The Skye's the limit in a caravan
Park up in your mobile home and the great outdoors is unveiled in all its majesty, as Laurence McCoy discovers.
The full force of a gale whipping off the Atlantic can be disconcerting even in the comfort of a solid house with a fire roaring in the grate. In a camper-van, perched on the top of a rocky promontory jutting out over crashing waves on the north-west coast of Scotland, with no protection from the raging, malevolent wind, it was another thing entirely.
But once we got used to the idea that the van was not going to blow over (hopefully) it became one of those experiences that will stay in the memory for a long time.
The sunset for starters, before the storm got into its stride, was spectacular, with only the low bulk of the island of Raasay interrupting a clear view to the west as the sky turned multiple shades of orange then blazing red, before fading into darkness with bright stars intermittingly appearing as the heavy sleet-filled clouds rolled in.
Parked so that the large cabin window pointed towards the west, we ate in candlelight at the best seat in the house – fresh local langoustines that had still been wriggling just before they hit the pan, and perfectly chilled white wine from the well-stocked fridge.
Outside the icy wind might have knocked over a struggling walker but the central heating kept the savage weather well at bay.
The urban security of the Midlands was a world away from this, one of the last wild places in Britain. We’d intended to stay in the lighthouse bunkhouse at Rubha Reidh, a whitewashed intruder standing on the extremity of plunging cliffs and exposed moorland, and it had not been an easy journey to get there, along a dozen miles or so of single-track road with steep and winding narrow dips and precarious, ramshackle bridges.
After battling against the wind to walk the final couple of hundred yards to the lighthouse it transpired that it was shut for the night. Not much fancying the drive back we parked by the side of the road stranded, alone with the elements.
But it was exactly this kind of remote isolation that we’d been seeking when we decided it would be a good idea to load some bikes onto a camper-van and search out some of the glories of Scotland.
There can be no better way than a mobile home to get to the heart of these places – just pull up, and immediately you have a room with a view, with all of the comforts in the midst of mountains, sea and sky.
The camper loaned to us by Marquis of Northampton was perfect for the job, an Autosleeper Broadway coach-built based on a Peugeot 130bhp van chassis, with room for four, but spacious and even more comfortable for two, and featuring everything you could want on board, from the inbuilt oven and hob, fridge, heating, a shower and cassette toilet, even a TV, DVD and music system.
An efficient battery system and the option of running the appliances on hook-up electricity or gas means the van is totally self-contained whether on a campsite or in a more remote situation.
We planned to identify cycling routes along the way and to use the motor-home as a convenient base at the end of a challenging day’s ride amongst the lochs and hills.
Although the weather curtailed some of those ambitions, it still allowed for some wonderful cycling, like a gentle 25-mile circuit of Loch Leven, near Glencoe, bathed in warm sunshine. The undulating, car-free road around the loch is perfect for some exhilarating fast riding but the views of the blue water, surrounded by snow-capped hills, are so spectacular that we just had to keep stopping to take pictures or dodge the odd mountain goat that had strayed from the sanctuary of the pine-clad slopes.
A good stopping point is the Lochleven Seafood Cafe which sells fresh shellfish and serves lunches on a balcony overlooking the loch.
At the height of summer such an alfresco meal may well be thwarted by the dreaded midge, but late April was too early for these wee beasties
