I don’t blog much nowadays but I have some news; I nearly have a campervan! I say nearly as I’ve bought a nearly new VW Caddy Maxi which is currently a 7 seater car and I’m going to convert it to a campervan. Well, when I say campervan, I mean microcamper as it is rather cosy inside.
One of Paddy’s publicity photos before I signed his adoption papers.
I’ve been planning to buy or convert a microcamper for a couple of years and have been round and round in circles trying to decide Caddy, Berlingo, Doblo, other? How old? Buy converted? Buy unconverted and pay someone to convert it? Convert it myself?
I had some requirements which I only seemed to be able to meet if I converted it myself. I wanted to have 5 belted seats, although they don’t all have to be instantly available in camper mode. I didn’t want a rock and roll bed, partly as I don’t have the strength to operate one and partly as it takes up a lot of room in the van in bed mode. I wanted to be able to ventilate the van whilst sleeping, so openable windows were a must.
There was so much choice and so many opinions. I watched dozens of videos and went down lots of rabbit holes researching topics that might be relevant depending on which van I bought.
Eventually, in August, I saw the perfect Caddy for sale. A nice spec at a price I could afford and, all of a sudden, my van conversion project became real.
I spent a couple of weeks tinkering and thinking. I’ve fitted wind/rain deflectors over the front door windows for nighttime ventilation and a rear bumper protector for those scuffs and scratches that experience warns me about! I put a single mattress in the back and confirmed that, yes, it is big enough for me to sleep in. (I did lie down in it before I bought it!)
Today I decided it was time for action and I removed the rear carpet. This was not the easiest job as there are 11 bits of plastic trim, around the seat anchors, which were awkward to remove.
Now I can see what was under the carpet I can start to work out where to screw down a hard plywood floor. I’ll be attaching my furniture to that.
I felt a little overwhelmed until a couple of days ago but now I have a plan and I’m happily getting stuck in. I know there will be challenges and I’m expecting there to be swearing along the way but I’m enjoying it so far.
I’ll probably post occasional updates here. I’m no longer on Twitter but you can find me on Mastodon. My Mastodon toots get bridged to Bluesky too. I’m very grateful to all the people who have posted videos of their own van conversions. I don’t have the skill or time to publish good quality videos but maybe I’ll post some short ones if I think they’ll help someone. If anyone is converting a Caddy and has a question that I may be able to help with, do please contact me via this blog or Mastodon.
I fancied a few days away camping but didn’t fancy the walking part so was weighing up bike camping options. I’ve done that before, on my old mountain bike and usually using a bivi or bivi tent, but I knew that the bracken would be impenetrable in my usual pitches and I’m not confident at finding stealth pitches with a bike. Over a cup of tea with my Mum, I suddenly remembered that campsites exist and would be the answer to my problem ….. until my nextdoor neighbour (a teacher) reminded me that it was half term!
Searching the web for “Adult Only” campsites (which, thankfully, didn’t throw up anything too dodgy), I identified two suitable sites; one near Malpas in Cheshire and one near Caergwrle, north of Wrexham. These would make a nice triangle from my home on The Wirral. Or, even better, a nice triangle from Chester Railway Station. Good grief, how lazy have I become?
I’ve had an e-bike since late last year and it has massive panniers which, unlike on my old mountain bike, can easily be removed from the bike so I brought them indoors and packed at my leisure. My “Argos Tent” (a Pro Action Tigerpaw) fits fully inside one of the panniers and seemed like a good choice to ensure tidy packing. However, I ended up having to bungee it to the rack; mainly because I’d forgotten to leave room for all the food I was taking!
At my local Merseyrail station, I know that I can wheel my bike from the street onto the platform and then onto the train. However, I couldn’t remember what the arrangement was at Chester. I knew that I usually walked over the footbridge to leave the station and there was no way I could push my very heavy bike up the stairs. Various official rail websites were no help at all but I eventually found this website https://www.accessable.co.uk/venues/chester-railway-station which gives the dimensions of the lift. Plenty big enough!
It was raining and gloomy when I left Chester station. The forecast suggested that it would clear up as I went South (which it did) so I turned on my lights and headed out of town.
At Aldford, I cycled over a stone bridge which I just knew would have an Ordnance Survey benchmark. I was not disappointed. What a beaut!
A rivet benchmark
A few miles down the road I zigged when my intention had been to zag – but not to worry as it meant I got to visit the Barnston memorial. Barnston is a Wirral village, so I was a little concerned that my navigation had been particularly poor, but it turns out that the monument had been raised to the memory of Major and Brevet Lieutenant Colonel Roger Barnston. Here’s a photograph of the monument’s OS benchmark:
Spot the benchmark!
At Tilston I saw these stocks. I’m not sure if they’re still used.
I noticed several red signs indicating byways and, on the map, it looked like these would join up in the general direction I was heading. However, some looked quite narrow and overgrown so I took the safer option of staying on the roads. It’s somewhere I might explore on foot in the future, though.
I’d told the campsite that I would arrive at around 5pm but I was half an hour early and couldn’t make contact with them by phone as requested. I had a look round and saw that I was the only tent camper, although there was some flattened grass which suggested there’d been a tent there recently. There must have been 6 or 8 caravans up one side of the field. Nicely spread out compared with some horror sites I’ve seen! There didn’t seem to be anyone in any of the caravans, which seemed odd but I assumed they must all be out bagging benchmarks or something.
After 15 minutes or so, I made contact with the hosts and was shown to my pitch; ie anywhere I fancied but be careful not to be too far down the hill as rain was due and it could get wet. Most of the caravan pitches are “seasonal”. I hadn’t understood what this meant but it means that people pay to leave their caravan on the site for the “season” and come and go whenever they like. Only one caravan was currently occupied and the only other beings I saw were the hares which dashed across the field too quickly for me to get a photograph.
