I left for Weymouth at 9.30 last night, the gearbox fell into ‘get home safely’ mode before I’d even made it to the A30.  Justification for the trip, if I needed any, which I didn’t.  This has been going on too long.  But after numerous conversations with Dunnings Autos of Weymouth I’m fairly confident that this could be it.  No more driving down motorways with the engine doing 3000 revs, whilst the van barely touches 50 (mph).

Anyway, I have to drive to Halifax tonight, so I need the van on the road at a reasonable time today.  Given that work can’t start on it until it’s cold, I thought the best bet would be to reduce the drive required this morning.

I made it to Granby at 11ish and found a quiet road on the industrial estate to sleep on.  Can’t see an cctv, but when I needed a piss I drove out of the estate anyway – never piss on your own doorstep.  After that it was all plain sailing until the seagulls kicked off at 5.30 this morning.

So, I awoke in the car park of Magnet on Granby industrial estate.  As it happens Dunnings is just over the road in a slightly run down looking workshop.

When the Dunnings boys turned up I handed over the keys and went for a walk.  I headed down to the sea, eventually walking back along the Rodwell Trail.  See photos.

The Dunnings lads try to big up the work on the car, try to reassure me – to be fair they seem knowledgeable and are easy to talk to.  When I drive away things feel good.  I keep driving and there is no sign of the dreaded hold light and the speedo is working (which it hadn’t done for a month.  Or two).  By the time I get to Bristol I’m just about convinced, although there seems to be a large hole in my pocket.

I pop into the RMS office on my way through, then continue to North.  The area approaching Halifax is a fascinating blend of green and industrial; towns (Elland) embedded in the hills.  Halifax has a one way system to get lost in, but quiet roads.  Ellie, on reception at the White Swan, is nice, and my room is…ok.

After Mum’s trip to the dentist she has some help to hang out the washing…

Paul Temple dropped in for tea on Wednesday, and mentioned that he and a load of lads from Nantwich would be in Woolacombe from today until the middle of the week. So myself and Dave (who popped over for tea yesterday, after picking up his ‘new’ Toyota Emina) decided to get over there to join in the fun.

We went in Dave’s new machine (maybe a bit smarter than my Freda, Toyota seem to have given a bit more thought to things, but Dave’s is not converted), arrived in good time, booked into the the usual camp site (Woolacombe Sands – “We’ve been coming here for years, we’re good lads, you won’t hear a thing from us…”), top gallery, great view, and then headed down the beach. Paul said he’d be here by 4pm.

Paul and co arrive by 6, by which time I’ve been in the water for over an hour, walked back to the camp site, woken Dave up and we’ve both had showers. We meet Paul in The Electric bar a little while later.

Unfortunately I don’t have any photos of the ensuing evening, but Rich, Dave (another Dave), Paul (another Paul) and Chris get a meal with us, provide great conversation and get drunk. In the end myself and Dave leave them to it (with a couple of students from Bournemouth) and walk back to the camp site in the dark. We sleep on a double mattress in Dave’s vehicle. Thankfully I only have to get up for the toilet once, given that Dave is next to the door.

Many thanks to Howard for arranging a day trip tour of the Epping Forest.  Four of the Dundreggan 8, Stephen and some additional family Stoller spent the day walking through the woods, taking the time to observe some of the beautiful flora and fauna.

After the walk Ute and Stephen treated us to scones, strawberries and cream before Angela and Howard laid on a fine spread of home grown and organic produce for myself, Alison and the baby Stollers, Richard and Anneli.

When I woke up this morning there was a midge hatch going on under the canoe. I have a midge hood with me and I try it on. I’m not sure that it seems to be working all that well so I get up, at 6.20am, to find that it’s a glorious cloudless day. Suilven looks fantastic behind us. Bastard.

I find a rock to sit on, in the breeze, while I wait for the others to get up, then we eat and head to the end of the loch, at Elfin. I walk, John, Stella and Rowan are in the canoe. There are a few people about on the loch, from tweed jacket style fisher types to young lads disturbing the peace in a motorised boat.

At the end of the loch we decide that Stella is our best bet to hitch a ride back to the car. I walk to Elfin tea shop and pick us up some fruit cake and drinks. Amazingly Stella is back in not much more than an hour having ridden in at least three different cars to get back to hers. We then drive back to my van. It’s very hot (in the tea shop I asked them if they saw this kind of weather often, the elderly English lady serving laughed, but a Scottish lady behind the bar said, “Aye, it was the same as this last year…”).

1500 hours – I say goodbye to John, Stella, Rowan (who’s developed a strange rash on her underside), and an eclectic gathering of cows that are grazing where the van is parked. I start the drive home, trying not to use the air con too much. I have to stop to sleep on the way as I’m tired and the heat is soporific. I don’t get to the lay-by at Shap (where I’ve slept before) until 3am, where I sleep soundly.

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It was cold last night, but my sleeping bag is good. At one point I could smell a kind of wet hair smell, and I was sure I could hear breathing and munching close by. I assumed it was deer and fell asleep. In the morning I noticed fresh deer dung in the area, but how fresh I couldn’t tell.

Ok, so the weather is not great. Given how it looked last night we are surprised to find low lying cloud and drizzle. We hang about until 4pm and then decide that the top of Suilven will have to wait until another day.

We fish – I have a go – John uses barbless flies and puts everything back. Besides, I’m pretty sure that I’ll catch nothing. I give up after I’ve lost three flies.

Then we move on, this time with John and Stella paddling while I walk. I walk fast and, after some initial shallows, where John had to pull the canoe along using a rope tied to each end, in the style of some old explorer from the early American occupation (or so he tells me), the paddling is easy going on a long picturesque loch. So we make it to a nice wooded spot, alongside Loch Vayatie, in good time. John gets a fire going and we eat the last of our big food. We have to make it out tomorrow.

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