An Arran Adventure. Daughter and Dad buy a van.

Friday November 15^th.

Dad was raring to go by 6.30 this morning, so it was a good job we had put out stuff in the car last night. I volunteered to drive [Dad’s car goes so quickly] but he insisted on doing it himself. So we had a speedy two and a bit hour journey from North Cumbria to Ardrossan. At times doing a steady 100 mph on the M74. [That was why I wanted to drive, TBH!]. We pulled into the Ferry car park at 8.45, being a week day in November there was hardly any traffic and we were about 6^th in the queue. Laura and I took Callie for a nature break and Dad & Louisa wandered into the terminal to buy the morning papers [Times, i and Guardian]. We watched the Ferry arrive and pretty soon after we were allowed on. Dad gave me express instructions to rush up to the restaurant and grab one of the round tables and try to snag a place in the breakfast queue.

Laura sat at the table and I joined the queue. I had to let three couples pass me before the aged parent and step-mum arrived. Again, the place was hardly busy. We all ordered the full breakfast and we were tucking in before the ship had even started its journey across the Clyde. I was so peckish I went back and ordered more toast. Having said that I was getting some more, everyone wanted more toast, so I ended up fetching 8 more slices. The guy on the checkout asked me, “Where do ya put it all?” Which I took to be a compliment. I just pointed at the table and said, “In them!”

There were so few vehicles on the ferry they hadn’t even used the upper ramp for parking so we ended up driving off about the third or fourth vehicle. The plan was to drive straight down to Whiting Bay and meet the site owner. Dad had arranged to be there by 11.30. We hit WB at 11.10 so we still went to the site for a walk around. It is stunningly located. There is the shoreline, the road round the island and then the caravan site, behind an 8 foot high stone wall. We strolled down to the vacant pitch and it was just as described. Right next to the wall, looking out over the Firth of Clyde, with WB and Holy Island to your left and across the water Ayr and the North Ayrshire coast line. It is beautiful. I think it is made even more beautiful by the fact that we will overlook no other caravans at all. Once it is sited there will be a 12’ square area of decking between the sea wall and the front of the van, when we sit in the van or on the deck, all we shall see will be the uninterrupted view. As the van we are going to buy has French Doors out of the front it should be amazing.

Laura and I walked the dog along the beach towards King’s Cross Point while Dad and Louisa did the wheeling and dealing with the site owner. We are going to buy the ABI Ambleside model, with extra insulation. Dad held out for a reduction in price for buying, setting up, delivery, siting and decking and we got the whole lot for £32K. Dad is brilliant at bartering and haggling. I try but I get too easily discouraged and give up. He has also said he will only pay half up front and the balance will be paid when we can walk into it as owners. He has even got the site fees fixed for three years too! I am glad he’s on my side.

We walked back on to the site just as they were closing the deal and signing the paperwork. I have had to put my name on it too, as I am legally the co-owner. It is so exciting! Dad has found an electrician on the island who will come and put some heat wire round the pipes on the van. This is amazing stuff, it is a coil of cable which you wrap around your water pipes and plug into a transformer system. This turns on the power when the temperature drops to zero and it prevents your water pipes from freezing! You have to lag the external pipes on top of the cable and, at my house, I have waterproofed the lagging too. The water pipe to the dog kennel hasn’t frozen at all, since I bought the house in 2010, all because of this wonderful stuff Dad found. Dad is going to have the pipes done as soon as the van arrives.

The owner was surprised by this as he’d never heard of it. I can’t believe that. He was so impressed by the idea, he’s going to talk to electrician when he comes to do our van and ask him how much he’d charge the other owners on the site for having theirs done. Last winter, when the power was down, nothing would have prevented burst pipes if the caravans’ water systems hadn’t been drained down but apparently there are always at least two or three vans that have a burst over a normal winter anyway. Dad has said if the electrician does a deal, he expects a share of any commission. He’s a sharp cookie.