This was a simple site with two toilets, no showers, drinking water, and nothing else. It suited me fine.
Thursday morning started with rain but it was due to clear up by late morning so I drank coffee and read in my tent. I’d managed to stay dry on Day 1, so I could see no point in getting wet today when I only had a couple of hours cycling to get to my next planned stop.
At 11 ish I set off and went South again to visit Malpas. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever been there before and I had plenty of time to have a look round and enjoy Breakfast No 2.
After a mile of cycling I needed Breakfast No 2.
My plan to go South out of Malpas and then West to Threapwood was scuttled when I found myself on the Wrexham road which was a very nice long downhill, so I changed my plan!
North of Shocklach [Great name! Wikipedia says it means “Goblin stream”] I saw this ancient cross. I was puzzled why it had been defaced with a modern date. Geograph reveals the answer: It’s their Millennium Cross and is not very old at all!
The River Dee from the Farndon Bridge. Road signs indicate England on one side and Wales on the other. I presume I was standing in no-man’s land when I took the photo.
The B5102 up Croeshowell Hill was steep; too steep to pedal even with a bit of pedal assist so I got off and pushed. That was even harder work! The bike is very heavy unladen; with all of my camping gear it’s a beast.
The Caergwrle caravan park was busier than my previous night’s site. They were expecting me and couldn’t have been more friendly and helpful; charging my phone while I put up my tent and had a shower. I was a little anxious about being pitched between two caravans, in case the owners returned and didn’t want a camper in their garden, but I wasn’t disturbed. I had views over the hedge of my usual Horseshoe Pass / Ponderosa stomping ground.
Learning from last night, when I’d not been warm enough in bed, I slept in an extra couple of layers and wrapped my rain poncho around my sleeping bag and mat to make an insulating cover. It seemed to do the job.
As soon as I’d arrived at the campsite a Robin landed on my handlebar, so I wasn’t surprised when it joined me for breakfast!
Friday, Day 3, was my final day and my longest – at 27 miles – but I was now just outside the boundary of my usual “local” bike rides so I knew that any route that took me North to the River Dee would put me within easy reach of home – and I had a cafe in mind for lunch.
The Wales / England border doesn’t make a lot of sense in places. Higher Kinnerton is in Wales. This England sign is just before you enter Lower Kinnerton. I was soon back in Wales though.
I crossed the River Dee at Higher Ferry [it’s a bridge, not a ferry] and, as usual, took a photo of the straight canalised river.
One of these days I’m going to drop my phone in.
This is a very popular cycle route and there were lots of cyclists, of all varieties, out enjoying the sunshine. I wasn’t enjoying the headwind, though!
The Clwydian Range is in the background.
Once again, I crossed into England. I always used to think that the river was the boundary as that would seem to be very logical. Maybe it used to be. I must get round to researching that.
That’s the Welcome to England stone. There’s a Welcome to Wales stone on the other side.
At the cafe near Burton marshes I had a baked spud and pot of tea. I’d already eaten the lunch I’d made for myself, and I needed some stodge. Next stop was the cafe at Brimstage for coffee and an Eccles cake. I’m now at home having eaten my tea and a pizza!
In total I cycled 62 miles which might not seem much for 3 days but parts of me now ache and I’m really hungry – so I think it was far enough! Travelling by bike made me more aware of the relative locations of some of the cross-border towns and also how much good walking and cycling there is so close to home. The e-bike has some benefits, ie it’s a big bike which can carry the luggage well and is comfortable to ride, but those benefits are countered by its incredible weight. My next challenge will be to see if I can do the same sort of trip on my 20″-wheeled folder. That’ll be fun!
As requested by a host of loyal Twitter followers (OK, follower) here’s a quick write-up of my recent overnight camp near the Llandegla forest.
Background
A combination of work, injury and life-in-general prevented me from getting out and about for most of 2022. My last backpacking trip was in April and, while I was desperate for a night under canvas, I knew I had to limit my ambition and do something well within my abilities.
The Planning
A chest infection led me to the common sense decision to postpone my planned New Year overnighter for a week which meant my cough was unlikely to keep me awake all night and I’d have a full moon if the sky stayed clear.
My routine choices for a quick overnight camp are 1) Train to Wrexham and walk out to Esclusham Mountain via Bersham, or 2) Drive to Llandega and walk down towards Ruabon Mountain down the Offa’s Dyke Path. I plumped for 2.
The Packing
Oh! The joy of packing a rucksack! It is simultaneously the most difficult and the most fun activity. At first I was taking my Karrimor Jaguar 65 litre rucksack, my Hilleberg Akto tent, my Tundra Pure -10 sleeping bag, and cooking on gas. By the time I left the house, I had my Osprey Exos 46 litre rucksack, my TN Laser Competition tent, my Rab Quantum 400 sleeping bag, and was cooking on meths. (I actually took gas and meths as I wanted to finish off a gas cannister and Speedster meths stove takes little space as a spare).
The Walk in
Parking in Llandegla, I walked down the hill and followed the Offa’s Dyke Path. Crossing a boggy field, before I reached the forest, I stopped to reflect on my choice of footwear: trail shoes and Goretex over-socks over my Darn Toughs.. Very comfortable and I stayed dry shod.
Looking down at a pair of legs in black Ron Hills with a pair of pale blue trail shoes below. There is grass underfoot. There is a pair of trekking poles in shot, too.
Last time I’d been here, a year ago, there was snow on the ground and it wasn’t long before I encountered some lingering patches of ice in the shadow of trees. I knew there was a bench that I usually sit on after a bit of a climb but, when I reached it, it was wet and slimy and I didn’t fancy getting a wet bum so I didn’t sit down. There’s a metal flask cup on that bench, if anyone is wondering where they left theirs. Also, the gatepost has had a mishap and is lying on the floor.
