Camping with Amy
Loch Melfort after the storm
Some might say this was a daft idea. Our first overnight stop in the wee Bongo was to be on the beautiful, but exposed west coast of Scotland, during storm Amy. I’m old enough to know better. The plan was to spend one night sleeping in the van near Appin - an area for which we have a real fondness, and the second (my birthday) in lovely Loch Melfort Hotel, with photos to be taken at various points on the way. The hotel accommodation consists of spacious rooms with balconies overlooking the normally serene Loch. When I originally booked, the plan had been to spend a romantic evening capturing a few coastal sunsets and sipping a few cocktails. The hastily revised plan was now to use the balcony as a shelter from the worst of the storm to try and grab some dramatic shots. You can be the judge of my success.
Fingers and toes were crossed for an uneventful couple of nights, but with the trees in full leaf and sopping wet, damage throughout the region was inevitable. We had made some preparations at home. Emergency cat sitters had been lined up and we had moved potentially buoyant pieces of furniture and equipment in the community garden to safer ground or locked it in the old, sturdy curling rink shed. Our fridge and most of the freezer had been wound down to a degree for the inevitable power cuts. The prepper in me was perversely relaxed. Bring it on - we have all we need in the Bongo. At least for a few days.
Day one brought the forecasted torrential rain. Most of the roads on our journey were flooded. Just as well the Bongo doesn’t get up much of a head of steam - aquaplaning was unlikely. First port of call was the wonderful Pierhouse Hotel at Port Appin for a hefty, hearty lunch. It’s honestly one of the best seafood restaurants in the country and unlike so many small-community establishments, it has managed to maintain consistently high standards for the 18 years or so since we first visited. Unfortunately, photo opportunities this time were non-existent. We then drove the short, winding hop to our pitch for the night. An electric hookup, loos, and showers added a touch of civilisation as the wind blew and the rain pelted the roof of the van like an empty baked bean can. Plenty of wine and whisky was needed to get some sleep.
After morning ablutions and tidying the van, we were ready for the next leg. A stop at Ganavan Sands in Oban was to be followed by further excursions to pretty Easdale and some of the remote coastal bays, but we could feel the main storm brewing. After a quick van lunch in a lay-by, we opted to head for the hotel. Too early for check in, we hit the beers and relaxed as the wind steadily strengthened. By the time we were settled in our cosy loch-view room, the wind was howling, the entire (timber) building was noticeably moving, and any attempt to open the doors to the balcony immediately pressurised the room, blowing the loft hatch open in the bathroom. It was wild. And then came the inevitable power cut. Fairy lights, power banks, torches, and a bluetooth speaker were brought from the Bongo for a camping-style hotel stay. Meals were stoically served in the restaurant by candlelight, with the odd bucket positioned to catch the dripping water from the ceiling. It was so typically British and reminiscent of a scene from Carry On Up the Khyber. The food was, as always, a delight - simply astonishing, given the conditions. The remaining few hours of my birthday were spent between tipsy contentedness and anxiety as the hotel flexed and moaned under the relentless punishment of storm Amy.
The 2 hour route home the next day was littered with floods and fallen trees. Several drivers who must have been travelling in the dark, had swerved to avoid debris and ended up on their sides in ditches. I gently discouraged a speeding Audi driver from overtaking me by pulling out slightly as I could see a massive tree across the road ahead, which they obviously hadn’t clocked. It could have been a nasty one, but thankfully, both vehicles managed slowly to creep around the branches. Within 20 miles of home, another tree had recently fallen, this time tangled with power lines. Drivers (including the grim faced Audi driver), turned around to face a 65+ mile detour. And here was yet another Bongo win; we boldly took a muddy shortcut down woodland tracks and over narrow estate bridges that would trouble anything much wider, to eventually emerge beyond the blockage. There were a few surprised and grumpy looks from locals out walking, but we did no harm.
We eventually arrived home to a battered and bruised village. The power was still out, along with the 4G network, meaning that anyone wanting to communicate with the outside world had to go for a drive. Trees were down everywhere, blocking the River Walk and the Nature Trail. Sadly, the lovely metal gazebo in our community gardens had also been wrecked. It will take months to get things back to some semblance of normality.
So, the camping gear was brought indoors for another night (or perhaps more) of roughing it. Thank goodness for power banks and camping stoves. As I’ve said before in these articles, nature sometimes wins. For this season at least, Amy seems to have given her the upper hand.
