Two Smelly Dogs and a Campervan on the Isle of Arran

What is it that keeps me coming back to Arran? As my husband said while we were there, we could probably have went somewhere nice and sunny abroad for the same cost. And of course, he reiterated several times after he said that, he didn't mean he wasn't enjoying Arran and having fun. But why did his wife's idea of fun involve trekking three hours across Scotland to a misty covered Island and dragging him on walks?

I don't travel alone, though I used to and enjoyed it immensely. I now go fully equipped, the ultimate traveller package completely kitted out with complaining ("I'm not complaining!") husband, seven year old step-daughter, ten month old son in nappies, and two farting dogs. All sharing a twenty-year old six-seater people carrier that some campsites like to class as a touring camper van to get extra money out of us, so we park up away from everyone else, and I think that's partly so no one else has to endure the smells that waft out each time the doors are opened. Hence why we only ever seem to manage a couple of nights before we head for home.

My son George in his super cute traditional Aran knit jumper, which can be bought here

Flashback:

When I first journeyed to Arran I had fallen out with my then-boyfriend-now husband and needed some super-serious space from him. Wanting to go somewhere that felt like a million miles away, I knew a journey over land and ocean was completely necessary. But not a journey of epic proportions. I picked Arran off the map, just along the road from Glasgow, and I would be there in three hours.

Machrie Moor Standing Stones

Armed with a set of battered walking boots, a fistful of fury, a tent and the labrador, I drove off the ferry and headed for the Machrie-Moor Standing Stones. There's parking there, and a dirt track guides you gently up fields onto boggy moorland to reach set after set of stones, some small grey granite and others looming beasts commanding awe in their presence even after thousands of years of watching the island. Why are they there? They guide your eye up to where the hills meet on the far horizon, and in the opposite direction, off to sea. The most powerful set were giant red stones, touching them gently, one of them definitely gave me goosebumps. There's life in them yet.

One smelly dog, trekking through the bog, to reach Machrie Moor Standing Stones

Descending back to the car, I picked up the three bags of dog poo my Labrador had kindly deposited on the way, deftly hidden behind rocks and trees to prevent the tuts and dirty looks I had played out in my head, of tourists thinking I'd dumped them. It was either that or walk up there swinging three little black bags of stinking shxt on the end of a stick like some sort of dodgy Dick Whittington. Funny how that's made it into my lifelong memories. 

Machrie Tearoom

I was given the best, most welcoming reception by the lady at Machrie Tearoom, on the shoreline of Machrie Bay. She was a font of knowledge that shaped my entire experience of Arran. Perhaps she knew my type. Working in tourism myself for a couple of years, I know there are 'types'. Lone young girl and a dog, bit stand-offish but actually really nice, slightly rough looking eyeliner, yep, its man-trouble, again. She had that look of wisdom and knowing in her eyes, or maybe it was just the magic of Arran beginning to weave its spell on me.

She served the best cup of tea and slice of cake going, and with it came the suggestion that I return along the road I had come from. Not to go away home, not yet anyway, but that I had driven past the Kings Caves at Blackwaterfoot, and I really must see them. She also imparted the wisdom that there was accommodation to suit every budget on the island, from top-notch hotels, cabins, huts, and camping. She added that some people even wild-camped in places like the forestry commission areas, and as long as they respected the place, picked up after themselves, it was okay. She explained that the Isle of Arran was like the whole of Scotland in one place, and I only learned what she meant by seeing it. It is possible this mystical lady conversation in my memory has merged somewhat with the information guidebooks. Shameless link to hotel deals on the Isle of Arran on TripAdvisor here

Kings Caves

So I found myself at the Kings Caves, I went along the right-hand path on an anti-clockwise route, which to me is the best route as you see the smaller caves first and save the best till last. Some of the caves get overgrown with bramble and drenched underfoot with bog.

Looking onto Kings Caves

One of them had a low ceiling and looked like the entrance that creatures from The Descent would frequent. I stayed well clear in case something jumped out and nabbed me. The main cave has wrought iron gatework along with a giant spider hanging from it. I dusted off a memory from childhood, of King Robert the Bruce watching a spider weave a web, in hiding about to give up on everything, he realised he had to go on, he had to persevere. Hell, all I'd done was fallen out with my boyfriend, look at what he went through. He had to fight other men with swords and risk certain death to try to win the kingdom of Scotland. His heart is buried at the marvellous Melrose Abbey in the Borders.

Amazing ancient etchings adorn the walls, camouflaged under years of graffitti. You need a torch to pick these out.

Then my labrador threw up, emptying the contents of his bottomless stomach right in the middle of the cave at the feet of a thankfully friendly American woman.  Unable to put the gooey mess in a trusty poo bag I had to leave it there with my head bowed in shame for all the people who would follow and curse the urchin who left a pile of who-knows-what in the cave. I tried to file my anxiety away with it as my wise dog leaving an offering to the ancient gods. 

And that is what I took from my first visit. Awe, beauty, embarrassment and perseverance.

Present Day

This is the third visit to the island. I used to hold the Isle of Skye up as my favourite Isle, but its a mighty long off-putting car journey to reach it, if you have dogs that eat into your actual holiday time by the time-in-the-car-to-unbearable-smell-must-return-home-equation. 