I’ve walked this way several times before and I enjoyed remembering little details of previous walks; like pondering which way to go and suddenly spotting the acorn waymarker sideways on a plank bridge, or bumping into that young couple who appeared to be having a blazing row – maybe because they hadn’t spotted the acorn marker. They weren’t there this time; I hope they’re OK.
I saw a few Mountain Bikers in the forest but no other walkers.
The Pitch
On emerging from the south of the forest I had intended to head N / NE towards Esclusham Mountain and find somewhere to pitch near Aber Sychnant but …. I couldn’t be bothered. Despite being a grouse moor, I knew I’d be able to find somewhere to camp so I headed slightly uphill and to the SW, towards the two radio masts, and found a flat, not-too-boggy patch of short heather. It had either been burned or cut – cut, I think – and I moved some loose or sharp twigs then put my tent up. It was not long past 4pm.
A small green tent pitched on a strip of regenerating heather on a moor managed for grouse shooting. Beyond there is gently rolling moorland and a forest.
Dinner (Should actually be called Tea but I know some of you are not from round here)
After unpacking everything and making my bed, I made myself a mug of fruity tea in my thermal mug. In summer I use a Ti mug; in winter it’s my plastic thermal one with a lid. It makes all the difference to a successful winter camp as it keeps my drink warm for hours.
I was disappointed to see I’d brought a packet of couscous with me as, on the walk in, I’d been looking forward to pasta! Anyway, it wasn’t too bad.
A pan on a small gas stove with a tinfoil wind break behind. The photo is lit by a candle lantern.
The Schoolgirl Error
As I knew that I would be camping by a river, I did not need to carry in a lot of water. But I didn’t camp by a river and, after my tea, I suddenly realised I only had half a litre left and it was only about 6pm with 14 hours of darkness ahead. I had plenty of fuel and teabags ….. but no water! I was quite cross with myself. I weighed up my options: I could be frugal and eke out the water, but that would be a miserable way to spend the night. Or, I could go and get some water ……… and get lost in the dark and lose my tent and get hypothermia. Hm?! The moon was rising and there was some light but my tent wasn’t easy to see from afar, or even quite close up.
I then had a bright idea. I wasn’t that far from the gate out of the forest and it shouldn’t be too difficult to retrace my steps, especially if I recorded my grid ref before I went wandering. Also, I was carrying a flashing red light which I attach to my pack when I’m walking on the road in the winter. So, with head torch on my head and a flashing red light on top of the tent, I went thrashing through the heather. Of course, in the morning there was a much easier route but I couldn’t see it at the time. If I’d been paying attention I would have noticed the fast flowing water near the gate on my walk in, but I hadn’t been. I found a boggy pool and filled my spare bottle from that. Readers who are unfamiliar with water pools on moors may now be retching in horror, but it wasn’t as bad as it sounds.
The flashing red light gave me a simple target to aim for as I carried my precious liquid back to the tent. I soon had it squeezed through my filter and had another brew on the go.
The interminable darkness
I quite enjoy the dark. It’s never as dark as you first thought, when you get used to it. You can see things in the dark in the countryside that you don’t see in towns or suburbs, like twinkly things in the sky. I’m also quite comfortable with my own company, especially when I have BBC Radio 4 to listen to, so I wasn’t too concerned at the long, long night ahead. Once I’d fetched the water I had a little kip. Waking a couple of hours later I made another hot drink and ate some of the pannetone I’d bought in the post-Xmas sale. The moon was now high in the sky and bright. The clouds were flowing across it but, even when covered, it lit my tent enough for me to see where things where but not quite enough to do anything.
A very grey photograph. There is a line between the dark ground and slightly lighter sky, which fulls the top 2/3 of the photo. The full moon is in the top right of the picture. There’s a small white dot on the left hand horizon; I think it’s a light in Wrexham.
A couple of times I did have a worrying “what if…..” thought. What if I suddenly had to pack up and leave? I couldn’t turn on The Big Light; it was just the Moon, my head torch and my tea light candle lantern. I put the thoughts aside and listened to the Westminster Hour.
The Morning
My plan had been to get up early, have breakfast and head back to the car. Yeah, right! I think I did wake at about 0330 but went back to sleep and it was 0750 when I next awoke; I think it was the slowly increasing daylight which stirred me. Breakfast was the rest of the panettone and more fruity tea. I’d brought porridge but the bread was just fine.
I don’t know how people manage to pack quickly. It takes me hours. I have a routine and don’t feel disorganised; it just takes a long time and mustn’t be rushed. It was about 0930 when I was all packed up, so not too bad, I guess. The sun was now starting to cast warm rays and I did a little happy dance [Editor: You might want to cut this bit; makes you sound weird.]
A packed up rucksack (red and grey with a green tent in a pouch on the side). The rucksack is on some short heather with bushier heather behind. The bright sun is casting shadows. In the distance is a forestry plantation.
A Shocking Discovery
I was cocky enough not to use a map to walk back to Llandegla. Sometimes I looked back at where I’d just come from to help picture how it had looked on the walk in so I could mentally check I was going the right way. There was one point when I thought “Hm? I did not cross a field like this. This looks different”. I could see the little bridge I needed but this wasn’t where I should be. Like an idiot I kept going, assuming that I would end up in the right place even if I went a different way. Looking back, up the slope, I could now see where I had gone wrong. There’d been a stile next to the gate; I’d gone left through the gate, not right through the stile.
Continuing down the hill I reached the field boundary; a fence, most probably electric. Hm? Are these ropey bits electrified too, I wondered, Yarooo!! Yes. Crikey. I’m sure I felt a little flicker in my heart. No option to cross the fence there, then. I went back up the hill and over a wooden section in the fence.
