Catapults, wigwams and running in fields of shit – a holiday

Let’s go camping. It’s a statement that polarises reaction. At one pole is me and the boy reacting with glee. And running towards the other pole is my wife, in horror.

So it’s better in this house to talk about glamping. Yes, OK, she says, maybe a couple of nights glamping in a wigwam. So I pushed my luck and booked four nights for our family at a nice wee wigwam at Solway view.

I finished up work on the Thursday and took the Friday to get in some exercise. Friday was also the last night of Explorer Scouts, so I rounded off a day of activity with some catapult building and projecting of Creme Eggs. This is the leader’s catapult, with exceptionally fine square lashings … catapults

It was a good night & really got me into holiday mode.

Saturday arrived quickly, and before we knew it, it was time to get shown round our Wigwam by Neil, who runs the farm and the camp site. It didn’t take long. A wigwam is really just a well-insulated wooden tent. But a particularly well-appointed tent – with a fridge, microwave, toaster and kettle. Just add people. Which we did.

The weather was not with us. In fact it was wild and wet for the most part and we spent much more time in the car driving places than I wanted to. I wished I had had room for my bike, but probably just as well I didn’t. This we break was about spending time together. in wigwam

And you can definitely do that in a wigwam. Quarters are close at that makes for close living – you end up doing things as a unit. We made the best of it I think. We read no papers, listened to no news, made no phone calls, checked no emails. We pottered about on beaches looking for fossils. We laughed a fair bit. We watched movies in the evenings. And slowed things down and did them together.

wigwam 2 Just getting up, tidying away sleeping bags, slipping on wellies over PJs to wander down to the cook hut, or nipping up to the well-kept toilet block for a quick pee in not much more than a big jumper – it all takes time.

From getting water for the kettle at the outside hose, to making up picnics, or just trying to stay awake long enough to catch the stars. It fills the days. selfies

And as long as those days have plenty of ice-cream, tree climbing and poking things with sticks, then it’s still a holiday in my book. Here’s a few more pics…

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After three days of beach combing I decided it was OK to go for wee run while the other two had a lazy start. I had a fair idea that I could probably hill run from Solway View to Brigghouse Bay via Ross Bay. Fortunately I ran into some local farmers at Ross Bay who gave me some directions and advice on which fields to not run in. It is calving season, and another field had some new cows which were “still a bit wild”. Duly noted. Go quietly, maintain a safe distance, and keep close to a wall or fence. I collected a few memories on this holiday, but the sound of 50 or 60 young cows belting towards me on mass with heads rearing up as they crashed into each other is one that will stay with me a fair while. Here’s my route plus a wee selfie with Ross island behind me… Till next time! fields of cowshit Screen shot 2014-04-22 at 22.42.59


About RennyRambles

Running, rambling, cycling, swimming and scrambling to my heart's content. Happiest on a trail, with some jelly babies in my pocket.
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