Walk 300 -- Powfoot to Annan

Ages:  Colin was 70 years and 59 days.  Rosemary was 67 years and 202 days.

Weather:  Cloudy.  Quite windy, but warm.
Location:  Powfoot to Annan.
Distance:  5 miles.
Total distance:  3041 miles.
Terrain:  A lot of stony beach.  Some paved cycleways.  Flat.
Tide:  In.
Rivers:  No.368, Bow Water.  No.369, River Annan.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  None.
Pubs:  The Bluebell Inn in Annan.  We drank Deuchars IPA and Andrews ‘Supus Lupus’.
‘Historic Scotland’ properties:  None.
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  None.
How we got there and back:  We were staying in our caravan in Powfoot.  This morning Colin drove into Annan, parked the car and came back on the bus.  We started the Walk from the caravan.

At the end we came into Annan and went to the pub.  Then we walked to the car, and came back to the caravan for our tea and biscuits.

Yesterday morning, a ‘rest’ day, my heel was so excruciatingly sore I could barely walk.  I was very miserable about it.  I strapped it up, took painkillers and later on it was OK for ordinary walking about.   This morning we got up at six with the full intention of walking all the way to Gretna today, a distance of eighteen miles.    But my heel had gone septic and was oozing goo.   I strapped it up, but when I put my shoes on to walk across to the toilet block I realised there was no way I was going to be able to walk such a long distance today!  

The pain was agonising and I felt very low.  Colin suggested we divide the next Walk into two, so I looked at the planned schedules and said I could probably manage an amble into Annan this afternoon.  Then we could cope with the second half of the Walk from the Carlisle site we know and love – neither of us like this pretentious caravan site at Powfoot, and we were only too keen to pull up our steadies, hook on and drive off.  I put fresh dressings on my heel, took painkillers, and we set off on the Walk after lunch.

We walked through the caravan site on the official Coastal Path, then through the public car park.  This had a rusty metal archway over the entrance to stop bigger vehicles entering, but there was nothing to stop such vehicles driving over a small patch of grass next to the arch, thereby bypassing  the gate altogether!

We could still see Criffel in the distance, away to the west behind us.

We passed the inevitable golf course, and walked into Powfoot village.  The village itself is pretty, (it was only the caravan site we didn’t like).

We came to the village green – it looked like a bowling green, and we were both reminded of the one in Bishop’s Castle in Shropshire where Colin’s father used to play.  But this green had a flower bed in the middle, and the grass was not closely mown.  We crossed the river on a bridge, followed a track for a few yards and then we were on the beach.

The shore was quite stony, and the unevenness was not good for my sore foot.  We couldn’t get over the number of bricks on this bit of beach, many of them still cemented together in blocks but rounded by the sea.  We wondered what sort of building had been washed away, it must have been quite substantial, or several structures.  We concluded they were some sort of Second World War defence buildings, abandoned, collapsed and now eroded away.

We watched a family of swans glide by.

The estuary is fairly narrow by this point, England is not so far away any more.  We could see a clump of tall radio masts on the English side.

There was only one other couple on the beach besides us, and they turned round to return at the first sign of wet, so we were really on our own.

We came to a small river which was too deep to paddle across.  There was no bridge, but there was a kind of concrete barrier with a rusty fence on it.  We managed to clamber over it monkey-like without too much difficulty, though I somehow to cut my finger on the rusty fence.

Further on there was a huge flock of oystercatchers on the beach.  As we approached they rose up as one and flew past — an amazing sight!  We sat on a log to eat our apples.

We found a piece of driftwood shaped like a lower leg and foot.  Colin said it was a “Footleg” and he was going to take it home to give to our son, Paul.  (Footleg was Paul’s nickname at University, due to a plethora of Pauls in his year and the fact that he was once sent a letter addressed to “Mr Footleg”!  When he got his Ph.D he became known as “Dr Footleg” amongst his caving friends, and that remains to this day.  In fact, both his wife and his mother-in-law call him Footleg all the time, never Paul!)

We came to the road-end at Newbie, and decided that the end of the little peninsula was industrial so we didn’t have to walk it.  Besides, my foot was sore and the beach was almost impossibly uneven by now.  So we turned inland.
We passed a row of houses, two of which had ‘parking’ notices outside.  One said, “Land Rover parking only ↔ all others will be winched”  The other said, “Honda parking only ↔all others will be crushed”  They obviously wished to keep their parking spaces clear!

