A motorcycle parked in front of a tent on a pleasant green campsite

Home Travel Stories Camping In Scotland 2006 - By Ren Withnell

Camping In Scotland 2006 - Bolton to Dumfries

The day has finally arrived, the gf and myself are off to Bonny Scotland. I manage to scrape the gf out of bed and into action, we should have sorted out the packing the night before but the gf had only arrived late in the evening. So I start to pack. Sleeping bags, check, self-inflating mattresses, check, tent, check and the list goes on and on. When everything is finally in bags and ready to be loaded, I just KNOW it’s not all going to fit on the bike.

I’m already quite tense, wondering if the weather is going to hold, if the bike will be OK, will we find places to camp and will the gf’s back hold out. Now I’m getting really stressed because there’s no room left on the bike and the gf is catching all the flak. After perhaps an hour of cursing, emptying, repacking and clenched teeth we finally loose enough of the gf’s clothes and shoes to make everything fit.

We say goodbye to my mother and my son and with a slight wobble on a now very heavy motorcycle we set off. On the motorway the bike feels fine and the weather is grey but it is not actually raining. It has rained an awful lot this last week and I suspect this could be a very wet adventure. Happily Preston and Lancaster roll by with no rain but the clouds look heavy. The gf seems happy so we roll on and on until the motorway becomes tiresome. I pull off at Junction 39 on the M6 and catch the A6 northbound.

The A6 is more interesting. The road is wide and winds its way back and forth across the motorway and takes us through the town of Penrith. It’s not long until we are into Carlisle, the last English city before Scotland. Carlisle is a pleasant town that shows its history with dark orange stone fortifications nestled in amongst the modern buildings and car parks. A brief stop for fuel and a stretch of the legs and we are on our way again. We follow the A74 and eventually pass a large sign welcoming us to Scotland with a small cheer.

I make sure to pass quickly through Gretna Green, I don’t want to give the gf any ideas about us quickly getting married as we pass through. The A75 leads us swiftly to our first destination, Dumfries. Dumfries presents itself as much the same as any other town. Shops, offices, a bypass and suburbs, all quite clean and tidy. The gf has kindly printed out a short list of campsites in the area, which we consult. We ride this way and that, looking for place names, signs or any indication that we may or may not be in the right areas. One sign looks promising yet leads us to an industrial estate. I spot a biker and stop to ask for help.

It should come as no surprise that he answers me in a strong Scottish accent, we are after all in Scotland. Yet still I am pleased to listen to his lilt as he guides us back onto the ring-road and out a short way to Stranraer. We follow his directions then spot a campsite sign, it’s not the campsite he mentioned but there is a sign and that is enough for me. This leads us out into the countryside and a village called Terregles. The signs finally lead us to the site.

The site, Barnsoul, is ok, just ok. The toilets are clean, the showers are clean but uninviting, there’s a portakabin converted into a kitchen with stoves and kettles and a small room with tables and a TV for the use of. Nothing special, all adequate. There’s no shop, bar or restaurant on site, which means we will need to go back into town for something to eat. The site is sparsely populated with caravans and campers. We pitch the tent and set up for the night, then get back on the bike and go back into town.

The Barnsoul campsite outside Dumfries. The wooden shacks are called "Wigwams". You can hire them instead of taking your own tent.

The first thing I notice about the town is the feeling of space. There are all the usual trappings, shops, pubs, bars and car parks, but they seem to have more space between them. We park alongside the riverbank near a stone bridge and decide to eat at an Italian chippy. We sit on the riverbank and feed on tasty chips and I have a battered sausage whilst the gf has steak pie. We are happy to sit there for a while, talking about the ride, Carlisle, camping and the weather. On the ride back the weather is looking ominous.

Back at the site there is very little to do. Visit the toilet, make a cup of tea on the stove, wonder whether to watch TV in the small room and talk. As we stand outside the tent we spot a fabulous rainbow, one end clearly falls into a little brook running along the bottom of the hill. This brings a bittersweet smile to the gf. At her mother’s funeral earlier this year her mother had requested that “Over The Rainbow” be played. The gf sees this as a sign her mother is there in spirit with us.

The rainbow we saw at Dumfries. It clearly ends in the tiny valley caused by the brook.

We while away an hour or so then retire early to bed, perhaps as early as 10. As we settle in I hear rain on the tent. I check everything is where it needs to be to stay as dry as possible. We fall asleep to the loud pitter-patter of rain on the flysheet.