Tom: I am sorry it has taken us so long to compose this update. We promise to try and keep it as concise as possible without compromising on the detail needed for you to imagine you were having the time of your life with us!
Following writing our last post we left The Corryvreckan Wetherspoons in Oban (aptly named after the Corryvreckan which is the third largest whirlpool in the world located between the islands of Scarba and Jura to the south of Oban) we made for the van to get things sorted for moving off. We visited Tesco which had been under water a few weeks earlier due to the effect of Storm Callum to replenish our supplies and then filled up the van with petrol and gave it a quick vacuum. This is where everything seemed to go wrong. We had been having slight problems starting the van first time however, on this occasion I gave it four or five attempts and could not get it to fire. We were stranded in the middle of Tesco’s petrol station; not the best place to sleep the night! I went over the way to a garage who were super helpful and said that they were unable to help us and pointed me in the direction of another garage. They were equally helpful suggesting a costly company to recover us. I don’t get it, why are people unwilling to walk all of fifty metres to help someone out?! On getting back to the van after twenty minutes I tried again with no success. Rachael got out of the van and attempted to push out. I pressed every peddle with my foot and turned the key and it fired into life. Don’t ask how it happened as I really don’t know.
We started to drive South with the fear of whether the van would start up if we stopped it. We thought it appropriate to call the garage we bought it from to ask for advice of what the problem may be. We are still not sure however, I did learn something. To all of you who drive a diesel vehicle, you are meant to turn the key half way and leave it until all the lights go off on the dashboard. This is indicating that the glow plugs have warmed and everything is ready for take off!
On reaching the Green Welly at Tyndrum we were both desperate for the loo and for a drink. We were in two minds of whether to stop the van but figured it wasn’t a bad place to sleep the night if needs be. It did restart thank goodness, and we did employ the new top tip! We made our way to to The Woods Caravan Park not far from Alloa. It was not the ideal location however, we did need to recharge the van and do our laundry and it was the only campsite open within the vicinity we were heading.
On arrival we pulled up and plugged in to one of their late arrival hook ups. We promptly made for the bar for a pint before cooking and settling down for the night.
On waking the next day more awful weather presented itself. We checked in as we chose to spend another night on the campsite to sit out the rain. We decided that day to catch the bus into Stirling, the sight of the famous battle, an impressive castle and not a lot else! We wondered around the city before adding another Wetherspoons to our tally.
The following day was, as the forecast promised, dry with light cloud. Finally a good day had come so we headed for Edinburgh. We decided to head in from the North via the Queensferry Crossing Bridge, the fantastic new crossing over the Firth of Forth. It definitely didn’t disappoint. We drove through the North of the city to the park and ride located at Newcraighall which is where we planned to spend the night. The car park cost fifty pence per day which we felt was an absolute bargain. We caught the train into Edinburgh where we grabbed a bite to eat at yet another Wetherspoons before wondering around the shops for the afternoon. In the case that any of you are questioning whether we like Wetherspoons the answer is YES!
That evening Rachael declared some extremely strong feelings: she missed our local curry house that we visited on a huge number of occasions almost opposite the flat that we lived at in London! This meant only one thing, we had to find the best curry house Edinburgh had. I will leave the name out of this however, I would grade it as not bad, certainly no Curry Nights and about double the price. Not good for the daily budget! We then took part in a Thursday night pub quiz at the Newsroom just off Princes Street and finished fourth. One place out of the prizes but we didn’t think that was too bad for a team of two competing against far larger teams. We finished the evening in Fingers Piano Bar, an old haunt from my time living in Edinburgh and again we weren’t left disappointed as the gentleman playing the piano performed a great version of Deacon Blue’s famous song, Dignity after which we had named the campervan.
