Lochranza Caravan and Camping Site blog

2012-01-29T08:29:00.000-08:00

The Immortal Memory of Robert Burns

It might have been composed more than 200 years ago but for me, Robert Burns’s “My Luve is like a Red, Red Rose” is the most beautiful of love songs: “And I will luve thee still, my Dear,/ Till a’ the seas gang dry./ Till a’ the seas gang dry, my Dear,/ And the rocks melt wi’ the sun…” Long sigh. Emotions go into meltdown. I especially like Eddy Reader’s version.

Last night Nigel and I went to our first Burns Supper in Lochranza Village Hall. Robert Burns was born, oldest son of a poor farmer, in 1759. He never visited Arran but must often have looked across to its soaring peaks from Ayrshire. However, he wasn’t a Wordsworth, finding his inspiration in the hills; it was from human society that Burns drew his creative power. He loved the lasses and they loved him back making him the father of about thirteen children in all, both to his wife and several other young women. And today there are few places in the world that do not know his song celebrating human bonds: “Auld Lang Syne”.

A Burns Supper involves a meal, speeches and recitals. There is a very specific order to the ongauns (procedures). The main addresses include: “The Toast to the Haggis”, “The Toast to the Lassies” and “The Immortal Memory”. I heard plenty of old Scots words I don’t know, but it’s not difficult to pick up the gist. The main speaker of the evening, Robbie Glen, ex- Glasgow prison officer, had the audience in stitches but also mused at one point how, in England, when Shakespeare’s birth and death day both fall on St.George’s Day i.e. April 23^rd, the date can just be allowed to pass by without a party lasting weeks!

The meal began with cock-a-leekie soup then the haggis, bashed neeps and champit tatties (mashed turnip and potato) main course. This is actually very healthy eating, and very tasty too - though don’t ask about the parts of animals in the haggis if you’re squeamish. Wooley’s of Arran oatcakes, Arran cheeses and shortbread with Arran Distillery Robert Burns whisky rounded off a delicious and warming winter evening supper.

The new Burns Heritage Centre at Alloway near Ayr is one of the most lively, interactive museums I’ve ever been to. The centre’s director believes that had Robert Burns been alive to day he would have been a rock star! It’s well worth a visit and not far from the ferry to Arran.

Looking towards the Scottish Mainland coast from the cliffs above Laggan Cottage.

2012-01-29T08:20:00.000-08:00

Paisley Abbey

As the crow, or the seagull, flies, Arran is not many miles from Glasgow, yet the waters of the Clyde make it seem worlds away with its peace, wild beauty and quirky island traits. This is not to say that there are not many interesting places to stop and explore on your journey to Arran through the urban sprawl of the Central Belt.

Last weekend I visited Paisley for the first time. It’s close to the M8 and Glasgow Airport, and, though famous for its beautiful patterned shawls manufactured in its mills in the 18^th and 19^th centuries, it is not mentioned in many tourist guides. I particularly wanted to visit Paisley Abbey. Its origins go back to 1163, making it steeped in the Scottish past.

Once inside the Abbey I was fortunate enough to coincide with organ practice. Several local volunteers were devotedly cleaning and polishing, and just being available to share their knowledge of the abbey’s history. In Scotland’s formative years as a nation, the abbey was close to the pulse of power and politics. It was founded by Walter Fitzalan in 1163, who was the first hereditary High Steward of Scotland. It’s also more than likely that William Wallace was educated at the abbey.

Like many old churches, it has a palpable sense of suspended time. As you tread softly from the west end of the nave to the east window you walk through ecclesiastical architecture from 1163 to the present day. Daylight streams colourfully through the gorgeous stained glass windows and there is so much fine detail in the wooden carvings and sculptured stone that it must be difficult to focus attention on a sermon!

On my return home I googled Paisley Abbey for more information. I was somewhat taken aback to discover that even churches get star ratings out of five on the Internet these days! It seems to me that a grander scale is required for a beautiful building that has stood for almost 900 years, survived religious reformation, and held so many human hopes, loves and griefs within its ancient walls.

If you pay Paisley Abbey a visit, it’s easy to find parking spaces nearby and you can have a break in the café in the cloisters. The Abbey is also the venue for many musical events throughout the year.

Unfortunately, I did not have my camera with me at Paisley Abbey. Instead, here is a picture of Lochranza’s little Kirk of St.Bride’s which celebrates its 300^th anniversary this year.

2011-12-15T12:08:00.000-08:00

Winter on Arran

The Broad Road that Stretches

It’s almost Christmas and Nigel and I have just returned from our first big road trip in a camper van. Tracy the van is old-ish, and clatters and rattles a fair bit, but she hasn’t let us down.

Our route, loosely planned around visits to family members, took us to the Lakes, Yorkshire, the south of England, France, Germany and Switzerland, returning to Britain by overnight ferry from Zeebrugge to Hull. A good thing about living on an island (Arran or Britain) is that journeys begin and end with a boat which is the best way to really feel the excitement of landing on distant shores or returning to your own.

Camper van travel is about the journey and not the destination. This means the pleasures of the back roads, not worrying about the time, and noticing the places you pass through. If you use your camper van as a base taking pushbikes with you for small local journeys is an excellent idea.

I love camping in a tent and always have, but practically it’s problematic when days are short. Camper van travel has the pleasures of snail-like self-sufficiency: your bed, kitchen and toilet are with you at all times. Getting to grips with electric hook-ups and chemical disposal points is straightforward. Living space is better than you expect: in our van there is room for four to sit comfortably when the driving seats have been swivelled round to face the benches in the back, which also become a double bed. The only problem we found was lack of space to store gear (if you want to do activities whilst on holiday which involve a lot of gear, like canoeing) but it gives you a challenge to take less.

The van was a cosy and flexible home, even in midwinter, though we were pleased to find some campsites still open. Naturally, as campsite wardens, we believe in supporting local economies, and in any case campsites offer electric hook ups, waste disposal and level ground. There are joys to wild camping in lonely places but getting any sleep isn’t one of them in my experience- my senses won’t go off full alert. (I should never have given my drama classes the exercise: you’re parked down a dark, deserted road, suddenly there is knocking on the window. What happens next?!)

We’ve now returned to the windy western edge of Europe. Travel makes you enjoy new places and appreciate the advantages of home. We’ve paid a fortune in parking fees but on Arran there are none. We’ve tried to visit historic sites that were chained and padlocked for the winter (the battlefield of 1066 is actually surrounded by metal spikes! We sneaked a look but worried we might get strung up from the nearest gibbet if caught) but Arran’s wealth of prehistoric sites, such as the stone circles of Machrie Moor, can be freely visited the year round. It is rare to find PRIVATE signs or CCTV here to prevent access to water with canoes, unlike parts of the Lakes.