We followed a cycle-track alongside the river where we had good views of the town.  We went under the railway bridge, than crossed the river on the cycle-track bridge.  A few yards, and we were in Annan.  It started to rain at this point so we didn’t stop, as planned, to eat our chocolate.  We went to the pub instead!

That ended Walk no.300, we shall pick up Walk no.301 next time in the town of Annan where the cycleway from the river bridge meets the road.  It was quarter to five, so the Walk had taken us three hours.  We went to a ‘real ale’ pub in town, then we walked to the car and drove back to the caravan at Powfoot.

The next day we packed up the caravan, taking the awning down in a high wind, and drove to Carlisle.  There we set up at a site we have used many times before as a stop-off on the way to northern Scotland.  The first thing we did was to have a ‘free’ shower!  It was three more days before I was able to continue with the Trek, because of my blister.

Walk 299 -- Dumfries to Powfoot

Ages:  Colin was 70 years and 57 days.  Rosemary was 67 years and 200 days.

Weather:  Wet!  Wet!  Wet!  Brightening later but there were still showers.  Wet again at the end.  It was hot and humid, no wind.
Location:  Dumfries to Powfoot.
Distance:  20 miles.
Total distance:  3036 miles.
Terrain:  Mostly road-walking, but we found three paths which were not marked on the map.  At Kingholm Quay we continued along a river path, then crossed a field and along a track to the road.  Approaching Glencaple we were able to get off the road on to a squelchy river path.  Through Castle Wood we found a good path which took us round to Caerlaverock Castle.
Tide:  In for most of the day.
Rivers:  No.366, Lochar Water.  No.367, Brow Burn.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  None.
Pubs:  None.
‘Historic Scotland’ properties:  No.46, Caerlaverock Castle.
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  None.
How we got there and back:  Yesterday we moved our caravan from Dalbeattie to Powfoot.  This morning we walked a mile from the caravan site to the village of Cummertrees where we caught a bus to Dumfries.  Then we had to walk another mile down the riverside until we reached the footbridge where we finished the last Walk.
At the end we came to the caravan, so we went straight inside and had our tea and biscuits.

There was solid continuous drizzle for most of this Walk.  It was very wet and it didn’t let up for hours.  The few photos were taken with difficulty.

We walked from the bus station in Dumfries alongside the river, and were amazed at how much water was flowing over the weirs.  It was brown, full of silt that it had scraped off the mountains, and looked wild.  We started the Walk at the footbridge, the first bridging point on the River Nith.

We followed a cycleway alongside the river as far as Kingholm Quay.  The water was quieter here because the river is wider.  We should have been able to see the mountain called Criffel opposite, but the cloud hung too low.  We found a wet bench partially shielded by a high hedge, so we sat on it to eat our elevenses — Colin had a pie and I had crackers and cheese as I am a bit fed up with pies.

At Kingholm Quay a new path, not marked on our map, continued along the river bank for another mile.  A notice told us this was a new initiative, and showed a map of a circular walk ending back at Kingholm Quay.  It was a grassy path, but of good quality even in this wet.

After a mile or so we came to a place where the yellow footpath arrows directed us away from the river, though the path seemed to continue.  We looked at our map and dithered.  We strongly suspected that the continuing path was unofficial and therefore quite likely to lead us into a swamp.  We dared not risk it with the long Walk we had planned, so we followed the yellow arrows across a footbridge over a ditch, along a field and out on to a good track.  This went straight up to the main road, but part way along it the yellow arrows directed us left.  We ignored them because we didn’t want to return to Kingholm Quay.
It was a long stretch of road, quite busy.  Not much fun in the rain.  After a couple of miles we were once more next to the river, apart from a strip of swampland.  By now we were getting a bit hungry again and wanted to stop for lunch.  There was a hedge alongside us and through it we could see fishermen’s benches overlooking the river, but we couldn’t get to them because of the hedge.  At last we came to a footpath sign directing us through a gap, but by now those benches were about half a mile back.

We walked on southwards following the footpath along the swamp — certainly better than the road.  It wasn’t a bad path, a bit squelchy underfoot but there were boardwalks in the worst places.  The tide was right in and almost at our level — considering the amount of rain we have had recently we were lucky to get away with just muddy boots.  We came to a log and sat on it to eat our sarnies — not as comfortable as a bench, but it sufficed.  The rain occasionally stopped, but never for more than a few minutes.  The clouds hung low and visibility was very poor.

