner that evening. Rather excited at the start of our journey, we booked at table, and later sat down for a rather splendid meal, accompanied by a bottle of Viognier. What had slipped my mind, was that sitting in the queue to embark on the ferry, I had taken two Stugeron tablets, to counter any sea-sickness whilst crossing the Bay of Biscay.
Needless to say, Stugeron and half a bottle of wine are not advised, and Howard recalls that I fell unconscious for nearly ten hours, whilst the sea rock and rolled below us! Actually, rather an effective way of crossing the Bay of Biscay in late January!
The next morning I felt remarkably refreshed. We toured around the vessel, which is extensive with it’s own swimming pool and dog exercising area, and then joined in a quiz in the lounge. Although we didn’t win, we gained an acceptable score, and wandered off to plan the next few days of travelling once we arrive in Spain. One of the joys of travelling in this way is that we don’t have a schedule to adhere to. However, the downside of this is the uncertainty of where we will be the day after next – something which Howard seems quite happy with, and something which I feel quite uncomfortable with. I am used to going on trips that are, by and large, planned for each day. Although the thought of just going to places that take your fancy may sound very appealing, in reality, the need to have a rough idea of your destination each night is probable my barest minimum. So I guess we will just have to get into some sort of a rhythm as far as planning is concerned.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Howard dissuaded me from joining in the wine tasting on deck 7, after last night’s episode, and we had a pleasant lunch in a very nice restaurant with white tablecloths and a rather suave French waiter. As I type, Howard is frantically pacing the decks in an attempt to complete his daily step count!                         So far, so good.

 

After returning from the NC500, we spent a very frenetic day and a half re-packing the van, checking that we had everything that we needed and saying goodbye to friends. Fortunately the young couple who have moved into our house have already settled in and made themselves at home, and to my delight are feeding my pheasants!

On Friday 19th we eventually set off for Glasgow to meet up with the boys for the evening, before heading south. We hadn’t bargained on a fairly steady fall of snow at home, and even more in Glasgow, but by now we were getting more confident about driving in adverse conditions.

On the Saturday morning, we bade our fond farewells to family and set off on our adventure. First stop was an overnight stop in the Lakes, looking wonderful in sunshine. Then a very wet and dreich drive down the M6 to Bristol, to overnight with an old university friend. It was great catching up again after so many years.

Next we moved onto Taunton to get a solar panel fitted to Oscar’s roof, which will hopefully mean that we won’t be so reliant on needing hook-ups. However, what neither Howard or myself had reckoned on was needing to remove the bikes, the bike rack and all the contents of the boot, in order for the chap to access the leisure battery. A rather tense half hour or so ensued whilst Howard tried to cram everything back into the van!

We then moved onto South Devon, after visiting one our dear old neighbours near Wellington in Somerset, who we hadn’t seen for years. We had stayed in touch over the years, and both Howard and I have always been very grateful to her for all the help she offered us during our stay in the village in the early eighties.

We’re now staying in a lovely old pub in Branscombe, South Devon – where Howard and I actually spent the first night of our honeymoon in 1983, and brings back many happy memories with family and friends over the decades.

So it has been a bit of a nostalgic start to our great adventure, but quite special catching up with people who have played such an important role in our lives at certain times. Tomorrow onto to Surrey, to catch up with some of our oldest and dearest friends, and to meet up with more family, before eventually leaving the UK.

 

Made an early start and headed back down the A9. We had planned to stop off at Aviemore for breakfast, but snow was coming down so hard that we just plodded on, fearful that the weather was worsening.  Progress became easier

once the snow plough pulled out in front of us at Dalwinnie, and by the time we arrived in Perth the sun was shining. So arrived home safely, and have spent the rest of the day doing a quick turnaround on the washing, and trying to organise the van a bit better.

Now reflecting on lessons we have learned from our trial trip around the North Coast 500. The first thing has to be what an amazing country we live in! Despite the cold and adverse weather at times, the scenery has been absolutely spectacular, and everyone we have met has been warm and welcoming. We feel ashamed that this is the first time that we have explored this northern tip of Scotland, and I would thoroughly recommend the NC500 to anyone. I just hope that the rest of Europe can compare to the brilliant landscapes we have just experienced.

The second lesson is that we need to organise our kit better. Howard was constantly frustrated but stuff falling out the back of the van when he opened up the back – so this needs to be sorted out tomorrow. Our car WiFi has not worked particularly well, maybe because the phone signal up north has not been great, so we have only sporadically had internet access – hopefully this will improve as we travel south.

Oscar has stood up to the weather remarkably well. We were never cold inside the van. The internal and external toppers have done a good job of insulating the van and keeping the weather out. Even on the wild night up in Kinlochbervie, we felt snug by keeping the heater on low throughout the night. Driving in the snow was tricky, but at no time did we lose grip – I’m sure largely due to Howard’s driving. I completely chickened out at this point, only driving when we had long stretches of clear roads.