Finally, how does camper-vanning work out cost-wise, I hear you ask. Well, our tour cost less than a week in Mallorca at this time last year. It’s the kind of travel where it’s up to you to decide how much to spend as you go along.

We won’t be selling the van.

A month of mountains and mists:

Torr Nead as we set off at the top

Mountains in the Vosges at the bottom

We stayed at the following comfortable campsites that open in winter:

www.kloofs.com (Sussex)

www.thequietsite.co.uk (Cumbria)

www.sandholmelodgeholidaypark.co.uk (East Yorkshire)

www.bluerosepark.com (East Yorkshire)

www.obernai.fr (Le Vallon De l’Ehn Camping Municipal, Alsace, France)

2011-12-15T12:04:00.000-08:00

This is a blog I wrote back in early November:

Caught in the Rhododendrons!

As someone who is used to climbing high mountains, I had the surprising experience of finding myself stuck on a low-level walk the other day, within a stone’s throw of the chimneys of Lochranza.

I had walked along the hills behind the Whisky Distillery to the site of the hill fort above the youth hostel, before descending towards the castle. All was well until I came up against the belt of the invasive ponticum variety of rhododendrons that has grown up on the steep lower slopes behind the houses. As the village was so near by, I pressed on into the thicket. Rapidly, the vegetation became so dense that I had to wriggle headfirst downwards on my stomach under the lowest stems. There came a point when I felt I actually could not move in any direction; the vegetation was impenetrable and I was trapped in a rhododendron prison as effectively as a fly in a spider’s web! Hope came in a glimpse of the top end of Jane Nichol’s garden fence, and eventually I escaped, embarrassed and bedraggled, with scratches on my knees and ticks on my foot. Jane was kind enough not to send me back the way I had come.

The moral of the story is “Don’t go into rhododendrons without a machete”. Seriously though, it’s important that action is taken about these destructive invaders which are spreading throughout upland Britain. We are fortunate to have the Arran Trust and Arran Access Trust who work hard at both protecting the natural environment and providing safe access to the hills.

A wet October decorated the trees with moss.

Arran has a wealth of mosses, ferns and lichens with its clean air and warm, moist climate.

2011-10-27T01:08:00.000-07:00

A Walk over the Saddle, Glen Sannox to Glen Rosa - October 2011

2011-10-18T07:38:00.000-07:00

Wild and Wet

What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

From Inversnaid by Gerard Manley Hopkins

I’ve always liked this poem (this is just the last verse) and it came into my head with the wild, wet weather we’ve had. Outside, the burn is a foamy torrent. If you pay attention you can hear all sorts of strange sounds in it: conversations, church bells, disco music, a woman singing….

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It’s got to that time of year at Lochranza when I see more wild creatures than people in the course of a day: a late basking shark, a badger, 12 seals following my canoe, several red squirrels and countless red deer in one day last week, to be more precise. Every morning I open the curtains to see which of the golf course stags has won the hinds in the night. There’s ongoing tension between two stags who keep charging towards each other from different sides of the burn, but they stop short of a fight. The hinds meanwhile keep making a run for it. I watched one sitting down firmly some way from the herd and, of course, the stag soon arrived to get her back. When she didn’t move, he stuck out his foreleg and, Punch-and-Judy-like, struck her sharply on the head!

Deer Bath

You’d pay a lot in a 5* hotel to have a muddy wallow like this

As well as red deer, Lochranza has a significant badger population. I see their tracks in the morning raking of the bunkers; a tell-tale sign of their overnight raids to Mrs. McAllister’s garden. By the way, a comfortable place to see the local red squirrels close-up is in Val and Rino’s garden at the Stags Pavilion; you can watch squirrel acrobatics on the bird feeders over a coffee.

We’ve finished clearing the ditches and hopefully it’s helped to channel the plentiful rain out of the glen and into the sea. Rain and the Gulf Stream make Arran a lush island where all kinds of tropical plants can flourish. In fact, in the past, Lochranza’s hillsides were bare due to being churned up by cattle. Without these beasts, invaders like gorse, the ponticum rhododendron, ragwort and bracken are spreading fast- all beautiful but destructive…… a bit like the deer.

Our second season is nearly over- we close on Oct 31^st. Looking back over the year we’ve been wet a lot, we’ve been blown around a lot, done smelly tasks a lot, and back breaking tasks a lot. We rarely get out of our fleeces and wellies! But……we’ve had a wonderful time. How could it be anything else when we live so close to nature?

It’s also been a joy to meet so many of you and hear your tales and enjoy sharing your experiences, if only briefly.

When the season ends we’re going motor-homing and are looking forward to being world-wanderers ourselves for a little while. I’ll keep you posted how we get on,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

2011-10-03T06:47:00.000-07:00

Nigel and Will- probably the last dip of the year

It’s not just the south of England that can enjoy playing in the sea in Autumn (admittedly it was ten degrees cooler here).

Autumn Diary

Just now nature is busy ensuring its survival into next year. I came across a red squirrel the other day, so totally absorbed in hiding its horde in a tree root it didn’t notice me behind it. But it’s the clamour of the rut that dominates Lochranza life in early October. The stags are in such a frenzied state guarding their herds that they don’t eat. These red deer are wild and roam the northern hills of Arran, but belong to the Laird, and are managed, that is to say some are culled each year to maintain healthy stock and sustainable numbers. One year when culling did not take place, many deer starved to death. It’s the stags that are being culled at the present time; later in October it will be selected hinds. Out on the golf course you can regularly hear the creaking, clacking and clattering of entangled antlers as young stags practise battle. They have also gouged out new hazards for golfers in the form of round wallows: muddy pools they like to bathe in, in order to rise out of them looking dripping black and scary.

There is a dramatic shift of focus in our lives at this time too. As only the hardiest visitors come to the campsite and golf course in October, it is time to get on with hefty outdoor maintenance tasks: clearing the ditches to drain winter floods, cutting back hedges and mending fences. Like the animals, as one year comes to fruition for us, it’s time to start working towards the next.

The Mountains of Arran in September

2011-09-03T12:50:00.000-07:00

Ticket to Islay

A motorbike, a little tent, and a Calmac ferry ticket….. what more do you need to be happy?

Nigel and I have just returned from a two day motorbike tour of Islay – an island we missed out on our sea kayaking tour of 2009 because we got distracted by Arran. So many of our visitors travel on to Islay from here in Lochranza that we felt we simply must go and see the island for ourselves.

Getting to Islay involves crossing by ferry from Lochranza to Claonaig, then a seven mile journey across Kintyre followed by a two hour sailing to Islay. The route takes you through West Loch Tarbert and into the racing tides of the narrow Sound of Islay. On the brand new ferry, the Finlaggan, large, light windows frame the picturesque island-scapes as you travel.

