The Remote Part

Final Day, part 2:

The first view of the coast and islands beyond. Shivers up the spine-moment!

John O'Groats House Hotel- very sad to see it standing derelict

He did it! 909 miles, 9 days.

Celebrations

*few more bits n pieces to come...

Silly moment of the day: Popping a massive party popper the wrong way into the wind and watching the little foil coloured bits dance away across the car park.

Poem/song of the day: Whenever I've thought of my trip to John O'Groats and Tongue all those years ago (1994? Dad will know.) the scenes imprinted in my memory have been soundtracked by Idlewild's album The Remote Part, in particular the final song Scottish Fiction. The song didn't come out til 2002 so its not like I listened to it at the time, but the music and lyrics just went perfectly with the images in my head. Its only now that I've tracked down the spoken word part by the poet Edwin Morgan. The combination of his voice and the words is just so haunting and Scottish. So it was with a lot of happiness and full of emotion that I played the song while we drove towards Tongue in the sunshine through awesome scenery, quite lost for my own words.

Scottish Fiction
It isn't in the mirror
It isn't on the page
It's a red-hearted vibration
Pushing through the walls
Of dark imagination
Finding no equation
There's a Red Road rage
But it's not road rage
It's asylum seekers engulfed by a grudge
Scottish friction
Scottish fiction

It isn't in the castle
It isn't in the mist
It's a calling of the waters
As they break to show
The new Black Death
With reactors aglow
Do you think your security
Can keep you in purity
You will not shake us off above or below
Scottish friction
Scottish fiction

Haste ye back

Final Day, part 1:
It was a novelty to wake up to the sound of seagulls (wood pigeons and cuckoos have been the norm so far) and after a sleepy slow start I blew the cobwebs away with a walk through the dunes to the beach. Then it was time for us to set off on the final leg. I’m amazed its come round- time has been strange and the days all over the place. I could keep on going (preferably with Ben in the passenger seat and not on the bike) and its nice to be reminded just how simple things can be away from home.

Ok, the roads on THIS leg of the trip have to win prize of ‘most dramatic and/or suitable for a car advert.’ The road hugged the coastline- high expanses of bright yellow gorse on one side, cliffs and sandy beaches dropping away to a remarkably blue sea on the other. I must have been a frustration to local traffic, driving slowly so I could take it all in and negotiate the tight bends. I did hop out at Dunrobin Castle.

It was ever so impressive to drive down the wide entrance, but £8.50 for a nose around? No! The entrance hall was impressive and there was a massive log fire, but I didn’t intend staying all that long. When the ticket chap announced ‘Falconry in 5 minutes’, I thought it was probably time to leave. At Berriebale the road dropped dramatically with escape lanes and then climbed at an equal steepness on the other side of the tiny village. As I climbed up the hairpin bend (reminiscent of Porlock Hill!), willing the van on, I kept my fingers crossed that Ben would make it down and up ok. He hasn’t got off and pushed so far, but this was a fair contender.

Once back up on top it was a little bleaker, especially as great misty clouds of rain swept in. Our proposed meeting point of Lantham was bleakest of all- barely a few houses, a graveyard, and an information centre…open June- September. Three cheers to the sat nav for directing me 3 miles further on to the village of Lybster and The Portland Hotel. I knew it would be further for Ben to travel but the Cullen Skink (yep, for the third time!) would be well worth it for him. It was probably the first time on the whole trip where I actually had time to get some work done and the surroundings were right for it. Stopping in laybys has meant that I’ve been restricted to my lap and the dashboard- ok for some tasks like reading, but not for editing my chapter. I wish I could work all on the screen, but instead I need reams of paper spread everywhere with my notes on. I definitely over-estimated the amount of time I’d have free- of course driving took up quite a lot (especially on smaller roads) and Ben is pretty quick at catching up!

Monarch of the…Ben?