We finished all our dealings by about 1.30 so we decided to walk up to Glenashdale Falls, taking the road route rather than the forest. I knew this way as it goes right past Brook Cottage where we stayed earlier this year. By 2.30 we were at the falls, amazed at how much water was coming over them. We got rained on a little on the way up but we were all in waterproof so it was no problem.

From the falls we followed the forest track to Giants’ Graves which is an old Neolithic burial chamber that has been excavated and left to the elements. It is bound to be old if it’s Neolithic, isn’t it? Stupid woman! They are very spectacular even so. Think of Wayland Smithy but on a fell side overlooking the sea. On the zig zag down from the GG you could see the cottage we stayed at earlier on [I mentioned it in the last paragraph] Dad was miffed that he hadn’t booked that for our stay. He has got us a two bedroomer in Corrie, to the North of Brodick. I think he has chosen pretty wisely, for on my Arran map (Ordnance Survey; two and a half inches to the mile) one of the most direct paths up Goat Fell goes right past the cottage. If the weather is fine tomorrow that is what the Lollster and I are planning on doing. Sadly, it is not a Munroe but it is very spectacular and forms a brilliant Alpine Ridge with three other peaks around 2800 feet!

We drove to Corrie through Brodick and stocked up with essential supplies from the co-op. They had boxes of Pink Chill wine so I bought one to help our dinner go down. The cottage was excellent. It is part of a set of four cottages all on the same site. Its bedrooms are downstairs and the lounge / kitchen is upstairs. We could sit in the lounge after our meal and watch the ships lights go past in the Firth of Clyde. The four of us almost finished the wine box! What does that say about my family?

For her final walk, I took Callie up the start of the path to Goat Fell Summit. About 300 feet up the hillside is a huge water treatment plant which would be an ideal sneaky place to park up a camper van for the night. It was a great place for a long lingering snog with Laura and a mutual rubbing of love bumps that just got me as horny as hell and as wet as anything.

Dad & Louisa had retired by the time we got back so we finished what we’d started on the fell side. 

God, my fingers and wrist ached afterwards! I bet Laura’s did too.

I own a caravan! Rah rah rah rah!

Oh, it will be brought over and sited, plumbed in, decked et cetera in early January. I just can’t wait to come and use it.

Saturday November 16^th.

I walked Callie up the slope again to see if it looked clear, but you couldn’t tell, the Massif of the mountain blocks any view of the prevailing weather. We would have to take a chance. There was blue sky above the fell and hardly any clouds so it could be a good day for a new summit.

Laura had got the bacon ready when I got back, it had also roused the aged-parent and Louisa from their slumbers. They planned on going to Blackwaterfoot today. I persuaded them to pick us up from Brodick at about 4.30pm, which should have given enough time to climb Goat Fell; come down via the Brodick Castle path; have a look at the castle and still get into town by 4.30. As it turned out we did it quite easily but that was only because the weather changed and we didn’t stop high for as long as we’d planned.

Laura and I had out rucksacks all packed and ready and set out at 8.45am. It was cool, cloudy and quite windy as we trooped up the hill. We soon got to the end of the metalled road surface that led to the water treatment place. From there the path led on to the edge of a plantation and followed a small burn through it. On the other side of the plantation we crossed the burn, headed south and made slowly and steadily for the end of a ridge which looked like it could be one of the outlying arms of a corrie. [Hence the name of Corrie village, perhaps?] The climbing got a bit steeper up to the ridge but once there it levelled out somewhat, as ridges tend to do. Once on the ridge we could see that it wasn’t really the arm of a corrie at all.

The clouds were flying overhead at a tremendous speed, but we still couldn’t see past the bulk of the mountain into the weather to discover what it might have in store for us. The clouds and blue sky seemed about balanced but as we made our way up the ridge the blue started to disappear and more and more clouds filled the sky. After just under two hours we made the summit and had a good look around. It was a smallish summit with a trig point and a square summit marker describing the island and the mainland of Scotland surrounding it. It had distances to other places on the island and the places on the mainland too.