Negotiating rough island roads on a motorbike is never easy but it’s always worth it. Little used roads take you through out-of-the-way places and give you glimpses of island life: highland ponies dozing; cows paddling at the edge of the sea; fields of geese, and seals singing on rocks. Islay is lovely in an understated way, with whitewashed villages huddled round harbours, and farms and fields that seem little changed in many years, though the island used to support a far greater population than it does now. On a motorbike you smell the whisky distilleries before you see them. You feel the place, you don’t just see it.

Islay was an important political centre in medieval times when the culture of Dalriada, which included the more southerly Western Isles and Northern Ireland, was a powerful influence in Scotland. If you think of the sea as the main highway it becomes comprehensible why such a now remote island should be a busy cultural centre then. Today Islay still has a thriving Gaelic culture and takes pride in traditional skills such as peat cutting, evident from the public notices in village shops.

Islay has two campsites- one at Port Charlotte, and another at Kintra Farm where we camped amongst the dunes, and watched a radiant pink setting sun tumble from a low grey sky. We ate our favourite camping meal of corn beef hash cooked on a Trangia. Later on, when it was dark, we watched lighthouse beams sweeping the sky.

Happiness.

2011-08-21T07:12:00.000-07:00

Exploring Glen Catacol

Arran’s mountains are amazing. When you first see Arran across the Clyde, the mountains look too impossibly big to be on an island. And when you first look up into Glen Sannox, the jagged mountain ridges look straight out of a Lord of the Rings film set.

Arran’s glens are awe-inspiring too. To the west of Lochranza you come to glacier-scoured, U-shaped Glen Catacol, home to golden eagles, adders and the unique Arran whitebeam trees. As you walk up the glen there is a powerful sense of natural forces sculpting the landscape here and now. Wherever you are you can hear water. The burn glides over flat granite rocks into pools descending to the Kilbrannan sound. As you head higher towards Loch Tanna, the landscape is almost reminiscent of the Alps with recent gorges carved out by heavy rain, clear water and white rocks. The most striking feature up here is the long slide of the burn and the giant Allt nan Calman waterfall plunging to join it. With its steep hillsides and lush climate, Arran is an island of waterfalls and the Allt nan Calman has to be one of the most spectacular.

Eventually you arrive at a broad, boulder strewn col overlooking the expanse of Loch Tanna. Routes from here lead to Coire Fhion Lochain, down to Loch Iorsa and Dougarie, or over Beinn Tarsuinn to Lochranza. It’s rocky and heathery terrain, but whichever route you decide to take you will be sure to have these wonderful mountains and glens at the north end of Arran all to yourself.

Loch Tanna and Glen Catacol is one of the routes offered on this September’s Arran Mountain Festival programme. Have a look at: www.arranmountainfestival.co.uk

2011-08-10T03:27:00.000-07:00

Arran’s Flowers

Driving to Brodick can be a dangerous business, and I don’t mean because of the infamous potholes. The trouble is that the scenery’s so distractingly lovely that it’s positively hazardous. The other day it was the spectrum of colour on the roadside that snatched my attention, with red fuchsia, fiery montbretia, creamy lace meadowsweet, golden honeysuckle, and spires of purple loosestrife, all tumbling in luxuriant.disarray

The glorious vegetation of Arran can sometimes be overlooked because it’s easy to have close up encounters with wild creatures here, but there are not many parts of the British Isles where you are likely to find so much variety so easily; you can find me consulting my wildflowers book on most days. Seeing the common wildflowers in abundance is, for me, like meeting friends from my childhood, when they were often integrated in my outdoor games:-

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Ten Activities for Children with Flowers, Weeds or Grass

(Before intensive farming methods in many places made flowers less plentiful.)

1. Make daisy chain necklaces.

2. Test if someone likes butter. Hold a buttercup under their chin. If there is a reflected yellow glow (there always is!) they like butter.

3. Make rose petal scent by squashing them in a jam jar with some water.

4. Impress others by grasping a nettle in your bare hands. (Make sure it’s actually a deadnettle, but the other person doesn’t need to know that.)

5. If you get it wrong and get stung, find a dock leaf to rub on the sting and soothe it.

6. Tell the time with dandelion “clocks”. Every puff to blow the seeds away is equivalent to an hour.

6. Make grass squeal by holding a split blade between your thumbs and blowing hard.

7. Stick strands of chickweed onto someone else’s back secretly.

8. Have a battle with sticky burrs.

9. Pick some grass with dangly seeds then chant “Here’s a tree in summer, (show the grass) here’s a tree in winter, (push the seeds off between thumb and fingers and hold them like a bouquet), here’s a bunch of flowers, (throw the seeds in the air), here’s your April showers”.

10. Pick buttercups and daisies, clover and forget-me-nots, on the way to school so that your teacher can put them in a jam jar on her desk.

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Arran also has some fascinating areas of ancient woodland. It’s not widely known, but I learnt from Scottish Natural Heritage recently that the twisty, wind-swept oak woods on Arran’s west coast are truly rainforest: the Celtic rainforest. A high proportion of European mosses, liverworts, lichens and ferns can be found in these woods. In addition, the island is home to three types of unique whitebeam tree. So if otters and eagles are proving elusive, remember that Arran has lots of amazing wildlife that might be hidden away, but won’t hide from you.

2011-07-22T02:17:00.000-07:00

Hefted

“Nigel, there’s a deer outside the window eating your canoe boot.”

Two years ago we would never have thought that this kind of remark would become the stuff of our everyday conversation. You certainly experience nature at close quarters when you come to Lochranza.

One evening last week Nigel and I went for a dip in the sea near Dougarie. The beach was covered with moon jellyfish waiting for the tide to rise. The water was warm and we swam in the reflections of the sunset.

Arran is such a natural paradise it is easy to understand why many Arran folk say that they are so strongly attached to the island that they cannot bear to leave it.

This made me think of the term “hefted” which is used in Northern England. It describes the way that sheep and cattle, which come from stock bred in the same area for generations, will stay in that place without fences and return instinctively to it. Maybe people can be hefted too.

The red deer of Lochranza must be hefted to the locality. They head up onto the hilltops at times but they are just keeping an eye on the place from higher up I suspect. Most summer days find them snoozing in some cool marshy spot on the golf course; most summer nights munching grass around the tents.

The hill sheep of Lochranza seem also to be hefted. After lambing, Sandy the farmer takes them off the golf course onto the open hills. One particular ewe though, along with her two lambs, is particularly attached to the golf course. She bleats pitifully when sent off and has many secret strategies to get back in, including sneaking in behind cars when campers arrive. She is instantly recognisable by her exotic set of four curving horns and she has taught us not to underestimate the brains of hill sheep.

