Grandtully Station Campsite, Pitlochry, Perthshire. (Day 4)

Today we knew we'd be getting wet. Rain was forecast and we could no longer put off the fact we had to practice some rescue techniques.

A short drive up the road at Aberfeldy, where after some instruction we took to the river. Angela could see the water to her running quite fast, although she was reassured the flow was not too bad. She also did not like the look of the nearby 'bubbling' water. Oh dear! After much reassurance by David, we were in our boats and on the water. David has been very calm and patient with us all through the course, particularly a nervous Angela. He coaxed her gently into following his lead down the river with its obstacles. Once she decided to opt out watching him and John take on something a little more adventurous.

We were cold, but happy. After lunch the finale. Into the cold water, not very deep, but quite deep enough for Angela, we practiced some rescue and recovery. The assisted rescue was not as easy as David made it look. Haul yourself onto the boat, roll to one side, drop in your seat. Work in progress. We would need to practice back home in Poole harbour. 

Job done though. We now had 'most of the gear, and a bit more idea', than when we started three days ago. We also realised that we did not really need our sit on top kayaks back at home and that our pack rafts would suffice. With David's instruction and knowledge we leave Scotland a little more confident. The downside of the day, we have a lot of wet clothing to try and dry.

There is a white water slalom competition here on the river this weekend, so there are plenty of other people drying clothing. Marge's shower room has been turned into a drying room, so hopefully by tomorrow we will not have too much damp clothing to pack up. What do you think Marge? Shall we start heading back home tomorrow? Before we leave we just want David to know how incredibly grateful we are to him for the last few days. If you fancy having a go at packrafting or other outdoor pursuits take a look at his website. www.emmaus-adventure.co.uk 

Grandtully Station Campsite, Pitlochry, Perthshire. (Day 3)

This morning David arrived bearing gifts. Who doesn't like pain chocolate?  We sat in Marge for a while discussing weather, tides, kayaking/pack rafting, and as the wind was not favourable today the options for getting out on the water. It was decided that Killin would be the best choice as the river Dochart flows into LochTay there and the trees alongside the river would provide some shelter from the wind.

Angela hadn't felt well when she went to bed the night before, and this morning she still had a headache. By the time she'd travelled to Killin sitting in the backseat of David's car she felt terrible, and upon arrival at the car park vomited. Nice. She decided to give the practical side of the day a miss.

John however launched into the windy conditions and paddled along the river towards Loch Tay, stopping to look at a beaver lodge on one of the small islands.

 Evidence of their presence could be seen on nearby trees where they'd sharpened their teeth. High in the sky, Angela spotted an eagle, riding the thermals before disappearing back towards the mountains. 

Tomorrow will be our last day on the course. Heavy rain is forecast for our paddle over the rapids. Grade one for Angela please, she can be a little sicky you know!

Grandtully Station Campsite, Pitlochry, Perthshire. (Day 2)

This morning anxiety levels were still high, but after a fractious nights sleep Angela decided to take to the water with an open mind, albeit a little nervously. All her fears were soon alleviated when we met with David from Emmaus Adventure.

He straight away put us at ease and we could tell the day would go well. Which it did. The only struggle was fitting into our wetsuits, bought a long time ago when we were a little slimmer. We ran through the self rescue, the part of the course that Angela was most bothered about and decided to wait until Friday to actually participate, although Angela did manage to fall out of her boat as we returned to the car. Show off! She can hear you laughing, Marge.

Back at the campsite, where there are just four of us staying tonight we grilled steak whilst admiring the beautiful display of thousands of Wood Anemones. Rabbits, unaware of our presence, happily nibbled on lush green shoots. 

We are tired tonight, hoping to sleep a little better before we 'do it all again tomorrow'.

Grandtully Station Campsite, Pitlochry, Perthshire.

We took the opportunity this morning to lay in, as the next three mornings require an early 7 am start. Whilst preparing to leave, a large motorhome reversed in next to us. He's going to reverse into that rock.

Oh, he's hit that rock! Don't look. Better the rock than his wife who dutifully took her place in the blind spot behind the van when her husband moved to another space to assess the damage.