Travelling with the bikes on the back has been OK, although it does make it harder to access the stuff in the back. The rack is held on the towbar, and cleverly bends backwards to allow the boot to open up, but you have to know where things are to find them easily.

Howard and I are still talking to each other! Howard has been coping with my constant breaks to take photos by opting to go jogging every time we stop. This has meant that he has achieved his step count every day, even on days when we have spent a long time driving. I do think though, that anyone watching us would be thinking, ‘What on earth is that strange guy up to, running round in circles?’ More irritatingly, Howard has started taking some rather good photos on his iPhone – so I think there is some competitive photography going on here!! Spot his picture!

We’re travelling south on Friday, calling in on friends on the way, and also getting some solar panels fitted on there roof, to make us less reliant on hook-up whilst we are away. We start our real adventure next Friday 26th when we catch the ferry to Santander – so the blog will resume thereafter.

We awoke to a winter wonderland – the snow had arrived. The familiar silence that often accompanies a heavy snow fall led to an ominous feeling. We had checked the weather last night, and knew that this was likely, but already we were doubting our prudence in staying the night in Gairloch.

Howard removed the snow chains from the back of the van (that we had been required to purchase for parts of Europe in the winter months), and started reading the instructions on how to fit them. We concluded that the snow wasn’t deep enough, but nonetheless we kept them in a handy spot in the boot, just in case.

We set off promptly after breakfast, having decided not to venture to previously planned Torridon and Applecross. Instead we headed east towards Loch Maree and Glen Docherty. The going was very slow. Initially the single track road was treacherous. I gripped the side of my seat as Howard drove. I tried not to whimper, but was very conscious that we were driving a quite new and very expensive three tonne camper van along what seemed like a skating rink. Fortunately, there was hardly a soul on the roads, most avoiding driving in such conditions. Snow flurries continued to fall, and I begun to wonder what on earth we were doing. Progress was slow, but Howard took it steadily, and once past Glen Docherty, the driving got easier. We passed the snow plough passing in the opposite direction, and wished that it had done our side of the road.

Periodically we pulled into parking spots, just to draw breath and take a few photos. The scenery was indeed stunning, especially along Loch Maree by Beinn Eighe. I started to relax a little, and take in the amazing landscape. Whole hillsides of birch trees covered in snow looked etherial, with the bronze branches standing out in the snow. We pulled off the road for morning coffee, and Howard even had a little run along the track to stretch his legs and defuse.

Eventually the driving became easier. We opted to divert before Inverness through Strathpeffer and Dingwall, and to see the Cromarty Firth, which had been in darkness on our journey north. Suddenly, as we approached the Black Isle, the roads cleared, as if by magic. Howard suggested that we had maybe crossed from Wester Ross into Ross and Cromarty, and that the gritting policies were different, but I think it was more likely due to the lower altitudes we were now at. As we approached the Cromarty Firth, the sun momentarily glimpsed through the leaden clouds, and lit the snowy landscape. Magic.

We then drove back over the Cromarty and Kessock bridges towards Inverness. We opted to stop here and stay in a hotel overnight, to warm up and have a hot meal. We plan to head home tomorrow, weather permitting.

It has been a stressful day in parts, but we have managed to keep it together, and thanks to Howard’s cool head, we have arrived safely. Interestingly, we read an article in the ‘I’ newspaper yesterday about happiness. It said you needed to keep smiling, and avoid stressful situations. Well the driving today was certainly stressful, and I don’t think I did much smiling, but I think that we’ve at least given Oscar a good test run. If we can cope with winter in the Highlands, hopefully Europe will be a breeze!

During the night the gale force winds gradually subsided, but that didn’t stop us checking out of our  bedroom window at frequent intervals to check the the van was OK. In the morning at breakfast, we were joined by others who had unexpectedly had to stay the night, most of whom had been booked onto the cancelled Stornoway ferry.

After breakfast we had a quick wander around Ullapool. As the sun rose over Loch Broom, we watched the Caledonian McBrae ferry arrive. We discovered wonderful Hardware Store in the town, which seemed to sell absolutely everything you could ever imagine – a refreshing change from the normal run of the mill high street shops. We stocked up on more bungees, in fear that if we suffered more strong winds our bike cover would get blown away in tatters. We also discovered some wonderful (?!) midge jackets – similar to the hats made of midge proof netting, but like cagoules. Fearful of the reports of swarms of small flies in Iceland and Scandanavia in the summer, we decided they could be a wise investment. We may look like the stupidest tourists ever sighted, but we could perhaps turn out to be the smartest if the jacket actually work. Only time will tell, but at least we’ll be prepared!

