It was great to be on the road again, in a mini convoy, new club trailer in tow and looking forward to meeting up with fellow club members for our season opener. As is our usual pre-spring pastime, we once again headed north into Perthshire for an Easter camping weekend at Faskally.

The exitement started before we had even reached our destination. As we approached Glenfarg on the M90 motorway, an overturned caravan blocking the outside lane brought traffic to a halt. The whole outfit, including the tow car was facing the wrong direction and the caravan looked in a pretty sorry state. A very unfortunate start to somebodys holiday weekend.

A few miles further on a large articulated truck, closely followed by a brace of B.T. Transits, passed us. The truck took up station at the front of our convoy while the two Transits continued past in the outside lane. All of a sudden total mayhem broke loose. The second of the two B.T. vans shot across the carriageway towards the hard shoulder and then, in a cloud of tyre smoke, spun back across the road stopping just short of the central crash barrier. The truck locked up all twelve wheels and took evasive action. How he missed the spinning Transit, Ill never know. A BMW, which was traveling at speed in the outside lane, just managed to stop within inches of the stricken van.

Everything on the motorway ground to a halt as heartbeats settled back to a reasonable rate. As we filtered past we saw a very shaken and shocked Transit driver looking in disbelief at a blown nearside rear tyre.

This could have been a very nasty accident but fortunately no contact was made between any of the vehicles and there were no injuries.

This just goes to show how dangerous a tyre blowout could be. Check yours now.

With all the exitement over we continued on our sedate way northwards and enjoyed a leisurely cruise up the A9 to Faskally.

Once on site we patiently joined the queue at reception to book on to our pitches. I had reserved the mains hook up beside the water tower and pumping hut so that I could camp in the main tenting area. However, when I arrived at my allocated space I found several mountains of builders rubble instead of nice flat grass. Although the mains point could be clearly seen there was no way a campervan or any other vehicle could get near it. Liz returned to reception to point out that VW did not make a JCB and we would need an alternative pitch. The less than helpful student on the reception desk told us to just pick another place to park. Surely when we booked the pitch they could have told us that it was unavailable.

Finally we chose a spot amongst the rest of our group in the main Hook Up area. Unfortunately this meant that all us mains users were well separated from the main body of campers in the Tenting area. The layout of the field has been somewhat split by the recent addition of a row of static caravans between the touring and tenting areas.

Soon willing hands set about unloading the new club trailer (Thanks to Sandy & Suzi for towing it up for us.) and setting up the club tent and my awning. Many thanks to you all. Your help is much appreciated.

Gradually more & more VWs pulled into the campsite and it was good to wander along the line up and speak to friends old and new. In particular, it was a pleasure to meet up with Bill & Linda Moore and Elaine & Sandy Mearns who had traveled down from Inverness, in their Bay Window, campers to join in with our weekend.

Friday evening turned out to be a typical Chill Out session with a lot of chat to catch up on plus a few beers to empty. However all was not well with the site electricity supply.

Every few minutes the power would go off for at least half an hour. This was always when you needed it most. There you were, gasping for a cuppa, and Ping no power. The folk in the static vans with their tellies, fridges and fancy lighting must have been well peed off. There was a constant stream of Easter holidaymakers walking down to reception to complain about this problem but all comments fell on deaf ears. The solution offered by the site was not to use the electricity (Which you had paid for) but to use gas instead, to avoid overloading the ancient on site electricity system.

Being hardened Vee Dubbers we put this behind us and continued to enjoy our Friday night despite the rapidly plummeting temperatures. In other words It was getting cold with a capital C.

I felt sorry for those in tents. I hope they had warm sleeping bags. Some of our merry band made good use of the club tent, and its heater, instead of chilly individual canvas homes. The noise of falling icicles and pained brass monkeys eventually gave way to sedate snoring until the morning sun started to melt the frost.

Eric Hamilton was cosy in his camper enjoying a good nights slumber. As rays of fresh morning light penetrated his van curtains he slowly stirred and opened one heavy eye. Silhouetted against the panoramic Type 2 windscreen was a black shape. I dont remember leaving my coat on the front seat thought Eric. Suddenly the eerie shape moved. Eric froze in his sleeping bag. Was it the spectre of Loch Faskally? Were the dark waters so cold that it had released its sleeping sprits to haunt the camping folk? Was it just the effects of the spirits consumed the previous night giving him hallucinations? Or, even worse, could it be the Phantom Sausage Stealer of Old Dysart Town once again rearing its evil head?

