North to Port Appin

Next we headed to Port Appin, North of Oban. This is historic postcard landscape for me: Castle Stalker, taken by the Campbells in 1620; The Lynn of Lorn separating the mainland from the Island of Lismore, linked by a little ferry that leaves from the jetty in front of The Pierhouse Hotel and Seafood Restaurant.

When my children were small, we used to camp nearby - fishing for mackerel from the pier. Then, we could never to afford to stay in hotels, so we used to treat ourselves to a meal at The Pierhouse having planned for the entire duration of our holiday exactly what we intended to eat. From the pier, we would watch the various fishing boats coming into shore, unloading their daily catch and delivering to the hotel a fabulous array of fresh seafood and shellfish. So we would know what was on the menu because we'd watched it being landed. Right in front of our eyes.

The children have now all left home, which is part of the reason that we are able to adventure with Archie in some relatively care-free fashion. The Pierhouse Hotel is at the very end of the village and you pass a lovely little gift shop on the corner before hugging the coast to the road end. We park beside a couple of kayaks and say hello to their obvious owners, wet-suit clad and dripping slightly as they sup a beer in the busy bar.

They're welcome, of course. As are sailors and walkers and stalkers. Nick and Nicky Horne are delighted to welcome outdoor enthusiasts of all persuasions, given that ourdoor pursuits are what attracts so many people to this part of the world in the first place. And when you look at the landscape you can understand precisely why - mountains, lochs, sea passes, glens, historic landmarks all promise adventure of the highest degree.

I always think that it's wonderful to have a purpose to such pursuits, and The Pierhouse Hotel has become a destination in itself. You can sit in the welcoming and friendly bar, chat with locals and visitors alike and watch the ferry and the fishing boats landing at the pier. You can enjoy steaming plates of glorious hot food when it's cold outside, or delicious cold shellfish salads when the summer months arrive.

There's a tiny library - like snug with beautiful tartan tweed drapes and a burning fire where you can sip a malt after dinner, and a lovely more formal restaurant with landscape windows overlooking the water, the islands and the mountains - this is where we sit when we want to indulge ourselves with wonderful food, great wine and a glorious view.

When I spoke with Nick Horne to organise our visit he was in Glencoe with the children for half term. Recovering from a hip operation, he was enviously watching his wife and family 'hitting' the slopes under clear blue skies and in the absence of crowds. 'I really fancy one of the snow bikes,' he said. I laughed, thinking that his wife Nicky would be less than happy with this particular pursuit, at this particular stage of his recuperation.

As we sat in the bar, drinking the most delicious of hot chocolates, I asked Nick if he'd managed to commandeer the coveted snow bike. 'Absolutely,' he said. 'And it was brilliant.' Nick's passion for the outdoors is reflected beautifully in the atmosphere created by both him and Nicky here at The Pierhouse. They understand that after a long day exploring, we want to be pampered and indulged. And we are.

Archie the VW camperVAn tastes the good life (4)

Breakfast in the morning was delicious. Kippers for my better half and smoked salmon and scrambled eggs for me. Some of Christine Dobson's beautifully baked bread (she gets up at 4 every morning to bake the breads and puddings for the hotel and then spends the rest of the day riding), toasted and spread with honey. Endless cups of tea on tap. Fresh juices. The wonders of a new day.

If you've never been to the Crinan Canal you should really plan a visit. Referred to as 'the most beautiful shortcut in Britain' you only have to stroll along its pebbled paths to appreciate a wonderful sense of life slowing down, moving at the same gentle pace as the yachts and fishing boats navigating up hill, then down through the 15 locks. 

The canal was designed to provide a quick link between the West coast and Islands at one end and the Clyde Estuary at the other, thereby avoiding the long voyage around the South end of The Kintyre Peninsula - The Mull is notoriously wild; remember the story of the fishing boats sheltering in Port Righ Bay, caught out in strong gusts and mounting waves.

Today the boats are mostly heading West, starting at the Ardrishaig end of Loch Fyne and heading towards the Sea Lock and the Sound of Jura. The Cairnbaan sits at Lock 5, and from Easter to October the bar and restaurant welcome sailors, walkers and a good mix of local folk happy to watch life at a slower pace.

We enjoy a short stroll along the canal - you reach a point where the view opens up and the vastness of the Inner Hebrides bleeds into the landscape. Then a brisker stroll back, a good morning to Archie and off we go, sitting higher than the average traveller. Believe it or not, we had actually planned to sleep in Archie, however with the cold weather we decided to that instead we would simply use her as our mode of transport, perfectly suited for short stopping and Island hopping.

Two thirds of the way along the canal we veered left and then right where the road splits at the top of Loch Sween. Go left and you eventually come to Achnamara and Castle Sween. Venture right, as my heart always does, and you trundle along a twisting and winding single track - past Fergus the Highlander (who's just fathered a boy cow - that would be a calf.) My other half reminds me a couple of times that without powered steering Archie is a tough old boy to navigate. However I'm already planning lunch, looking forward to a quick visit to my friend Kate, who I just know will squeek when she meets Archie. 

