Caeverlock Castle - Dumfries

Another early start this morning after an exceptionally quiet night, you'd never have guessed we were just a short walk from Chester city centre. First stop Higher Tranmere to visit John's daughter, coffee and cakes were waiting, today had started well. After a couple of hours catching up with her and taking advantage of a facility to empty our waste and top up our water, we set off, our destination Carlisle.

As the M6 wound its way through the mountains of the lake district we wondered if there was a better view from an English motorway. Arriving late afternoon in Carlisle we were greeted by the cheers of the football crowd at Carlisle United's ground in the Warwick road , perhaps they had just scored one of their winning goals against Salford City. Our destination was Rickerby park, recommended on park4the night. It turned out not for us. Some undesirables had set up a tent alongside a VW crafter van (as Marge is). Straight away their eyes were drawn to her. Don't worry Marge we're off, there was no way we felt comfortable about spending the night let alone leaving her whilst we took a walk. Decision made we decided to cross the Scottish border.

Just before 5 pm we crossed into Scotland. Failte Gu Alba Marge, Welcome to Scotland. Now in Scotland Marge soon found herself on narrow country roads but she wasn't fazed. Been here and done this before, bring it on.

The site at Caeverlock castle was busy, including Marge there were thirteen vans. Last year when we stopped here around the same time there were seven vans. Seeing how busy it was we expect to be vying for space in some locations as we travel further into Scotland. For now, Marge is tucked in near the service point next to a van called Maxine, although we know she would have preferred at Mark or Malcolm. The owner of Maxine had an accident with his drone this morning, he likes to film the motorhomes!! Each to their own. 

After showering we walked out leaving the two couples opposite in conversation. They were from Yorkshire and one of the women had an exceptionally loud voice, echoing everything her husband said and then talking over him. Well into a second bottle of prosecco she was celebrating being back in Scotland. Lucky Scotland. We agreed with Marge, bet she's not so chipper in the morning.

Conscious that the light would fade just after eight we took a path along the edge of the salt marshes offering a clear view across the Solway firth, and then into castle wood where we were surprised at just how much the leaves on the deciduous trees and shrubs were changing colour.

The red and purple of berries and last yellow flowers on a nearby honeysuckle showcased in the fading vegetation.

By the time we arrived back at Marge the evening air had cooled, a reminder we were just that little further north, but hey, we were on our travels, and Scotland is where you visit for the views not the weather, so we don't mind. Before we left Poole we invested in some new waterproof jackets and trousers to ensure we were comfortable whatever the weather decided to throw at us whilst we were here. 

Tomorrow we must plan a route for our onward journey. This year's visit will be different as we know that a Scottish A road can be a single-track road with passing places so there will hopefully be no surprises for Marge, but we can't promise!

Chester

This morning we were up early raring to break out our Brompton bikes and hit the cycleway.

A hint of yellow on some nearby trees signalled the end of summer, where had the last few months gone?

We cycled along the old railway line to the nearby village of Long Marston, calling in at the village shop for a much-needed snack.

Aptly named the 'Poppin' the shop was typical of a store in a small community, friendly and welcoming. As Angela entered the shop a conversation was underway by three women of a similar age as to what was worse, a builder's bum or stomach. What did Angela think? After ten miles of cycling, we realised how much we'd missed it. In 2020 when Angela was sixty, we'd hoped to go on a cycling holiday in Europe. Looks like it might have to wait until she'd sixty-two now.

A quick lunch in Marge, accompanied by the peel of wedding bells from the nearby church of Holy Trinity, where William Shakespeare is buried and then conscious of travelling on a Friday afternoon on the M6 we set off for Chester. The traffic around Birmingham was hellish, and soon after we rerouted off the M6. As we approached Chester, we saw a sign for Malpas, where some forty plus years ago John's Uncle Dave had a restaurant.

We were so near we took a detour to take a look for old times' sake.

The traffic and detour meant our journey to Chester took nearly four hours, so we were pleased to settle Marge and walk out along the River Dee and back through the roman gardens.

Tomorrow we head up to Cumbria once we've visited John's daughter and her family.

Stratford-upon-Avon

It was lunchtime before we set off from Poole.

Our neighbour asked how long we'd be away. We explained it depended on the weather, circumstance and Marge. Our visit to Scotland last September left us wanting more, so we are returning this time to revisit some favourite places and to discover some new ones. And we hope you'll all come along too.

Late afternoon we arrived at Stratford upon Avon, the birthplace of William Shakespeare. Our home for the night ten minutes' walk from the town at Stratford Greenway, a five-mile cycle route along the old Honeybourne line.

All day parking here is just £3, and a barrier secures the area overnight. Marge is settled here alongside a van from Wales, whose owners are from Merseyside. The man's step mother lives just along the road from John's daughter Dawn, who we will be visiting on Saturday morning. Small world.

The short walk alongside the river Avon in to the town was beautiful. Plums grew wild and John couldn't resist picking a few. At the lock we watched as a narrow boat slowly rose in the bubbling water. The swans hungry for food caught our attention, and across the river a squadron of them paddled frantically between two people keen to feed them.