Actually it was Paul Bremner who had decided it was far too cold to kip in his tent and he had found the comfort of a Bay Window front seat a much more inviting prospect. This was a prudent move on Pauls part as it had been well below freezing during the night.

Marjory showed us just how cold it had been by lifting an inch thick disc of ice from Jim & Jeans fire bucket. What was called for was a good hearty breakfast to ward off the cold.

Unfortunately many peoples gas bottles were so cold that the contents refused to change from their liquid state into something which would boil a kettle or cook bangers and bacon. I wonder how many bottles were mistakenly assumed to be empty and mistakenly swapped for new ones. My easy cure was to direct a blast of warm air from my fan heater into the gas bottle locker. Within a few minutes the frying pan was in full production.

I just dont know where the rest of the day went. The time just flew by with a constant stream of visitors to my awning discussing all matters Volkswagen and the sad news of the Queen Mothers passing. We were also entertained by the antics of Cassie the Labrador pup from hell who seemed intent on tying as many knots as possible in her high tech tether. Fortunately our willing club dog walker (Paula) rescued the situation by walking the canine terror around the campsite until she was tired out.

By evening time a heavy pall of smoke hung over Faskally from many barbeques. My stomach told me it was time to add to the pollution.

We dined upon mince and slices of quince, which we ate with a runstable spoon.  Hang on a minute, thats the Owl and The Pussycat. How did that get into Faskally Frosts? Actually we stuffed ourselves silly with the usual assortment of bangers, burgers, spicy Indian things and bits of charcoal. Sometimes its difficult to tell the sausages from the charcoal. They all look alike.

Ron Naismith showed us up by performing an amazing ritual with giant cocktail sticks, bits of meat, peppers, onions etc. The final result was something called giant kebabs. They even kept their colour instead of turning into black cubes on a stick.

It was good to see Ron back out with the club after the sad passing of Lizzie.

Saturday night was considerably milder than Friday and conversation continued in the club tent which was totally un-affected by the constant power cuts.

Once again, there was a constant stream of unhappy caravaners venting their anger at the site management. The sites answer to the problem was to post a sign behind the bar, asking folk not to use the electricity, for which they had paid, but to use gas instead.

As Sunday morning dawned there was a mad rush, by those with mains hook up, to be the first to get the kettle boiling before the power once again gave up.

Liz was feeling decidedly under the weather and was in desperate need of a cuppa to settle her fragile stomach. Now before you jump to conclusions, it wasnt the food from the barbecue or an excess of alcohol, which caused her problems. She had not eaten any of our burnt offerings or drunk more than two cans of cider all weekend.

As Andy (The Archbishop) and Joyce had to leave on Sunday, Liz and Cassie (The by now, tired out Labrador Pup) hitched a lift back down to Fife.

We had originally planned a sightseeing trip out for the day but most folk preferred to relax, just chill out and enjoy a generally lazy time.

Colin & Marjory and Jim & Jean did manage to escape from the site and returned several hours later with tales of a pleasant drive through the Perthshire scenery with an equally pleasant meal.

The Edwards encampment turned into a Lads Evening event. John, Ron and I once again fired up the barbecue & munched and pulled corks while listening to the Grand Prix on the radio. As our pall of smoke died away John & Ron drifted over to the club tent. I climbed into my camper with a bag of wine gums and the remains of a bottle of red liquid with a similar name. My intention was to have half an hours kip and then join in the chat in the tent. Perhaps it was the food. Perhaps it was the wine. It might even have been the fresh air. My half hour turned into a whole night.

I was finally disturbed by the Monday Morning sound of a campsite collapsing into various vehicle boots and interiors. The weekend was finally coming to a close. The Kingdom Klub Machine was once again running at full revs as willing helpers raced the rain to dismantle the club tent and awnings before they were given too much of a soaking by the elements. Very many thanks to you all for your kind help.

And so the weekend came to a close. It was good to meet our new friends from Inverness, Malcolm from Kirriemuir and Alex, Betty and Keith from Currie who came up to meet the club for the first time.

I hope everyone enjoyed their weekend despite the noticeable drop in standards on the site. Faskally has now run its course and we will be moving on to a new venue for our next camping weekend later on in the season.

If you know of a good site, with good facilities, which would be willing to accommodate a bunch of scruffy Vee Dubbers, please get in touch.