Campervan Capers: Debra, Evie, and Ursula on Tour

Phew! The stress is over for another year. Evie is back from the campervan hospital with a clean bill of health. Thank you, Struans, for once again keeping my campervan life dream alive. After two train journeys up to Perth, I had a very relaxed and relieved drive back home in Evie, even stopping for my picnic lunch on the way. Because I could.

 

It will come as no surprise to hear that I was on the internet finding somewhere to go before her engine had cooled on the drive. Somewhere I could cycle, write, and enjoy a coffee. I could be totally self-sufficient in my Adria Twin, but I like to do something to add to the places I stay, whether that’s just buying diesel, paying for the campsite, or going for a coffee and cake nearby. Talking of diesel. I don’t know what Struans did, but they must have somehow made Evie’s fuel tank much bigger, judging by the cost of the fuel and the way the gauge on the dashboard didn’t move as far as it used to.

 

The weather forecast was not looking too good for the coming weekend, so I opted for Blair Atholl Caravan Park. I could take Ursula and cycle along the Sustrans cycle Route 7 if the weather was not as bad as predicted, but I also had options, including visiting the castle, and a couple of places to go for coffee and cake. It doesn’t rain inside Evie, so either way, I was having three nights in my campervan writer’s retreat.

 

The weather on the way up to Blair Atholl was much better than I had anticipated, and I was spoiled with the views of the mountains on the way. The journey took a little longer than usual as there are new road works on the A9 after Perth, just after the roadworks that were there for years creating the new bypass near Luncarty. The signs say that these new road works are part of the planned duelling of the A9, and this section will open in 2028/2029. As I tootled along at the mandatory 40 mph speed limit, I looked around at the work that had already started. The trees felled. The countryside hijacked. Where is the wildlife going to live? Will the River Tummel, which often floods over the single-carriage A9, flood even more over the new dual-carriage way? Will the landslides that have happened previously happen again because we’ve destroyed even more of the landscape? Do we really need to make the whole of the A9 a dual carriageway? Did it really slow people down that much being behind slower, larger vehicles? Do we need to be able to drive at 70 mph all the time? I know that my journeys are not vital, although they are important to me. But I allow myself extra time wherever I go, so that if I am delayed, I still get to where I need to be on time. I remember watching a TV interview with Damon Hill, the F1 driver, who said that he never drives above 50 mph on our motorways because they are not designed for speed and in general, drivers are not trained to drive anything faster than that. If my F1 hero says 50 mph is fast enough for him, then it’s fast enough for me.

 

Rant over.

 

Arriving at Blair Atholl Caravan Park feels like arriving home, as I’ve been there so many times now. It holds many memories for me, especially as it’s the site where I had my first solo adventures when Mr M had kidney stones and then COVID. I purposely booked a large pitch, knowing I’d be out of the way if the park was busy. This reminded me of our very first time at this park, just after Evie came into our lives. I booked an extra-large pitch because I thought Evie was huge. For those who don’t know, she’s an Adria Twin, 6.32 m long and 2.03 m wide. So, in the grand scheme of things, she’s tiny. But she’s still huge to me when I’m driving her.

 

Setting up is an easy-peasy job for me now, especially on solo trips, as I don’t bother with the air awning, as I don’t need to find space for a dog and a husband and all their stuff. Ursula travels inside the campervan behind the driver’s seat to keep her safe and well inside rather than on the bike rack attached to the rear doors. I know. You don’t have to tell me. That’s what it’s designed for. The first job when I arrive is to take her out of the van, get her covered and lock her to the back doors outside. Remembering, of course, to turn the gas on first. Yes, I’ve forgotten this sometimes and had to unlock her, open the back doors, turn the gas on and lock her up again. Probably much to the amusement of the other campers.

 

The weather forecast was correct. It was now raining, but it was warm. I pulled out the canopy so that I could have the side door open without rain coming into the van. And there I sat, watching the world go around, listening to the rain pattering on the van, enjoying my picnic lunch and my flask of tea, made by Mr M, of course.

 

 

The coffee at the Atholl Arms hotel was soon calling to me, so I picked up my writing notebook, some pens, and a brolly, and wandered the 10 minutes to the pub. When I arrived, it was quiet, and I had my pick of the tables, choosing one in the corner so I could see the rest of the pub. I like to people-watch. I was amused that in the week we’ve been having a heatwave in the UK, the tables in the pub in Blair Atholl had lit candles on the tables. And it didn’t seem to make the room any warmer.

 

At the Atholl Arms, I enjoyed two lattes, a portion of chunky chips, you know, the proper ones, not those skinny things, and a piece of shortbread that melted in my mouth. And as I drank, ate, and watched the world go by, I wrote. My creative juices flowed, and another chapter for Celia the Accidental Cyclist poured from my pen onto the paper. You don’t know much about this book I’m writing, but in this chapter, Celia has her first lesson in riding a bike, and it doesn’t go all that well.