We slept the night hassle free in the park and ride and got on the road the following morning heading for Northumberland and Lindisfarne (not the band, the holy island). This was not before going to Fort Kinnaird (an out of town shopping park) so that Rachael could order a lovely green pinafore from Fatface. The sun was out again and we were convinced that we had now crossed the weather line and had left all the wet weather behind us. I am afraid on arrival on Lindisfarne we were proved wrong. It was a damp foggy day, much the same as the previous time I had visited and I am now of the belief that that might be the permanent state of weather on the island. We walked around the monastery and out to the castle, both of which were closed, before jumping back in the van to head back across the road that disappears into the sea at high tide. The van started first time and we now had to find where we were going to sleep for the night.
The following day we visited Cragside, a Victorian country house close to the town of Rothbury. It was the home of William Armstrong, an industrial scientist, philanthropist and inventor. The house is famous for being the first house to be lit using hydroelectric power. The house is also equipped with lots of cleverly designed and built machines intended to make the running of the house easier. We would both highly recommend visiting if you are in the area so get on and join the National Trust! We will certainly be returning as the upper floors of the house were shut as it was the winter season.
The afternoon was spent in Alnwick, watching rugby. This will remain memorable not because Scotland lost again but because we were joined by a couple claiming to also be campervaners. With very little exaggeration this is about the only thing we understood of them as their accents were very strong and the more drinks they put away the stronger the accents got! They were very friendly and we knew it was time to head back to the van when they invited us to go to the curry house with them. We uttered some excuse about the food in fridge going off before making for the door and heading back up towards the place we had stayed the previous night, not far from Cragside. The only things worthy of mention were having to wait to get past a milk lorry blocking the single track road and a car circling the woods car park where we camped possibly dumping a body. They weren’t dumping a body, however what they were doing is still very unclear to us.
On waking to a full car park we spent the day walking in the Simonside area. It was a half decent day and we even found a boulder for me to have a bit of a climb on. That evening we headed slightly North to Belford to recharge the batteries on the campsite.
The following morning we headed for Geordie land (Newcastle) not before driving through Bamburgh for the view of the castle and dramatic beach. On arriving in Newcastle we were lucky enough to stumble upon a car park at the end of the Metro whose signs said nothing about not being able to sleep overnight. We paid and displayed and headed into town.
Rachael: The weather in Newcastle was absolutely foul – cold with a cold wind and intermittent showers of icy rain. But the city itself was full of stunning Georgian architecture and had a welcoming Christmassy buzz. We had a long wander around the many, many shops, then coffee and cake in John Lewis, then another long walk around the shops, then a frustrated and soggy march back to the John Lewis cafe where I’d left my umbrella. Luckily some kind soul had handed it in to their customer service desk – points for the Geordies.
After that we decided it was time for another pint, and ended up – no prizes for guessing – in another Wetherspoons. We had a bite to eat there too, then looked up some proper pubs and made a beeline for one of the top rated ones, Bacchus. It was a beautiful building with an impressive array of beers (and an impressive array of beards on the staff). The barman knew his beers well, and also shared some of his beard wisdom with Tom. At chucking out time we hopped on the last Metro train back to the van for the night.
The next morning we went back into the centre of Newcastle, this time for some slightly more high brow activities. We got off the Metro a bit early and walked through some of the residential areas to The Biscuit Factory art gallery. Usually I find contemporary art galleries completely incomprehensible, but I found this one full of genuinely good stuff, and probably would have bought some if I had the money. I was sorely tempted by some ceramic sardines in a tin which reminded me very strongly of my Grandad, the legendary Ron Troughton.
We walked down to the river and along the Tyne, and ended up – you guessed it – at another Wetherspoons. But this one was actually really nice, I promise, it was a collection of old wharf buildings that had been connected with odd stairs and walkways and overlooked the river. Then Tom got a haircut, and we were both finally overcome by sheer volume of Greggs branches and basically ended up eating pasties purely by osmosis. A little while later we had a pizza at Pizza Punks, where one can construct a pizza with unlimited toppings from the list. Perhaps in hindsight broccoli was a bold choice. I ended up with a doggy box that got drenched on the way to the Metro.