Okay, it’s probably the juicy grass that bonds the deer and sheep to Lochranza, but who’s to say that they aren’t aware that, like us, they’re lucky creatures to be alive in a place like this?

An unhappy sheep- separated from the golf course.

Deer photos by Lance Ostler and Les Gibbon

2011-06-24T10:13:00.000-07:00

Meeting the Neighbours: CalMac’s Five Ferries Ticket

Arran’s nearest neighbour is Kintyre- a long protective arm of land to the west- and it is mainland. At Lochranza we also look out over the Kilbrannan Sound to the Cowal peninsula, which is mainland too. On maps it looks like a fist of stubby fingers about to nip the Isle of Bute. However Bute is spared by the narrow channels of water around it that are named the Kyles of Bute.

Nigel and I have an ongoing debate about whether you can tell if you’re on the mainland or an island if you can’t see the sea. Cal Mac’s Five Ferries ticket was a means to explore this question as well as to get to know the neighbours.

The early ferry from Lochranza took us to Claonaig on Kintyre- an area marketed as “the mainland island” due to its atmosphere of remoteness and the fact that the sea is always in walking distance. But road signs show the mileage to Glasgow and remind you that you’re on the mainland and can travel in straight-ish lines instead of circles. Tarbert (where you catch the next ferry to Portavadie) has a lively atmosphere of comings, goings and passings through, with brightly painted houses round a busy harbour. West Loch Tarbert and East Loch Tarbert almost connect the Atlantic and Loch Fyne here, but a low rocky ridge remains firmly in place keeping Kintyre attached to mainland Scotland.

We stopped at Tigh-na-Bruaich on the pretty, wooded Cowal peninsula (marketing slogan: “Argyll’s Secret Coast”) and explored the Kyles of Bute in our kayaks. This is sailing country with boathouses of all shapes and sizes tucked in along a coastline of little rocky bays and islands.

The next ferry crossing from Colintraive involved a three storey vessel to Rhubodach on Bute. From mainland solitude we found ourselves in island bustle and urban traffic at Rothesay, which is like a little Glasgow afloat in the Clyde, with its stolid Victorian architecture making the moated medieval castle look small. The splendid Victorian toilets at the pier have won awards. However, Bute, like Kintyre and Arran, has contrasting east and west sides, and lonely beaches with views of Arran’s Sleeping Warrior mountain skyline weren’t far away.

Finally, the ticket took us to Wemyss Bay. We had enjoyed getting to know the neighbours and stopped in Largs for Italian icecreams at a ridiculously early hour, before heading homewards on the Ardrossan to Brodick crossing. As we drove up the coast to Lochranza we surveyed the now indistinguishable mix of long lochs, islands and mainland where we had just been. There was as little traffic on the Lochranza road as usual and certainly no traffic lights, no roundabouts, no white lines, no advertising hoardings- in fact nothing that reminded us of anywhere else.

I get excited about journeys on Calmac ferries and seeing different Scottish ports (sometimes just a slipway and a heated Portaloo!) but the distances we covered were not large and certainly do-able by sea kayak. Alternatively you can cycle or even walk the route using the ferries. Don’t hurry though- you’ll find a lot of unique places to explore along the way.

The photos show:

Tarbert

Kayaks in the Kyles of Bute

View of Arran from Bute

2011-06-06T13:51:00.000-07:00

The Storm

Hard on the heels of my last blog about The Humming Tree, came the destructive face of nature in the shape of violent storm-force winds that bombarded West Scotland on May 23^rd.The trees, in full, lush summer leaf, suffered. At Lochranza, for most of the day, the gales funnelled down the loch from the north-west and and down Gleann Easan from the south-west , sounding like approaching express trains, and colliding on the golf course, whirling and gusting. Occasional explosions were the crashing down of trees. The deer lay as flat as hearthrugs, chins to the ground. If I see them behaving like that again I’ll know it’s time to worry about what’s heading over the Atlantic.

The trees which bore the full brunt of this battering are now brown and even bare from the burning salt spray. However, I am assured by Rab Logan from the Forestry Commission that they will compensate for this trauma by going into frantic seed production to ensure their future survival. And the blackened bracken will actually allow for more diverse new growth on the hillsides.

After a year of extreme winter temperatures, followed by an April that saw us outdoor swimming, then an unseasonally wild and windy May, I wonder how future historians will regard our time now? Are these just wobbles in the weather or the harbingers of significant climate change?

Better weather arrived for our Texas Scramble, sponsored by Arran Distillery, on the Bank Holiday.

2011-05-16T12:50:00.000-07:00

Mr Dickie

It’s not good for business when a camper arrives at your door with an antler lodged in his stomach and blood pouring out.

This is Mr. Dickie, who tours in a beautiful Morgan, having a practical joke. The stags are losing their antlers and he had some tomato sauce. For a moment, we had a big fright!

Camping

For me, longings to go camping are for its simplicity: you eat, you sleep, and you carry on your journey. It’s all about hours passing whilst one pot meals come to the boil on the Trangia. It’s about going to bed when it gets dark, with the smell of earth and grass in your nostrils and ears alert to all the minute scufflings of small creatures around the tent. It’s about being snug in a sleeping bag as wind and rain give the tent a battering.

My first tent was a Vango Force Ten which endured twenty years of British mountain weather and even then would have kept going but I decided it was time for a new one. Meanwhile my Trangia is now 35 and still as good as new. It is therefore astonishing to me to find new camping gear in our dustbins on a regular basis, thrownaway because it’s wet or slightly damaged. Nigel and I usually fish them out however and now have an interesting collection of cast-off tents.

I miss going camping now I run a camping site all the summer season. The first time I came to Lochranza Campsite I was a visitor, about fifteen years ago. I remember unzipping the flysheet one morning to find three antlered heads looking down at me, tempted by the porridge in the dog’s bowl. So, nothing’s changed with the deer. The children made up a song called Rudolph the Greedy Red Deer set to the tune of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

You never know, one of these days you may well find me shaking the creases and musty smell out of our Vango Equinox and pitching it down by the burn, taking great pride in the careful selection of a level pitch and making sure I peg the flysheet out so that it’s completely taut and smooth. With summer nights approaching…. what could be better?

The Humming Tree

The great big campsite sycamore has become The Humming Tree again this spring with busy wild bees murmuring all day long in its leaves. It’s lovely to watch the faces of wonderment as people pass under it, which makes these lines from The Tempest come into my head:

"Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again…

Photo by Sarah Godfrey

2011-04-28T10:48:00.000-07:00

Islands

I never get tired of examining the Cal Mac map of its Scottish Island Hopscotch routes. The names of the ferry ports rival the shipping forecast for poetry: Scalasaig, Castlebay, Eriskay, Stornaway, Berneray, Fishnish………

Britain is an island of course, but it doesn’t normally feel like it. Climb one of the mountains of Arran and you can see its edges all around you.