We came to Glencaple which used to be a bustling port.  In the 19^th century ships from here traded with the Americas, and there was also a local ship-building industry.  They imported tea and tobacco mostly.  Now it is very quiet, with just a few fishing vessels in the small harbour.  How times change!

We came to a beacon with an attached notice welcoming tourists and informing them of all the services in the area.  There was also a notice to motorhome owners saying there was no charge for them to park overnight by the harbour, but a donation would be appreciated to help with the maintenance — honesty box below.  Nearby we passed a millennium cairn which was built ‘to remind people of the unique place we live in’.

There was a row of terraced houses opposite.  One of the front doors opened and out came an elderly lady with a white stick followed by a little girl of about three.  The old lady said, “Oh look!  The rain has ruined all the flowers!”  The little girl replied, “Perhaps they’ll grow again, Grandma!”  They came out on to the pavementless road and slowly walked along with all the traffic whizzing past.  They seemed oblivious as to how vulnerable they were, one too young and one too old.  We wondered who was looking after who.  They eventually came to a bench on a grass verge where the grandmother spread polythene bags so they could sit and eat their lunch looking at the view.  But then it started to rain again…..  There were a series of wooden benches as we left Glencaple, each with writing on them.  One said, “Enough tea leaves were landed here to make 14 million cups of tea.”  On the other side it said, “Enough tobacco leaves were landed here to fill 750 million pipes.”  Yes, indeed, times do change.

There followed about three miles of road walking which we found quite boring in the rain.  Occasionally it stopped, but it started again almost immediately — it never really left off.  We passed a notice warning us of fast flowing tides and quicksands, but since the tide was in and the river flowing at speed we weren’t at all tempted to enter the water today.

We could see the water towers we walked round at Airds Point two Walks ago, and the cloud lifted momentarily so we could see most of Criffel — but then it disappeared into the gloom once more.

Having reached the mouth of the estuary, the road turned eastwards away from the River Nith.  In a field we saw a herd of belted galloways, but then we were in the county of Dumfries & Galloway so that was appropriate.  This particular type of cattle will eat practically anything, and are grazed at home on our Malvern Hills to keep the undergrowth down and prevent bracken from taking over. 
 We came to Castle Wood where we cleared the tall undergrowth (overgrowth?) round a picnic table so we could sit and eat our first chocolate.  There was an information board which had a map showing a footpath going round the other side of the wood to Caerlaverock Castle.  This path was not on our OS map (they’ve failed us again!) but we decided “it’s got to be better than the road!” — so we took it.

It was a good path which wound through the trees, then followed the edge of the wood.  It took us past the foundations of the ‘old’ castle, then out of the woods past the ‘new’ castle.  (We didn’t stop today because we still had a good many miles to cover.  The following day was not only a ‘rest’ day but it was brilliantly sunny.  So we came back by car to explore the castle in the sunshine.) 

Caerlaverock  Castle 

The first Caerlaverock Castle was built in 1220, one of the first stone castles to be constructed in Scotland.  It was erected at the head of a tidal inlet which was banked up to form a small harbour.  But it was built on a swamp, and after only about fifty years it started to collapse.

So a new, more substantial and elaborate castle was constructed on firmer ground about two hundred yards to the north.  This castle was moated and triangular in shape.  It was the stronghold of the Maxwell family for four hundred years.  

Being very near to the border it was besieged by the English several times, undergoing partial demolition and reconstruction each time.  In the early 17^th century the Maxwells constructed a completely different kind of building, more like a manor house, within the walls of the medieval castle.  Once more it was besieged by the English, and subsequently the whole place was abandoned.

We really enjoyed exploring the ruins on a bright sunny day, unlike the wet and miserable day when we had passed it on our Walk.  We thought the ruins were stunningly beautiful, sitting there surrounded by a moat. 

Back on the Walk, we exited the castle through an archway and were out on the road again.  The rain eventually stopped and it got hot and humid — too hot for comfort.  We ignored a lane signposted to a nature reserve and visitor centre because it was a dead end, several miles on the wrong side of the next river, Lochar Water.  We marched on to Bankend which was the first crossing point.  There we sat on the wall of the bridge to eat our apples.  We were both fed up, and my heel was sore where the blister was giving me grief again.  I was finding it difficult to cope.  The Walk was boring with all this road-walking, and we still had eight miles to go.

