Tarbert on the Kintyre Peninsula

We knew it was time to say goodbye to Arran, but didn’t know which way to go. After much internet searching, the thing stopping us from going west onto the Kintyre Peninsula, apart from Jay’s excessive playing of ‘Mull of Kintyre‘, was our bulging laundry bag.

We searched for laundries to our west, but were struggling to find ones – or rather we did find one but the reviews said it didn’t wash clothes!? In the end, we opted for a couple of nights in a campsite to deal with the issue – which brought us to Tarbert Holiday Park just south of Tarbert.

On our last night in Arran we took a walk into Brodick. As we reached the town we could hear bagpipes, the local band was playing in the car park. We scoffed Arran ice creams, watching folks play mini golf around a huge map of Arran with Goatfell mountain looking down over us.

Strolling back along the beach to Zagan it started to spit with rain, then a huge rainbow appeared over the sea – Arran was saying farewell to us. We’d had an amazing couple of weeks on the island, and although we were torn, it was time to leave.

The next morning we drove the short distance to Lochranza and joined the queue for the ferry. We’d pre-booked our tickets online which were valid for any sailing that day. Because we’re only 6m long we get charged the same as a car, a bargain at only £20.50.

Before the ferry arrived we nipped across the road to the legendary Sandwich Station. We’d heard rave reviews, but I cynically thought it must be just because they’re the only place around. I was wrong. Jay opted for a pork sarnie on focaccia bread. I declined anything as I was already eyeing the waves on the Kilbrannan Sound and scoffing sea sickness tablets. I did have a bite of Jay’s sarnie, and it was worth the hype. If you’re ever catching the ferry there – you need to stop by.

The ferry was a bit like those we took in Norway – everyone drives on, the ferry sets off and we all head to the passenger lounge to either buy a ticket or show our tickets. It certainly makes for a quick turnaround. Once our tickets had been checked, we headed up top to watch Arran get smaller and Kintyre get bigger – neither romantically disappears in the distance as the crossing is only half an hour or so.

We were a tad horrifed when we saw the state of Zagan’s roof. It’s not a view you often get to see, except on a ferry, and we’ve vowed to give it a clean when we get home – honest!!

When it came time to disembark, we were held on board while all the cars were let off. The crew clearly knew that no one wants to be stuck behind a motorhome, or two, on the single track road out of the port. There is nothing else at the port, just a couple of car parks, a small building and a ramp into the sea.

As we drove off we pulled into a small car park next to the queue of cars waiting to catch the ferry back. Once everyone had gone past, we joined the single-track road and followed them across the Kintyre Peninsula.

The main road run the length of the peninsula along the east coast. Reaching it we turned right, and soon found ourselves back on a ‘normal’ road, complete with a white line down the middle.

As we tanked along I asked Jay what speed we were doing, ‘Forty’ he replied. It looks like I’ve gotten far to used to Arran snail speeds. We were too early to check into the campsite, so drove past it and continued a few miles to Tarbert.

Dropping down into the picturesque fishing village, we were greeted with traffic like we hadn’t seen in ages. The place was buzzing, and busy. We crawled along the shore road but we were never going to find a place to park. As it got increasingly congested, we did a many point turn in the area they were using to crane boats out of the water, and crawled back to the main road.

We headed back to a small car park we’d spotted and were lucky enough to arrive just as someone was leaving from a space we could fit in – just. We headed back to the shore road and this time walked along it, which was much more relaxing.

There are quite a few Tarberts in Scotland. The name comes from the Gaelic word ‘tairbeart’ which means ‘carrying across’, and refers to the narrow joining of land between two lochs. King Magnus Barefoot signed a treaty with the Scots King Edgar giving Norway all the land he could sail around. In 1098 King Barefoot stood at the helm of his longboat as his people dragged it across the ‘tairbeart’, claiming Kintyre as part of the Viking kingdom. The tairbeart is about a mile wide, so we couldn’t see across to Tarbert West Loch from the village, but our campsite would be sitting on its shore.

Walking around I was reminded of a Cornish fishing village. A row of coloured buildings hemmed in the sea on one side and in the middle of the loch was a huge marina brimmed full of yachts, with more coming in from the sea.

Tarbert was the host of a sailing regatta over the weekend – The Scottish Series – with boats and crews from across the UK coming to race on the waters of Loch Fyne. We’d missed all the action (as we often do), but did get to see lots of boats being hauled out of the water to be driven home. I’m not sure why I thought they’d simply sail to where they raced, especially if it’s a long way from home. So it was fascinating to watching them all getting strapped into cradles ready for the drive home.

We wandered around the village for an hour or so, climbing up to the remains of Robert the Bruce’s castle, until the rain decided that was enough. A quick nip into the co-op and it was time to head to the campsite.

It rained for the rest of the day, so we plugged in our electric fan heater (which only comes out on campsite hook-ups) and relaxed. I did our laundry and because the campsite restaurant was closed, Jay cooked up a haggis storm in the kitchen. The campsite has a kitchen complete with oven, microwave, toaster etc that we could use, but it was too wet to leave the van, so he did it all on our one electric ring.

This morning the weather was less damp, so we both went for runs on the forestry road behind the campsite. We’d seen the huge logging lorries drive through the site yesterday, but we’re far enough away for them to bother us. The campsite is surrounded by forestry land, deep green forests of trees which are planted specifically to be chopped down and harvested.

On my run I saw huge swathes of land where the forest has gone, ready to grow again and be chopped down in another couple of decades. The forestry roads join up with the 100 mile long Kintyre way, a sign-posted walk from Tarbet to Machrihanish on the south of the peninsula. I only got to do a few miles of it, but I bet the scenery is amazing all along it.

With clean laundry, everything fully charged, empty loo, full water tanks and my long training run of the week done, we’re moving on again tomorrow. The campsite is a great base to explore the area, but it is a little bit of a way from the village – you really need a car (or to move your motorhome) while you’re here, and we don’t tend to do that. However it does have the best campsite showers we’ve seen in a long time!

Our plan is to head north. Now that the sun isn’t shining all the time, there’s an LPG station with our name on it. One big gas bottle is empty, and as this may be our last campsite for a while, we need to fill up, so I can go wild and put the heating on of an evening.

Ju x