A Macventure PART TWO

All I really did in my last post was to tell you about our fears of wild camping. That was very negative of me, wasn't it. Luckily, we didn't get mauled to death by an escaped panther or battered to a pulp by an axe murderer. We did get some pretty nasty midge bites, but good old Tom took most of the hit, much like a fleshy human shield. It turns out that midges are extremely clever and not only will they find the TINIEST of teeny TINY holes in insect-proof window netting stuff (not the official title for that, but I have no idea what it's actually called) but they will then find a comfortable little spot within your campervan, hang out there for over a week and continue to feast on your wrists/ankles/cheeks until you find yourself screaming WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME in the middle of the night.

'Luckily' (you'll see why I have included the ' ' in a moment) Tom managed to find an incredible contraption in Boots before we left, which looks a bit like an asthma inhaler, but administers what can only be described as an electric shock to the midge or mosquito bite. It makes a funny snapping noise and is the equivalent of giving your bite a smack so it hurts a little bit for a moment then stops itching. I was understandably reluctant to use this, and chose instead to stick with the traditional system of getting cranky and rubbing the bite against a bit of velcro or across a pair of corduroy trousers until it gets really painful. Worryingly, Tom found that electrocuting a particular bite on the inside of his arm made his hand spasm. Even more worryingly, he seemed to be really enjoying himself, and had a proper big giggle every time it happened. You have to find your own fun in the wilderness. Tom's fun involved being bitten by a hungry Scottish insect, then electrocuting himself with a device available from a high street chemist.

Over the course of 8 days, we drove from Edinburgh, up to the most north-westerly point of the UK, then back again. I can honestly say that the Highlands are the most beautiful part of the world- with incredibly diverse landscapes, sights, hidden treats and surprises. One moment we were driving along the bluest of lochs, the sky a bright turquoise, the next we were engulfed in fog, not able to see 2 metres infront of us. The tip to drive up the south side of Loch Ness was a great piece of advice- it's a really gorgeous road, with lots of places to stop and spot the monster. We didn't see him, although Tom did confess to me that he has felt, from an early age, that he is going to be the one that does.

Wild camping was a learning experience, and I can truly say that weeing in a bucket became surprisingly mundane after the first two or three times. (I should point out that the bucket just cuts down on unwanted prickling from heather/thistles, and was not in any way of storing waste) There is something very primal about washing your hair in a carpark and a rite of passage I'm glad I have now experienced. Once we'd got over the fear of being approached by people asking us to move on, it became an adventure looking for somewhere to park up and spend the night, and each time we started to panic as it got dark, a perfect place would present itself and welcome us in. We stayed by the foot of Glen Coe, in a carpark on the edge of the sea, in a meadow-like field in a beautiful little fishermans village on the east coast, and in a national park that provided the beautiful backdrop in Monarch of the Glen.

One low point was a night spent on the edge of a cliff in Durness where we experienced the worst winds they had had for over 20 years. Once again, this could only really happen to the Franklands, and as we sat wide awake in Joni, not sleeping a wink, trying to drink from a miniature bottle of port, which turned out to be over 3 years out of date, therefore making us both feel queasy, it was ALMOST funny.

It's a shame that wild camping is not legal in England, although thinking about it more, there are fewer places where it would actually work. There is a lot more space in the Highlands, bigger areas of unadulterated nature. At first we were taken aback by the silence whenever we stopped (silence is not an option when we are driving- Joni's engine is working beautifully now but sneaking up on anyone without them hearing us would be like trying to smuggle King Kong silently through a cymbal factory.) The contrast of her whirring engine and the perfect, clear silence of an afternoon tea stop was one of the best bits of the journey. After the giddy madness of Edinburgh, being surrounded by peace and quiet was something we never took for granted.

The three of us can't wait to go back...