We arrived at the campsite at 8.30pm. Family camping trips from the age of 7 have prepared me well for this solo adventure. I would be able to put up my tent quickly and efficiently, before the sun went down.
41 minutes later and on the phone to my sister, I was still unable to work out which way up the tent went. This is embarrassing. I laugh loudly down the phone in the vein attempt to convince the other campers around me that the hilarity of my call was what was making this such a long and arduous task, not sheer incompetence. Another 20 minutes later, and we were set up…sort of. It’s not great, but it’ll stand for tonight. Hopefully.
This blog was originally supposed to be an explorers guide to the UK with your dog. The best places to go, the best places to see - the most dog friendly. It has quickly become apparent, this will be a blog, in how not to do camping. I can only hope that my levels of idiocy and embarrassment can reassure you, the sole unfortunate reader of this page, that you will never be as bad at this, as me.
We were at the Dalesbridge campsite by the Forest of Bowland. This is a last minute stop over because I left home 5 hours later than I meant to, and well, I wasn’t getting us up to Scotland that evening. But all is not lost, because not only are the grounds beautiful, and the staff truly delightful, but there is a bar. The bar also sells Wood. Fire. Pizzas. I was saved. A weird place to put this after the mention of food (or is it?), but I would be remiss if I did not comment on the immaculate state of the toilets. I don’t want to harp on about them too much, but even if these were’t in a campsite, you could colour me impressed. There was even a spot outside to tie your furry friend, just in case like mine, they have no sense of personal boundaries.
After my heroic like victory in Ali vs Tent, a number of neighbours invited me over to share in some beers. I’m not sure if it is campers, holiday makers in general, or just that I’ve left the inner circle of the M25, but everyone here, is happy. Lovely. I’d go so far as to say…friendly. This is definitely somewhere I would stay again, and not just as a lucky layover. But I must warn you dear reader, of those clouds with legs that many of our dogs see only as lamb chops. There are many a field paved in a see of white fluffiness. A delight to behold, but you have been warned.
2.36 am, and right on cue, the skies open. The tent holds, but the little cover does not. (is cover right? You know - still the tent, but the not sleeping bit of it. You get it.) The t-shirt I accidentally left on top of the cover is now sodden, and its weight has pulled some of the tent down. Luckily, we are only stopping overnight. I get up early to lessen the embarrassment of my tenting failures with the other campers, and we get on our way.
We then found ourselves by Loch Lomond. We are staying at the Luss campsite and it is spectacular. We are right by the Loch. I can jump in from where I am sitting. The staff are thrilled to have you there and are more than happy to make recommendations on where you can find some trails to hike. It’s July as I write this, and while this summer has been a little on the cool side, the water in the Loch itself is surprisingly temperate. There are many ducks for Isla to chase, but these are not city ducks. Oh no. They have been hardened by country life and the threat of far bigger dogs than mine. They taunt her. She runs back to me. I am once again, embarrassed.
There is a nice little town just down the road, and a pub Isla would be the first to endorse - The Loch Lomond Inn. The best Sunday roast I’ve had in a while, and staff more than happy to give her a fussing. Once again, the people around are beyond friendly. I’m aware this is mostly because Isla is a delight to behold, but I would like to think my own brand of big city charm is appealing to people too.
There are lots of kiosks here which provide paddle boarding and kayaking activities, sightseeing and trail hikes, and it is really an area you could spend a couple of weeks in. It is, the summer holidays though. A mistake on my part. Isla is not thrilled about children who enjoy themselves. It isn’t that they are enjoying themselves per se, just that she is afraid of them. I sit overlooking the picturesque views of the loch, settling down for a days work, but poor Isla is on edge. There are a lot of children around, and she is uneasy. She wants to run back into the tent, and I find it hard to type hunched over like I’m the bell ringer of a French Cathedral. And so…we head to Glasgow. A couple of days in a dog friendly air bnb will set her straight, and from here on out, we will have to find sites for people of a certain age. So if like me, you have a slightly nervous pup, it is worth bearing in mind when and where you travel.
So that has been week one. Scotland is a hit, and we continue our adventure.
(For those of you wanting to know, attempt two of getting the tent up only took 10 minutes…nailed it)
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