We talked ourselves into ‘march-mode’ and carried on.  After another three miles we came to another bridge where we sat on the wall to eat our second chocolate.  We only had water left now, and Colin had forgotten to refill his bottle before this Walk so he shared mine.  We both felt hot and drained.

We came to Brow Well, famous because Robbie Burns once visited here.  Whether he actually drank from the well is not recorded, but we were not tempted 216 years later.  It’s slimy — yuk!  No wonder there is a big red notice saying the water is not suitable for drinking.  It is a ‘chalybeate’ well, meaning the water is full of iron, and that accounts for the colour.  But even if we were dying of thirst, I don’t think we would be tempted to taste that slime.
Shortly after that we turned into a lane leading to the village of Ruthwell.  At least we were away from the bulk of the traffic for the rest of the Walk, for cars were now few and far between.  We walked past a farm and up to the village.  There is a Savings Bank Museum in the village (closed by the time we were walking through), a tribute to Henry Duncan who started the Scottish Trustee Savings Bank.  In 1810 he opened the world’s first savings bank for ordinary people, paying interest on their modest savings.
Getting everywhere seemed to be taking a long time. We were both tired, hot, fed up and my heel hurt.  Then it started to rain again — it was too much!  I didn’t put my cape on because I was too hot.  I thought it would only be a shower, stopping and then I would dry out again.  It wasn’t, and I got soaked.  I was too tired to think clearly.
I knew we were on the ‘home straight’, but I had underestimated how far it was to the track leading to our caravan site.  It was two miles, but I thought it was only about half a mile.  I sent Colin on to make the tea because I wanted it to be ready in the caravan when I arrived.  I thought we were nearly there, but we weren’t.  Every farm building I saw over to the right I thought must be ours, but as I got nearer to each one I realised it wasn’t.  Colin was getting further and further ahead, and was now lost to view.  I was wet, hot, and my heel was excruciatingly painful.  My brain was reeling and I began to panic.  Supposing we were on the wrong road? — it was ages since we had looked at the map.  I called out to Colin to stop, but he was so far ahead he didn’t hear me.  I didn’t want to stop and get the map out to check the route because Colin would get even further ahead, and if we were on the wrong road……  I called out again and again, trying to hurry my pace, and eventually he heard and waited.
When I caught him up he was almost on the track leading to the back entrance to our caravan site through the farm.  I was so relieved, but he was unsympathetic.  I’d got upset because I was really tired and in pain.  Colin was grumpy because he was hot and dehydrated.  There was no appeasing him, so I sent him on again and followed slowly.

The coastal path officially goes through the expensive Powfoot caravan site on the Solway Firth with its muddy fields, camping pods, high-pressure salesmen and weird animals like alpacas, emus and pot-bellied pigs.

It reminded me of the convent school where I was educated and was so unhappy — everything was extra and expensive.  Showers cost £1 a time over and above our camping fees which were more than we normally pay anyway.  We couldn’t get over that.

That ended Walk no.299, we shall pick up Walk no.300 next time from our caravan parked at Powfoot.  It was twenty past eight, so the Walk had taken us ten hours and twenty minutes — no wonder we were out of our minds with fatigue!  Colin had the tea ready, and we both felt a lot better after a couple of cups.  My heel is a mess though.

Walk 298 -- New Abbey to Dumfries

Ages:  Colin was 70 years and 55 days.  Rosemary was 67 years and 198 days.

Weather:  Wet!  I carried my camera in a poly-bag, but didn’t take many photos.
Location:  New Abbey to Dumfries.
Distance:  10 miles.
Total distance:  3016 miles.
Terrain:  Path over fields and through woods — a bit overgrown but still lovely!  Track, then roads which became busier as the Walk progressed.  Mostly flat.
Tide:  Going out.
Rivers:  No.363, New Abbey Pow.  No.364, Cargen Pow.  No.365, River Nith.
Ferries:  None.
Piers:  None.
Kissing gates:  Nos.332, 333, 334 & 335 on the first part of the Walk, near New Abbey.
Pubs:  None.
‘Historic Scotland’ properties:  None.
Ferris wheels:  None.
Diversions:  None.
How we got there and back:  We were staying in our caravan in Dalbeattie.  This morning we drove to Dumfries and parked by the footbridge, the first crossing point on the River Nith.  Then we walked a mile up the riverside to the bus station where we caught a bus to New Abbey.
At the end we came to the footbridge in Dumfries.  We crossed over it to complete the Walk, then crossed back to the car.  From there we drove straight back to Dalbeattie for our tea and biscuits in the caravan.