A Welcome Retreat
Back in Llandegla, I dropped my rucksack off at the car and paid a visit to the church. I’ve noticed signs before advertising that walkers are welcome and that they have a toilet, but this was the first time I’ve been in. At the back of the church there is a little kitchen and a big table with chairs. They invite ODP walkers to help themselves to a drink or to use the table to eat their packed lunch. I made use of the toilet and read the information boards about the local area and wildlife. I dropped a pound coin in the donations box on my way out.
Lunch and home
The village shop & cafe is volunteer run, I think, and I always make a point of supporting it. I called in for a cup of tea and some crisps to eat with the butties I’d brought from home which I ate in the car. I was home by 1pm, less than 24 hours after I’d left home. A short trip, no real excitement but just what I needed.
I can’t remember what the Covid rules were in September 2020 but I do recall hardly leaving the Wirral Peninsula for most of that year. Instead, I’d go for long local walks; exploring areas which should have been familiar to me but which never failed to throw up new findings.
Just off junction 4 of the M53 motorway there is a roundabout near to the entrance to Clatterbridge Hospital. For as long as I can recall there has been a garage there. A car showroom and a petrol station which always seemed to be more expensive than anywhere else, so I never filled up there.
In my car I never had cause to stop there but, on foot, it was worth a wander round the closed forecourt. I’d not realised that the garage had closed down but, then again, I’d hardly driven my car since March.
I noticed a bench which I’d never seen before. It was strangely close to a tree and something made me wander over for a look.
20 September 2020
At the base of the tree was a memorial stone.
In the bright summer sunshine it was difficult to get a clear photograph; the inscription read “This garden has been dedicated to the memory of our good friend Mike White”.
Inscription: THIS GARDEN HAS BEEN DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF OUR GOOD FRIEND MIKE WHITE.
Garden?! It was just one tree in a scrubby patch of litter-covered grass next to a closed-down garage near a very busy road. I immediately feared for the memory of Mike White. Did his good friends know that the garage had closed? Did he work at the garage? Or maybe at the hospital? Would his memorial stone be moved by people who cared? Or destroyed by people who didn’t?
A quick internet search didn’t reveal anything about who he was so I made a mental note to do a bit of research when time permitted.
I felt the urge to protect Mike’s memory from the demolition crew, so I added a photograph to geograph and mentioned his memorial stone.
I went that way on my bike today and stopped by to see what had changed in the 17 months since I was last there. The stone has gone; there’s just a rough patch of concrete where it had stood. Hopefully it has been taken to a place where Mike’s friends can continue to remember him.
I don’t hold out much hope for his tree or his bench if the old garage is to be demolished, but it was nice to see the blossom.
13 February 2022. Closed garage. No memorial stone. Blossoming tree.
“Demolition of Existing Buildings and Development of New Petrol Filling Station with Convenience Store (Use Class Sui-generis) and Drive-thru Coffee Shop (Class E) with associated access, parking and landscaping.”
The planning application refers to “….improvements to the landscaping of the site through shrub, and potentially tree, planting within the grassed areas to screen the car parking and soften the form of buildings.” Hopefully Mike’s tree will be spared.
The earliest photograph I could find of how the site used to look was from 2009 on Google Streetview. This photo from 2016 shows that the bench would have been quite a comparatively pleasant place to sit on a break from work at the showroom or petrol station.
July 2016. Google Streetview.
If you remember Mike White please leave a comment. I’m interested to know what has happened to his stone and will it be re-laid in this location when the new petrol station is built.
This year’s TGO Challenge felt different to the ones I have done before. I wrote here about my pre-Challenge nerves. Chats with fellow Challengers showed that I wasn’t alone in feeling anxious. Fitness, the summer heat, midges, Covid (restrictions and maybe even catching it) – these are tangible, logical worries but there was also a more vague nagging worry which I think was caused by the mental upheaval of the pandemic and lockdown. Many of us were setting out to do something which should be normal for us ….. but which felt so strange and which I wasn’t completely convinced would ever actually happen after two postponements. Travelling for many hours on public transport; being so far from home; making a “non-essential” journey; eating in bars and cafes; mixing with people; all of these things contributed to my anxiety and I believe others had similar concerns.
A Kilchoan start was always going to require at least an extra day so, for the first time, I travelled on the Thursday and had the pleasure of meeting several Challengers on the journey. At Oban I waved them goodbye and caught the ferry to Mull, then the bus to Tobermory. A night in a B&B (booked whilst on the train North; most of this year’s planning was last minute, partly due to my inability to believe that the Challenge would happen) gave me a comfortable base from which to explore the town and walk up to the lighthouse. A beautiful location which I decided would have been worth the trip even if I gave up now and went home.
I forgot to dip my toes in the water at Kilchoan but I’m counting my Tobermory to Kilchoan ferry, on Friday morning, as an appropriate alternative.
My day 2 camp was my first bad midge experience. It was horrific. I felt trapped in my inner tent by a huge cloud of them. At around 1am, so in the very brief period of (almost) dark overnight, I woke up gasping for air. I was so hot in my tent; I needed some air ….. but I couldn’t open the inner tent door because of them. I tried to calm down, but I felt so panicky. I wrote in my diary that “I wanted to turn on the big light” – ie I didn’t want to be in a hot, enclosed space in the dark. I’m not scared of the dark; I usually love camping or bivvying at night, but I felt so claustrophobic, it was horrible. I decided to go outside and run around a bit. It was cooler outside and there didn’t seem to be any midges. Returning to my tent, I thought calm thoughts – mainly about that day’s boat crossing of Loch Shiel which had been such a joy – until I fell asleep.
After dropping me off at Polloch my boatmen head back to Dalelia
That experience put huge doubt in my mind about my ability to complete the crossing. Usually, in May, I can camp high or low or find stealthy spots in woodland as I near the East coast. This year, though, I might find myself trapped inside a small tent slowly poaching. I could lose most of the pleasure of camping.