First-time visitors to the Isle of Arran appear to be driven by two compulsions. The first is to go round it (by one means or another) and the second is to climb to the highest bit (Goat Fell). This gives a reassuring sense of boundaries. I know because I did it too. These days, living on a small island, my mountain climbing is measured, not by Naismith’s Rule, but by the ferry to-ing and fro-ing down below: “Oh look, there’s the ferry coming,” I say, and a bit later “ There goes the ferry,” and a bit later “Oh no, not the ferry,” (aware of the embarrassing truth that I’m walking very slowly).

The main fact of life about islands is that you can get stuck on them.

Nigel and I got stuck on an uninhabited Scottish island once, on a sea-kayaking trip. Never assume that just because you’ve planned something it can’t go wrong- especially where the sea’s concerned. We had failed to understand that a force 5 or 6 forecast constitutes good weather in Northern Scotland. In the end we faced a choice between crossing choppy seas and being attacked repeatedly by great skuas, which flew at our heads with military precision. We decided that the sea was marginally less vicious, and fortunately lived to tell the tale.

So- living on an island is all about living with the knowledge that there are times when you can’t get off. And there are not only no 24 hour supermarkets on Arran but no food deliveries at all when the ferries don’t sail. The Sunday papers get to the village shop at Pirnmill about 12.30; which actually is a very good excuse for a long lie-in.

From Arran you can see lots of islands, small and big: Pladda, Ailsa Craig, the Cumbrae, Inchmarnock, Islay, Jura, Bute ... even Mull, all waiting in the sea suggesting all sorts of tempting possibilities. And that’s another thing…. in island life your most useful possession is a boat.

Scottish island in April. The water’s lovely!

2011-03-29T12:02:00.000-07:00

Golf from the Grass Roots

Over the past year Nigel and I have undergone an amazing (or so it seems to us) change. Instead of being somewhat daunted by the responsibility of running a golf course, we find we love it.

Lochranza Golf Course has its assets that are also its challenges. It’s dominated by huge shoulders of mountain in three directions, and in the fourth opens out to the castle and the sea. Sometimes the sea floods in at the lower end of the course, leaving tide lines of debris. The golf course grass is irresistible to red deer who make mud baths, not to mention droppings that have to be swept up. Until May, the lease is shared with hill sheep and as I write this, little black-faced lambs are appearing everywhere.

What then has brought about the change in us? Of course when you find yourself in the deep end it takes a while to start swimming, but I think it’s got more to do with that, by working with it, we are getting to know every corner of the course intimately, as well as the trees and plants, birds, animals and insects it supports. It’s satisfying and rewarding work; you can see progress when you’ve cleared a ditch or shaped a fairway to make it pleasing to the eye and an enhancement to a good game of golf. Now when I look at golf courses I see the skill of green keepers.

So, although we’ve been here a year, working on a golf course is still a bit amazing to Nigel and me. It wasn’t part of our career and lifestyle change wish lists, but all I can say now, with the benefit of a little experience is, if you love the outdoors and the land, I’d strongly recommend it.

Replacing a dated and crumbling bunker with a more natural looking turfed hollow.

2011-03-01T01:17:00.000-08:00

Och, it’s nothin’

This is my favourite saying in Scotland. I have now heard it said many times. Just when it’s raining so hard you think it can’t get any harder- but it does- if you complain about the weather to a Scot you’ll be told: “Och, this is nothin’ ”. It’s a big tribute to Scottish resilience. This week I remarked on the number of trees that blew down in the gales of early February. Apparently, this was nothin’ compared to most winters. Question is: is it a comforting statement or not?

After the dazzle and glitter of snowy December, we have experienced a succession of Atlantic depressions in February. The air is filled with the sound of water rushing down steep hillsides. Otherwise, the only noise you hear is an occasional car shifting gear up the Boguillie Road. The north of Arran exploded into being as a volcano way back in geological time, reacting to the fateful collision of Scotland and England on their slow paths from opposite ends of the world. The steep hillsides are a reminder of the island’s dramatic beginnings.

At the campsite, we’ve been painting everything that doesn’t move ready for March 1^st opening. We’ve had lots of bird visitors in the meantime. Today’s callers have been a buzzard, a treecreeper, a dipper, a wood pecker, a heron and a curlew (helpfully aerating the grass).

Rino and Val are busy moving into the Stags Pavilion café next door. We are looking forward to seeing what’s on the menu in 2011.

Signs of spring: the burn behind the campsite

Last day of February: here comes the sun!

2010-12-22T01:31:00.000-08:00

The Winter Solstice in Lochranza

Whilst mainland Scotland has been having a truly Arctic winter, being a small island has meant that Arran hasn’t suffered such extreme conditions. Arran has kept being a brown blob on the BBC weather map when most places are blue. It’s been easy when walking along the coast to distinguish the other snow-free islands of the Clyde against the white backdrop of mainland. The CalMac ferries have been sailing with serene regularity, whilst road traffic chaos on the mainland has made headlines daily. Today, however, after some heavy snowfalls, everything here is white.
In early December much of Lochranza goes into its famous sunless period which will last through January. The sun never quite makes it on to the campsite, as it circles low behind Torr Nead and Meall Mor. The north-facing cliffs along the coast have curtains of icicles. There is a sharp division between sunshine and shade which works its way across the hillsides as the day goes on. You might think that being sunless would make it gloomy, but it’s more as if there is a golden ceiling just above your head. And it might be the winter solstice but the sparkling frosts seem to lengthen the days.
The herds of deer are high up on the hillsides now as there is nothing left to eat on the golf course. It’s already being another tough winter for wild things.

Nigel and I would like to wish you a very happy, safe and warm Christmas.
Kathy
The photograph shows the lunar eclipse just before dawn on December 21st.

2010-10-27T10:17:00.000-07:00

Bog Standards

“You’re very lucky to live here.”

I’ve heard that a lot this year and, now as the season closes, I wholeheartedly agree. It’s strange to look back at how it wasn’t the beauty of the place and the wildlife all round that I noticed at first, but that human and animal waste, shall we say, had come to dominate my life. If I wasn’t batting deer poo off the golf greens, I was waving a loo brush in the ladies.

Repetitive daily task that cleaning toilets is, I have to say that in eight months of it, without respite, I haven’t had to deal with anything unpleasant lurking in the depths- if you know what I mean. Clearly we have considerate visitors.