We then set off to explore Gairloch, a part of Scotland neither of us had previously ventured. Had been inspired to see this part of the world after watching the wonderful film by Billy Connolly entitled ‘What We Did On Holiday’, set in Gairloch and it’s surrounding area. The film tells of three small children who, when their grandfather (Billy Connolly) dies unexpectedly on a Gairloch beach, rather than tell their parents, opt to float him out to sea on a raft and set fire to him, like a Viking funeral. If you haven’t seen the film, I would thoroughly recommend it, and the stunning scenery in the film is what had urged me on to explore this area.

However, today the weather was unlike that portrayed in the film. It was bitterly cold, and we spent the day dodging rain /sleet showers. Our first call was Gruinard Bay, overlooked by Gruinard Island, where the MOD exploded anthrax spores during the war, and was only cleared up as recently as 1987. We stopped at Aultbea on Loch Ewe, the site of the World War 2 Russian convoys, and still to this day a NATO re-fuelling station. We then proceeded on to Gairloch itself, and took a brief stroll between the heavy showers on Big Sand. We were fortunate to catch twenty minutes of so when the sun broke through the clouds, so howard took as run on the beach, whilst I took some photos.

Re-tracing our steps, we stopped at the Mountain Cafe in Gairloch, a fairly New-Age establishment, full of self help and travel books, where we had a very welcome coffee.

Our final stop of the day was along the shores of Loch Gairloch on the road towards Redpoint. There we were entertained by about fifteen seals, very close to shore, clearly fishing in the shallows. They seemed inquisitive, and come over to us – them looking at us, as we looked at them. A couple of them started doing acrobatics in the water, with their fins and tails flipping over and over. They were clearly catching fish, but I have never seen seals put on a display like this before – quite special.

Our plans for tomorrow had been to visit Torridon, Sheildaig and Applecross, but heavy snow is forecast, and the locals advise us that Beach na Ba pass will be closed with the snow gates across. Consequently we will probably just head back towards Inverness, ready to head back down the A9 the following day.

We had a restless night at Kinlochbervie – despite our sheltered spot in the Aire by the harbour. By about 3am the wind had really picked up, and the external topper started flapping frenetically. The combination of the waves on the shore and the wind made it sound more like we were in a lorry park on the M25! Eventually we lost our nerve, and Howard got up to check that the cover was intact. All was well thankfully, and we cat-napped until first light. The new mattress was comfortable, and the van cosy – so much so, that it was hard to get up at our designated time. We were greeted by the most wonderful dawn, but it took us so long to de-camp in the wind, that by the time everything was packed back in the van, we had missed the best of the sunrise.
We set off back along the single track road from Kinlochbervie towards the main road leading through North West Sutherland to Assynt. The scenery was absolutely stunning, with snow clad mountains and extraordinary rock formations. This part of the North West Highlands is designated as a ‘Geo-Park’ in respect of the amazing Gneiss rock formations. I cannot believe that having lived in Scotland for twenty years that this is the first time that we have ventured to this spectacular part of Scotland. We vowed to return again, and see it in different seasons. However, the narrow single-track roads did make us wonder what it would be like driving this road in the peak summer season. Despite frequent passing places, at this time of year, we virtually had the road to ourselves – and it occurred to us that it would be a complete pain to drive these roads when there was more traffic to contend with.
We continued on to Assynt. What can I say? Awesome does not give it merit. We were both totally blown away by the scenery magnificent mountains covered in snow, and as far as the eye could see, the most extraordinary rock formations. It was a geologists dream! We opted to take the coastal road around by Drumbeg and Clachtoll towards Lochinver. It proved very slow driving, and the weather slowly deteriorated. By the time we reached Clachtoll, we could hardly stand up in the wind. By the time we reached Lochinver, the rain had started, and the light was deteriorating.
We took a brief excursion along towards the Coigach peninsular but the view of Stach Pollaidh were mired by dull light and persistent rain, so we turned tail and headed towards Ullapool.
We passed by the Ardmair Point campsite, where we had spent a wonderful couple of nights last July, whilst competing in the Ullapool skiff regatta, but by now it was clear that camping out in these winds would be foolhardy. So we drove on to Ullapool, and booked in to the pub on the foreshore which had been so hospitable to the skiffies last summer. We parked Oscar head into the wind, to try to protect the bikes and bike cover, but as I speak, Howard is outside trying to secure it with more bungees – it looks to be a wild night! The forecast for the next two days is looking tricky – gale force winds and snow, so we will consider our options. This is, after all, supposed to be pleasurable, not an endurance exercise!! Watch this space!

