Time Flies

Where has the time gone?

On Sunday night I drove to Rye and enjoyed an evening with my dear friends M&T, and on the way home I nipped to Camber, where I used to live, and savoured a moonlit walk on the beach just over the dunes from the beautiful, designer Eco-house that used to be mine.

Walking Dougal today I thought about that beautiful house. While I do miss it, I don't miss all the reasons why I sold it and moved into the Airstream full-time.

So when did I move into my Airstream for good? A year ago? Two years ago? Nope. It was THREE years ago. Three!

Where has the time gone?

Well, there have been a few major life-events that were unforeseen. One of these was losing Dad and everything that entailed, from his end of life care, sorting through all his stuff, and then of course helping Mum move out of the big family house and into a smaller place where she could start her new life. Just so you know, she is absolutely fine and loving her new pad.

The other unforeseen life event was embarking on a University Course in Scottish Gaelic. Where'd that come from? Two years ago I started the foundation course out of interest, and here we are two years on almost half way through an intensive CertHE course that might be the footings for my first ever degree. The amount of work is a bit crazy right now, with assessments on top of the normal course work.

So much for only working two days a week in 'The Day Job'.

What gets to me, though, is that I open the garage doors at my Mum's new pad, and filling up a substantial corner of it is all my STUFF. Still! Stuff that, for the past three years, I have been meaning to sort out. I've had a bit of a sort through, and when it came to stuff like my snowboarding kit that has gone unused for three years, I looked at how much it was worth on eBay (less than the cost of ONE week's hire) and promptly put it back in Mum's garage 'just in case'. Well, I don't *HAVE* to empty the garage.

This winter, with no dramas scheduled and fortunately none occurring, I thought I would at last have the spare time to get 'everything' sorted. I even took my Winter Hebrides break before Christmas to give me a clear run after the new year arrived. Just like last year, I have parked the Airstream on a 'seasonal' pitch from October to March which means I don't have to pay any time or attention to where I will be staying. It's nice to relax and breathe a bit after a summer of roving around.

However, for one reason or another, that 'spare time' never materialised. The box of CDs still awaits sorting to go to Music Magpie. The photo albums still await scanning. The boxes of books still await sorting.

While on that walk today with Dougal, it also sunk in that in a shade under two week's time I shall be hitching up the Airstream for a three-month study/work/holiday tour of Scotland. I've already got the motorbike ready. I have two free days - count them, TWO - to get everything sorted and packed and ready before leaving, as every other day I will be at work earning those credits in order to take an extended period of leave. Tomorrow I will be packing away my winter coat and getting out my shorts, sandals, and a summer shirt or two to pack in the 'van. Dougal has 48 cans of his favourite German dog food on order to arrive before we leave. My kitesurfing kit is about to be strapped to the car roof. Winter is over and it's time to wake up and get out there again.

Sandals? Shorts? Kitesurfing? What happened to winter? Where did it go? I thought winter went on forever and you could get tons of stuff done?

Where has the time gone?

Keeping Warm - ode to Airstream

February 2015

When I used to do 'Through the Keyhole' type features for caravanning magazines, one of the most popular questions was:

'What is your favourite accessory?'

Motor movers always came out as number one, followed by a procession of Cadac grills, Lafuma chairs, porch awnings, and other such delights that make caravanning so much more enjoyable.

Amen to all of those, but there is one accessory that I would never, ever be without. To me, it is the most important thing I carry around in the 'van. Rarely does it get used. However, when it does get used, it is an absolute lifesaver.

That accessory, my friends, is my humble fan heater.

I bought my little fan heater from a caravan accessory shop about 15 years ago to boost the heating in my wee 1989 ABI Marauder 400D. I remember paying a lot more than I would have paid in, say, Argos, but this little fan heater had two settings: 500W and 1kW. In the caravanning context, these lower settings can be useful. Despite the high-ish price, it's stood the test of time so obviously it was money well spent.

'I'd rather be hungry than be cold' my dear Nan used to say as she lit the gas fire in our 1969 Thomson. Amen to that too. Heating systems in caravans can fail, for a variety of reasons. Fan bearings, fuses, wiring problems, elements, burners, flues... like everything caravan related, these heaters and boilers need to be far lighter than their domestic counterparts yet withstand the rigours of being bounced about on a regular basis. Therefore, it really makes sense to carry a back-up heater, and a fan heater is far lighter than an oil filled radiator and takes up less storage space than a convector heater.

For off-grid caravanning, I have my Dometic Origo stove and a good supply of Bioethanol.

Recently, I needed to pull the fan heater out of the cupboard. The caravan was cold and I had a blank display on the Alde Central Heating controller. Oh dear.

Airstream & Co provides an extensive, well-written handbook with their trailers, and this took me smoothly through diagnostics processes, from checking the relevant fuses to making sure all the connections are properly connected.  But, alas, no joy.