 

 

Then it was back to Evie. No torch required, as despite the rain, it was still daylight. We are now enjoying long daylight hours up here in Scotland, even if they’re not filled with wall-to-wall sunshine. That was last week.

 

Then it was time for the best part of owning a campervan for me. That moment when you’re lying in bed, finished reading, and turn the lights out. For a couple of minutes, it seems completely dark until your eyes adjust. But in that moment, it’s perfect. Peaceful and alone. Some people might feel that’s scary, but for me, I look forward to that moment every night.

 

Waking up the following morning, it was still raining. But you know how sometimes you look at the rain and think that’s not going to last long? That’s how it looked to me. So, I had a leisurely breakfast of porridge and some yoghurt. Yes, I have strange combinations when I’m away in Evie.

 

As predicted, the rain stopped around 9 am and with my picnic packed, I was off on Ursula, my Ridley bike, by 10 am. Shorts and T-shirt, suntan and midge spray applied. Sunglasses in place, along with my bright yellow helmet. Waterproof jacket, two spare jackets and a hat packed just in case, and my lights flashing for all to see.

 

Blair Atholl Caravan Park sits right alongside the Sustrans Route 7, which runs from Carlisle to Inverness. There’s a glorious section from Blair Atholl that takes you up to the summit of Drumochter Pass and down to Dalwhinnie. The sign at the end of the caravan park road says 24 miles to Dalwhinnie, meaning a 48-mile return run. That was doable, I thought. My plan for LEJOG next year is to be able to manage 50-70 miles a day, tops. I’ve cycled this route a couple of times on cycle tours, so I know what it’s like. There’s no shelter for 30 km, and as the pass summit is 462 m/1515 ft, it’s always that bit cooler up there. Hence the extra jackets and waterproofs. I had a picnic, including homemade flapjacks, a flask of tea, a water bottle filled with pop (which I now have to call juice because I live in Scotland) and an extra bottle of water. I was fully prepared. I carry spare inner tubes, a repair kit and a pump should the dreaded puncture happen.

 

The route starts on the minor B8079 and heads up the gentle climb to the House of Bruar. I did think of calling in and sending a photo to Mr M so that he would panic, wondering if I’d bought anything, but decided against it, in case I did actually see anything I wanted to buy!

 

At the House of Bruar, you take a little right turn onto the minor road to Calvine, where you then leave the road and join the cycle path. I took a moment to take a picture of the scary warning sign, but also to turn my lights off to save them for later. From here, it is traffic-free cycling until just before Dalwhinnie. The route takes you alongside the A9 for part of the way, but you’re always slightly higher than the dual carriageway and separated by barriers. And being surrounded by the most glorious wild countryside, it’s worth the sound of the traffic if you ask me. I know it would be nice to have a cycle path that stays away from the main roads, but like making the roads dual carriageways, making cycle paths involves taking away some of the countryside. If the only way to have it is alongside the road, but in a safe way, I’m OK with that. It’s only for short sections anyhow.

 

It’s no surprise that from Blair Atholl to the summit of Drumochter Pass is all uphill, but nothing majorly steep. It’s my kind of hill. A gradual climb, albeit 14 miles long! It was made a little more of a challenge as I was fighting a blustery headwind. But knowing I was doing a there-and-back route, I was gloating to myself, imagining the roaring tailwind I’d have for the 14 miles of downhill on my return journey.

 

Like the warnings we get for nice, summer weather, the warnings for the route up to Drumochter summit could be a bit worrying for some people. But if you are prepared for all eventualities, have plenty of food, water, and warm, waterproof clothing, you’ll be absolutely fine. Lost in my thoughts, which I can’t even remember, because I was in that zone of being at one with the countryside I was cycling through, I enjoyed feeling a little more strength returning to my legs and feeling totally alone. I met dozens of wild rabbits, wonderfully bright coloured tiny birds and hundreds of toads.

 

Just before I reached the pass summit, I met a couple of cyclists from Germany going the other way, and we stopped to chat for a couple of minutes. They were looking at me in my shorts and T-shirt, and I looked at them in their full waterproofs. They’d just cycled from Inverness, where it was apparently quite cold and wet. They were comforted knowing that I had cycled all morning in the sunshine with no rain. The conversation turned to cycle routes in other parts of the UK, and I told them I knew Yorkshire and the Lakes quite well.

 

“Do you have midgets in Yorkshire?”

 

I laughed for a couple of minutes before replying,

 

“Yes, we do have some short people in Yorkshire, but I think the word you are looking for is midges.”

 

They were a little confused, so I explained the difference between midgets and midges.

 

As I cycled away from them, I chuckled to myself, wondering how many conversations they thought they’d had about midges because nobody had put them straight.

 

After leaving them, I finally reached the summit and gave myself a round of applause. Then it was a pleasant descent to Dalwhinnie. I was a little disconcerted that I now seemed to have a tailwind and hoped this was just because the route had changed direction a little, not that the wind had changed.