Toilet cleaning has given me other, darker insights into human nature. For example, sometimes callers come when I am mid-mopping. They will ask, with disdain at my lowly status, if they can speak to the owner. I cheerfully introduce myself then get my revenge by shaking their hands with my Marigolds still on.

Everyone should do a stint of toilet cleaning in their lives! Then we’d be eternally grateful for the great service toilet cleaners do us. Facing a dripped-on seat when you’re dying for relief can ruin anybody’s day.

I’m ashamed to confess that I have had the experience of toilet-cleaning rage. It happened in the height of season when, despite barricading myself in the loos with closed signs, one passer-by after another clambered over them the minute I was occupied in a closet, without so much as a “Please, I’m desperate!” The bowls got a furious pounding with the loo brush that day!

Nigel and I are now polished and practised toilet cleaners, who swish through the toilets in no time. And there can’t be many toilet cleaners who can step outside and straightaway see eagles and red deer.

We are lucky to live here!

Have a wonderful time in the winter months.

Hope to see you next year.

Kathy and Nigel

2010-10-16T05:53:00.000-07:00

RUDE AWAKENINGS

It’s five in the morning. I’ve just been outside, having been lying awake for sometime listening to the raucous bellowing of a stag outside the caravan window. You’ve heard of swimming with dolphins- well, at this time of year, here you get to camp with stags roaring close by. Just bring ear plugs if you want some sleep. Outside, the sky is black and peppered with billions of twinkling silver and gold stars. The solid outlines of Torr Nead and Meall Mor edge the sky. Winds are whooshing about in Glen Chalmadale and Gleannn Easan but it’s calm down here and I can distinguish many stag voices calling round the village in answer to the one who’s woken me up. A few motorhomes are staying on site and I can’t see any lights on so I’m hoping everyone else is still fast asleep.

It’s coming to the end of our first season now. We close on October 31^st until March 1^st. Anyone holidaying in Arran now truly sees the tourist season end in a blaze of autumn glory. Visitors come back daily with reports of something special, including today “We saw the northern lights from the pier last night” and “We saw a basking shark passing Pirnmill….”. I myself saw a little colony of common seals basking on the rocks at Newton shore and red squirrels scurrying about all over the place. But it’s the daily soap opera of the deer that dominates our lives: the chases, challenges, tussles and, of course, the desperate groanings and defiant bellowings.

2010-09-21T02:24:00.001-07:00

Red Deer on the First Day of Autumn

There aren’t many human visitors on site now, but it’s all happening with the red deer. It’s 8pm and almost dark. In the last light you can see two deer on the skyline. Sitting in the caravan with the lights off makes a brilliant wildlife observation hide. A massive, magnificent, dark-coloured stag with many points on his antlers has come down from the hill on to the site to exert his authority over the hinds. There is something primeval about him, as though the forest has come to life. He has scared away the young males and is pursuing a small herd of hinds with this year’s calves right past the caravan window. The calves are watching him curiously but warily. He lifts his head and roars a groaning, grunting, mooing roar, no doubt directed at the stags over the burn.

These deer are not tame, although the hinds and calves are very people-tolerant. We do not feed them. I guess they’re around so much because this was their home, before ever there was a campsite- and the golf course has juicy green grass as well!

We regularly see unusual and amusing insights into red deer life. The other day I saw two stags sitting down, absolutely motionless, being pecked all over by jackdaws. The deer clearly didn’t want to move as they were enjoying it so much. The birds were probably de-ticking them.

2010-09-06T12:47:00.000-07:00

Insights

This has been a week of special moments. Walking along the coast back from Laggan to Lochranza on Tuesday, I found the prehistoric giant millipede tracks there, in a rocky cleft by the sea, at last, after much looking! 320 million years old and clearly visible!

Another ancient discovery followed on when Nigel and I went to a meeting of the Arran Natural History Society. This involved an interesting talk by a ranger whose job it is to identify ancient trees in Ayrshire. He told us that he records trees whose girth is greater than three metres. We measured the campsite’s huge sycamore as soon as we returned. It is over five metres, making it a tree that must have witnessed many human generations coming and going at Lochranza.

I have also had some sudden unexpected glimpses of Arran’s beautiful wildlife. First of all, yesterday morning, a camper drew my attention to one of the eagles soaring above the campsite, its wings catching the golden rays of the rising sun. Then today, walking in Glen Catacol, first a black adder wriggled across the path ahead, then an adder a little further on.

The stags are moving closer to the campsite now. The rut approaches. Last night a heavy mature stag was standing underneath the Stags Pavilion sign board. Wonder if he was aware that Teddy was serving venison on the other side of the glass?

Finally, I have seen the Sleeping Warrior properly: visor, chin, chest and all. Here’s a photo at sunset from the top of the Boguillie Road. Can you see him too?

2010-08-17T02:34:00.000-07:00

So long summer………………

17th August

The reason I haven’t blogged for ages is that campsite life has been hectic and today is the first day I’ve had some spare time in weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m lucky to live and work in as beautiful a place as this, but I have to confess to a degree of jealousy of holidaymakers who have come to stay here. It’s great to meet so many new and interesting faces, but I want to be out there camping and exploring the island too, and, in summer, as campsite owner, I simply can’t. Maybe we could live in our little tent …..after all, it was camping here on the start of our sea kayaking tour last summer that brought us here.

Though we’ve just had a gorgeously warm and sunny weekend (see picture of me swimming in Coire Fhion Lochain, which was slightly less chilly then the sea at Blackwaterfoot the day before) there are signs of Autumn now. As we look across to Kintyre and the setting sun, the point the sun goes down appears to be moving daily southwards, and now there is black darkness at night again. We’ve had meteor showers, just like in “Local Hero”.

I don’t think midges have been excruciating many times this year at all. I can only remember one evening when people playing golf looked more like they were practising martial arts. All sorts of research about midge dietary preferences keep being reported on The News. The latest is that you’re more likely to get bitten if you’re tall because midges fly two metres up. Hmmm. My own theory is that they like hot food, just like we do. I’m cold-blooded and clearly not appetising to them. Whatever the theory, we remind ourselves that, along with the rain, they are Scotland’s natural defences. Just think! If it was sunny all the time the whole world would want to holiday in Scotland.

Scotland is not at all like England, and it’s whenever I go to concerts and ceilidhs I notice it most. I love the way everyone joins in and dances with total abandon, enthusiasm and lack of inhibition –all generations together mostly. It’s as if music is the life-blood of Scottish people. Rainy Julys are made up for by fantastic atmospheres at community events. One of these was last Friday when Corrie had its own version of UpHellyAh, recreating the Scots battles against the Vikings (see photo).