I didn’t sleep very well the night after the last Walk.  It seemed the ‘Compeed’ I put on my heel, which is supposed to heal it, had inflamed the skin all around the plaster whereas the blister itself was healing nicely!  My whole heel was extremely sore, so in the morning I took all the dressings off and exposed it to the air all day.  When we went out I put a dry gauze over it temporarily, and took it off as soon as we got back.  Colin fiddled with my boot again and made it even more smooth inside.  Last night I had difficulty sleeping again because the pain was making me feel nauseous.  In the middle of the night I suddenly thought of ‘Sudocrem’ which I haven’t used for years.  (I remembered how effective it had been for my babies’ nappy rash.)  I knew I had an old tube at the bottom of my first aid bag. So I fished it out and smothered my heel in it.  I was amazed at its immediate effect, despite the fact it was years old!  I slept much better after that.    This blister is making me feel miserable, but I am determined to carry on with the walking.

The rain hardly let up all day, so we took only a few photos.  We started the Walk by crossing a cemetery next to the abbey.  A lorry with a digger on the back of it arrived and we wondered if they’d come to dig a new grave — don’t they dig graves with a spade anymore?

A gate at the other side led into a field with cows.  The grass was quite long and very wet, I was glad I was wearing overtrousers.  In fact my overtrousers had been quite muddy before we began this Walk, but swishing through the undergrowth cleaned them nicely for me!  The footpath took us alongside a small river, New Abbey Pow, and we soon crossed it on a bright red footbridge.  The water was running fast underneath, we have had deluges of rain recently.

We walked along a track past a farm.  We were talking, and I suddenly panicked because I thought we must have passed the turn-off and were walking too far in the wrong direction.  But we hadn’t, for when we looked carefully we saw a kissing gate and a footpath sign hidden behind huge undergrowth.

We crossed more fields, another footbridge over a tributary of the same river and entered a wood.  It was a lovely path despite the rain.  It was not so wet under the trees because the rain was of the misty type, hung in the air.  So we took the opportunity to sit on a mossy rock to eat our pies.  We continued through fields and woods next to the river all the way to Airds Point on the estuary of the River Nith.  There were boardwalks where it was exceptionally boggy, so we didn’t sink into the marshy ground at any point.

Occasionally we caught glimpses of the river through the trees.  This section was the most enjoyable of the whole Walk.  One tree branch had fallen low over the path, so we limboed underneath and carried on (she lies)!

We rounded the corner at Airds Point and thought we had come to the gasworks!  But we soon realised they were water storage containers.  A notice on a wall warned us “Post Tensioned Structure   NO CUTTING or DRILLING or FIXING to reservoir structure without prior approval of Scottish Water”   OK then, we won’t.

Out in the estuary we could see two oystercatchers resting on posts like guardian angels.  Looking north we could see the estuary narrowing into a river as it neared Dumfries.

We followed a straight track northwards for the next one and a half miles.  It was officially along the estuary shore, but trees have grown up so much we only caught occasional glimpses of the water.  It was a bit boring really, except for the foxgloves.  After we had emerged from the trees there were hosts of them in full flower up the hill to our left.  A glorious sight!

The track came to an end, and we tried to turn right.  But the track marked on our brand new OS map didn’t seem to exist!  (This has happened so many times in Scotland we shall be glad to get back into England!)  The cottage on that corner looked as if it was being done up while the owners live in a caravan in the garden.
We had to turn left, then right on to a tarmacked lane, we had no choice.  This lane was lined with oak trees, and we soon realised that it was originally an avenue leading to a manor house.  We were marching alongside a woodland nature reserve where we would rather have been walking, but we couldn’t find a way in until we were almost past it.  Having beaten down the nettles, we sat on the low wall which lined the avenue to eat our sarnies and apples.  It was not so wet under the trees.
We came to the main road where we donned our bright yellow waistcoats.  It was more than three miles to Dumfries, and this was the only route we could walk from now on.  Yuk!

