Most of us love routine. It creates a sense of well-being. Comfort even. Safe in the knowledge we’re in control. Occupying time. Doing our own small things. Important, or not. Creating stability. Warding off chaos.
Day 42 – With more rain forecast, we move on. No point in getting wetter. Gills and flippers not our thing. Although Mrs S might suit the mermaid look. Luckily Beastie isn’t a sponge, or he’d be weighing about ten ton by now. A promise is floating in the air of brighter days sailing up from Spain. Will they reach us before sinking somewhere on the horizon?
Thorrud Camping, another family run business since 1992, has 130 paying static campers, with space for 15 tourers. By the end of the evening we’re first of five that have arrived to this pretty (wet) spot. Hence we get the pick of the best views.
Day 43 – Each touring day is different, yet is still full of routine. It’s inevitable. You can’t march an army without discipline. It’s the same travelling. There are certain things that must be done. Need to be done. Not necessarily boring, or mundane. Chores and tasks that enable each day to start and continue in an orderly fashion. Mrs S likes things in order. Especially Mr S . . .
The blue promise breezes in across our bows. A second big wash of this trip gets under way. Strung between a couple of lakeside trees, Beastie’s view is temporary obscured with a colourful semaphore of Mr S’s socks and underpants. We head up into the forest opposite. Leave them flapping and flagging.
By the time we round the second bend of this one-in-three incline, we’re flagging too. The grey dusty gravel logging track doesn’t lend itself to being picturesque. We discover later that the owner of the camp-site also owns 4,000 acres of this forest. He employs a team of lumberjacks to cut and fulfill the orders he receives from local sawmills. Replanting is 40% government subsidised.
Higher up, we come across plenty to interest. An abundance of wildflowers fight it out for any arable space. PlantNet-app identifies those not recognised. New bird sounds echo stereophonically. The wizard Merlin-app flashes up a photo of the unseen warblers and whistlers. No need for an app with these little beauties . . .
Back at base Mr S gets to practice a skill that’s been sadly lacking this trip.
Occasionally, we strike lucky. This warmer than usual evening is one of those times. Dinner is shared lakeside. We linger. Not wanting to budge.
But the day must end as it started. Order needs to be restored. Things done.