Awoke with goosebumps in our rather uncomfortable bunk beds. Had quick shower and breakfast, and then decided to re-trace our steps to see some of the scenery that we had missed in the dark the night before. We drove towards Loch Ericoll, and stumbled across a gorgeous Kearvaig Bay, with lovely sands glistening in the low morning sun. Howard took a run along the beach, whilst I took photos. We then back-tracked to the west side of Loch Eriboll. And took a few photos of the stunning snow-clad Ben Hope in the distance.
With then turned around and headed back towards Durness. We diverted along to Balnakeil Bay, on the promise of a cafe, which turned out to be closed. Back in Durness, we took a look at Sango Sands, but the wind was brutal, and it was hard even to stand up. Howard heroically had a quick stretch on the sands and took some remarkably good iPhone photos of four oystercatchers. We proceeded west towards the Kyle of Durness, and stopped for lunch looking to over a wonderful view of the Kyle with snow clad mountains in the distance.
It was a relatively short drive on to Kinlochbervie.
We found the Britstop Aire at Kinlochbervie, which seemed relatively sheltered out of the persisting wind – so walked round to the local Spa shop to pay the £15 for a nights stay with hook-up.
We took a short drive along the peninsula towards Sandwood Bay. The car park stops 4 miles short of the bay, and it was pissing with rain, so we decided against a walk. We drove the short distance down to Polin Pier, and then re-traced our steps back to Kinlochbervie.
We decided on our ‘pitch’ and proceeded to put on the roof topper, windscreen covers, and plugged in the electric. Pleased with our progress, we opened a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, and proceeded to cook tea of toasted cheese, tomato and onion sandwiches and baked beans. Maybe our culinary skills need to be improved!!!
But the wine flowed, we completed our step count dancing to music, and then finished off the evening with a Caorunn gin. Quite wonderfull!

The day started well. It was a bright and frosty morning, and as the sun rose the coast of East Sutherland looked beautiful. We re-traced our steps a few miles to see the part of the coast that we had not seen properly in the gloom last night, since it had been dark just after 4pm the night before. However, we had been tempted back by the glimpses of water we had caught as we first crossed the Cromarty Firth, then the Dornoch Firth. We took a tiny single track coastal road that led us to Loch Fleet, it’s margins frozen forming interesting ice patterns. Ducks sat huddled on the frozen loch, and sheep stood in the frozen ground feeding from hay bundled into wooden troughs. We passed a sign that read ; Beware otters crossing for next mile and a half. We continued on to Dornoch Beach, and walked along the frosted sands as the sun slowly rose in the sky. Apart from a few dog walkers, it was almost deserted. Clearly one of the advantages of doing the NC500 in mid winter.

After a break for coffee, we then headed North along the North Sea coast, passing through Brora, Helmsdale and Dunbeath. The road we were on continued onto John O’ Groats, but by now we had lost the light, and the murky sea was looking rather unwelcoming, so instead we opted to cut off the corner, and head towards Thurso. We moved from East Sutherland into Caithness, and almost immediately we were confronted with miles and miles of heathland, interspersed with wind turbines.

The drive beyond Thurso became more interesting once we crossed back into Sutherland. The spectacular scenery slowly started to open out in front of us. In the distance the snow clad peaks of Ben Hope and Ben Loyal, and the Kyle of Tongue offered wonderful vistas. We stopped at Tongue for a walk and to weigh up our options. We had phoned ahead earlier in the morning to secure a hook up pitch at a campsite at Durness. However, the driving was slow, and we estimated it would be dark again before we arrived. We called in at the only Inn open in Tongue, and were briefly temped by the live music night on offer, only to discover that it didn’t start until March.  Ditto the hot food. So since the pub was deserted, and the barmaid assured us that Durness had a great pub with hot food on offer,  we continued on our way, taking in both sides of  the long Loch Eriboll. But as predicted, the light began to fade, making driving quite tricky on the single track road, and we were frustrated by dim glimpses of what would have been clearly stunning views. Howard drove, spurred on by the thought of a local craft beer and a tasty burger – yes, he had already chosen his menu. However, as we drove along the east shore of Loch Eriboll, the wind was starting to pick up, whisking the water high in the air, and as we eventually pulled into Durness in the pitch black, it was blowing a gale. We drove into the high exposed camping ground, the side of the van buffeting in the wind, and Howard could barely open the van door. The cover on the bikes was flapping precariously, and we decided to take stock. We would clearly be unable to put up the pop up roof in this wind, and the deserted campsite was looking very uninviting. We drove around looking for somewhere more sheltered to park, but the wind just seemed to increase even more. So feeling defeated, we phoned the Bunkhouse we had passed in the village, opting to shelter in the warm, rather than being martyrs to our van! Thankfully there was plenty of room, and to my delight, had an Alistair Sawday sticker on the door, having been recognised as a ‘special place to stay’. We had struck gold on a bleak night, and are currently tucked up in the warm lounge, whilst the storm rages outside. The only drawback being the rather loud German film being watched by a girl from Luxembourg on her laptop in the lounge. I suspect it will be an early night, otherwise Howard may commit murder!

So not quite the trial in the camper van, but at least we won’t be blown away tonight!