New Years Camping - Sun 2nd January 2011

I'm not really sure who came up with the idea, but at some point on Sunday morning a plan was hatched. We would drive north and camp overnight somewhere that was close to an atmospheric hostelry.

We quickly packed our minimal camping kit and dog into the car and made our way across the Erskine Bridge and onto the A82 northbound.

At first the plan was to camp by Beinglas Farm and eat at the Drovers Inn, but a quick scout around the campsite told us that things were most certainly shut down for the winter. Plan B was to head up to Loch Tulla and maybe eat at Bridge of Orchy or Inveroran. We later learned that the Bridge of Orchy Hotel had no water supply, The Inveroran Hotel was in darkness up at the bridge camping area. No point in camping here with no place open, and so to Plan C!

Funnily enough the scene of our previous camping exploit would provide us with exactly what we needed, an open bar restaurant and a nearby pitch for our tent. Three cheers for the Kingy! open every day all year round. A good job too as Alfie was getting fed up in the back of the car and darkness was deftly taking over from dingy daylight.

Three tents were already pitched here with an  array of vehicles parked alongside, we parked up and squeezed our small tent on the end of the row. We were using Shona's new backpacking tent, which I'd only seen erected in the shop, so to attempt a first pitch in the cold and dark would be interesting. Fortunately with it being so lightweight and having only one ceiling pole things were never going to be too problematic. With the tent now up and our gear stored inside we locked the car and headed for the warmth of the Kingshouse Hotel now beckoning us on the otherside of the footbridge.

At first I thought we were the only ones gracing the walkers bar but then noticed a few glasses and maps on one of the tables. I ordered some drinks and Alfie got offered a bowl of water too which is always a nice gesture, although he would need to share it later. The occupants of the other table returned from the toilets one by one, three in total, the final gent taking the outer bench thus showing his back to the rest of the bar.

Now that Alfie is into his second year, he has begun to realise that he can sometimes get things by using his special art of cute-communication. He has learned a way of tilting his head and releasing a quiet yet squeeky whine. It's usually performed when he either wishes attention or perhaps sees something he wants in his possession.

The comedy value of what happened next will remain with me for some time i'm sure. Alfie decided to let out a whine aimed at Shona. She leaned forward and asked him "what is up?" Whatever it was that prompted Alfie to whine had in his mind been of the utmost importance and so, on being asked "what's up?" He decided to let fly the sharpest, shrillest of barks, which echoed loudly around the bar due to the slate floor and stoney walls. In the same instance the guy with his back to the rest of the bar jumped about six inches into the air while clutching his pint. The best of it was, he never once looked round after getting such a fright. Well, it must have taken us five minutes to dry the tears from our eyes and get ourselves composed once more.

We ordered some food and more drinks. A gent with an acoustic guitar had crept in and was busy tuning up in the corner near the door. The jumpy guy and his two companions had left and were now replaced by a couple from Kent who were staying at the Hotel and were accompanied by  a young rottweiller with the strangest of names... Hallelujah?

Soon the walkers bar began to fill up. A group of fellow campers arrived to play darts and another couple came through from the main bar, then went to get their two black labradors from their room. We had to keep Alfie on a tight leash now as he had three new doggy friends to annoy.

The guitarist was now singing along to his strumming and the atmosphere was superb. Outside a flurry of snow had started, making the setting feel even more festive. After chatting with one of the campers, we discovered that our paths had already crossed last year when we had been on the summit of Bein Ime, Alfie's first Munro. Stuart recalled having to hide his sandwiches from my ravenous pooch whom he described as that days pacemaker.

Come throwing out time, Shona and I joined Stuart and his friends at the fire they had got going by the camping ground. Tales of hiking and climbing were exchanged as we all huddled round the flames for heat. Later with fuel getting low and the snow falling steadily we all decided to call it a night and hit our sleeping bags.

We awoke in the morning to sleet and rain battering the tent, so quickly got everything sorted and packed away in order that we could speedily dismantle and transfer gear to the car without getting soaked through. 

The plan today was to head down through Glen Coe and south along the coastal route to Connel Bridge. Depending on the weather we might decide to head into Oban for lunch.

At the Bridge, the sleet was still falling quite hard and was beginning to turn to snow. We opted out of heading to Oban and started along the A85 to Dalmally. The weather steadily worsened and snow began to lie on the road. After Taynuilt and Lochawe things got really bad and the traffic ground to a hault. Cars were u-turning further up and it looked as though the road had been deemed impassable. Turning around we planned to take the turn off for Inverary, but at that junction police had closed the road here also. Now our only option was to head back north to Glen Coe which seemed crazy.

Back where we had begun the day, things were looking promising. The roads seemed better up here, but as we cleared the top of Glen Coe we were met with more heavy snow on Rannoch Moor. Again cars began to slow down to a creep and it appeared we might be thwarted once more. It looked like the road was being closed behind us as a few accidents ahead were again prompting travellers to make u-turns. We persevered and passed a lorry which had got stuck. Fingers were crossed that we would at least make it to Bridge of Orchy.

Slowly but surely we rolled along and finally made it to Tyndrum, where ironically the A85 had just been re-opened. Miserable from driving all day, we decided not to risk it by stopping to eat and headed for home while the weather was on our side.