Caeverlock Castle

Firstly, a quiz. What is this?

A little bit shaky, shaky last night Marge. Yes, it was. From the time we went to bed around ten thirty Angela was anxious. We were up above the beach with two other vans. The forecast for the wind was a speed of 16 mph, but no one mention gusting. We sleep in the bunk in the top of Marge so could feel every movement. And there was a lot of it. In the early hours it settled a little, then at five thirty this morning Angela wasn't happy despite John telling her he was 120% confident they were safe. Fire up Marge, let's get out of here. So, we did. By six-ten we were away down to the village where we waited until just before eight as it became light, to leave. A large cotton wool ball of a moon hung in the sky watching over us. The wind had made us think whether or not we should make the crossing across the causeway to Holy Island. Low tide began at seven thirty-five.

Around eight thirty we stopped just before the causeway to photograph the early sun. Then, steady Marge, not to fast through the water and over the piles of sand. I thought we were winding down now, not ramping up the excitement. No Marge, you know us we like to live life on the edge. 

The island was not as we expected. That being a little like Iona just of the Island off Mull. It was very commercialised. The car park held a thousand cars and by the time we left it was about three quarters full.

Like sheep we all followed each other around. Up to the priory, over to the watch tower, down the path to the castle cared for by the National Trust. We discovered that In 1901 Edward Hudson founder of Country Life Magazine offered on the castle and had it converted in to a holiday home. The wind blew relentlessly and despite the beautiful sunshine it was cold. 

That woman looks like Marge. It's me John. Why are you dressed like a herring girl with your scarf wrapped around your head? Funny.

As we returned, we could see the water returning slowly into the harbour where fishing boats lay haphazardly waiting to be up righted. Conscious of the rising tide we returned to Marge. The return journey along the causeway was a little fraught. More traffic, more water, more sand, more nerves. Where's the edge of the road? I'm not too keen on this water lapping around me. Neither are we Marge. It wasn't high tide for another two hours; goodness knows what it would be like to cross then. 

Having spent one night in Northumberland it was time to leave. The wind was going to be the same strength again tonight. Whilst we loved the beaches and castles in the area, we didn't feel comfortable. Locals gave us a sideways glance, which was a little unnerving. We'd dipped a toe into this county, but we must now move further west. By lunchtime we were at Jedburgh. Isn't this Scotland? Yes Marge, we sneaked you back across the border. Despite the warm sun a chill reminded us of the season.

We took a walk around the town visiting the priory and the house where Mary Queen of Scots stayed on a visit here in 1566, also a stop at Briggsy's butcher's shop where we purchased some savoury snacks to keep us going on this long day. We thought we might overnight in Jedburgh but didn't fancy it. After the events of last night, we wanted a quite stress-free night, not a stay in a town or parking area in the middle of nowhere. So, we drove on to Dumfries to Caeverlock Castle a place we love, albeit a little in the wrong direction. Who cares Marge, we can do what we like. The drive across the Cheviots to Dumfries was pretty. A green lush agricultural landscape a little like Devon entertained us as we journeyed. 

Our arrival at Caeverlock castle coincided with a pink and orange fireball of a sunset lighting the sky as we approached the site in the trees. We were surprised how many vans were already there considering how late in the season it is. Including Marge eleven. Two have set up camp in the corner with a wood fire and a string of rope lights around a nearby tree. Please, this is a nature reserve what are you doing? It's not a camp site. We've stayed here four times now in the last two years and have never seen the like of it. Hopefully next year these sorts of people will return to holidaying abroad

We've heard there has been snow flurries in Aberdeen today. We'd love to see the mountains in Scotland topped with snow and were both in agreement that if we didn't have family commitments and work on our rental houses to attend to, we'd not hesitate to start back up the west coast of Scotland again tomorrow. Sadly, that trip will have to wait.

Answer to the quiz. A pork and black pudding scotch egg from Briggsy's which got a thumbs up from John who is becoming somewhat of an expert on Scotch Eggs!

Bamburgh

Sleep well Marge? Didn't you hear those pesky seabirds calling to each other through the night? Oh Marge, they come with the territory.

Anyway, what a beautiful start to the morning. We couldn't remember the last time a morning had been so clear and bright. Marge's side door open, the view was fantastic. The low tide exposed rocks blackened from the changing tide.

High up on the cliff three black cows, like tiny models grazed unaware we were watching them. The couple in the van in front of us, were from Harrogate, Yorkshire. They had travelled far enough. People weren't friendly, there was hardly anywhere to stop free, campsites had doubled in price. The man's brother lived in Aberdeen (about three hours up the coast). that was too far to travel to, plus it would be cold up there. They arrived around six yesterday evening, walked to the toilet over by the nearby cafe and no further. Why not take a little time to look around the place properly? Ask him if he's enjoying his holiday? Stop it, Marge. Talking of toilets. There were free showers as well. So off we went. Unfortunately, the ladies were out of order, so we asked the harbour master if Angela could use the one in the gents whilst John kept cave. Go for it. So, she did. The water was very hot; besides that, they were a little dismal. But hey, they were free, and we'd been in worse whilst cycling in France. 

Right Marge change of plan. Today we will sadly leave Scotland. To avoid zig-zagging across Scotland and then dropping in to England we had decided to follow the east coast down. We felt a little sad about leaving a country we have fallen in love with but knew this day would come. At fourteen minutes to twelve we were at the border with England, stopping in the lay-by to take photographs.

Ten minutes later. Welcome to Northumberland Marge. You're back in England now. Be prepared for a little hostility, we've heard the locals have not been very friendly towards the vans this year. Perhaps we should purchase a Northumberland car sticker to place on your rear. 

Our stop tonight is Bamburgh. A small village famous for its castle. No overnight parking signs are everywhere except up near the golf club, so that's where we are with views to Holy Island (Lindisfarne) and the Farne Islands. Tomorrow we hope to visit Holy Island, so will leave early to catch the low tide so we can cross the causeway. 

Mid-afternoon we walked across the sand dunes to the castle. Huge rolling waves crashed onto the beach. The surf up, the surfers taking advantage. We stopped and watched them a while. Bamburgh castle stands one hundred and fifty feet above the beach, dominating the village. The red sandstone at the lower level weathered by the elements was like an intricate carving. We purchased hot drinks from The Pantry, adjacent to the cottage where Grace Darling died at the age of twenty-six of tuberculosis. Besides the castle, the village is famed for being both her place of birth and death. The nearby RNLI museum celebrates the life of Victorian Britain's famous heroine who risked her life alongside her father to save nine survivors of the wrecked SS Forfarshire on September 7th 1838.

In the museum there are personal items, letters and family portraits that help to tell the story of Grace's life. There is even a remnant of the cloak she was wearing on the day of the rescue and the actual coble rowing boat her and her father took to sea that day.

Opposite the museum is St. Aiden's church which we also visited to see the Grace's grave and memorial. Inside the church there is a Grace Darling memorial stain glass window. Where we live in Poole there is a retirement complex near to us called Grace Darling House. For those who don't know, Poole is the home of the RNLI, their headquarters and training college are there. 

Returning to Marge, we noticed the sun was setting. The sky first orange, then red, bleeding into the late evening sky. We walked up onto the golf course to the second hole watching an ever-changing sky. You two taking up golf? No Marge, we've taken up chasing sunsets. What do you think about being back in England Marge. It's very cold. Yes, it is, bit of a shock, isn't it?