When I reached the Corran Ferry on Day 3 I bumped into John, a Challenger, who was hatching a plan to alter his route to miss out Lundavra and instead go through North Ballachulish on the road. I was physically exhausted and mentally scarred and realised that there were hotels and B&Bs along that road; I booked one whilst on the ferry! I tweeted about my struggles and got so much support from people telling me that adapting my plan was very sensible and not a sign of weakness (although I could only half see that myself).
Most of Day 4 was spent walking with Graeme who, I think, had also altered his route. It was great to have some company on the road walk into Kinlochleven and for coffee and lunch. It’s possible Graeme saved my Crossing as his company was a welcome distraction from the self-doubts that were nagging away at me.
From then on things started to get better. My back had been absolutely killing me due partly to the weight of my pack but also probably due to the relatively thin padding of the (old style) Osprey Exos rucksack. I gave myself regular rest stops but found that anything over 12 or so miles was a chore. At least the weather was generally ideal for a rest; I’d have probably kept walking in the rain.
I booked a couple more (unplanned) rooms along the way; 7 of my 13 nights were in the tent. Knowing that only every other night would be midgy gave me the confidence to camp and I didn’t have another night as bad as that second camp.
The view from the tent on a midge-free camp
By the start of the second week I felt that I would finish. I’d found a way to cope with the additional challenges I was facing this year and I was actually enjoying myself. There were so many flowers compared with in May. I saw a stoat, lots of frogs, loads of birds, and deer – including ones with antlers (which I hardly ever see). I was also followed by a swarm of black flies which spent the night bouncing between my inner and outer tent but didn’t bite.
Probably just a type of grass but I thought it was pretty
I’d bought a new mobile phone a couple of weeks earlier and could now, for the first time, carry the offline 1:50,000 and 1:25,000 OS maps for my whole route. This made a huge difference and saved so much time compared with the compass and 1:50,000 map method or even getting a grid ref from a GPS. I did use my printed maps and compass, as I find that a quick and satisfying navigation method for open country, but the OSMaps app was heavily used for confirmation and checking detail.
As usual, I made some navigational bloopers; usually when I knew exactly where I was and didn’t need to pay attention to map, compass, or common sense. The descent into Glen Clova, over a steep, bracken and heather-covered hillside was not fun and could have been avoided if I hadn’t been blasé about which track I was on.
Clova is down there. Now STAY FOCUSSED!
From Clova I tweaked my route and tagged along with Alan, Barbara and Lindsay for a couple of days. They were good company and I think we all kept each other going. We climbed the Stile of Death, scared off some ne’er-do-wells (who possibly had crossbows ….. but the story gets more far-fetched with each telling), ate fig-rolls and, in Brechin, drank beer.
My final day was spent on my own and, with no comment on the previous days’ company, I was glad of that. The weather was beautiful and I enjoyed a slightly meandering route to the coast. There was no rush; I could enjoy being by myself and eke out the final hours of my walk. I was horrified to see the St Cyrus sign when I reached the place marked as Cocklem Bents on the (1:25k) map. I swore, many years ago, that I would never finish at St Cyrus as it’s a very popular finish point and I’m contrary. It turns out that the St Cyrus nature reserve is a little down the coast from the village of St Cyrus.
Not where I expected to be but the toilets were great!
The beach was wonderful. I went for a paddle then sat listening to the waves. OK, I may have shed a tear, too. I was so pleased that I’d not given up when the going was tough. I’d managed to work though the difficult times, with support from people both remote and present. If I’d given up, I’d have added to the list of worries which were weighing me down at the start.
The beach at Cocklem Bents / Nether Warburton / St Cyrus Nature Reserve
This was my 12th crossing and in many ways unlike any of the others but I think it highlights what the TGO Challenge is known for; individuals facing their own unique challenge and finding their own way, with the moral support of fellow Challengers, to succeed. I’m so glad I did it.
My last blog post was in July 2020. It was about the first of three one night bivi camps I had last summer. After the misery of the first few months of the pandemic, it was great to be able to get back to normal and go camping. Of course, we now know that things did not getback to normal – not then and not for a long time afterwards. After August I had no more trips and by the New Year, when I would normally be bivvying in the snow, we were all locked up again. Locked up? Locked down? Same difference.
I carried over my TGO Challenge place from 2020 to 2021. Originally planned for the normal May dates, I dithered a bit when it was moved to late June. Heat and midges were the tangible reasons but I was also not sure I would be ready. Physically and mentally ready to walk 200 miles across Scotland with a heavy pack. Emotionally ready to travel by public transport from The Wirral to Kilchoan. I’ve been conditioned to keep away from people; could I cope with a busy train or bus?
On the basis that you never know what tomorrow holds, I confirmed to the Coordinators that I’d be making my crossing in June. Carpe Diem.
One Sunday in May I got a phone call from the Kings House Hotel. They were just checking that I’d be staying there next day. Cripes! I’d forgotten to move my booking to the June. I’d moved it from May 2020 to May 2021, but not got round to moving it again. They were very good about it!
This gave me the mental kick up the backside I needed. I WAS GOING TO DO THE TGO CHALLENGE IN JUNE …… and I needed to sort myself out.
My West Coast trains are now booked. I traced my route on OS Maps at the weekend. I don’t know which nutter decided to do so many rough hilly bits, but the flatter, easier Foul Weather Alternatives look quite attractive. I’ve confirmed that my planned campsites are still taking tents, so I’ll get round to booking pitches soon. I’m intending to print my maps this year rather than taking OS Landrangers. I’ve got a feeling that’s going to be a pig of a job, so maybe it’ll be Landrangers after all?!
Usually, two weeks before the TGO Challenge I’m prepared. I’ve built up a bit of fitness (never enough) and I have plans for meals, resupplies, accommodation, benchmarks to bag, etc. This year…. well …… I’ve still got a fortnight.