After a slow start, mainly because I had neglected my soigneur duties and failed to get the laundry sorted in time, Ben finally hit the road and I went exploring on some smaller routes before joining up with the A9. Tourist websites for the area mentioned that the BBC programme (and grandparent favourite!) Monarch of the Glen was filmed at nearby Glenruim House. I wanted to nose around, but there was no chance of getting close –all roads were marked ‘private’ and the trees obscured the view. I carried on through Laggain, Newtonmore and Kilgussie where quite a few businesses sported ‘official Monarch of the Glen’ stickers in their window. I then thought I should get my act together and do a few chores –laundrette, petrol, food shopping and bike stuff for Ben.

Heading over the bridge above Inverness I was reminded of all the holiday time spent in this area when I was little, especially seeing signs for Cromarty Courthouse and Strathpeffer. I distinctly remember coming back into Inverness over the bridge after our family trip to John O’Groats, 14 years ago (maybe more?). Driving out to meet Ben I passed another reminder of the holidays years ago- a very strange collection of rags in the trees near Clootie Well. Rose and I used to be pretty scared of this bizarre site, made the more creepy by our Auntie Sylvia’s assertion that photos taken of it didn’t develop. In the days of film cameras there was at least some suspense, but it was never true (and it still isn’t….I checked –from the safety of the van-!) The site seems to have multiplied in size in the intervening year and I’m still unsure of the significance of it (edit- Wikipedia entry and more info here!). It was very strange to just stumble across it again.

Clootie Well, nr Munlochy

After lunch in Munlochy Bay I carried on over stunning bridges across Cromarty Firth and Dornoch Bay. Arriving at the campsite was a staggering change in scenery- mountains still loomed in the distance but our pitch faced sand dunes and a glittering sea.

Around Dornoch Bay

The town of Dornoch reminded me of a French or Belgian town where a main street opens into a wide town square. If this was Europe there would be tables and chairs everywhere, but North East Scotland in May hardly made it likely. Instead I found a wonderfully cosy restaurant where the landlady was in thrall to serving Ben and doting on him. The food was ever so good (and homemade, as she told us about five times!) and it was really encouraging to have someone so in awe of Ben’s achievement, even though she said lots of people seemed to stop there who were doing the same thing. I think it was Ben’s time of 9 days that impressed her most; she said it was usually 12 or 14 for cyclists. Ben has taken the whole thing in his stride without any problems (so far, touch wood!) and so I keep forgetting what a big achievement this is. I felt extra proud when we left the restaurant to waddle back to the van .

Dish of the day: Cullen Skink –haddock, potato, leek and cream soup, absolutely delicious and very filling. I’ve eaten it twice in as many days and am determined to have it anywhere it appears on the menu for the rest of the trip!

Tootsies & Trossachs

What is the etiquette with B&Bs? When there are many small tables it seems fine to just shoot a ‘good morning’ at whoever enters the room, but what about in smaller places when there’s just one table?! If you’re not a morning person then its really not the time or place to make new friends. Anyway, I focused on my scrambled eggs and sausage and let Ben talk bikes. It was a lovely B&B with rather intriguing photos and rock memorabilia on the wall. Elton John, Midge Ure, The Bee Gees…clearly someone in the house (and we think it was the unseen husband) was a big shot in the 70s music scene. Still, I was happy to leave because it meant a trip to Maryhill, Glasgow to catch up with a friend from school and her two girls. It was a lovely few hours of coo-ing, play acting and catching up and I think a quick whizz round the crescent in the van will have fuelled little Katie’s imagination for a while to come. Sorry Esther!

