Loch Ness to London

The Cape family camping near Loch Ness, Scotland, September 1962. Photo/ Peter Cape

Loch Ness to London
A Traveller's Tale #25

It was 1962 and the Cape family was touring the British Isles in a 1948 Ford Anglia. I was 8, my sister 6 and we had a cage-load of pet white mice as travelling companions. My father Peter Cape, with the NZBC, had finished training with the BBC in production techniques and was engaged in a project for the Imperial Relations Trust, assessing the arts and culture of life in the British Isles. We had travelled from London, through Wales to Scotland. My mother's mother was a MacLeod and we had visited Dunvegan Castle and had tea with Dame Flora Macleod on the Isle of Skye. Overseas the cold war was raging and the French colonies were rebelling, but we were preoccupied. The weather was autumnal.

I take up my father's diary account near Loch Ness. We looked for Nessy but she was elusive as usual.

September 16, 1962, Sunday
Coldest night yet – impossible to keep warm. Up early, and away after ph. (photographing) camp. Stephanie in bracken and heather. Busy road: climb to view of lochs including Ness (ph.). The small loch on way down (ph.). Ph. Fort Augustus from hill, then (chasing slow old-man-driven caravan). Ph. cable bridge like down in Central Otago.

Country gets lovelier (every time you think you've seen the best in Scotland, something else turns up). No wonder it was cold: snow quite low on mountains, and heavy on Ben Nevis. Milk in Ft William (Fort William) then on in rain up Loch Leven (ph. top) down to Glen Coe – ph. Glen - fantastic mountains, like being in Alps at 4000ft. Down to ph. old castle at Portnacroish. Then over Connel Bridge to Oban. Ph. Buy pies, go and see McCraik's Folly (curious large open-work tower with nothing inside it).

Out by Loch Etive: lovely. Ph. in dark and notice on starting that the car isn't charging. Fan belt gone. Stitch together but can't get it on. Retired BBC engineer comes and helps – still won't go. Belt back to Oban on parking lights (put on occasionally) to find all garages, bar one, shut, and it won't do repairs but AA man out of bed, he tries to find old belt that might do – finally gets ours on, and it lasts for exactly five minutes. Drive in dark to outskirts of town, pick a hill – light primus for supper (which goes badly) and sleep in car.

September 17, 1962, Monday

Surprisingly enough, we got some sleep – I could have slept standing. Breakfasted and into Oban. Fan belt cost 10/6 to have new one fitted. Shopped – Oban lovely in sun – and off. Up Loch Etive again and along Loch Awe (ph. Castle, often looking at fantastic church). Ph. loch with shaggibeasts in foreground, then over hills to Inveraray. Ph. shore and beacon hill with war memorial, then lovely run around loch to "Rest and be Thankful" and down Lomond (like Rotorua) (2 phs.) to Glasgow – saw Donald Falconer, then a fast drive on the A8 with the sun dead behind us, to Edinburgh. Stayed night with Smiths.

September 18, 1962, Tuesday

Decide that we're too tired to leave today. Tidy up and go to shop at Highland Home Industries for tweed and a porridge spurtle: M – S (Marks and Spencer) for a kilt for Fani (Stephanie) – lunch and into Holyrood House (ph.) then to Craft Centre, Museum of Childhood (ph. Knox's house), St Giles Cathedral (ph.), Grassmarket for Orkney Cross for Barbara. Home to flat, late to bed.

September 19, 1962, Wednesday

Away from the Smiths' flat by 11 – up to Luckenbooth in Canongate to buy Iona silver – in haste St. Martin's lion, then out (shopping on way to main road to Selkirk. Cold travelling). At Selkirk ph. horses carved by Wright at Halliwell's House. Down to Hawick (ph. statue to 1545 Gallants who stole the flag from the "English marauders").

Down to Gretna Green to see old Toll-ban and Blacksmith's shop's marriage rooms (can still be married in Scotland at age 16 without parent's consent). Winced Molly, then out to Bampton, and across to Gilsland to see Abbey, and to Banks to see Roman wall. (ph. Abbey). Drove along wall and ph. at Gilsland, then long drive to Willington in dark. Got lost once, but arrived at 9.15.

September 20, 1962, Thursday

Up and away by 9.30 and a fast journey to York. Ph. gates and Minster (after visiting). Had lunch and off south. Long drive on the A1. Ph. castle and barges at Newark. Barbara thinks 'Loose Chippings' is a place – odd name – if anyone told me there was a place called Fat Bastard Charlie here I'd believe them. South and south. Stop in layby to cook meal on primus (which doesn't want to work) in a cold gale. (English drivers back on roads, woman tried to bulldoze us off on a hill). Home at 11.30.

5067 miles travelled

We were home at 8 Bethune Road, Stoke Newington. We had done it. Travelled the length of the British Isles in 64 days. MPJ's odometer registered 19,901 miles so far. We had travelled 5067 miles or 8155 kms. We weren't finished yet.

The next stage would be across the English Channel from Dover to Calais, from France through Germany and Belgium. That would be at the beginning of November. For the moment, based in Stoke Newington, my father's work continued with the BBC and we took day excursions to Oxford, Cambridge, Stratford on Avon, Whipsnade Zoo, Kew Gardens and Brighton, amongst others.

My personal recollections too, reach beyond the incredibly rich tapestry of experience that unfolded as we travelled. For example, the buses around greater London were not just double-decker and red. There were the Greenline single deckers servicing the suburbs.

Whitby, picturesque with fishing boats, had a rock shop. It sold sweets, not music, heavy metal or gemstones. I recall being bought a small circular sucker on a stick. It was white with a yellow rim with a man's face at its centre which went right through the thickness. I recall a cockle seller roasting cockles on a charcoal burner on a seawall footpath. We stopped to talk. "Here son," he said, "try this," and shoved a heated cockle into my mouth. That was probably in Cornwall, or Whitby.

Harrods and Selfridges are both iconic department stores in London. I have vivid recollections of Harrods' pet department. In 1962 you could buy virtually anything in the way of an exotic pet. I've always wanted a pet cheetah. I remember the bear cub in a cage and the huge, slow-plodding tortoise moving freely around the department floorspace, as well as the cacophony of bird chatter from caged parrots and other feathered, furred and scaled wildlife.

Talking of wildlife, I saw my first squirrel on the common when we lived in Highgate. Hyde Park Corner is famous for soapbox orators. I recall the ornate iron railings there. Selfridges too has a story to tell, but that can wait until another time. For the moment, we were home.]