I’ve started and finished 11 TGO Challenges. A couple were tough but my mental strength got me through. I’m not absolutely sure if that strength is still there. It probably is. I hope it is, but not since my first crossing have I doubted my ability to complete my walk. What if my route is too hard? What if it’s too hot? What if the midgies make every camp a misery? What if ….. ?
It was good to reread my July 2020 post as it reminded me of what I get out of my trips to the hills. If I struggle on this year’s walk I shall look around and remind myself of what is good in life. Mountains, sky, that lone tree that makes you wonder if there used to be a forest here, the squeaky birds that make me laugh, the instant pasta which is unbelievably delicious ….. until you have it at home and it’s horrible, spotting the footbridge just before you start edging your way over the slippy rocks, the campsite shower after 4 days in the wilds, clean socks, oh clean socks, tearooms, bumping into that person you spoke to last time, remembering his name 2 days later, getting a phone signal and catching up with your TGO Challenge twitter pals, ……
I spent last night sleeping in a bivi bag on the side of a hill. My first camping trip since February. It felt good!
The Covid 19 lockdown has been difficult for everyone, so I’m not looking for any special sympathy when I say how much I’ve missed being able to head for the hills with everything I need on my back. It helps me to clear my head and renew my enthusiasm for life. I’d missed out on three planned trips, including the 2 week TGO Challenge, and I don’t think it’s any coincidence that I found May difficult; my mood was very low indeed. I’m sure people have written better than I can about the sense of loss that lockdown has generated. I realised a few weeks ago that it was as if I’d been through a grieving process for the loss of my freedom. So many mixed and negative emotions before I arrived at acceptance and was ready to move on.
Living on the Wirral peninsula, the North Wales hills are my usual destination for overnight camps. The Clwydian range is less than 30 miles away, which is closer than the Peak District, and I can easily get there by car and (less easily) by train. However, one noticeable lesson from the Covid response is that the UK is not as United as I had thought, with the 4 nations all having their own rules. I’d tried to find out whether an overnight camp in Wales was now allowed but, of course, it would be surprising to find any legislation or government guidance which specifically mentioned that lying in a bin bag on the side of a hill was permitted. I relied on the fact that the 5 mile limit on travel had been relaxed and that people could now stay overnight in self-contained accommodation. Entering Wales, a matrix road sign advised me that “Welsh Covid rules apply” and I hoped that I wouldn’t meet any hostility.
Parking in a place I’ve often parked before, my mind flashed back to my last visit when I’d found myself up to my chest in freezing water. On that occasion I’d been grateful for a pot of hot tea in the community cafe but, on this trip, I’d have to be fully self-reliant; partly because I’m not yet comfortable with the idea of eating in a cafe and also because it seemed to be closed.
I headed North up Offa’s Dyke Path as I knew there’d be a choice of grassy hills to camp on. Chest height bracken has thwarted my plans in the past. I also wanted an exposed pitch where the breeze could scare off the midges; a reason I don’t often camp in the Summer.
River Alyn / Afon Alun
Despite the thick cloud I could see quite a long way with Snowdonia just visible. I imagined how crowded the honeypots would be.
Throughout lockdown I’ve been for a walk every day. These have varied from a quick dash around the local park all the way up to a 15 miler with packed lunch. However, the Wirral is relatively flat and Offa’s Dyke Path isn’t, so I soon experienced the suprisingly pleasant feeling of being out-of-breath and having wobbly legs!
I had a couple of locations in mind for my camp site but had also planned to stop early if I found somewhere good. At one point I wondered if there might be a patch of clear ground amongst the heather so I left the path and made my way over the rough ground. It was a fruitless search, though, and I eventually turned back and continued on my original route. Actually, “fruitless” is the wrong word as the hillside was covered with those little blue berries which I never know the name of. Blueberries? Bilberries? Blaeberries? Whatever they’re called, they were very tasty.
At around 8pm I found somewhere to camp, blew up my mattress and put the stove on for a coffee. I was down the hill less than 10 metres from the path but I’d only seen two people and their dog all day and was confident I’d not be disturbed.
Dinner was some home-made Veggie chilli and pasta which I’d brought in a tub and only needed to warm up in my pan. For an overnight camp there’s no need to bother with lightweight dehydrated food. I was starting to feel chilly and it was good to get some hot food inside me as I watched the last shafts of sunlight fall on the hills ahead of me as the sun set at my back.
I woke a few times in the night, as usual. One thing I like about not having a tent is being able to immediately see what’s going on around me. Sunset was officially at about 9:30pm and I went to bed after the 10 o’clock news but I could still see quite well until 11-ish then, next time I woke up, it was dark. Sometimes when I woke there was a large patch of clear sky with millions of stars. At other times the cloud had spread back over and only a few brighter stars were visible. I saw no moon.
Sunrise was due to be just after 5am but the sky was getting lighter not long after 3.
I presume the horizon was relatively “horizon-tal” but this photo was taken whilst lying down.
At home I struggle to get up early but this morning I was having my breakfast at 6 and was packed up by 7.
The only photo I took of my campsite was this one when I had nearly packed up. No, my mattress hadn’t burst; I was just about to roll it up.
I took a different route on the walk back to the car and saw nobody until after 8 when a couple of cyclists went past. Back on the ODP I encountered a herd of cows, or possibly TWO herds as they were on both sides of a fence and blocking my access to the gate. I’d walked though several fields of cows already but had been able to give them a wide berth. These beasts were clustered either side of the gate and I had no choice but to walk towards them and hope they moved [or mooved]. I’ve heard horror stories about cows and walkers but I hoped that a confident approach, whilst not getting between mother and calf and keeping my eye on escape routes, would work. They were curious and a few stepped towards me but extending my arms and softly calling “G’wayyyy” encouraged them to step back. Once I’d gone through the gate and rejoined the path the cows seemed to lose interest in me.
