It was an early start for us from deepest darkest Dorset, and we were on the road by 8:00 am. Well early for a holiday anyway. Bella our campervan was packed and ready to go and we pulled pulled out onto the main road and immediately went right instead of left, doh! So with the first error of the day done we turned around and carried on in the right direction.
The journey was mostly uneventful, we sailed past Gloucester Services much sooner than expected and rather than stopping we decided to continue the run north. A bit of a shame as these are the best services in the UK. When you visit these services its and enjoyable experience, and when you leave you don't feel unclean and violated unlike the other service stations.
There were some minor hold ups just north of Birmingham and then we were off again. Whizzing past Manchester and Liverpool at the heady speed of 55mph. Blackpool and Preston were next to cross off the list and both of us were into virgin territory as I had not driven this far north and Tracy has not been further than Lymm.
The dogs were starting to moan a bit and as it was about 14:00 we thought we should stop at the next services. Tracy looked up on 'Google' to see what was coming and to our surprise 'Tebay' came up as the next available one. Reading more about the services it turns out this this the ancestor of Gloucester Services. What a result, there are only 2 quality service stations in the country and we go past them both.
As expected the food and services were lovely and we were soon refreshed and ready to leave. In the car park there were two minibuses with two separate hen parties inside. Both coincidentally on their way to Newcastle for a hen weekend. The first party had opted for matching t-shirts and the second had gone for French Maid outfits. Both groups were pre-loading in their minibuses and I hope Newcastle was ready for them.
Driving through Cumbria was spectacular especially leading up to Carlisle, (We can see what you mean Angie and Mike, it's beautiful). Before you know it we were north of the wall and we were on the lookout for Wildlings. Another brief stop for the dogs to have dinner and a quick walk and we were off into Glasgow.
By now the rain had given way to bright warm sunshine and the countryside we drove through was even more spectacular than Cumbria. Long sweeping roads with little traffic, mountains on all sides covered in brown heather. Every now and then farms were dropped into the landscape with no apparent way to get to or from them. The further we drove the closer the mountains got and I was half expecting to reach a dead end with a sign telling us to return the way we had come. I’ve watched many travel programs from Scotland and none of the video footage gets close to the scenery before me, and we haven’t even got to the highlands yet. I was thinking to myself about all those Scottish people I’ve met in my life and this secret they keep from the rest of us. Even the mundane, commuter roads are ten times more stunning than anything in Dorset.
The sunglasses were out and Glasgow was bathed in golden light which made the red brick buildings glow. The satnav continued to direct us through the rush hour traffic flawlessly, and in no time we were out of the city and almost immediately on a narrow Scottish road. Another 50 minutes driving and we would arrive at the campsite. I was keeping my eyes open for a village shop as I needed to stock up on a celebratory beer, but as the miles ticked by I began to realise I should have stopped in Lidl in Glasgow.
I temporarily forgot the impending drama of no beer as we rounded a corner and saw for the first time Loch Lomond. It appeared out of the hazy sunshine like the mythical Brigadoon. High mountains sloped into the dark flat water and in the foreground clumps of trees framed the view. It looked like a movie set with every object in view placed for maximum effect. Another two miles to go and the campsite appeared on the left. We pulled in and my heart skipped as I saw the shop. Sadly they don’t sell beer so the celebrating would have to be done with a cup of tea instead.
We checked in and quickly found a pitch. The dogs were whining now and were desperate to stretch their legs, so we went for a walk in the late evening along to shores of Loch Lomond. Dottie did her best to drain the lake in one go whilst Elsie sipped at the water like a small bird.