On Wednesday we took the opportunity to visit Beamish, a large open-air museum near Durham with buildings dressed up as they would have been in the 1820s, 1900s, or 1940s, and populated with knowledgable staff dressed in costume and acting the part to make the whole thing seem immersive. When we emerged from the ticket office and saw the old tram waiting to take us to the town I could hardly contain my excitement. When the museum-attendant-cum-shop-assistant in the 1820s household goods shop explained how the cash railway worked my head practically exploded. In the colliery we were taken down a short way into a real old mine, and there were real pit ponies outside. We didn’t even manage to get round all the exhibits, but luckily the tickets are valid for a year of unlimited visits, so we’ll definitely be back.
On Wednesday evening we made our way south to the Yorkshire Moors. We had a little scout around Whitby and a little scout around Goathland, the filming location of Heartbeat which Tom has a powerful love for. Halfway between the two was a little car park off the road which my app said is a good spot to camp. In the morning the rain and mist had caught up with us, but we managed to find our way back to Goathland. In-keeping with the rest of our trip, the pub used as the Aidensfield Arms which under usual circumstances is a real pub and hotel called the Goathland Hotel was closed due to staff illness. But luckily a lot of the locations were still there for us to see, and we had a long chat with the owner of “Scripps’s garage”. As a little bonus, the “Aidensfield” railway station was also used as Hogsmeade station in the Harry Potter films! But to stop us from being too spoiled, the steam train wasn’t running over the winter. Boo.
There was just enough time before we had to leave for a little wander and a coke in Whitby, then we set off for a rare night somewhere legitimate that wasn’t an actual campsite – a long-stay car park in the little town of Helmsley in the North York Moors. There is an area set aside specifically for motorhomes and camper vans! We had dinner and then a few drinks and a couple of games of pool in a local pub. One match was surprisingly close, the other was unsurprisingly un-close.
On Friday we headed for York. We had dinner plans with a friend of mine from London and her fiancé, so we stayed at a campsite practically in York itself, only a 15 minute walk from the centre. We paid through the nose, but the location really was unbeatable. I’d never been to York before, but was keen to visit the Shambles, on which J.K. Rowling’s Diagon Alley is based. It didn’t disappoint! In fact nothing disappointed – the Christmas market was in full swing, all the buildings were full of character, and the whole city was tastefully lit with Christmas lights. We ate at the Golden Fleece which dates from the 16th century and had charmingly wonky stairs which I imagine would be rather alarming after a few drinks. We went to another pub afterwards and had a proper catch up. Unfortunately I could feel the beginnings of a cold creeping up on me.
Sure enough in the middle of the night I was awoken by that curious combination of a completely blocked yet completely streaming nose and a dry throat that seemed to repel any attempt to soothe it. By the morning I was sleep deprived, full of mucus, and feeling extremely queasy, and was forced to cancel my eagerly-anticipated brunch with an old friend – sorry again Rosy. Rather than brunch and the thrilling cultural attractions of York, we decided to drive earlier than planned for our pit stop in Nottingham.
I suppose I had imagined arriving home at the halfway point in a blaze of bohemian glory, with a wholesome glow borne out of the cultural enrichment, fresh air and total relaxation. I imagined the amazed looks on the faces of my family as Tom and I emerged clean and warm from an immaculate cosy van and listening avidly as we regaled them with tales of our adventures over a cup of Scottish Blend tea. Instead I arrived with a streaming cold and a huge bag of laundry looking like death and went straight to sleep while Tom tried (and failed) to air the stale broccoli smell out of the van.
However, I have since been fortified with roast pork and crackling, many cups of Horlicks and fireside chat. After 48 nights in the van, I have learned several important lessons that I hope will serve me well on the next leg of our journey: don’t try to push a vehicle when someone has their foot on the brake; don’t expect anything good to be open in winter; and don’t cook vegetables in a van unless you’re prepared to smell them for a fortnight…
Troughton out.
Troughton & Hawes in the Great Outdoors 
Grateful thanks to our INDIGNANTS for a terrific blog, looking forward to more adventures after R & R at the circus. Was particularly struck by the idea of automatic osmosis of pasties immediately a Greggs is entered, gives more time for gadding about ..73s
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