Camp Day 2: All day at The Rings

Woke up a lot, tossing and turning throughout the night, thinking the ground was a lot more comfortable in my younger years, yoga mat notwithstanding. Full bladder at 3:30am, but I persevered with sleep and eventually gave in at 6am when my alarm went off. I trotted off to the toilet block at reception and released a torrent of fluid into the toilet bowl the likes of which Niagara Falls would have been envious, just before my bladder exploded. While there I decided I might as well have a shower. 

Great showers! Just a bit leaky on the floor under the shower curtain. Feeling like a new man, I strutted back to my tent, still wearing my old clothes as I had neglected to take a clean set to the loo, the urgency of my nether-regions negating such forward thinking.

Fire!

It’s funny how crows squawk and then move on. You hear a squawk, look up in the direction of the sound, and find the crow has already travelled several feet before the sound has reached you, making it seem it was emitted from an empty space a large gap behind the bird. Or do crows squawk out their asses? Maybe some of the less intelligent ones are accused of such by their smarter peers. 

Alpaca or llama?

Set up the volcano kettle on three monoblocks but was too quick to pick up the camera and snap some pics rather than carefully tending the fire to make sure it was properly going, so it went out and I had to relight it. Second time lucky though and managed to brew myself the best coffee in the world, or so it felt. After a half hearted breakfast of rice crispies and choco flakes still in their packs (a trick my son had taught me as I’d not brought a bowl), a few pancakes and banana, and removing a tiny splinter from my left thumb with the tweezers in long-lost Swiss army knife (that I’d eventually and joyously found down the side of my black recliner armchair a few weeks ago while searching for my iphone) I was ready to think about the day. 

It being my first morning and still feeling tender, I didn’t feel the need to rush off to a new campsite just yet. I decided instead to explore the area on foot for myself, rather than take Moira’s advice and check the brand new website. So I set off with my camera and decided to either turn left at every junction until I was back where I started, or failing that, turn round and come back after half an hour, or failing that, when I was tired. 

The short walk along the single lane road yielded another of Ring Farm’s cottages with lawn on the rooves, pleasing views of cows, ponies, a view or two across the valley, some bees on flowers, a handful (what’s the group noun? Bacon butty?) of chirpy builders (also on rooves), a waving van driver and a holistic massage centre. And only one piece of rubbish: an empty one litre plastic milk bottle, which after thinking twice about it, I picked up and brought back for recycling.

After that I think I had a nice lie down in my tent, a tasty cup of tea, an early lunch of my Stephen’s Chicken mayo sarnie of the day prior, more photos and lots of looking out over the grounded blue boat and stranded, nettle-covered farm machinery to the rolling, bushel-filled hedgerows and green and yellow fields to the horizon. 

A few campers packed up and left since then; a few have stayed. My imagination is still running amok with Apex flashbacks and visions of Det. Chief Sup. Int Foyle of Foyle’s War, both on which I obviously over-indulged on Tuesday night while waiting sleepily to pick up my son from his friend’s party. Realised I could charge my Iphone off my macbook off my Ctechi battery which I’d charged from the car lighter battery on my way here. For some reason the Iphone did not like charging directly off the Ctechi battery, but there you are, problem solved.

The main building at Ring’s Farm has a massive play room with pool, air hockey, scooters, a piano, books, DVDs and even a guitar amp or two (but no guitar). There is a communal fridge with tea and coffee galore, which made me happy as Larry as I could dig into their brown tea bags. It prides itself on a very accessible camping and glamping venue as everything is easy to get to and on one floor. And that bring us up to the present moment. It’s now 12:19pm and I’m considering more lunch.

The Rings boasts a very tidy well stocked kitchen

I hadn’t booked in for two nights at the Rings. To be honest, I was just taking each day at a time, and Moira seemed happy with that. The field was massive and the grass:guest ratio must have been 20:1. 

Even though it was yesterday it’s already become a blur. I know I’ve already written about the morning, apart from my fixing one of the handles on my other cloth Morrisons shopping bag which Cocoa chewed through in her younger years. I sewed it with white thread using back stitch which my mate John assured me (and he’s done a fair bit of sewing in his time) that it was stronger and better and looked nicer than the kind of (I don’t know the terminology) Nessie monster stitch that I usually favour. I made one of those criss cross boxes you sometimes see when things are attached to other things with thread. So far so good, except I ran out before I could properly tie it off, as the last bit of thread was only a millimetre longer than the length of the needle. So I sort of tied it to the start of the thread and hoped for the best. But now this handle’s shorter than the other one. So should I cut and resew the other one? Or get my dog to chew through it for me. We’ll see.

