Escape to Arran

Story of the Day: We jump off the train in Glasgow. There are two stations, and we have to make the hike from Queen Street to Central, and we have to pick up a ground sheet for our tent. Apparently, it’s rainy in Scotland? Who knew… so we heft our packs, filled with tents and bedrolls and blankets, and make our way to an outdoor store. We ask for some kind of tarp, and the elderly Scottish gentleman begins to chat with us in one of the thickest brogues I have heard yet. We nod politely, and smile in standard “I know he’s speaking English but I have no idea what he’s saying” fashion. He’s joined by another, younger and more understandable, guy, who asks us where we’re headed. We reply “Arran Island,” and he nods and smiles and they both proceed to tell us how beautiful it is. “Except watch out for the weather. Not a few weeks back, a couple of campers had to airlifted out of their campsite because of flooding.”

Hard core, we decide. Duly warned, we nod our thanks, pay for our tarp, and head off.

A short train ride and a short ferry trip later (through the rain, already a bad sign), we arrive in Brodick. To skip a few here’s and there’s, we end up at Glen Rose, a gorgeous spot in between some small mountains at the foot of Goatfell, the tallest peak on the island. It’s green and lush and along a red-stained creek and only 7 pounds a night. Can’t beat that, at least not in Scotland. We hike around, picking apart, criticizing and listing the pros and cons of all the available spots, and finally pick one. We pitch the tent, decide the spot isn’t quite what we wanted, and move it a very strategic move, 3 feet to the left. There, perfect.

The guy who runs the site wanders up, in the company of his incredibly well-behaved sheepdog and a whole hoard of midgies (I’ll get into THOSE monsters later). He smiles, mentions the midgies and how we either need to start a fire or get drunk enough so we don’t care. Then he mentions, in an off hand kind of way, that we may want to move our tent. “It flooded up here last night, so you may want to be a bit more propped up. Two weeks ago, we had a couple camping right here, and they had to be airlifted out because they were stranded in flood waters." He wished us a cheery good day, whistled to his dog, who responded posthaste, and shuffled up the hill.

Leaving us a bit stunned. Here, we hear about silly campers being hauled off because of flooding, and in the acres upon acres of available land in this farm cum campground, we managed to find THE spot where those campers pitched their tent. You just can’t make this stuff up.


So we moved back to our original site, right next to the creek but hefted up quite a safe ways from it. Then we head back into town (Brodick, 2 miles down the road) to invest in some insect repellent and warm food. Luckily, I had just bought a fabulous and fabulously cheap rain jacket, which would prove to be invaluable in the days to come. Not luckily, the only thing resembling insect repellent in all of Brodick was Raid, with which, incidentally, we actually saw some people dousing themselves in a desperate and half-crazed attempt to avoid the midgies (if that gives you any idea how bad those things actually are). We bought some natural stuff that would prove to be a monumental waste of life. We also bought some fabulous food in a pub that was entirely filled with drinkers, snooker players, and community dogs, all of whom (the drinkers, snooker players AND dogs) seemed to know each other. A good local place, that made a mean crawfish curry. Seriously.

As we made our way back to camp in the light rain (that would only grow to torrential after we reached out tent, thankfully), we ran into a couple of guys waiting desperately for a bus nobody was sure was really supposed to come. They asked where we were from, noting cleverly that our accents were not Scottish. Boy #1 was from Columbus and Boy #2 was from Boston, and then it came out that they were on an Ohio University study abroad program. Shazaam! I busted out with an “Oh hey, I KNEW there were some of you here. You’re in Edinburgh right? Studying photography?” This totally floored them, if not kind of creeped them out. But I have been in touch with my former boss from when I myself worked at the Ohio University Office of Education Abroad, and I knew that there would be a group in Scotland this summer. I came back with a “Lori Lammert told me about your group.” Then they became totally impressed, as I explained who I was and that no, I wasn’t stalking them. I had been on the lookout in Edinburgh for them, which is where they were based, and would have never guessed that I’d meet some of them in the middle of the night in the rain on an island off the coast of Scotland. Isn’t it just a small world?

Raindrops dripping on the boat

Anchor chains on the Ferry to the Isle of Arran

Low Tide in Brodick

A tent that was destroyed and abandoned during the flash flooding the night before

Looking across the Brodick harbor to the mainland

Our campsite in Glen Rosa, during the morning sunshine the next morning

The Isle of Arran from the ferry. Brodick is to the left, and right where you have that V-shape between the mountains is where our campsite in Glen Rosa is. Pretty, huh?