I dispatched an email to Airstream & Co detailing the history and promptly received a reply including a detailed diagnosis of possible problems from Alde's chief tecchy. After replacing a couple of fuses just to be sure, everything was pointing to the 'PCB' (Printed Circuit Board), the brains of the unit.

I called the recommended local mobile caravan mechanic but got his voicemail, so I left a message. I also called Airstream to see what we could do.

Fast forward 48 hours. With the help and support of Airstream, my PCB is now replaced and the Alde system is back in full working order. Hurrah! Meanwhile, I'm still waiting for the local guy to call me back. If he's on holiday, why did his voicemail message not say so?

Sorry if this sounds a little bit sickly and gushing, but this is yet another reason I'm glad I sold a kidney, mortgaged off my relatives, and bought an Airstream. The guys at Airstream & Co have always looked after me (just like they look after everyone) and appreciate that folks like me need something that, quite simply, does what it's meant to do. If it ceases to do what it's meant to do, they will get it sorted as quickly and as helpfully as possible. The feeling of support - being looked after - is something you cannot put a price on. I still remember that day in 2008 collecting my shiny new 532. The technical director gave me his card with his mobile number on it. 'Call me any time, night or day, if you run into difficulties'. Seven years on, that offer still stands.

You can keep your fancy service plans or customer service veneer like you often get when buying a new car. Common sense and taking proper care of customers in a human way seems to have gone out of fashion in many businesses. Thankfully, Airstream is not one of them. And by Airstream I mean Airstream & Co in the UK, Airstream Europe in Germany, and Airstream Inc in the USA.

Or maybe it's just the sheer deliciousness of the silent, all-enveloping gentle heat of the Alde system that is making me feel so warm and fuzzy...

Off-grid caravanning in the Outer Hebrides. In January.

January 2013

Seeing in 2013 was spent sat around the camp fire with some dear Airstreaming buddies. For a grand total of eight hours we sat by the roaring flames, drinking whisky, laughing, chatting, and quietly enjoying each other's company. My idea of a perfect New Year celebration.

Funnily enough, something to do with the amount of whisky imbibed, I didn't drive anywhere the next day. So it was the 2nd January that I headed up to Scotland.

A lovely few days was had at the new Caravan Club Site at Strathclyde Country Park near Glasgow, which has rapidly become one of my favourite cities in the UK. In fact, as I type this entry in July 2013, I'm sat in my favourite dog-friendly vegetarian pub in Glasgow. It hardly goes with its rough, deep-fried-Mars-Bar image, does it? Proof that you shouldn't believe the one-sided hype presented in popular media, and that there is no substitute for checking out places yourself.

I had a plan though. It sounded bonkers, but it was a plan. Wild camping in the Highlands and in the Outer Hebrides in January. No hook-up, no site, no worries.

In JANUARY!

Off I set. My first port of call was Tarbert on the Kintyre peninsula to catch my favourite band, Skerryvore in concert.

 

Next day I headed to the pleasant Ardgarten Camping in the Forest Site near Arrochar.


 

From there I headed on off up into the wilds with no fixed plan. I just knew that I wouldn't make Uig in Skye before dark, and I would need to find a place to camp by about 3pm before it got dark. When dawn doesn't break until almost 9am, that doesn't give you a lot of travelling time.

As it happened, I found a lovely little place on the Road to the Islands. I struck camp, fired up the central heating, but more importantly sparked up the camp fire. It was such a lovely evening, it would have been a shame to have missed this fire pit opportunity.

 

So sound I slept that night, I woke up too late to catch the one and only ferry to Harris. Did I fret? Did I rush? Did I bogroll! Rushing and stressing was not on the agenda.

Instead, I headed to Uig on the Isle of Skye as planned, where I had seen a campsite by the ferry pier on many previous trips.

The proprietor of Uig Bay Caravan Park was a friendly, welcoming, charming chap, and I knew as soon as he agreed to my pitch that my 'accidental' sleep-in that morning was in fact a fortuitous occurence.

Next day, we were all aboard Caledonian MacBrayne's mv Finlaggan on our way to, you guessed it, the Isle of Harris. I had no clue as to whether the campsite would be open, but thought at least on Harris we would be able to tuck ourselves behind a mountain in the lee of the wind, unlike flat-as-a-pancake Uist where the winter wind has proved a problem in the past. The fact that the Skoon Art Cafe would be open was of course also a deciding factor. Were the weather to turn bad, I would need somewhere to shelter and eat cake. And if the weather was good, I would still want to eat cake!

I'm not sure if Horgabost Campsite was open or not. All the seasonal caravans had gone and the facilities were all locked up. However, just like the bulb fields of the Netherlands, they can't exactly take it away when it's not in season, can they? Most importantly, the water tap was working. I pitched up in splendid isolation and enjoyed a stunning view.

Now, people will quickly tell you that the weather in the Outer Hebrides is rubbish. I was fully expecting to stay about three or four nights and head back to the mainland having gone barmy at the poor climate.

