Compromise
The Bongo at Ardentinny
From a photography perspective, I need to get out more. I’d like to capture more images of more of Scotland across our dramatically varying seasons. There is a good chunk of Argyll that I can visit on day trips, but photography, good photography anyway, isn’t an activity that can easily be squeezed into a tight schedule. Finding interesting compositions that capture the essence of a location, waiting for the light and weather to play ball, or employing different creative techniques and equipment, all need time. This is secondary of course to actually enjoying and experiencing, seeing our beautiful land fully, not just through the eyes and lenses of a focused photographic objective.
Which brings me to my second point: From a personal, mental health perspective, I need to get out more. As much as I love Lochgoilhead, it’s a physically confining place. The challenge of travelling to and from the village is so easily bettered by its dramatic, mountainous beauty. But the remoteness, the wildly changing weather, the biting, insect-rich wildlife, and the familiar faces of a tiny community (some of whom also bite, or at least bark), can conspire to test the resolve of even the most committed country bumpkin to spend every day of every year here. A degree of absence to reset perspective is what’s needed. At least the birds get to migrate for winter. Plus, there’s just so much more to see…
Our retirement choices dictate that frequent hotel stopovers or second homes are out of bounds financially. I’m not one for traditional holidays either. I’d stay with friends if I wasn’t such an introvert (and if I had any friends). So it was inevitable that a camper van remained stubbornly on the agenda as the most practical solution, beyond simply upping sticks and moving, lock, stock, and barrel to somewhere different. My last bold, but ultimately fruitless attempt at camper van ownership would not be repeated. We needed a better way to test the water without taking the risk of an all-in gamble with our car - our lifeline, given the almost total absence of other forms of local transport.
A veritable odyssey, involving a 50 mile lift from a pal to Glasgow, a truly terrible overnight coach trip to Heathrow, a bus to Woking, a train to Weybridge, and a cab to a van importer/converter, saw us become the proud owners of a 20 year old, immaculate, low mileage Mazda Bongo camper van, which promptly had to transport us the nearly 500 miles back home. On the face of it, it’s a terribly impractical choice; prone to rusting profusely (welcome to Argyll), thirstily running on E5 fuel (stocked only by the larger petrol stations in Argyll), under-powered, devoid of any driving aids, 2-wheel drive only, and with suspension designed for smooth Japanese city commutes. But… It’s comfortable, small enough to fit in the smallest of car parking spaces, converts easily between day-van and overnight camper van, has all the camper van facilities we need, and critically, was affordable.
The benefits of the wee Bongo in day-van mode have become immediately apparent; providing comfort and fun on photography day trips. Weather-independent picnics are now a thing. Its impossibly narrow profile suits country lanes and narrow parking spots perfectly. The high-perch driving position helps with location scouting. It’s full of character and the simple mechanics will make it easy to maintain. Perhaps not much more than a comfy car for now, but we’ll soon be expanding the Bongo remit into overnight stops. Sure it’s a compromise, and I’d still love a flashy VW T6.1 camper, but for now, it’s time to explore in our funny, tiny camper van.