After two hundred yards we came to an octagonal house — was it an old toll house or a lodge to a country estate?  It looked too new to be either, but perhaps it had been recently done up.  Outside was a notice pointing to a café.  In view of the rain and the three miles of road we still had to walk, we really fancied a cup of tea.  Foolishly we thought the café was just there, if not in the octagonal house then very near it, not half a mile up a hill as we subsequently found out.  We should have looked more closely at the map, but we didn’t because it was tucked away in Colin’s rucksack out of the rain.
We started up a driveway which reminded me of the driveway to my childhood school, Farnborough Hill in Hampshire.  The convent school where I was educated (and incidentally was very unhappy throughout my school life because I didn’t ‘fit in’) was housed in a palace!  It had been bought and extended, at great cost, by the exiled Empress Eugénie of France, the widow of Napoléon III.  When she died, the property was bought by the nuns and turned into a girls’ school.  The palace was on a hill, and there were two driveways leading up from the road.  The ‘front’ drive was lined with rhododendrons and azaleas which were a riot of colour each May and June.  Walking up this driveway in Scotland, I had a distinct feeling of déjà vu! 

We seemed to be climbing for ages and not getting anywhere.  So we asked a man who was walking down with his dog how much further it was to the café.  “Oh!  Don’t go there!”  he answered, “It’s full of sweaty bikers, the woman who runs it is bad-tempered and she runs out of milk!”  He then admitted that this was not his experience because he had never been in there, it was a friend who had described it thus.  He tried to persuade us to go to the “hotel” because it is “not expensive and much more comfortable”.  Yes, but I would have to take my boots off, and with all my foot problems I’d never get them on again.  We carried on, then realised he still hadn’t told us how much further it was.  At last we reached a car park, but there was no sign of the café.  I went one way, Colin went the other round in a circle, and when we met up neither of us had found the café — or the hotel for that matter!  Then we realised it was up a different path tucked behind some trees.
It was called “The Bicycle Shed”.  We had steaming hot mugs of tea at very reasonable prices, the lady who served us was charming, and she had plenty of milk.  What’s more, there were no sweaty bikers, just two sweaty hikers — us!  Definitely our sort of place.

Suitably refreshed, we returned downhill to the road and trudged on northwards.  We came to the hamlet of Islesteps where I thought I’d take off my wet-weather gear because the rain had eased and I was hot.  We came to a bus shelter (Delight!) but there was no seat in it (Whaa-aa-ah!)  We continued round a corner and sat on the wall of a bridge to eat our chocolate.  The rain increased, so we left our gear on.
As we approached Dumfries we were passed by a group of people walking the other way.  We were careful not to turn off the main road too soon because we have been caught in dead-end housing estates before.  Eventually we came to a footpath notice which directed us to the playing fields and river walk where we had parked.  So we walked through the estates and across the playing fields — where we met that same group of people walking the other way!  They must have cut through an earlier estate on a path which wasn’t on our map — again!

Our car was parked very near the first bridge on the River Nith, a footbridge.  We were amused to find a ‘mobility impaired rest area’ at each end of the bridge.  Having just walked ten miles in the rain, we felt we were quite mobility impaired, but where was the seat?  We crossed over the bridge to finish the Walk on the other side.

That ended Walk no.298, we shall pick up Walk no.299 next time by the footbridge to the south of Dumfries.  It was ten to five, so the Walk had taken us seven and a quarter hours.  We crossed back to the car, and then drove straight back to Dalbeattie for our tea and biscuits in the caravan.  This morning we had walked a mile upstream alongside the river into Dumfries in order to catch the bus near the first road bridge across the river.  The blister on my foot is healing — hooray!  hooray!

The next day we packed up our caravan in Dalbeattie and towed it to Powfoot, to a caravan site right on the ‘beach’ of the Solway Firth.  (Not much of a beach because it was well into the estuary.)  We didn’t much like this site, as it turned out.  It pretended it was posh with prices to match, but it wasn’t really.  We were pitched on grass which was not well drained and really muddy in places.  Showers were extra, £1 a time, so we both decided to wait until we got to Carlisle.  We were parked next to a field full of donkeys, alpacas and emus.  The owner kept trying to sell us a static caravan on the site — he was such a nuisance with his sales talk that in the end I took all the brochures he had foisted on us back to reception and said. “Leave us alone!”  We were really glad to leave after four nights there.