 

Just before Dalwhinnie, you leave the comfort of the traffic-free route and join the main road. It’s wide and open, so traffic can see you. But I did stop and turned my lights back on just to make sure I could be seen. Just as I was doing this, a cyclist passed me and muttered a hello.

 

 

Approaching the sign for Dalwhinnie, I spotted a cafe, and I thought I’d stop there as a treat. The cyclist who’d just passed me also seemed to have had the same idea. He was already off his bike and sitting at one of two benches outside the cafe.

 

“It’s closed,” he shouted to me.

 

With my paniers still full of my picnic and some warm clothes, I thought a break sitting on the bench would be just perfect.

 

“Do you mind if I join you?”

 

“Oh, my friend on his motorbike is just coming, and you won’t enjoy our patter.”

 

Rather surprised at his rebuff, I sat on the other bench feeling like Debra-No-Mates. The funny thing is, if I’d been there by myself, I wouldn’t have minded at all sitting there alone and certainly wouldn’t have felt I had no mates. As he waited for his friend to arrive, he shouted across to me on my bench about his journey from Land’s End and how he was on his way to John O’Groats. I told him I was doing that next year. He laughed. His friend arrived, and our conversation finished.

 

I pulled out my picnic and my book and enjoyed my lonely bench, my peace only disturbed by the loud talking from him on his bench with his friend. I could tell you everything he spoke about, because the whole of Dalwhinnie probably heard it, but I won’t.

 

I did think at one point to tell him and his friend that a few years ago I was the proud owner of a Triumph Bonneville 790 cc motorbike and I was a motorbike instructor, but decided not to spoil his low opinion of me. If he, by some strange twist of fate, actually reads my blog, he will know who he is, and I hope he’s embarrassed at making me sit alone.

 

He and his pal left before me, and as he cycled away he shouted, “Good luck with next year.”

 

I couldn’t decide if he was mocking me.

 

After an enjoyable, solitary lunch, I set back off to return to Blair Atholl. The climb back up to the top of the summit was nowhere near as long as this morning’s climb, but it was a tough one. But once at the top, oh my! It was downhill for 14 miles with a tailwind. In the sunshine. What an adventure. The scenery was sublime, the downhill was gentle enough to enjoy without having to brake, and I even found a bench made from some skis to have a break and enjoy the remainder of my picnic.

 

And wait for this, arriving back at Evie after 48 miles, I was not completely exhausted. Was I starting to get a little fitter on my bike, I wondered.

 

A relaxing evening after a hot shower was spent enjoying homemade chilli con carne and rice, reading, and some more writing. Not bad for a day when Mr Google predicted 100% chance of rain for me.

 

The following morning, I woke up and realised that the cycle had taken quite a bit out of me when I looked at my phone, and it was 9.30 am. I never sleep that long unless I’m poorly. I decided an easy day reading, writing, eating homemade soup, and a trip to Blair Atholl Castle was in order.

 

A perk of staying at Blair Atholl Caravan Park is that you get to visit the castle grounds free of charge and get a discount on entry to the castle. I’ve never usually been able to visit because I have a dog or a husband in tow. What a place. It’s always interesting to see how the other half live, and I’m always amazed at how short the beds seem to be. Did people used to be much shorter than we are now? I remember thinking the same when we visited the Castle of Mey a few years ago. Of course, I had a visit to the cafe first for a coffee and a piece of rocky road.

 

 

Leaving the castle, I began the short walk (or hobble) back to Evie. With Evie almost within touching distance, I remembered leaving my glasses in the toilets on the top floor of the castle. Yes, I was carrying my glasses because my rucksack had been locked away at reception so that I didn’t knock anything over. Perhaps the man knew how clumsy I can be. Anyway, I berated myself, knowing that my feet would be shouting at me by the time I’d walked back to the castle and up all the stairs to find my glasses. I consoled myself by feeling I would be deserving of another visit to the cafe. Luck was with me, and somebody had handed in my glasses. Now I had a dilemma. Did I go to the cafe or not? I decided that a cup of tea and a homemade flapjack in Evie would be just the thing. I sat outside the castle for a few minutes, listening to the bagpiper. I was amazed watching this young man at how absolutely motionless he stood playing his bagpipes. No swaying, no moving from foot to foot. Nothing. I’m lucky if I can stand for five minutes without my bones aching. When does that start to happen to a body, I wondered.

 

All in all, it’s been a perfect return to campervanning life for me. I’ve cycled, read, written and enjoyed fabulous scenery.

 

Where next, I wonder?

 

I hope you enjoyed reading my blog. Please leave a comment below.

If you scroll right down to the bottom of the screen, you'll also see the subscribe button, so if you've not already signed up to receive my blogs and news to your in-box, subscribe now. That way, I can reply to your comments too.