Glen Rosa

And now I bring with me the next generation, as well as my reluctant husband. Watching the excitement of a first ferry journey, to their first stop at Glen Rosa campsite. A twisting river winds through the campsite, if its been raining lots expect a soggy groundsheet. Akin to wild camping, only with toilets. Not much room for camper-vans or turning, but good base for hikers heading to Goat Fell. 

Waterfall at Rosa Glen, with great big boulders and two smelly dogs.

A google in the campervan at some ungodly hour of the morning when my ten month old was looking for a breast-feed, revealed somewhere in this Glen was a 'Blue Pool'. Well, if Arran had blue fairy pools it knocked Skye straight off the top spot for me. We set off early doors walking along the track, past a mountain rescue helicopter landing pad. It was then that I truly looked up at the snow-capped hills we were approaching and felt a prickle of fear run down my spine, it struggled a bit as there was a baby in a backpack to run past, but it tried. While we were mere amateur walkers who stuck to paths and trails, there were people who ventured up these mountains, confronting nature at  her core, and they didn't always come back down unscathed.

The Stag Deer sauntering up the mountain in Rosa Glen.

We had the glen to ourselves except for one lone stag deer, I felt entirely privileged to see it walking majestically away from us. He didn't run, oh no, more of a proud saunter. We reached a waterfall with a (garden) bench, and had reached our destination, as this was as far as everyone wanted to walk that morning. Whether or not it was the fabled Blue Pools I am not entirely sure, as it would be too cloudy for them to shine.

A wee video of the waterfall we stopped at in Glen Rosa:

Whiting Bay

A visit to the Eco Savvy shop, selling eco-friendly bamboo toothbrushes, Sea Kelp toothpaste and a range of crafts, then across the road for a cuppa. I love sitting in the conservatory of Coast cafe and looking out at the bay. 

View across Whiting Bay in Coast Cafe.

I had Teapigs Green Tea and carrot cake. The Holy Isle is on the left here, and swans gather on the water. I am never certain where the sea ends and the sky begins, each time it has been a brilliant white colour. The cakes there are made by a woman in the village, and yes, my holidays are largely about sampling cake at every stop if it looks delicious enough. For example this time the visit at Machrie Tearoom the cake was a Lemon and Blueberry triumph of a cake, refreshing and zingy after taking the kids to the Kings Caves.

It was a surprise to come across hundreds of stone sculptures in one cave, reaching as far as the eye can see. Was it started by one tower by one tourist, or has someone camped here and spent hours building them, or ... was it the cave dwellers?

the mysterious pillars of stones in one of the caves.

Shopping

Unlike my home town, which seems to have a constant motion of closing and opening shops on its high street, the shops have remained open for a good few years and it was a comfort to return to familiar spaces. Hopefully Hawick is turning round with its free campervan parking and investment like Wilton Park, and the Distillery.

No visit is complete for me, without a visit to James Chocolate Shop at Brodick, and the Book shop a few doors down. Tempting as it was to visit the Distillery to purchase a bottle of Arran Gold Whisky Liqueur, we stayed on the lower half of the island this visit. 

All that remains of the delicious Arran Chocolates

In one shop I overheard snippets of conversation an older couple of women were having about the ferry. The leaving phrase being "that's life if you want to live on an island". And I thought, what is life like then? 

Ferry

The ferries are packed this time of year, would recommend booking if you don't want to play the game of seeing how many unbooked cars the staff  can squeeze on. We didn't know how long we'd stay for, and there wasn't room for us on the first ferry we tried. We walked along the beach, the ferry gone and the bay resting, waiting, and tranquil. The delights of wet sea-dog on the journey home not lost on us, the doggy duo were kept on their leads.  I let everyone else go ahead, and stood at the waters edge for a moment. What beauty was there, for the briefest of minutes, blue skies met the water, the view of the misty mountains beyond Brodick town meeting its own reflection on the gentle waves. The quiet lapping of the water mixed with a distant hum of visitors playing crazy golf outside the shops. Then the noise crept back in, and I realised I was being shouted on for falling too far away from the tribe.

We went for lunch in a cafe while waiting where there was a young lad in a dark green uniform standing at the till, while we had cheeseburger and chips, cheese from the island cheesery, which you can visit to watch real cheese being made. 

I wondered what it was like growing up there, was there just a small group of kids to play with, and what of falling in love? What if there wasn't someone to love and you were torn between staying on your island or leaving to find her? I fed my son, worrying for this boy at the counter who was perfectly fine except in my head, and when I next looked up there was a young girl smiling up at him, just finishing her shift, and all was well with the world again.

We are looking forward to the adventure playground opening at Brodick Castle, and maybe one year I'll make it with my entourage to the music festival. We need to come back, just look at how much we haven't done on this Things to Do guide. Given that it is just a short journey away, it is possible to have a few long weekends on Arran over the years, or maybe even stay there for a week or longer to have more adventures.

Waiting for the ferry there were a group of cyclists who had completed the 65 mile loop round the island over the weekend on their road bikes and others with big fat bikes for downhill biking which I didn't even know existed before now but I think they might be like BMX bikes for grown-ups. The island offers experiences for everyone in different ways.

When we left, it was as if the ferry floated on a cloud, a cloud which covered the island from view, though really it only drifted away from us on the water. A spell broken by porpoise or dolphins breaking their fins through the shining sea. Of course my phone battery was completely flat for the photo opportunity!