Back at the car just after 9 I ate Breakfast No 2 whilst catching up with Twitter and was interested to see how many Likes I’d received for a poor quality photograph of the patch of flattened grass where I’d spent the night. An indication, I believe, that the majority of us who spend time in the hills do camp responsibly and care for our environment.
I was back home before 11 and, after a much-needed trip, I even enjoyed airing my kit and putting everything away. So nice to be finally able to do something so normal and which is such a positive part of my life.
As Covid 19 has put paid to the 2020 TGO Challenge, I am revisiting my previous crossings and celebrating what this marvellous event has brought to my life over the years.
This post looks back at the final day and reaching the East Coast on all of my TGO Challenges.
My first TGO Challenge was in 2006 and I finished at Lunan Bay where, sandal-clad, I had a paddle. I love seeing my map case dangling round my neck. (Newbie!)
2007 was Stonehaven. Some Challengers tried to convince me that I must come with them to Dunnottar Castle but I was not inclined to walk any further.
2008 Inverbervie. A pebbly beach. After my paddle I had chips with Bob.
2009 Black Dog
This is one of my favourite TGO Challenge photographs. I’d taken off my rucksack while I had a paddle and savoured the moment on the beach. I looked back and saw my whole world – for the last 2 weeks and 200-ish miles, at least – sitting on the sand.
2011 Portlethen Village. A rugged coast with a small beach. It’s important, at the end, for me to be able to walk into the sea.
2012 Collieston. My certificate says Sands of Forvie but I regard my finish as Collieston. A lovely beach, where I watched two Border Collies having a whale of a time.
2013 Auchmithie My planned finish was Meg’s Craig, chosen as the name reminded me of a dog (called Meg, not Craig; although that would be a reasonable name for a dog). However, I couldn’t be certain exactly which feature was Meg’s Craig and I couldn’t paddle there without a treacherous climb down a cliff. So, I went a little further North up the coast to Auchmithie.
2014 Johnshaven I don’t remember a huge amount about Johnshaven apart from I obtained refreshments from The Anchor then realised I’d missed my bus, so went back in and re-refreshed myself.
2015 Catterline. Sitting on a bench wondering how my planning had been so poor that I’d got there before the Creel Inn opened.
2016 Ethie Haven My tenth crossing and I chose a finish close to where I’d reached the coast on my first crossing. I loved how this little group of houses was set into the cliff.
2018 Peterhead. A busy port and very unlike my other finishes but I felt quite at home and there’s a beach for a paddle. There’s also a brewery tap.
My 2020 finish would have been Cocklem Bents but, for vetting purposes, was on my route sheet as Nether Warburton. Hopefully I’ll get there in 2021.
As Covid 19 has put paid to the 2020 TGO Challenge, I am revisiting my previous crossings and celebrating what this marvellous event has brought to my life over the years.
This post looks back at Day 12 of my 6th crossing on Wednesday 23rd May 2012. The original post is here.
I’d spent the night in a stealthy camp with a broken stove and not much drinking water, so hydration was at the front of my mind as soon as I woke up. I do enjoy those few occasions when I’ve packed up and started walking early in the morning – but it doesn’t happen often as I also enjoy lying in my pit until lazy guilt gets the better of me.
Those “stalking” Germans were most odd. I don’t see the attraction of killing animals for fun but I can kind of understand why some people would track an animal across wild countryside – although the fact that only one party to the chase has a firearm does seem unfair. What made no sense at all was driving a vehicle along the hedgerow then jumping out and shooting a deer. It’s not really sporting, is it?
TGOC2012 – Day 12 – My Lord’s Throat to Udny Castle
As usual, I woke at first light and stuck my head out of the tent door; it looked like it was going to be a nice day.
The view from the tent at 10 to 4 in the morning
Walking before 8am – possibly for the first time this trip, despite my best intentions – it was already 22 degrees C and felt like it would probably get a lot hotter. Water could be a problem today, but I’d be passing through Inverurie where I could have my lunch and buy some water if necessary. I would also call in at the Tourist Information Centre to see if there was any chance of booking a bed in Pitmedden or nearby.
I was glad to be up early, but was not alone on the road. Two Germans in a left-hand-drive G-Wagen were out “stalking” – which seems to mean driving along the edge of a field until they saw a deer then getting out and shooting it. They had two small dead dear on a platform at the back of the vehicle. There was something very strange about 2 Germans dressed in Tweed and Barbour shooting Scottish animals from a vehicle they must’ve brought over from Germany. I’ve put stalking in quotation marks because, when I asked them what they were shooting, they made it quite clear that they were, in fact, stalking.
Today’s planned route was 32km with the option to add in a diversion to Mither Tap. Why I ever thought I would want to add an extra 3.4km and 230m, I’ll never know – but I did see it in the distance!
Mither Tap
By the time I reached Inverurie, the sun was very hot and I was in desperate need of a long cool drink. The map showed a big town, with a big road – the A96 – to the West of it, but I hadn’t really been prepared for what I found. A motorway-type service station with a caff, toilets, shop and a big carpark. After nearly two weeks of wilderness and quiet countryside, this was quite a shock to the system. I bought a couple of bottles of pop and, removing my shoes and socks, sat on the grass for a rest. For such a busy place, the kids in the playground were the only people who paid me any attention, so maybe the locals were getting used to strange rucksack-carrying weirdos passing that way.
In the town, I started off by calling into the Visit Scotland shop/office. The woman did her best to help me but was hindered by two things: First of all, she could only tell me about accommodation which was part of the Visit Scotland scheme and, secondly, everywhere was full! Next time I head towards Aberdeen, I shall make sure I book my accommodation months in advance.
I found a cafe – well, it was more like a works canteen with a hot counter – and asked what the Vegetarian option was. There was an awkward silence, then a shout went back into the kitchen. A bit more shouting. Then, “Baked tatty?” was offered. I said that would be fine. (I was slightly suprised not to have been offered deep-fried macaroni pie, as that is my usual Challenge fare.)
