I’ve made a more poised entry to the Wee campsite number 30 in the Cool Camping book. The midges are just appearing but though it’s overcast it’s dry – well it’s not raining.
This little site seems to attract people from all over Europe who sit on easy chairs in couples quietly reading paperbacks. The view is over a loch and there is sunlight on distant mountains but I hardly look at the view. I rode through breathtaking scenery and as I was warned you begin to take it for granted. You almost have to.
I met four Spanish bike riders from Spain who find Scotland to be paradise although they told me at home it was already 30 degrees and not raining. I stopped and chatted and caught them up thanks to my new found countersteering skill which zooms me around corners. I road 80 miles in vain from the Mallaig ferry only to find it was all booked up till 4:30 – this seems impossible.
This is a pretty little site with basic facilities.
My neighbours in a huge tent are still out (luckily as it turned out). We are all a bit squashed and a man about 20 feet away continually coughs in a way that suggests he won’t be holidaying next year. Tomorrow I will make it up to the top of this beautiful country. To Durness.
Now a German couple drive in on vintage bikes each with a sidecar, one is a 1944 BMW! The other is a single cylinder bike (AJS I think) that sounds fantastic as it arrives. They have ridden round Iceland via Denmark on their way here and within minutes – no seconds – of efficiency have put up a big Robins tent. I am amazed. This makes me consider getting a larger tent to shelter from the rain that seems to afflict every camping trip.
Look, tent envy.
Day 4 summary:
| Miles 188.7 | Average speed 43.3 | Max speed 88.4 | Riding time 4.33 |
Your Scottish is coming along well 🙂
Oh aye. Its strange how campsites can change in moments. I’d forgotten that on my arrival I shared a few words with a nice Dutch couple – the ones in said easy chairs reading the soophisticated paperbacks. One of them told me how they liked this site partly because it was not full of children, and it was true – it was beautifully quiet yet about an hour later both of us had neighbours with screaming children and shouting parents. Parenting is very public at a campsite and usually it is embarassing to witness (and to remember) that mixture of exasperation, sometimes unnecessary tenseness and tiredness on the part of parents.