North to Lochranza, Scotland by Motorhome

Scotland is popular folks! Even in mid May, the campsite here at Lochranza (www.arran-campsite.com) in the wild north of Arran is nigh-on full. It’s a beautiful spot mind you, so not surprising, sat on short-cropped grass besides a golf course, sided by a bubbling brook and shielded below sweeping rugged hills. The sky’s a determined blue too, which must be pulling in the punters, it’s definitely keep us two happy.

I’m uploading this post using a Three SIM. It’s slow, but using the roof-mounted 4G antenna we have a signal (just). We’re pretty remote here, as we have been across all of Arran. There aren’t many people to justify the masts I guess. Coupled with 1pmobile SIMs (on EE) in our phones we’ve always had a 4G signal on one network or the other, except when hiking inland.

We’re paying £30 a night for the two of us plus the motorhome. Electrical hook-up is another £6 a day, so we’ve opted to stay on gas and solar. We’ve a couple of 80-odd Ah lead acid batteries and a roof-mounted 80W panel, and the batteries are rarely less than full. Sunny days coupled with engine top-ups has been easily enough to brim the batteries. That said, for a bit of fun yesterday we pulled out our Jackery power pack (disclosure: we got this for free, review here) to cook up some sausages on the beach, just for the fun of it.

There’s a wide variety of overnighting setups here. Tents, roof tents, pop-top vans, panel vans, caravans and a few motorhomes. Some folks are cycling or hiking in, setting up tiny tents and getting off before I’m up of a morning.

After three nights off-site on the west coast I was really looking forward to coming to this site. Why? Mainly for sleep! We’ve stayed in some fantastic spots, but I just don’t sleep as well when we’re off-site. Every little noise keeps me awake. I suspect more time off-site would inoculate me to all that, I’m sure it did in the past.

Going back a couple of days, that snorkeling with the seals was pretty special. I read these grey seals can swim up to 50 miles a day when hunting, so made sure to leave them well alone while they were resting on the rocks. Come high tide they’d all slipped off and were bobbing about in the water.

I joined them, carefully stepping into the cool and pristine waters of the Firth of Clyde. A couple were curious and hung around. I slowly swam out a little and then just waited to see what would happen. From the surface I could see them watching me from maybe 20m away. Their faces and mannerisms remind me of dogs, and it was an absolute privelege to be in that moment. I couldn’t see them beneath the water, except for one brief moment.

After a while they left, and I carried on snorkeling. No fish other than a few fry, unsurprisingly given there are a dozen apex predators calling this home. Plenty of jellyfish though. Mostly tiny things, thumbnails of animals, translucent and simple. A few fist-sized ones trailing scatter tentacles in warning. One one behemoth: the barrel jellyfish. That one gave me a jolt of adrenaline.

The side of a basketball (some are beach ball sized) it had a lazily pulsating outer edge, ringed with dark purple. Watching them reveals little other than the aim of a jellyfish is nothing more than to exist. And they’re remarkably successful, having survived for 500 million years when practically every other species has failed. They’re fascinating in that respect. Although only a bit of my face and feet weren’t protected, I didn’t fancy a sting though, so kept my distance.

Although we were all of 2m away from the main ring road for the island, no-one drove past overnight. The early morning commuters, if such a thing exists here, were in a hurry though. Most cars are pootling, admiring the view but these guys were on a mission. Even with the steady legs down the van rocked as each passed at speed.

Knowing we couldn’t check in here until 2pm we had a very leisurely morning with breakfast and coffee on the beach. As the day drifted to afternoon we packed up and excitedly headed along the road to Pirnmill. What’s in Pirnmill? Not a lot. It’s a tiny seaside hamlet with fantastic views and a grocery shop. The only food shop for miles. There isn’t even one here at Lochranza.

In we dived. They’re not Lidl prices these places, how could they be? There is a Morrisons, but it’s a 40 minute drive to Brodick and another hour or two on the ferry to the mainland. We were glad to pay the extra, and I have to admit to flipping from grown-man-with-a-beard mode to frantic nipper. “They’ve got sausages! Get them black pudding ones. They’ve got Arran cheese! There are bananas here, bananas!”. You’d think I was Scott of the Antarctic stumbling across a supply dump in the frozen wastes.

OK, there were only 6 bananas and the while fresh fruit and veg area was looking sparse, it was very well stocked for a tiny shop in the middle of nowhere. We had a chat with the lass running it. The Coop stores on Arran have been affected by a recent cyber attack on the head office and weren’t able to source quite a bit of fresh produce. Folks had been driving from across Arran to get food here, as her supplies were unaffected.

The road from Pirnmill is kind of comedic. It’s quite narrow and the surface is a bit rubbish, so concentration was needed. But it also rode up and down over a series of little roller coasters. If you’d painted Zagan red and popped in a black and white cat we’d have been Postman Pat, zooming about on country roads. Lots of fun.

As we edged towards Lochranza a row of cottages came into view. They look odd, as there are few houses along here, and nothing like them. It turns out they’re known as the 12 Apostles. A dozen cottages built for residents from inland being booted out of their homes by the land owners. Why? Hmmmm, grim stuff.

The Highland Clearances were responsible for much of this terrible behaviour, forcing small-scale farmers (crofters) off their land to be replaced by more profitable sheep farming. We’d seen a monument in Lamlash erected by descendants of Arran dwellers who’d been forced/enticed to move to Canada.

There are the ruins of ‘clearance villages’ across Arran and Scotland as a whole, but we’ve not seen any yet. When the crofters were kicked out, the Gaelic language went with them too. We see it on signs, place names and leaflets, but have heard no-one speaking it. Looking at Arran today, it’s all sheep and expensive houses, the effect of the clearances echoing through time maybe?

Lochranza eventually came into view and it’s an idyllic spot. The small ferry was heading off to Kintyre in the near distance. The ruined castle stood on a promontory in the middle of the bay, besieged by yachts at anchor. The usual array of beautiful detached houses stand sentinel over the whole seaside scene, while the hills buckle upwards as a backdrop. Great spot, this’ll do us!

We arrived to a ‘No Checks In Before 2pm’ sign on the gate, and waited with a couple of other vans. Come 2pm we were in there, being shown the site facilities as a small group. We emptied and filled and it was 2:30pm before we were full pitched up, on ramps, steadies down, chairs and table out, coffee brewed, vista surveyed and tent pitchers watched a while.

I’ve rambled on, so I’ll leave it there folks. We’ll do another post for Lochranza when we’ve had time to properly check it out. For now it’s a goodbye from me, and another visit to the stove-top percolator and a sit in the sun. Ju’s out on a 9 mile run, so she’ll be ready for a sit down when she’s back too!

Cheers, Jay