What else happened? Well, I did some writing, I looked at the fields (a lot), I took a nap, almost getting boiled alive when the sun suddenly came out for five minutes right above me and cooked my tent. I gasped awake and had to open the vent ASAP as I was fully clothed. It’s been cold, overcast and windy the whole time I’ve been here apart from that moment. Fortunately I could use my car with the hatchback open to shelter me from the wind and drizzle as I sat ruminating the horizon. But the sun was a surprise.

Maybe I began uploading to the blog. I had lunch which consisted of (pre-sliced bagels- genius!) with slices of pre-sliced ham and pre sliced cheese, topped off with a squirt each of pre-sliced mayonnaise, some more yoghurt, an apple and banana followed by copious amounts of tea courtesy of the kettle in the very well-stocked communal kitchen.

I plucked halfheartedly at my guitar. I looked at the fields stretching off to the horizon (which wasn’t that far away). I locked gaze with the alpacas/llamas, trying and failing to determine the difference, in the end deciding, if someone put a gun to my head, that they were young llama-alpaca hybrids, not yet fully grown, but with banana ears and a horse-like nose, but also patch of hair atop head. They seemed chilled and didn’t spit at me once. Although one of them looked at me sideways. 

What would you call a cappuccino made from Alpaca milk?

This casual visitor set off my pony proximity alert warning system

I then turned my attention to the pony that was now approaching my tent and chewing the grass around my car.

Did you know that most pilots who sit the test to become a Red Arrow pass with flying colours?*

Anyway, I do recall slipping into my shorts and going for a run, which due to a sore knee grew into a 5k walk-run, which Strava congratulated me for by saying it was my fastest 5k ever. I tell you, the best way to find out about the environs of a campsite is to go out the main gate one day and walk left, then the next day go out the main gate and turn right.

When I got back I had some microwoven soup and a bagel in the communal kitchen next to a quiet old salt of the earth guy who seemed like he'd spent his whole life outdoors and only came in for sleep. I thought maybe he was Lord of The Rings, but he turned out to be another guest  - the owner of the pony. I'd attempted to heat up my soup at my tent, but it turned out the push and click CampingGaz cannister I'd purchased was not compatible with my screw on mini-stove.

I then began to wind down for the night. I was tempted to have my second bottle of beer but resisted, having some more green tea instead. The pony kept me company on the other side of the fence, hiding slightly behind the abandoned farming machinery. It looked like it was also preparing to spend the night sleeping standing up.

Can you find the pony in this photo?

Sober, I couldn't sleep, nor get comfortable. There was a bug in my tent which wasn't threatening or annoying enough to merit me getting up and ejecting it and I figured I'd swallowed bigger insects, so I just ignored it. But I was cold, and the floor, despite my mat, was hard and bumpy. All I could do was wait. There weren't even any soporific rain drops to help carry me off or inspire me to alliterate.

Camping Day 3

2026 Scotland Camping Trip Day 1: The Rings

I woke up this morning with a tight chest, and a feeling that my life was bleeding away, getting taken up by a trillion tiny unimportant things. Ads. Cookies. Politics. Facebook. Weathermen telling us with wonder that the earth is getting hotter. Stressful thoughts. I had a strong suspicion that I would soon lose any chances of me getting away to destress this summer before it was all gone. I had found my tent. I could just disappear. But then I decided it might be better if I okay it with my family first. Once they green-lit me and I confirmed neither of them like camping and were happy for me to go off by myself, I started forming my plan.

I remembered my time camping in Japan with great fondness, and those few sheets of paper that had a multitude of campsite information on them. Maybe I could create my own guide by researching and visiting campsites in Scotland? Helping campers and my future selves bypass Google and all the camping booking websites by gathering phone numbers and getting my feet dirty by getting my boots on the ground and personalising the experience, updating things on my blog to serve as a reminder to myself and signpost for others?

So I scanned Google Maps and Pitchup.com and cast about for a handful of potential first nighters within 50 miles of my house, and tried Ring Farm first. I wanted to go up to Fife, somewhere new, and in the middle of nowhere. So I called the number and a nice lady answered and seemed only too happy for me to turn up the same day. My first generation red 2017 Nissan Leaf (real-life range 85 miles) was fully charged off the solar panels and ready to go, except I needed lunch and the car needed its tyres checked, but I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to get on the road. 