I'm starting to think that this whole 'Bad weather in the Hebrides' reputation is pure myth. I think that the people who go off-season like to have the place to themselves, and therefore 'big-up' the weather to put other would-be travellers off.

Well, the weather was NOT rubbish. In fact, it was pretty good. Every day Dougal and I went walking, and most evenings I sat around the fire pit outside for at least an hour.

Soup, cheese, and cakes were consumed at the Skoon Art Cafe, and Saturday evening supper was enjoyed at the Temple Cafe in Northton.

I wanted - NEEDED - to stay longer, but the Alde Central heating is not frugal with bottled gas. My Gaslow refillable cylinders were emptying at an alarming rate (1 x 6kg cylinder lasting about 3 days) and I knew that in order to stay on, I had one of two choices:

1. Drive to Stornoway - 90 minutes - to refill
2. Find an Electric Hook Up

I figured that (2.) was the simplest option. I knocked on the door of the Lickisto Campsite and asked if I could pitch up.

Lickisto is a campsite I have not previously mentioned. For a start, it is not easily accessible by all caravans, only smaller single-axle vans. The hardstanding pitches can fit three camper vans or two caravan rigs, so of course it makes better sense for the owners to court the custom of camper vans.

These issues don't really apply in January, and the lovely owners welcomed me with genuine warmth and the offer of freshly-baked bread despite the fact that, actually, the site wasn't really even open. But in the Hebrides, such details rarely matter. Both sides give and take a little. It's one of the many things that make this place so utterly special.

Leaving the island was the usual sad, torturous task. As ever, I stood on the outside deck of the ferry at the aft end watching Tarbert disappear into the distance with tears filling my eyes. Little did I know that it wasn't quite over yet.

Snow fell as I journeyed across the Isle of Skye, and it was the perfect kind of snow. Enough to coat everything in a clean, smart, bright, fresh white powder, but not enough to cause any kind of disruption.

I headed to the same spot where I had camped on the outward journey, although it was nearly dark when I arrived.

Next morning, as I cooked my porridge on the BioLite Stove outside, the view was utterly magnificent:

As I made my way across Glencoe, the snow was deep, the sun was bright, and the sky was blue. 

So there you have it. Wild camping in Scotland in the middle of the winter turned out to be one of the most enjoyable and rewarding caravanning experiences ever. Utterly fantastic. 



Finally, naturally, there is a small video for you to savour of the trip. Enjoy!

Winter Caravanning in the Outer Hebrides

Baptism of Snow - February 2012

Once Dougal had finished delighting the staff of the Ibis Gloucester, we went to collect the Airstream from its service at Airstream and Co's Southern Depot.

First port of call at one of my favourite cities in the UK, was Cambridge Cherry Hinton Caravan Club Site.  Why Cambridge? Simply because I really like it. My good friend Mr Perks lives there, so the plan was to spend an evening relaxing in a welcoming hostelry and possibly spend a day or two out and about getting some snaps. Which is exactly what we did!

Ah yes, the snow. It got cold. REALLY cold. But thankfully the Airstream remained toasty warm throughout.

Next stop, a regular haunt of mine, was Commons Wood Caravan Club Site at Welwyn Garden City. Still the snow fell.

This stay was supposed to dovetail into the Caravan Show at Excel in London. But the on-site campsite was cancelled. causing me my first 'doggy responsibility' reality check. Could I have camped on site at the show, I could have left Dougal in the Airstream for a couple of hours at a time and gone back frequently and seen him. But now I had to camp off-site, it meant that I had to stay near someone I could trust to take care of the dog while I spent all day at the show. Therefore we went down to Rye, East Sussex, where my very dear friend T could have Dougal while I went gallivanting off up to London. An added bonus was that Airstreamers D & J were on the same CL.

It's at this point I want to go off a little on a tangent about CLs and CSs. For the uninitiated, they are Certificated Locations (Caravan Club) or Certificated Sites (Camping & Caravan Club), basically the same thing but different acronyms for different clubs. They are informal, part-licenced sites for up to five caravans apiece.

Every other caravanner seems to be able to find the 'Perfect CL.' You know, where they are parked up in a delightful spot with a stunning view and the cheery rosy-cheeked farmer's wife lays on gifts of fresh eggs and home made jam, all for something ridiculous like 25 pence a night.

Me? I am the world's worst CL finder. If there is a rubbish CL in an area, it's pretty much guaranteed that I will find it. So, if you want to be up to your wheel arches in slurry next to an industrial estate on the land of the grumpiest grumpster in the county, come with me.

Or, as was the case this time, wedged in a yard between a tractor and a skip for the princely sum of £15 per night:

Not the best pitch I've ever had. Especially when Commons Wood was a tenner a night the previous week. Hey-ho, such is the price of dog ownership. But I did get to spend time with some lovely people, which of course is priceless.