Bamburgh Travel Blog› entry 2 of 4 › view all entries
The car was starting to smell of melting brake pads and although I was alright to drive for the moment, I knew I wouldnt be alert much longer. I arrived at Bamburgh in the early hours of the morning, and pulled into a large gravel car park opposite the prominant castle. This sight I have seen so many times now still captured my imagination. Having said that, it was my imagination running wild that kept me from sleeping for about half an hour.
The darkness was very eerie. It was very quiet, and the low cloud base reflected far off ambient light creating creepy silhouttes of old farm buildings. The darkness made me feel vunerable and I kept seeing things that werent there.
I had a sip of water and settled into a sleeping bag sleeping at a completely odd angle. Sleeping in a Fiesta is really hard work! Eventually I found my usual way of sleeping with the drivers seat back and my legs on the passenger seat was the one and only way to get comfortable. The wind was blowing the engines fan around for some time keeping me up, and the rain on the roof was annoying, but somehow I managed too.
Upon awakening though I was in for a real treat. I was expecting the weather to be dire, but the sunshine was well and truly up. I writhed in my sleeping bag to get free, put on my boots and get some photos but having slept with my legs crossed my left foot was 100% devoid of blood. Not even my toes would move. How annoying I thought as the uncomfortable feeling of pins and needles came flooding through my foot everytime I now moved. The fear of deep vein thrombosis was present, and I wondered why the hell I didnt move it in my sleep.
When I was mobile again, I left the relative comfort of my car to take some beautiful photos of the castle and the beach in the early sunrise around 5.30am.
After a long sit on the beach just watching the sun rise over the lapping waves I reluctantly left again.
Whilst travelling into Scotland I always make sure I have at least half a tank of petrol. Scottish petrol stations are few and far between, and trust me, you do not want to be caught stranded. Although I still had 3/4 of a tank left, I stopped at a Morrisons just over the Scottish border and waited for it to open. When I finally did pay, I said my usual 'Cheers, Tar' in traditional Essex accent, and I heard the girl at the counter ask her workmate 'What does Tar mean?'
I could tell I was definately no longer in England lol.