I think I got a bit carried away though because it soon became apparent from the sat nav that Ben would actually beat me to the lunch point. The roads leading through the Trossachs and up the side of Loch Lubaig made it impossible to make up the extra time. I did resist many photo opportunities, otherwise I’d have been seriously late. The most wonderful view emerged from thick forest north of Glasgow – suddenly the whole horizon was just peak after peak after peak, stretching back into the mist as far as the eye could see. The whole journey was breathtaking and I particularly liked the look of the Falls of Dochart, it felt like a little Austrian village. But I ploughed on up the banks of Loch Tay to meet Ben in the rather swish restaurant of the Kenmore Hotel, overlooking the River Tay. I think he was rather relieved when I turned up, sat there on his lycra-clad own among quite posh surroundings! Kenmore was a beautiful village, all black&white, even the Spar sign! I think that’s when you know there must be some serious conservation orders in place. The whole area seemed interesting, lots of little villages and crafty places. I was really flagging behind the wheel (loch-side roads require a LOT of concentration) and was lucky to stumble across a gorgeous little coffee shop on the way to the A9. It was full of wonderfully mis-matched furniture and nick nacks. Not kitsch in a Cath Kidston way, but just lots of really interesting bits from the 1920s and 30s. I was revived after a cafetiere of Clan House coffee and homemade shortbread and ready to start the rest of the journey to Invernahavon. On this leg of the journey I DID allow some photo stops. At times it felt like the snow-capped peaks were close enough to touch! You could certainly feel the chill in the laybys, but it was worth it for the dramatic views. The campsite at Invernahavon was wild and free and we had a really wonderful evening there. The huge trees and mountains dwarfed the near-empty fields, just us and a few caravans dotted around. No barriers, no STOP signs, no toilet keys. Unfussy, simple and quite awesome! Owls started hooting once dusk fell and, because of the thick mist around the mountain, it was pitch black in no time. I tried to scare myself thinking of animals coming out of the wood, but being in the van is just too snug and cheerful!

Political thought of the day: I only saw Conservative/Liberal/UKIP banners the whole way up the country, until I drove through Lanark and saw the first Labour banners (and SNP). Based on the wholly unreliable method of keeping a loose count of banners...Cameron & Clegg coalition! hehe.

Best driving song: Limited to local radio which does produce a few gems, namely Glorious by Andreas Jonsson.

Anvil!

I entered Scotland on the motorway so, alas, no piper to herald my arrival. I did listen to Biffy Clyro though which I think just about counts. I wasn’t exactly welcomed at the caravan park, more told off for not obeying the big STOP signs. I don’t know why the lady was so annoyed, caravan parks are hardly Times Square and the V-Dub was only carrying one gas canister! Thanks to some of the great websites (I really recommend The Happy Campers) and guides available, we normally camp in places a bit more ‘wild’ than Braids Caravan Park. It was at the other end of the spectrum from Henry’s! Very old-fashioned and much more for the motor-home crowd. We nestled in between some gleaming white homes on wheels and, despite my initial misgivings, still had a nice evening. In the morning it really amused me when, almost in perfect sync, the men emerged from the surrounding vehicles and began to clean them. One man was on a stepladder scrubbing the roof (who will ever see up there?!), another was sorting out the chemical toilet, the other buffing his windscreen. I think these people were on holiday, but it was hard to tell. Before leaving Gretna I decided to pay a visit to the Old Blacksmith’s Shop…or should I say, complex. Actually it was nowhere near as bad as Land’s End, it was much more discreet and tasteful plus a tartan shop really doesn’t offend me much. Except that the ‘clan’ computer denied any knowledge of the Steeles. I did snatch a look at the MacLean tartan, dodging Japanese tourists who seemed to be buying the stuff in reams. Apparently you can do ‘joke’ anvil weddings which appealed to me, but the only suitable chap was pedalling into the wind about 20 miles north of the place. Ah well!

While waiting for Ben at the Abington services I read this amusing article about service stations in the UK from the Observer Magazine. I liked the tone and overall sentiment. Yes they might be over-priced, but they are pretty handy, especially on a trip like this!

Scenic route of the trip so far: A73 from Abington to just outside Lanark. I had to resist the urge to get out and take photos otherwise I’d never have made it to Cumbernauld. It seemed like the essence of Southern Scotland, to me anyway.

Irn Bru of the day: 11am in Gretna Green

Lucky Kendal Mint

The journey today was punctuated with lots of happy memories from our road trip to Oban in May 2009. I could have done with two companions in the back though! I set off on the motorway and, passing the signs for Lancaster University, was reminded of our polystyrene breakfast on campus last year. It was a good breakfast, we were just amazed that scrambled eggs on toast could be done as a ‘take away’. Last year we took the M6 through the Lake District and although it was certainly scenic (and reminiscent of Mordor), this time I decided to follow Ben’s route and get to see a bit more of the area.

