South Rhins at Easter

In Dumfries and Galloway, a small peninsular sticks out in to the Irish Sea, called the Rhins. Its official website calls it 'a place to lose yourself'. This was my destination for the coldest Easter in years.

The campsite at New England Bay had lovely views, but these days like most coastal locations it is marred by the plastic on the beach. After a mammoth 6 hour drive to get there after work (A66 was closed, so I had a tortuous drive through Wensleydale) I decided Day 1 would be a 'no drive' day. I did a short 3 mile walk from the site along narrow roads and 'the avenue' to get some fresh air and that was it. Mainly low-lying fields full of cattle and mud!

View from the van at dusk

At the Rhins most southern point is the Mull of Galloway, with its lighthouse. First point of call on Day 2. Brilliant weather, a lovely walk around and luscious poached eggs on toast in the caff for brunch. Sadly the lighthouse and foghorn weren't open.

That's some location for a cafe

Next was a spot called the Port Logan fish pond, and I dithered a while about the £4 entrance fee but frankly it was a bargain! Such a quirky one-off place, so glad I went. Basically it is an enlarged natural blow hole, turned in to a fish-holding pond for the kitchen of the big house at Port Logan.

I had the place mostly to myself with the lovely guide chatting about fish and geology. I was thinking about Dad, George and Gaga all the while - they would have been thrilled by this place (or should I say plaice? ker-tish!)

Port Logan Botanical Gardens was my next stop, very impressive even at this time of year. When in full flow it must be magnificent. Nice lunch but wow it was overpriced! Over £10 for a baked spud and cup of tea.

Next was a diversion to see some ancient stones on a hilltop church at Kirkmadrine - what a lovely name, and it had an atmospheric tree-lined walk up to a windswept spot.

















Then a quick trip to a supermarket in poor Stranrear, what a desolate town, such a shame. Nipped up North to Kirkcolm, nothing much of note, and on a whim down to  Portpatrick - lovely village! But here I got a drastic warning of snow to come, so hightailed it back to the site over some crazy roads - narrow, lumpy and deserted (thankfully). But I did see 2 kestrels very up close - i.e. almost on the bonnet of the van!

Next day, got all packed up, and by chance spotted a stoat running across from the van on the camp site. Set off for home via the Isle of Whithorn, which was the point across the bay, reportedly where St Ninian arrived...

It was a very pretty village, sun shining, great cafe (panini and salad) on a headland with a beautiful coast and harbour.