I drove north-east towards Kirkcaldy, where I found an actual Stephen’s Bakery with an EV charging station in the car park. This made me very happy. I was sick of Greggs and its cold sausage rolls. A bakery that doesn’t sell hot food! Ridiculous! I often made a point of purchasing Stephen’s (award-winning) seeded morning rolls at the local Scotmid, and this was my first time actually finding a real building. With charging point no less! Unfortunately the charging point did not recognise my car and became frigid at the very thought of communing in the biblical sense. But I didn’t care – I was on the road again – and it was all part of the adventure. In Stephen’s I'd already targeted my sausage roll, when to my delicious delight, the deli drifted into my discernment. Two seeded morning rolls to go please, one with tuna mayo and the other with chicken mayo, both with mayo (did I mention that?) salad, a cup of tea, a cookie, and fuck it, a large hot sausage roll. I guzzled my prizes at my car, cup of tea on roof, while striving to keep cap on head and decide whether to call about the EV charger or not. The tuna mayo roll was bliss. I devoured the sausage roll I don’t think without chewing – just inserting it down my gullet like a pelican sword swallower. Alas I was now too full to attempt the second roll and made an executive decision to go straight to choc chip cookie, which melted in the mouth like only a soft choc chip cookie can – like me melting into the sofa post a hard week’s work. I, and by association the cookie, were home. In my mouth.

I decided to drive off but notify the EV charger company en route of the fault as I still had half a tank of battery, was itching to get moving again, but felt a responsibility to my fellow EV’ers. This I did, and the woman was most apopleptically apologetic, gently chiding me for not having downloaded the app, for which I forgave her.

I plugged in the postcode for the Rings Farm into the Nissan sat-nav and soon found myself somewhere in the middle of Fife, and my imagination kicked off on a story called, “The Melting Man”, where a guy driving an EV runs out of battery in the middle of nowhere in Fife and sees a sign saying, “One night only Melting Man Festival!” He follows it only to find some very sinister goings on and that he himself becomes at risk of (spoiler alert) being the ‘Melting Man’.

Before too long , just when I remembered I had only input the postcode and not the house number, I spotted a sign for the Ring Farm on the left and slowed up. Road became single road, tarmac became gravel track, became driveway, became fork, one direction of which lead me to Reception. But I was a little desperate for the loo so I dipped into the facilities prior, only to find a very clean toilet and shower cubicle. Then I met Moira, with whom I’d spoke on the phone. She checked me in and gave me a quick tour. When I texted her later asking if open fires were allowed as I’d brought my Dad’s old volcano kettle, she said that as long as there were not too many sparks then yes that was fine.

Top o' the mornin'!

So I went and parked in the far corner of the camping field and put up my old orange 1.5 man tent that I’d gotten in Japan many blood moons ago. I was a little concerned it might rip after so long without use, but to my pleasant surprise, despite the old age and except for being a couple of tent pegs short of a full set, I got it up no problem. Except I realised the entrance was facing the wind. So I unpegged it, spun it 180 degrees and re-attached to the planet surface, so the door was facing away from t'other campers, which also makes sense if you think about it.

Thence I drove into Cupar in search of supermarket to buy provisions and ice, and to give myself bonus points if I found an (working) EV car charger. To my pleasant surprise my Leaf’s sat-nav took me to a retail park to which I had prior been, when I drove up to my ill-starred interview at the new Madras College at St Andrews in June/July 2025. I stocked up on groceries in Tesco (doing my best to ignore the scrupulous glares of suspicious staff members), located a couple of (in use) chargers outside Burger King, hung around suspiciously for a while until an owner came back, plugged in, and went off to Burger King for some well deserved din-dins.

With a full, warm paunch, and my perishables safely in my home-made cool-box under ice, I drove back to the campsite, had a cup of (green - blast!) tea, scoffed some yoghurt, took some photos (happily my camera was fully charged, had an SD card in and was ready to go in the car boot) checked some emails and other messages, cracked open a bottle of Stella and tucked into some Pringles in the tent out of the prevailing wind (Once you pop you can't stop, so they say, so I bought two small packs instead of one big one - ha ha!), while reading ‘Walking on Glass’ by Iain Banks, waiting as patiently as possible for nature to work her magic on my nerves and Mr Banks to get to the crux of his plot.

I succumbed to sleep around 9:30 with the somnambulant sound of raindrops tippy-toe-tapping across the top of the tent. Tomorrow I shall ask who owns the land on which the campsite resides, as surely they must be ... Lord of The Rings.

Camping Day 2