Around Shap Peak

I just love the ancient look of the fields and the dry stone walls undulating for miles. I drove through Kendal and, in a spot of excellent timing, was accosted by Ben in the town centre. Then I took the A6 towards Shap and just kept climbing and climbing through awe-inspiring views. Rather than skimming the edges like you do on the motorway, it felt like I was completely enveloped by the scenery. I pulled in near the summit (1396ft) and waited for Ben. Lots of cyclists seemed to be on the road today and I had a false alarm when I saw one approaching and started taking photos….only for it to be a man in his 40s and not Ben, whoops!

Now I am sat in a Moto services near Carlisle catching up on internet stuff for as long as my battery allows. The Scottish border is approaching and I actually have butterflies in my tummy! I LOVE Scotland and am really excited about the rest of our journey north. I will also be consuming Irn Bru at every opportunity.

Wee Bru & Jake, thinking of you both lots!!

Query of the day: Kendal Mint Cake was very nice, but can it really be called cake? Shouldn’t there be some sponge or something?!

Flyin'

I think this trip will be full of fleeting glimpses of new places. I drove into Shrewsbury to meet Ben on Friday night and it immediately seemed like a nice town. I loved the red-brick buildings and the river running through the middle. It appeared to have one foot in an industrial (but not ugly) past and the other back even further in history. The castle, tudor facades and winding streets reminded me a little of York. By the time the cyclists turned up though there was hardly time for exploring, just getting to the nearest restaurant (although reluctant to complain, the support driver was starving by this point). I had hoped to return to Shrewsbury on Saturday morning, but after an hour working from a roadside Starbucks I needed to head into Cheshire to make sure I was ready to meet Ben for lunch. Thanks to the lack of big shops in the area I stopped at a lovely Farm Shop for a punnet of strawberries and a loaf of freshly made bread. The strawberries tasted like Cheddar.

The idea of travelling through the centre of Warrington/Wigan/Preston did not fill me with joy so I hopped on the motorway instead. Perhaps I missed out, but I was keen to get to the B&B- ostensibly to work, but instead I fell asleep (by accident, just testing the pillow out...) and then watched Over the Rainbow. Work is spiralling away from me at the moment, I thought I’d have much more time in between meeting Ben, but it just doesn’t seem to work out like that. I do have something important to finish by Monday though so must be strict with myself tomorrow in Gretna. We are camping so I won’t be tempted by Dorothy…

Our B&B, just north of Preston

On the canal in Bilsborrow

Biggest anachronism: Italian bistro, located in an ancient English cellar, playing Demis Roussos…

Most heard song since Tuesday: OMG, Usher (wow oh wow).
I must sort out using the iTrip when I’m driving rather than defaulting to Radio 1 and continuing to rot my brain.

Stumble.Stop.Repeat.

I think the night at home made me lose my momentum. It was very hard to get organised this morning and I was daunted by the thought of packing for the next ten days. It serves me right for leaving it so late I suppose. All my concerns (and guilt) associated with work also resurfaced and for a moment I thought ‘I can’t go away, I’ll just stay here’, before realising it wasn’t really an option. I also had to squeeze in my Pilates class and a trip to the library before I could hit the road and start the long journey up to Shrewsbury. Most days I’ll be meeting Ben halfway, but since he had company on the ride today I drove the whole 120 miles in one go. I was feeling quite glum to start and the steadily increasing motorway traffic wasn’t helping (nor were thoughts of Cornwall). But once I was off the motorway and heading into Herefordshire I started feeling more positive. Ben and I have spent a few weekends around the Shropshire/Hereford area in the last few years, all for bike races. Usually I would see Ben off at the start and then go round exploring, so lots of the roads today felt familiar. The scenery is quite lovely and looked very dramatic with the heavy rain clouds rolling overhead.

Wenlock Edge

It is a great area for local produce and farm shops, especially apple juice and cider. I was tempted to pull over several times when I saw signs, but felt I should keep going in case the Bank Holiday traffic really started to pile up. I’ve never been as far as Shrewsbury and had a shock at the Brummy accents when I went to book in for camping. I blame the sat nav for my temporary loss of bearings, I’m unaware of anything outside the 2x3inch screen!