This was a good job, because looking west nor west, where the weather was coming from we could see a huge cloud bank rolling in. I said to Laura, “I bet that lot’ll be here in about half an hour!” Ten minutes later we were in the clouds! So much for my MLC weather training. The view went from miles to metres in a matter of minutes. Naturally I had my compass and map with me, so I took a bearing from the map along the path that takes you back to Brodick castle and after staying for another drink of tea from the flask [to give the weather chance to behave itself] we stuck out following the compass. Remembering to allow for magnetic variation, of course. The route was pretty straightforward, even in cloud. Although how anyone would have managed without a map and compass I have no idea. After about 15 minutes I thought we might have dropped out of the cloud, but no. It was still a dense blanket around us for another 20 minutes or so.

We hit the tree line before visibility began to improve and, looking back we could see the cloud hat that Goat Fell was wearing extended to all the fell tops. Glen Rosa, to our right became clear and then so did Brodick and most of the south of the island. We could see we were heading straight for Brodick Castle. Rah, rah, rah! Am I good or am I good? We walked by the outside of the castle itself at 12.05pm.

Finding a sheltered bench in the lea of the wind, we sat and ate our sangers and crisps, finished our flask of tea and gave Callie her lunch time sandwich. I was really hoping that we could have enjoyed it messing about on the summit of Goat Fell, but the clouds had put paid to that. It is really disappointing when that happens, as a major part of the attraction is the view from the top! Still, we had a new fell top to our unwritten list and could now buy one of the “I climbed Goat Fell” T shirts I had seen here on our last visit. The major disappointment was the whole of Brodick Castle was closed! Castle, shop, tea room – all closed! Boo and indeed Hoo!

We trooped through the grounds and found the pub outside the castle, the one on the Corrie road, was open and they were happy to let Callie inside. So we piled in there and had two pots of tea and a good warm through. We stayed happily sitting and gossiping with a couple of elderly ladies who had come across from Dundee for a few days and were so disappointed that the castle was closed.

They asked us where we were from [“Fairy boots ye’ll fray”] and tried to place Laura’s accent. They thought she was a Geordie. She pretended to be insulted, although I think the two accents do sound very similar. They couldn’t match my accent to a place at all. So Laura said, “If she imitates her Mum you’ll be able to tell!” So I spent a few moments being my Mum. They were both able to say, The Borders! Which was a pretty good indictment of me being Mum. I told them it was actually Edinburgh where I was born but I had lived all my childhood in Norwich, hence the lack of any accent except Mum’s. “And her Dad’s! She’s even better at her Dad.” Piped up Laura, so I was forced to be an Okker. The two ladies might have been surprised by my Hawick voice, they were astounded by my Fremantle twang, with its rising inflection at the end of each sentence; and the virtually nailed on top lip which doesn’t move at all [if you are being Dad].

It seems they were two retired school teachers who were whooping it up in their retirement. They had been retired for 10 and 8 years respectively and both from Academies rather than primary schools. They used to be Munroe baggers when they were younger but now they pottered about on the lower slopes. Morag, the older one had done them all but Caitlin had still seventeen to do when her knees gave up the ghost. I told them I had done a lot but all of those were before my 18^th birthday! I don’t carry the number around in my head, like the Wainwrights. I have it written down somewhere and I think it’s round about 115.

They were impressed by the fact that I had just gone half shares in a static caravan on the island, so I explained a bit about Dad’s house in the Lakes being like a second home and my house in Sheffield giving me access to the Peak District so Arran would be somewhere new and virtually unexplored.

At about 1.25 we left the pub and the ladies and began to saunter back towards Brodick. I texted Dad and they had “done” Blackwaterfoot and were heading to Brodick too. We arranged to meet them at Arran Aromatics, and as it was still early Dad wanted to go to the distillery in Lochranza. Being a small island we were there in next to no time. In fact, we were just in time for the 2.30pm Oak Tour of the distillery. Rah rah rah.

We had some of the malt whisky and the whisky liqueur to sample and then Dad went mad in the shop and bought half a dozen bottles! I got two bottles of Lochranza blended whisky as I had almost run out back home.