Talking with the two lady members of staff at the visitor centre about reptiles in the area resulted in us being shown the resident slow worm (living under a small square of roofing felt behind the centre). There's a blast from the past, when everyone had one in their back garden, or so it seemed.

We were about two hours drive from Grandtully, a drive that thanks to a road closure ended up taking twice as long. The drive through the eastern Cairngorms mountains was long, hard and interesting.

After Marge summited the Glenshee high mountain pass at 650 metres we stopped to take a breath. The snow was almost now non existent and we could easily see the ski lifts standing idle. In the early 1960's the road was straightened out to by-pass the devil's elbow with its notorious two hair pin bends. Prior to this, buses used to drop off their passengers who had to walk this section.

Right Marge, rest time. No driving now until Friday. We will stay at the Grandtully Station campsite, (yes an old railway station) until Friday. The next three days we will be packrafting. Angela's anxiety is high about having to do the self rescue, but she'll just have to bear in mind that the thought of doing something, is often worse than actually doing it.

Muir of Dinnet National Nature Reserve, Dinnet

Just after eight last night we walked to the top of the cliff to see what all the noise was about. It was about thousands of very vocal seabirds. One hundred thousand breeding pairs are said to inhabit the cliffs at Crawton every year. The largest colony on mainland Britain. 

This morning the wind blew through gorse bushes, their golden pea shaped blooms quivering in the salty air. Beside us a tractor spread fertiliser on a field of brown corduroy. Before too many visitors arrived we took the three mile walk, there and back, along the cliff top path in search of puffins. The acrid stench of ammonia from the droppings of the birds was offensive to our nostrils.

Clung to the cliffs were  gulls, shags, fulmers, kittiwakes, guillemots, but no puffins. That was until we happened to meet a local man who showed us one solitary puffin perched on a ledge, then a second. But no more.

Wow! We'd seen puffins and were beyond excited. It was right up there in one of life's great moments.

Puffins ticked off, we needed to return to the Cairngorms. The falls of Feugh provided a pleasant stopping off point along the way. Our destination was the visitor centre at Muir of Dinnet. We stayed here back in the autumn of 2021 when we were the only van. Today there are four of us, including a lady from Germany who we stayed alongside at North Tolsta, just above Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis eleven days ago. We wondered where she had ventured to after. 

More walking, to the Burn o' Vat, a large water gouged bowl that you enter by walking on slippery wet stones.  Then up through the trees back to Marge where we crossed the road to take the Parkin's Moss Trail.

In total another three miles on top of this morning's walk. It's all about the steps Marge.

Crawton, Stonehaven

Yesterday evening we discovered Marge's refrigerator wasn't working. Fortunately it wasn't anything too serious, just a technical fault which John fixed. On the downside, we had to throw away quite a lot of meat we'd bought a few days ago in Fort William. 

This morning our Dutch neighbours breakfasted on coffee, eggs and Lindor chocolates! Seemed good to us. Before leaving, a walk on the golden sands of Lossiemouth. Two typhoon aircraft from the nearby RAF station flew over. The noise from them is deafening. On the beach we collected some of the smallest shells we'd ever seen, which when we look at them back home in our shell jar will always remind us of this trip. 

Deciding not to head back inland just yet, we struck out to the east coast. The drive on fast roads, with Marge being chased by the impatient Scottish through banks of low cloud and drizzly rain made us question whether we'd made a mistake travelling east.

But upon our arrival at Stonehaven we were glad we had. We walked along the large crescent shaped sweeping beach, stopping often to look at all the different stones and pebbles. The mix of geology is deposited on the beach by the waters of the River Carron which originates from Campsie Fells on the eastern edge of the Grampians. 

Thinking we'd be staying overnight on Stonehaven promenade we suddenly found ourselves on the move. Yes we could park Marge, as long as we didn't cook or sleep overnight in her. So we drove a little further past Dunnotter castle to Crawton where we joined a few other vans at the parking area for the Fowlsheugh Nature Reserve. Which suited us very well, as we could walk out to see the seabirds before leaving in the morning before heading back inland. We have just one problem: No Lindor chocolates for breakfast!