The caff was attached to a shop so, after lunch, I bought a few rolls and regretted not having pinched a few pats of butter from the cafe but would have felt a bit cheeky going back for some. I also bought 3 litres of water. Yes, that’s 3kg of water, and my pack suddenly became very very heavy.
Now that I knew there no rooms available in Pitmedden, there seemed little point going there, so I chose to head towards Udny Green instead. Both Udny Green and Udny Station have a PH marked on the map, but I knew one of them was now a restaurant. What I couldn’t remember was which Udny it was and whether it also had rooms to let. I used the internet on my phone to find out as much as I could and decided that Udny Green was my best bet as at least it would place me nearer to my finish point if they couldn’t put me up (or let me camp outside).
At Udny Green, I found a lovely grassy square that would have made a nice campsite. However, the old pub was most definitely only a restaurant and this didn’t look like the sort of place that would welcome camping outside. I spoke to one of the staff and asked him if he could suggest anywhere that I could camp. He obviously wasn’t a camper but did his best to describe bits of woodland that could be suitable. I didn’t have much confidence in his suggestions but he did fill my water bottle.
The suggested woodland turned out to be a Community Woodland with marked dog-walk trails and not really ideal.
I kept my eyes open as I walked past the grounds of Udny Castle on the other side of a stone wall. At the end of the wall was an old disused gate giving access to a large field of cows. I’m wary of cows, but this was a big field and the grass looked beautifully soft and green. I clambered over and had a look around. Would the cows mind me being there? They didn’t seem bothered? Would the farmer move me on? It was worth the chance; this was a nice pitch and, already quite tired, I doubted I’d be able to find anything better that evening. Only 18km left to Collieston.
As Covid 19 has put paid to the 2020 TGO Challenge, I am revisiting my previous crossings and celebrating what this marvellous event has brought to my life over the years.
This post looks back at Day 11 of my 9th crossing on Tuesday 19th May 2015. The original post is here.
I’d been exhausted, physically and mentally, when I reached Ballater on the Monday night and it was good to have a leisurely start to the day and a good natter.
I’d never heard of Shiel of Glentanar until I’d phoned Challenge Control from my tent and heard that’s where lots of the Ballater crowd were heading to. I’d planned to make it to Tarfside but now had a couple of options for a shorter day – although I was surprised to see how early some people had their tents up!
It was perishingly cold on Mount Keen. I didn’t have an extra layer easily to hand. To put on more clothes would have required stopping and temporarily getting colder so I took the gamble of keeping going and hoping that I’d soon be past the worst of the wind and icy snow.
My overnight pitch was a few miles short of where I’d planned but was lovely and I felt no pressure to go further. Only a couple of days from the coast, I knew I could relax and enjoy myself.
TGOC2015 – Day 11 revisited – A lazy morning and a bitterly cold mountain
Half of the Challenge was camped at Ballater. I’d briefly chatted with a couple of Challengers in the evening but it was only in the morning that I realised just how many were there. I spent a very leisurely couple of hours catching up with old friends and making a few new ones. Nobody seemed to be in a rush, although I noticed that some had already been up and away whilst I was still asleep. I felt refreshed and ready to crack on with the walk. As a solo walker I’m usually happy on my own but this visit to Ballater, with its opportunity for a bit of gentle socialising, had given me the morale boost I needed.
My original plan for today was to walk to Tarfside and camp there. However, after several long, tiring days I made up my mind to camp a few miles short which would even out the distance today and tomorrow and give me a bit of a rest. I had a Munro – Mount Keen – on my route sheet but I also knew that there was a pretty good chance that I’d take the bypass path to the West. Still, I was definitely going near a Munro and I could always see what happened when I got there.
I soon got the impression that Mount Keen must be a popular mountain as I kept coming across signs.
Despite there being plenty of fellow Challengers around, I walked alone ….. apart from when this little fella accompanied me for at least 15 minutes.
I knew that several Challengers were going to camp at Shiel of Glentanar. It looked like a good spot and by 1:30pm I could already see several of them making camp.
Just after taking this photo I tripped and gave myself a nasty jolt. The weather was starting to get a bit sleety and – despite the opportunity of a pleasant camping spot down in the glen – I wanted to get the mountain behind me rather than waking up in the morning with aches and pains, poor weather and a flippin’ big hill ahead of me.
As I ascended the Mounth Road the weather got worse. The wind was icy and there was a mix of sleet and snow. Navigation was simple enough and I was grateful for that as I really didn’t want to stop to get my bearings. At times I wondered about stopping to put on some warmer clothes or change my socks but I gambled on staying warmer by keeping moving rather than risking chilling even more by stopping. It was the sort of weather in which I would have used my bothy bag to warm up and have a flask of tea …. although I had neither of these things with me.
Through the falling snow I could see two cyclists who appeared to be pushing their bikes to the summit. At first I couldn’t figure out what they were doing but then I realised that they had a trailer on one of the bikes and they were alternately pushing or riding their bikes up the hill then walking back and manhandling the trailer over the rough terrain.
Even though I’d not taken the summit route, it was a relief to eventually drop down and get out of the wind. The cyclists soon caught me up and stopped for a chat. I was amused to see that their backs were covered in snow…. then realised that mine was too.
From the hillside I could see that Glen Mark was just what I’d been hoping for and that there’d be somewhere to camp.
Queen’s Well was interesting …..
…. but I presume Queen Victoria had a hardier constitution than me, as I certainly wouldn’t have drunk from this fetid pool:
The cyclists were camped nearby and I decided to go on a little further. I camped in the lee of a small wood a mile or so from the road. It was a lovely spot and this photo, taken next morning, is one of my favourite from this crossing.