Now the van is sat in a sunny field behind a pub and I’m watching a few rabbits chase each other round the grass. This idyllic scene is soundtracked by the roar of the A5, so I’m extra glad I packed my earplugs.

Pointless piece of tat of the day: Which part of this, exactly, is therapeutic?

Perilous van moment of the day: Almost buying a 24v travel kettle.

Best driving song: Radio reception was intermittent –and therefore frustrating- most of the way. I did get a burst of 99 Red Balloons somewhere along the A44 which cheered me up, though they cut the German bit. Damn you, Europhobe local radio stations!

Home turf

I should try and remember that I’m not spending my days doing strenuous physical exercise, nor am I on holiday. Matching Ben’s eating patterns is not a good idea. I don’t mean the cereal bars (and certainly NOT the beef jerky), but the breakfasts, pasta and meals out…driving the van is hardly going to burn it off! Still, it was lovely to be treated to a pub lunch in Wiveliscombe after a long grey drive through miles of surface spray. Stopping in Wivey and in Cheddar distracted me from the task that is underway and being back in our house tonight makes it feel just like the past few Thursday nights- watching the debate and trying not to shout at the TV too much... Souvenir of the day: Very nearly Mist! If only we knew whether dog tents existed…
Best driving song: The Chaos, Futureheads
Should be reading: something, anything, to do with the PhD chapter I’m meant to be completing…

Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn....

When we first discussed this trip I decided I would always take the fastest route to our meeting points and overnight stops. I thought this would be the most efficient. However, by doing so between Land’s End and Bodmin, I totally missed the Rodda dairy/museum. Ben spotted a giant churn of clotted cream somewhere near Penzance I think. Damn! I had also been determined to pick up a bottle of their milk, somehow imagining it would taste better and creamier than the rest. I can’t say for sure, but I bet they refuse to do skimmed. On our first night at The Lizard we saw a herd of dairy cows. They were so pretty and had such beautiful creamy-coloured hides that I was convinced they were reserved especially for clotted cream. Daft, I know. Anyway, the road up to Okehampton was scenic, even if it was also very fast and busy. It was Ben’s original route until he saw what he would be riding on our journey down. I was relieved he found an alternative route, but he won’t have such foresight for the rest of the journey so will have to stick to the maps already prepared. I think I’ll follow his course a bit more closely, just so I don’t miss out on any sights!

The Travelodge in Okehampton would not have met Alan Partridge standards. There was no mini bar or special drawers OR complimentary toiletries. Still, it was cheap as chips and there was a tv, so we were able to enjoy the sight of Jose invading the pitch like he’d scored the winner. Since we couldn’t face Little Chef for dinner and breakfast, we drove out to Sourton for our evening meal. Ben had spotted a fantastic looking pub called The Highwayman Inn. We entered through a padded red leather porch and it was equally bizarre inside. I wouldn’t have minded an evening there, pretending to be Bess, the landlord’s daughter (http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-highwayman/ -a favourite from an illustrated book of poems at home)

Smugglers and highwaymen…somehow I don’t think my imagination will be running quite so wild on the Shrewsbury/Preston stages, but we will see. I blame too much reading when I was younger. Unfortunately the pub didn’t do meals so we ended up at The Fox & Hounds, surrounded by hunting paraphernalia. Normally these places will have table mats or a few pictures of hunting scenes, but this pub had a full 12ft by 9ft mural on one wall which was pretty hard to ignore!

Now its time to head back to Bristol, via Wiveliscombe and Cheddar. Ben has cycled off in heavy rain under the misty shadow of Dartmoor, fuelled by Little Chef pancakes. It will be good to have a chance to re-pack tonight and really get organised for the rest of the trip. These past few days have only felt like a rehearsal.

Souvenir of the day: A plant from Henry’s campsite. I’m hoping it will fare better than the other piece of Cornwall I have in my possession, a coffee plant from the Eden Project (2007?) which has yet to produce a bean or even look alive. Henry’s plant looks a bit mad and tropical; let’s hope it fares ok in the Bristol climate.
Best driving song: Like A Prayer, Glee cast(!)
Should be reading: Wuthering Heights. Yes it’s the wrong part of the country, but there is something equally brooding about Dartmoor.

