So jonno and I went camping in Scotland for the bank holiday weekend. Originally we were going to go camping in the Lakes District, but the place we wanted to go didn’t take bookings, and all out backup choices were full up as well. So sitting int a services carpark just outside Birmingham, we decided to wing it and just head for Scotland instead.

Camping here in the UK is very different to my camping experience in the States. First of all, I did not realise there really is almost no wilderness in the UK. It is all farmland. Second of all, when people go camping here, they tend to take their home with them. They either have a campervan with them (complete with telly, satellite dish and lounge chairs), or they buy one of those semi-permanent tincan houses with the deck porches and gas bbq grills, and call it camping. When we pulled into the first campsite, and it was pretty much just a carpark full of campervans with a few fields, in the middle of a town, and looked like camping on the village square, I said “huh uh”. And so we spent the next 4 hours driving to various campsites fruitlessly searching for something a little more like communing with nature, and a little less like a trailer park on the high street. After exhaustive searching (tin can towns in hamlets, tin can houses in the woodlands, tin can houses on the seashore), we reluctantly concluded they are all the same, and that in fact, Castle Douglas was the best of the bunch. So we decided to make the best of it and ended up “camping” on the village green at Castle Douglas. It was very much like camping in a town park, which is pretty akin to going on safari in a zoo. We vowed that next time we have to go somewhere there is actual wilderness. You know – trees and dirt and rocks. Otherwise it just reminds me of “camping” as a kid, when my brother and I would put our puptent out in the backyard.

So we pitched our tent and walked to the local pub for a much needed pint. J was insistent we cook our own food (in spite of the plethora of chinese takeaway readily available) so we had instant mash and curry from a can, and then toasted marshmallows for uk-stylee s’mores, smooshed between two chocolate covered digestives, instead of hersheys squares and graham crackers.

The next morning we made camp coffee and decided to go to Edinburgh. I drove! On the wrong side of the road, wrong side of the car – everything. I went on little windy A roads and B roads, roundabouts, merges, motorway, etc. It was fun, but I had to concentrate a lot. We got to Edinburgh and had a picnic lunch on the green in the sun, walked around the city, went to the castle, went to the churches, took lots of pictures. We had dinner at a cute pub (I had haggis with neeps and tatties [turnips and potatoes] – which is actually tasty). Then driving home, we saw a rainbow, which was cool.

The next day we left early for home, and decided along the way to take a short detour pilgrimage to Liverpool, to see the famous Cavern Club where the Beatles got their start. There’s not a whole lot to recommend Liverpool. In fact, it is without a doubt, the most depressing city I have ever seen. Industrial and gloomy, without a hint of vibrancy or charm. I swear to god, it’s positively horrible. But we had a drink in the Cavern, goggled over the memorabilia, snapped some souvenir photos

and got back on the motorway, leaving Liverpool far behind and vowing never to return. Back in London at tea time, a nice long hot bath and a hearty dinner put a finish to an unexpected and enjoyable weekend.

See the rolling green hills, dramatic cliffs, and castle douglas carpark here

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