It was almost dark when we got back to the cottage and we then had to take turns using the shower. We heard about their day on the Doon while we waited. This is a plateau atop a basalt cliff. It sounds spectacular [and it is] but the plateau turns out to be boring; it is the basalt cliff section which is the most interesting bit. They had seen the clouds swoop down to cover the whole top end of the island and decided to drive back over in case we were in need of rescue. If they were still at Blackwaterfoot when I’d texted them, we were planning on catching the bus back to Corrie and finishing off the wine box!

Our evening meal was in the Brambles Seafood Grill where we had the shared seafood platter and chips. It was amazing. I think the platter cost about £60 and there was a huge range of things from the sea to eat; the chips were pretty amazing too. I had the Arran Malt Whisky and dark chocolate pot for dessert. I was a bit disappointed when it arrived as I thought it was so small but I had a real job to actually finish it all! If you like seafood their platter will tick all the boxes.

Unsurprisingly we were a bit tired by about 9.30, so I staggered with Callie along to Corrie harbour [tiny] for her last walk of the day and was almost too tired to get frisky with Laura when I got into bed. Almost!

Sunday November 17^th.

Woke up to realise that we’ll be able to this whenever we want next year. God, that is such a wonderful thought. After breakfast [the last of the bacon] we packed the car and went for a final look at Whiting Bay and the caravan site. If I wasn’t sure we should buy a cottage on Arran I am absolutely certain buying a caravan is the right idea. I am looking forward to it already. Dad is already talking about doing two copies of any new CDs he buys in the future, one for me [as always] and one for the van! I am going to buy a Satellite dish so we can get Freesat TV and Dad is going to buy the TV. He’s talking about a 40” one, which will be bigger than I have at home! I’m going to make Callie a new bean seat I don’t think I’ll get her a crate – it would take up too much room.

I have been instructed to scour Sheffield for the most interesting design of cutlery I can find and Dad is going to buy a complete set of Lewis’ saucepans for the van. [We all have Lewis’ saucepans, even Mum!]

It is so exciting!

We caught the ‘just after mid-day’ ferry back to Ardrossan and had a less speedy journey back down to Dad’s. We kept coming up with ideas for things we would need or ought to buy all through the journey. It is like setting up a home all over again. It is going to be brilliant. What makes it so much easier is that Dad and I share the same sort of tastes. So whatever we buy the other should be happy with. Roll on January.

At Dad’s we decided to stay the night and drive down to Sunny Sheff early in the morning. I am normally up at 5.30 ish with Callie, so I’ll just pour Laura onto the back seat, if she is still sleepy tired and hit the road before the traffic has woken up. We can be in Sheffield by 8 am if the roads are clear! 

Dad did a “stoup” for our meal, which is a stew / soup combined. He made it with chicken pieces and every scrap of vegetable he could find in the house. He made so much they could still be having stoup well into the new year! [It is a fine old British tradition. Pottage was the staple diet for most people during the middle ages.]

Dad walked with me and the dogs up to the Turbines again before bedtime. We chatted aimlessly until the turn around and then he gave me a huge hug, completely out of the blue. He said, “You know what I love most about you, kiddo?” [I know he is in a really good mood when he calls me kiddo.]

“Erm… that I can recite all the British monarchs from Edward the Confessor to Liz 2, in order - with their dates?”

“Nope. It’s not that. Although that does help.”

“Is it because I can remember almost every Monty Python sketch from those records of yours you kept playing over and over when I was a child?”

“Well, in a way it is…”

“Go on then, Aged P. You’ll have to spill the beans or I will be forced to strap you to a turbine blade and flay you with blackthorn branches every time you spin past me.”

“That is it. That IS exactly it. You are a grown woman. A beautiful grown woman. But…” [Oh Dear!] 

“You are still a little girl inside!”

“I take after you then, Dad.”

“I’m not a little girl.”

“Yes, you are!”

“No I’m not…”

What is there not to love about my Dad, eh?

(Conversation between aged parent and twenty something daughter, reported as well as I can remember, because we spent the whole of the walk back down the hill sword fighting with dead cow parsley heads. Which is extremely difficult by torch light. I am Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!)