Two Go Down To The Sea

Until about an hour ago, when I waved Ben off down the windswept road leading out of Land’s End, it felt like we were just on holiday or had run away! To travel down through the counties of the South West on a sunny Tuesday afternoon, smelling the rapeseed fields and taking in all the lush green scenery just felt like the most wonderful escape, as if we’d broken out of Bristol and were off for a long weekend. Last night as we watched the sun go down over the Lizard it was easy to imagine staying on for a few more nights and that our purpose was only relaxing, not gearing up for a 9-day epic ride (or drive!) up the country. Henry’s campsite was even more colourful and unique than the website suggested. It felt like a bit of paradise, a tiny patch of Glastonbury Festival, but with palm trees and pigs.

We walked around the Lizard and saw the most southerly point of the country (Note to Land’s End- the tackiness/tourist mess is not necessary!!). Then we settled down to share a jug of ‘Old Rosie’ cider and grill some sausages. Any campsite that serves cold cider by the jugful gets my vote! The sunset and twilight were just beautiful and as the hazy sky cleared it revealed a stunning full moon. I was reminded of reading Famous Five adventures which took place when the moon was bright enough to see by. I had been thinking about smugglers when we’d walked round the coastline earlier in the evening and also when we’d passed signs for Jamaica Inn. Actually, many of the places we saw on signposts during the day were rather Blyton-esque: Fingle Bridge, Polyphant, Gweek, Magic Faraway Tree (ok, I made the last one up!).

Anyway, time to get the van on the road and stop writing postcards. I need to catch up with Ben near Bodmin and then head on to Okehampton and find our Travelodge. It’s easy to see how Land’s End used to be – a few cottages, an old hotel and incredibly dramatic scenery. It’s a shame that’s no longer enough. Last time I visited John O’Groats it was certainly no theme park, I’m hoping the intervening 14 (!) years haven’t taken it too far down the tacky route.

Souvenir of the day: 15p shell from a cottage at The Lizard
Best driving song: Week Off, Malcolm Middleton
Should be reading: Anything by Daphne Du Maurier

Strange but Wonderful

The title of this post is taken from the website for Henry's campsite, our first stop on the LE-JoG adventure. It looks like a great little place and, fingers crossed, we should be parked up there by early evening. I've never been further south than Newquay and have heard wonderful things about The Lizard coast and Sennen Cove...needless to say I'm also excited at the thought of a proper Cornish pasty and possibly some Cornish ice cream, yum! Thanks to Ro & Jake for the sat nav, now I can totally enjoy just driving the van and not faffing about with maps (I do love maps, but I'd rather not try and navigate on my own while trying to keep a big van on the road). There is something about our van that I just adore, the feeling I get when driving it -even round Bristol- makes me instantly happy. When we bought it last year it had clearly been cherished and used for lots of fun adventures and I think we have continued in that vein. The van's inaugral trip to Scotland last year, our Belgian holiday and lots of weekends away in between mean it has a permanent 'holiday' air about it!

May 2009-buying the van in S.Wales

Ben's route will take us back through Bristol on Thursday night so thankfully I can put off most of my packing til then. I only got back at 9 last night after a long day forcing kids to articulate their opinions on war crimes, justice and the Nazis. I could just about handle Glee, nothing that required more thinkng! So, with a Madonna soundtrack looping round my head, now is the time to get out of my pj's and get organised for the next few days. Land's End, here we come!

On countdown...

We held a barbeque last night to raise funds for Ben's ride. Thanks to our generous friends we raised over £80! It was great to get everyone together and the weather was fine. It's always strange being the hostess though, I think I managed one burger all night and kept losing my drink. Probably a good thing because I have a headache today anyway, it would only have been worse if it was also a hangover.

It feels like there's lots to do before the big 'off' on Tuesday. I want to think about it properly, but I've got a day of teaching in Swansea tomorrow to get through first. So while I'd much rather be making lists of what to pack and looking at maps, I'll instead be selecting choice quotes from the transcripts of the Nuremburg Trials and hoping the students aren't as unprepared as me.