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?

St. Abbs

The weather went back to normal this morning. Rain. But the view was clear and we could easily see the small islands of Fidra and Craigleath and the oil drilling rigs off  Kirkcaldy on the north side of the Firth of Forth.

One more week of travelling, Marge. Let’s make sure we enjoy these last few days. But first a walk up the road to the golf course to see the view to Bass rock and back towards North Berwick. We were only going to drive about thirty miles today so we decided to park Marge in the town where we took a walk around. It was a good move. The rain soon stopped and the sun even made a brief appearance.

John, a huge scotch egg fan, spotted some in a butcher's shop. Scotch eggs with a difference, wrapped in pastry, almost a scotch egg pie. No diet today. We sat on the seafront by St. Andrew’s Old Kirk to eat our lunch watching the incoming tide like a right pair of oldies. Realising we were the only people wearing waterproof trousers we promptly whipped them off not wanting to tempt the rain back.

Time to leave, but first John popped into a barbers for a hair cut whilst Angela walked back to Marge through the gardens of the North Berwick Lodge, an old dower house. Stopping at the aviary, the birds were a welcome flash of vibrant colour on an October day.

We’d really enjoyed our time at North Berwick and would come back again if we were in this area. Right, let’s go Marge. We wanted to take advantage of the fine weather so we could enjoy the coastal views as we drove to St. Abbs. The road down to St. Abbs harbour was interesting. A local man refused to back up, and Marge wasn’t having any of it. But she gave in, being the visitor.

After some confusion as to where the vans were allowed to overnight at the harbour we settled Marge with a sea view, put ten pounds through the slot of the harbour masters shed and walked up to the visitor centre. How long does it take to walk to the lighthouse at St. Abbs Head? There and back one and a half to two hours. It was four thirty, we should be able to do it before darkness began to fall. Take a torch, just in case. Not like us to be prepared.

The path took us up past the pumpkin patch and up onto the cliffs.

The walk along the cliff top was a little worrying in places, but the views of the rocks were amazing. Jagged and angry, they were softened by a covering of grass. A loud bang. What was that? Just a large piece of rock falling off the cliff over there. Best not to walk too close to the cliff edge. Less than one and a half hours later we were back. Another van arrived, and we spoke a few words with the couple who owned it. Pleased to be back at Marge, we couldn’t believe how tired we were. Tonight, we will be lulled to sleep by the waves and tomorrow awoken by the screech of seagulls.

We are in the Scottish borders now, so tomorrow will probably be our last night in Scotland.