About Me

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Hi! I'm Eunice and I live in Bolton, Lancashire, with my two dogs Sophie and Sugar and an assortment of cats - well it used to be Sophie and Sugar, now it's Sophie and Poppie. I first began camping back in 1997 when my then partner took me to Anglesey for my birthday weekend. We slept in the back of the car - a hatchback - using the cushions off the settee at home as a mattress, and cooked and brewed up on a single burner camping stove. The site was good, the views were great, the weather fantastic and I was completely hooked. Following that weekend we got a two-man tent and some proper accessories and returned to Anglesey two weeks later, then over time we progressed to a three-man tent followed by an old trailer tent, then a new trailer tent, a campervan and finally a caravan. When my partner decided that the grass was greener on the other side of the street - literally - in April 2009 and I suddenly found myself alone after fifteen years, I decided there was no way I was going to give up camping and caravanning if I could cope on my own. This blog is the story of my travels, trials and tribulations since becoming a solo camper - I hope you like it

Sunday June 2nd 2013 - Loch Lomond to Arisaig

Another early morning brought sunshine and blue sky and it did cross my mind that if I packed up quickly I would have time to make a quick trip across to Balmaha before setting out on my journey to Arisaig, however just as on the previous day the sun disappeared and grey clouds had spread across the sky by the time I'd walked the dogs and had a brew so that put paid to my spur of the moment idea. I didn't need to be off the site until noon so I packed up at a leisurely pace and after taking the dogs for a pre-journey walk round the site I was ready to leave by 11.30am. The sun was trying to come through again by then, and though there was still plenty of grey cloud around I couldn't leave without taking a photo of the loch from the little beach just down below my pitch.

The first part of my journey went without a hitch in spite of the very winding and narrow lochside road and I arrived at the Green Welly at Tyndrum, a popular stopping place for tourists, in only forty minutes, much sooner than I expected. Having had no breakfast other than a brew I was ready for something to eat by then; the dogs would be okay in the van for a little while so I went across to the restaurant and after a quick study of the menu I ordered a ham and cheese toastie and a large coffee. There was a camping and outdoor shop just across from the restaurant so with my snack finished I went in search of a new camping chair. There were a few chairs of the type I wanted out on display but none of them were blue; the assistant, when I asked, did check in the stock room but it seemed that bright red, orange, flourescent green and yellow were the only colours available and they weren't cheap either, so I decided to stick with the chair I already had, straighten the frame and hope it survived until the end of the holiday.

With the dogs walked and watered I set off again; by this time the sun was shining again properly, making the driving quite pleasant, though it also caused quite a delay on my journey time. Once I started climbing up into the hills and heading for Glen Coe the scenery became so dramatic that I stopped several times to take photos from the roadside; I would stop, take a photo, then set off, only to stop again a couple of hundred yards down the road, though when I got to Glen Coe itself the mountains seemed to close in and become quite dark and forbidding so I didn't stop at all in that area.

Eventually, after many twists and turns, the road descended to sea level and I came out alongside Loch Linnhe; not many more miles and I would reach Fort William, and thirty five miles from there was Arisaig - the end of the journey was almost in sight. That last thirty five miles seemed to take forever though - I'm sure someone must have added a few miles to that road in the six years since I was last there - but eventually, about four hours after leaving Luss, I turned onto the gravel track leading to Invercaimbe camp site. Reception was at the house and the owner, Joyce, was just outside, so after I'd booked in and paid my site fees she took me round to show me where I could pitch.

Although all the caravan and motorhome pitches were marked out and level there were no designated tent pitches and the ground was sloping and rather higgledy piggledy in places; it was very much a case of 'choose a patch and pitch your tent' so I found a fairly level spot at the top of the slope, and it was only when I'd got the tent up and organised and I was sitting down with a brew that I could finally appreciate where Joyce had put me. I was facing the small tidal river with a beach just ten yards from the front of the tent; a dinghy and a small fishing boat drifted lazily on the end of their mooring ropes and over the far side of the river was a handful of cottages backed by a hillside where a large swathe of gorse bushes bloomed a vibrant yellow. If I woke to that view every morning then this pitch was perfect!

The rest of the day and evening were spent just relaxing, alternately reading some of my book and looking at the view, then when my eyes began telling me it was time for bed I took the dogs for a quick walk along the track and back. After the cloudy start to the day the weather had turned out really nice, and as I snuggled into my bed for the night I had metaphorical fingers crossed that it would continue like that for the rest of my holiday - if it did then the camera would certainly be getting a lot of use!