A Summer Across the Channel
23 July 2022 — 18 August 2022
The big adventure of summer 2022! First, I plan to head up through England, Wales and finally Scotland to discover the Highlands and the mysterious Lochs. A short boat trip should then take me to Ireland, to explore the vast and magical west coast of the country.
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Finally an early wake-up! Actually, I mainly get up because everything, absolutely everything is soaked. The island is extremely humid this morning and the dew has well penetrated under the tent. The sleeping bag is soaked and drops tumble onto my face.
It’s a magnificent sun that welcomes me, as I crawl in the wet grass outside my shelter. I put on my sandals to go take some photos.
Taking advantage of the common room that opens early, I have breakfast in the warmth, only to discover, on leaving, that a thick mist has invaded the landscape. No more beaches, small fields bounded by stones, etc; I already struggle to find my tent.
Burnt earth in the wind, stone moorlands, around the lakes, it’s for the living a bit of hell, Connemaraaaa […] You were all waiting for it a bit, weren’t you? Don’t thank me for putting it in your head, personally I hummed it all day.
Late departure, again, this time because I’m waiting for the owner to pay for the campsite. Big clouds have clung to the surrounding mountains, it’s cold and damp. I couldn’t secure the tent properly, lacking trees, so I took in water all night (yes, it rained, does that still surprise you?). I’ll dry the gear tonight, because my day promises to be very beautiful and sunny.
Here’s summer, I see the sun, the clouds fly and the sky clears […]. I’m barely exaggerating! The day looks promising, waking up under the big blue sky this morning.
Departure is still very late because I share my breakfast with a very friendly Belgian. He’s a piano tuner, former luthier, who has travelled the world by bike, an original. The conversation flows until 9am, when we decide it’s high time to start riding.
It’s incredibly cold at the Portnoo campsite. Fortunately thanks to my fantastic down jacket (thanks auntie) and my tent which isn’t so badly made, I sleep perfectly well.
At 3am, nevertheless, a violent squall wakes me. The wind is terrible and lifts the canvas from all sides, so much so that a bit of rain manages to penetrate the shelter and wet my face. Very fortunately, the sleeping bag is protected by the bivy.
The night is long and comfortable, in my real bed. Camping is a bit like the story of the madman who bangs his head against a wall: it feels so good when you stop!
I sleep a bit too much, unfortunately. Around 8am I finally emerge, I dash to breakfast. I chat briefly with the other guests before slipping away to get ready and leave as early as possible, I’m already very late.
2:30am, “are you taking the 4 am sir?”. I’m woken (yelled at) thus from my deep sleep on the metal benches of the P&O terminal. It’s already time to go to check-in, I’m the only foot passenger.
Quick glance at my ticket, no identity check, after all, we’re still in the UK. After still long minutes of waiting, I finally board a shuttle that takes me into the heart of the ship.
Another waking up in the rain this morning. And this time it’s the big wet rain. I prepare my ever-present pita bread sandwich for breakfast.
It’s already late but my battery is once again charging at reception, which only opens at 8am. Once a coffee is downed, I pack up and retrieve my brick, a bit recharged.
I decide to go to Oban city centre, even if it’s a detour from Glasgow, because I want to know if the small ferry that used to cross from Campbeltown to Ballycastle still operates. At the tourist office, the verdict comes: it’s no.
At the Inverness campsite, it’s a bit of a sausage party. By which I mean that apart from me, there are only Germans.
While it’s public knowledge that I have certain affinities with our Teutonic neighbours, I fear I won’t much appreciate sharing the road with their large pearly-white Wohnwagens. So I decide to leave as early as possible to head along Loch Ness towards the southwest, with Oban as my objective, which will make a good stopping point before my descent to Glasgow.
This morning, no more battery. I get up with the sun, around 5am and prepare a good breakfast with coffee. At 7:30am the campsite laundry room reopens and I can retrieve my battery that I left charging there.
I make sure to be ready so that, when the time comes, I can leave directly. Around 7:40am, that’s done and I head off.
I quickly arrive on the famous North Coast 500, a road that winds through the highlands, very popular with motorcyclists and cyclists of all kinds. The road is indeed magnificent, following the cliff line. I discover golden sand beaches and as my surfer cousin would say, “it’s tubing”!
Today, the goal is to reach Tongue, on the north coast of Scotland. The day promises to be radiant, but cold! Upon waking, the mercury timidly reaches 9°.
During my preparation, I planned clothing down to 7° minimum, I won’t last long below that. Breakfast is therefore, as often, quickly dispatched. I try not to wake my biker neighbours, who snore as loudly as their machines rev (not surprising given the number of beers consumed the previous evening).