The town was quiet, unnaturally quiet for such a tourist hotspot. We sat by the colourful narrowboats a while before walking over to Shakespeare's statue. Then tired, returned to Marge, passing by the RSC (Royal Shakespeare Company) where a small crowd were gathering to watch an evening outdoor performance in the garden theatre.

Tomorrow we hope to cycle along the greenway before heading off further north.

Poole

Yesterday evening we walked to the lighthouse at Portland Bill to watch the sunset. An oil painting of purple, pink, orange and grey hung above the blue-black inky sea.

This morning rested from a peaceful night's sleep we marvelled at the view. the sea topped with white, a little livelier than yesterday and a bright blue sky with a whisper of white. Soldiers exercised on the nearby grass area and walkers slowly started to appear.

As we left Portland we decided to stop once again at the car park on the causeway and take a walk on Chesil Beach, a shingle spit stretching eighteen miles across to Abbotsbury.

The stones shifted under our feet as we climbed to the top where we sat and took in the view. Then a drink and sorbet in the cafe before heading home to Poole.

Keen to make the most of our trip we decided to call in at Swanage on the way as it would be our last chance before the town became overrun with holiday makers.

This year eight campervan spaces have been allocated in the main car park, all of which were full so, we parked in another bay and ate lunch and soon one van left. For some reason parking is for daytime only, no overnight sleeping. It is becoming increasingly annoying that some councils cannot see the advantage of allowing the vans to stay overnight. We know local shopkeepers and owners of food outlets want them there. There is a parking area on the seafront for about six vans from 8 pm until 8 am. But although tempted we had reason to return home. So, we made the most of our afternoon visiting some second hand shops and galleries. Then Angela fell over again, her right knee the casualty this time.

Back in Poole, Marge pulled on to her new driveway and was greeted by one of our neighbours keen to take a look inside her and hear about our trip. After unpacking the van quickly, we walked in to town for a meal, then strolled back through the old town busy with diners sat outside the many restaurants. Since we left a week ago the town had sprung in to life, and it felt good.

Next week we will return to Buckinghamshire, and hopefully marge will come with us.

Oh and our new mirror, the main reason for our trip survived the journey home in one piece!

Portland

Seaton had proved to be a good move, and the night passed without any problems. This morning the seafront slowly came alive. In the sea a group of early morning swimmers barely broke the smooth glassy sea water. On the nearby headlands vegetation lit by the morning sun clung above the rocky outcrop below. As we breakfasted in Marge the esplanade came alive quietly and sedately. Everyone was friendly. Our faith in humans had been restored, thank goodness.

The grotto mirror safely tucked up in our bed, we fired up Marge and began the short drive to Lyme Regis where it turned out there was no room for Marge. The car park was full and chaotic, so we promptly left and moved on to Charmouth busy and chaotic as well. Fortunately an overflow car park on a grassed area was relatively quiet and empty so we settled Marge there.

Next to us a couple produced a cold box and served themselves up plates of cold cuts, cheese, cheese biscuits and lemon mouse. Then tea with marvel. We didn't even know you could still buy marvel. After that the straps were dropped on the ladies top ready for an afternoon sunbathe by the car. Did this sum up retirement? We hoped not.

Charmouth beach was busy. In the last few days, we've seen an increase in holiday makers and wondered just how many of them would normally be abroad. We walked to the far end of the beach averting our eyes from bodies squeezed in to too small bikinis on people who thought they were on a beach in Spain. We were tempted to say, this is the costa del Dorset love, we don't let it all hang out here. Charmouth is renowned for cliff falls, and we climbed (never learn do we) over some fallen scree and rocks looking for fossils, but to no avail. The area seemed to have been picked clean.

Car parking time up we strolled back to Marge the straps were still down but the lady now had a blanket over her legs. there's nowt so strange as, well you know. She reminded Angela of one of those ladies you see on a humorous seaside postcard. After hearing the lady's opinion on covid, immunisation, insurance claims, holidays etc we prised ourselves away. The weather was beautiful and we'd enjoyed our time at Charmouth and the stunning views along the coast back to Lyme Regis and Weymouth.

We were going to head back to Poole, but the weather was so lovely we diverted to Portland stopping in a large car park by the causeway behind Chesil Beach. But after a while it became obvious it might not be a good idea to stay as the other vans began to leave, so a quick look on the internet found the Pulpit Inn over near the lighthouse.

£10 a night on the grass area beside the pub with views towards the lighthouse and out to sea. We had a drink sat outside the pub and talked to a lady with a micro camper the same size as our Citroen Berlingo car. We've been thinking of making a unit that converts our car in to a micro camper for some time just for the fun of it. Love Marge as we do, sometimes her size can make places we'd like to visit inaccessible, this way we'd have the best of both worlds.

Rib eye steaks cooked on our outdoor grill whilst enjoying a beautiful view in a safe area, our faith in van life has been restored.