Also see Jamie making the past live at Lochranza Castle (I mentioned him in a May blog) You can visit his website: www.claymorekiss.co.uk

2010-07-24T01:25:00.001-07:00

On Rain, Golf and Whisky

Almost three months of sunshine had brought about empty burns and parched ground until last week when Nature remedied matters with a flash flood in Lochranza. Torrential rain streamed off the steep hillsides and the dry ground failed to absorb it.

The golf course looked like an extension to the loch but Dunkirk spirit was much in evidence with everyone helping each other and the Village Hall and the PGL Centre opening for people who had got very wet. The deer meanwhile headed up to the hills.

The waters quickly subsided leaving us with a major operation of fencing repairs. The sheep seized the opportunity to run back into the golf course, and Mr. and Mrs. Mahers, two of our camping survivors, found some of their belongings in the loch near the castle several days later.

It has been an unusual year: a long, snowy winter; a drought and then heavy rain, but Scotland has been looking like itself again with strands of mist curled round the hills. The verdant green of grass and bracken is dotted with the delicate purples and blues of heather and harebells.

Talking of weather, people who go out in it whatever it’s doing are golfers. I have revised all my preconceived ideas about golf since I arrived in Scotland. I didn’t realise that golf had developed as a sport which worked in the wild Scottish coastal scenery. I had no idea that when you hit the ball, you can’t see the target. And I definitely didn’t expect it to be so hard to play. Local Golf Pro Dougie Bell is now giving lessons on the golf course (including to Nigel and myself). He swings the club with graceful nonchalance and the ball flies way over the trees lining the burn. To get the ball airborne, never mind in the right direction, is my current target.

Golf isn’t an exclusive sport in Scotland; everyone enjoys it- a bit like whisky. Incidentally, the Isle of Arran distillery had an open day at the beginning of the month with lots of free tasting. I have to admit, a drop of whisky fire in my veins when we arrived here in the icy weather of February went down very well, but on a sunny warm afternoon in a carnival atmosphere and surrounded by the Lochranza hills, it made a lovely summer drink too. Skerryvore played in the Village Hall later in the day. I’d travel a long way to see this band but having them in the same village was a treat beyond all my expectations.

As I write this it’s afternoon and blue sky has pushed yesterday’s clouds away. The site is very quiet after the rain and outside our caravan a little herd of deer, with hinds, last year’s young and a little calf, are flat out fast asleep. Further down the golf course, four stags are having their version of a hot tub party. They are sitting together in a bunker on the golf course so that you can only see their splendid new antlers above the rim.

Summer Solstice

2010-06-22T12:35:00.000-07:00

It’s the Summer Solstice…..

…… and it hasn’t been truly dark here for weeks. It hasn’t rained for weeks either up at this end of the island, and the golf course greens are more like yellows. It’s been warm enough to tempt us for a swim at Laggan whilst kayaking along the coast from Sannox back to Lochranza. Laggan Cottage (only accessible by sea) now has a resident, a writer called Paul Story. You can find copies of his novel on the hillside by the cottage for you to pick up when you’re walking past.

Red Deer News! We now have two little red deer calves on site.

I’m not keen on very tidy, formal gardens but I do love Brodick Castle Gardens with their sense of teetering on the edge of wildness; lush, colourful and full of surprises. I went to a guided tour there last week. Amongst many fascinating facts I learnt about the plant shown on the photo (forgotten its name though) which grows for five years, flowers, explodes and dies and, as it dies, it shoots out seeds which sprout up and begin the cycle again.

Arran has some brilliant community gatherings and festivals. We’ve had the Wildlife Festival in May and the Folk Festival in June. Coming up on July 3^rd is the Whisky Festival, across the road at the Distillery. There is going to be a ceilidh in the evening with Skerryvore and I, for one, can’t wait. Nigel and I saw the band playing in Achiltibuie Village hall two summers ago. The stirring sound of their bagpipes went soaring over the sea to the Summer Isles. They’re very talented and very energetic.

If you’re a mountain lover, it’s going to be the Arran Mountain Festival from the 17^th to the 20^th September. Find out more about the walks and talks on the website: www.arranmountainfestival.co.uk

Summer days

2010-06-08T06:45:00.000-07:00

The Spring Bank Holiday week was sunny, hot and busy.

The island has exploded into colour with yellow flags along the roadsides, bluebells and pink campion.

The stags’ new antlers are now sprouting up rapidly, thick with “velvet”.

Otters have been frolicking at the sea’s edge, munching on fish.

A lot of people tell us that they would like to run a campsite, so we thought it might be interesting to post:-

A typical day in our lives

First week in June 2010

7 am Plan the day’s tasks. If fine, it’s going to be golf course work on the greens and fairways.

Check toilets- clean? Enough handtowels? Loo rolls?

8.30 am Take it in turns in Reception, dealing with bookings, payments and enquiries- as well as talking to our visitors.

10 am One of us works on the site, the other deals with correspondence, orders, accounts, sees callers and welcomes golfers.

12.00 Quick lunch.

12.30 pm until 2 pm Clean the showers, toilets and reception building.

2 pm Carry on site maintenance and improvements. More letters, e-mails and phone calls. Following up marketing strategies.

4 pm Take it in turns to be in Reception welcoming arrivals.

6.30 pm Cook and eat our evening meal.

Hope for a walk, a game of putting or a kayak paddle.

Keep in touch with our families.

Bath much appreciated after so much outdoor work.

10 pm Walk round the site to make sure all’s well. Check toilets again.

A Perfect Day Out on Kintyre

When you live on an island and everywhere you look across the sea there are other islands as well as the mainland, it makes you restless to get on a boat and see what these far off places are actually like when you get there. We’ve still got lots of Arran to explore but as we live so near the Claonaig ferry service we seized an opportunity and a hot day to go across to Kintyre as foot passengers with pushbikes.

The sea was looking tropically turquoise as we boarded ship. In half an hour we were pedalling along the Kintyre coast looking at Arran’s dramatic mountain shapes from a different angle. The pretty coast line had little sandy stretches and rocky fringes, splashed with yellow birds foot trefoil and pink thrift. We stopped for a coffee and ice lollies at the Post Office in the sleepy village of Skipness, then carried on under leafy oaks and beeches to explore the well-preserved Medieval castle and chapel. A ringed plover scurried bravely around us, pretending to have a broken wing in order to lead us away from its nest.

We had lunch at The Seafood Cabin. Sitting in the garden of vivid pink and orange rhododendrons eating smoked salmon and salad under bright blue skies couldn’t have been a nicer way to pass a summer’s afternoon.

2010-05-22T13:47:00.000-07:00

Summer’s here. Outside the caravan, the leaves of the huge sycamore are filled with the murmurings of bees and the cuckoo has been making its presence known since half past two this morning. We’ve just been out paddling in our sea kayaks, passing porpoises along the coast. There are still no midges and this, believe it or not, is a bad thing. It has set back the breeding of swallows and bats. In fact the whole food chain right up to the great raptors is affected.

Over the last week, it has been the annual Isle of Arran Wildlife Festival. The varied programme has been delivered by volunteer experts with a passion for their subjects. As I’m fortunate enough to see deer, red squirrels, golden eagles and seals in my daily life here, I opted for sessions about the less obvious but equally wonderful forms of nature on Arran. For example, I had never before stopped to examine the variety of mosses that can grow on one tree stump, looking like miniature star-tipped forests through a hand lens. The photo shows Arran’s unique whitebeam trees in Glen Diobhan. As a bonus, on this particular session, we met one of Arran’s unique black adders slithering along the path.

We have also been treated to a living history performance by Jamie, who entertains and educates audiences about the romance, passion and bravery of his highland ancestors’ history. With a mixture of story-telling and weapons display, he mesmerised a sizeable audience of young children, staying at the PGL centre, for an hour and a half. He swung claymores and axes around their heads, whilst they gazed at him with instinctive trust. He also demonstrated the versatility of the plaid (the original outdoor gear and bivi tent all-in-one). With his wild hair and fiery energy you can certainly believe you’ve gone back two or three hundred years when you meet him.

Spring is in the Air

2010-05-09T03:35:00.000-07:00

After the long, cold winter that has affected the whole of the British Isles, this spring seems very special. At one point, I wondered if I’d ever wear less than four layers of fleece again, so getting summer t-shirts out is a relief. The hillsides are covered in primroses and violets, and swallows are building nests in our shed. A local cuckoo and a peacock that’s living wild round here spend all day trying to shout louder than the other. The red deer have suffered over the winter, but juicy green grass shoots are making them very playful and alert again. Last year’s youngsters prance about and wallow in muddy hollows on the golf course. The little black-and-white-faced lambs are similarly mischievous and enjoy using the old barrels on the campsite to be kings of the castle. We spend a lot of time sweeping deer and sheep droppings off the fairways!

The big event of the last week is that Lochranza Golf opened for the season. We’re really grateful for the support and encouragement of local golfers. Of the many new jobs we are getting to grips with, we both agree that we are finding the art of green-keeping absorbing beyond anything we expected.

Nigel has been busy building a new bridge on the golf course and fixing the various tractors that seem to have suffered, like the deer, with the long, hard winter. He also had to repair the static caravan that we live in when visitors are on site as the floor collapsed. At the same time a sheep got stuck on a crossbar underneath it. We rescued it unharmed but I did keep worrying that I would step out of bed one day onto a sheep’s head peeping up from the floor!

MOUNTAIN VIEWS

Nigel and I did a wonderful mountain walk today: the Beinn Nuis, Beinn Tarsuinn and Beinn a’ Chliabhain circuit from Glen Rosa. Walking’s fantastic right now: long, fine days (it’s light till ten, you have the mountains to yourself and no midges or tall bracken to battle with).
Being on Arran’s mountain ridges is like wandering in a high up rock citadel, with weird granite shapes, patterns, walls and towers. All around you are jagged peaks and spiky ridges.
Here are two of our pictures:

2010-04-04T13:40:00.000-07:00

4th April
It’s Easter Day and it’s a bright and breezy spring day after a wintry week! Last Monday, by breakfast-time, I had seen six red squirrels racing about in their usual lively fashion. I thought they must be waking up for spring but now I think they must have sensed the wintry storm that was on its way. In December it was nice to have a “proper” winter but, after hearing the new born lambs bleating pitifully in the sleet and gales on Tuesday, I shall be glad to see no more snow for a very long time.

Campsite Star Awards of the week go to the campers without electric hook-ups who chose to brave out the pre-Easter weather, and also to the caravanners who thought they had electric hook-ups but didn’t due to power cuts, and who sat by candlelight saying how great it was to be tucked up inside listening to the wild weather outside.

ISLAND LIFE
A striking difference I have noticed to mainland life is attitudes to rubbish. In mainland life, you don’t think twice about getting rid of your clutter. Here, there is no such thing as clutter- just things that will have a future usage, you just don’t know where, when or how. You don’t throw anything away. The campsite has sheds full of this valuable rubbish. Nigel has enthusiastically adopted island philosophy and made an electric distribution board cupboard out of an old fridge carcase.

2010-03-29T01:42:00.000-07:00

28th March

Yesterday I was picking up wood on the golf course and I accidentally picked up a water vole. I put it down and it sat there quivering, looking at me with big eyes. After a while it felt brave enough to run for cover in a heap of turf. Water vole numbers are declining rapidly in Britain so I was delighted to see one.

Today Nigel and I walked round to Catacol then climbed up Meall Mor (496m), the big hill that stands behind Lochranza. We saw lots of red deer as we climbed the steep heather, though not before they saw us. Their brown and cream coats blend perfectly with the heather stalks and pale grass. The pictures show views down to Catacol and to Lochranza Campsite from Creag a Mhadaidh.

2010-03-26T08:43:00.000-07:00

26^th March 2010

Nigel and I began our new lives as owners of Lochranza Caravan and Camping Site a month ago today.

Until this week, the weather on Arran has been settled and beautiful, with glorious sunshine by day and temperatures plunging into the minuses by night.

Sea and sky have been vivid blue and the mountains dazzling white. It has been a wonderful month for winter walking or night-time star gazing (which is the positive option when it’s just too cold to sleep!) One night in February, before the site was open, the pipes froze. Washing in the burn first thing in the morning was a highly efficient way to wake up!

When we have not been tidying the campsite ready for spring, I’ve fitted in some walking. This photograph shows what it looked like up around Loch na Davie in early March. It was hard work kicking steps through the deep snow but worth it for the breathtaking sights.

To the left you can see down to Laggan from Fionn Bealach on a day when the views stretched out to the Paps of Jura and beyond. There was no wind and no sound. I didn’t meet anyone else out walking but I did pass lots of red deer. The deer on Arran seem to have fared better in this harsh winter than their Highland counterparts.

Regular visitors to Lochranza campsite may remember Rim, Iain’s greenkeeper, who has moved to Invergordon this year. We have turned his old lodgings in Reception into a campers’ lounge, which we hope will be a useful addition to site facilities. When Nigel and I undertook our sea kayaking tour of Scottish Islands last summer, camping in a small tent throughout August and September and cooking entirely on a Trangia camping stove, we really appreciated sites that offered this kind of refuge, even if it was just a corner of a barn. August last year was very wet and it was great when we could spread our maps out comfortably.