As we pull off at the black and white wood posted passing places (the villagers fought for these as opposed to the more modern plastic monstrosities that rural councils seem to favour) we don't just get a finger raised in thanks. People smile and wave - Archie elicits that sort of response and although you feel slightly daft waving enthusiastically back, you do nonetheless because this is just such a happy way to travel.

We reach the Tayvallich Inn where I used to be a partner and stop outside to see what progress the new owners are making with their renovations. I know I keep referring to favourite places, but yes, Tayvallich is another one. A daddy-sized hamlet with a shop and a pub, a sheltered bay and a place where families spend the most idyllic holidays year after year after year. Lynn and Glen Hyde took over last year and after a particularly busy season are now revamping the basics - more specifically, the loos. Not a pleasant job but February in Argyll is the time to do these things. Lynn is the chef, having learned her trade on large yachts and gin palaces in the med and the Caribbean. Faced daily, then, with the challenge of creating  meals from whatever was caught on a day's sail, her instinctive sense is to let the natural flavours shine. Glen is front of house, having skippered all over the world. They are outdoor people and buying the Inn is the start of them creating a dream life for themselves on the West Coast.

It's interesting. Most of the establishments on the Seafood Trail are run by couples who have made lifestyle choices to escape the proverbial rat race. They recognise that hard work, long hours and sore feet are the trade offs made to live in such truly beautiful water's edge locations and after a while the hard work becomes just what you do. That's certainly how it was for me. I used to wake up every morning, charge to the window and consciously be very very grateful for

living within such beautiful coastal landscape.

Given that the Inn is closed until the end of the month, we parked Archie at the water's edge and had ourselves a picnic with good friend Kate. Out came the camping stove and we sauteed scallops that we'd bought in Tarbert a couple of days before. Loads of butter, a squeeze of lemon juice, a glass of wine that was nearly chilled enough and the scallop shells as a plate. A large chunk of Kate's lemon cake and a slab of Green and Black's chocolate to follow. That's as complicated as scallops need to be - in fact the same is true for most shellfish. Less is usually more.

Archie the VW camperVan tastes the good life (3)

The sunset was glorious. Purple, then red, then purple red - a fiery combination that sunk slowly into the Sound of Jura.

We waved goodbye to good friends and headed a bit North, back towards Lochgilphead, chasing the Crinan Canal and driving a mile or so along its raised banks until we came to the Cairnbaan Hotel.

I like the Cairnbaan Hotel a lot, not least because its avuncular owner, Darren Dobson, is an amusing man; slightly irreverent, somewhat amused by life and funny in return. We bedded Archie for the night - a good rest needed prior to our epic journey beyond Oban in the morning - and left our luggage in our room prior to heading downstairs to the busy bar.

Life has slowed to a luxurious pace, we notice. Archie's top speed is probably 50 miles an hour, but on the winding tracks and lanes we have trundled along at anywhere between 20 and 50 miles an hour. It's not as if we're in a rush, although usually as meal time approaches our pace quickens just a jot. Tonight we are greeted by aforemention avuncular Mr Dobson suggesting that we might like to try his chefs 'new to the menu' lobster souffle. 'Only if you insist,' Mr Dobson we jest, knowing full well that most likely we'll delicately sample the souffle then order one each as a starter, or perhaps a pre-starter.

It's delicious: Twice baked and light as air. And you can see the lobster bits as well as taste them, which I mentally mark as a bonus. Baked gruyere around the edges adds a slightly thermidor flavour and I suggest that perhaps this tasty teaser might feature regularly on the menu. It depends on the weather, says Darren, which is precisely the right answer because fresh from the sea is a very good look.

Archie the VW camperVan tastes the good life.(2)

The Kintyre peninsula is a long narrow strip that stretches from Tarbert at the top end to Southend and the Mull of Kintyre at the bottom. You either circumnavigate down the East side and up the West, or vice versa. My preference is to always follow the sun, so having walked along Skipness Beach on the East Side we carried on South, down and along the long and winding way that inspired THE Sir Paul to write THAT song and THOSE words.

Our friends Alan and Maggie - pictured in fetching waterproofs enjoying Archie's backseat comfort - anticipated a tipple at Grogport - the tiniest of hamlets that ironically has no pub. And so we headed more South, Archie groaning up hill, possibly in second gear, but it could have been third or even possibly first, until we reached the mummy bear sized hamlet of Port Righ, a scattering of houses encircling a sheltered bay. Not that long ago, when Campbeltown and its neighbours still boasted a strong herring fleet, storm bound skippers would shelter from the savage winds in tiny Port Righ Bay. 

Now that the herring fleets are practically non-existent (except for the Irish fishing boats which still place a value on such a staple fish) nothing much happens in Port Righ Bay. The smugglers are long gone also, adventurers who relied on the the natural shelter  of the bay to conceal their illicit misdemeanors. Perched at the top of the gentle cliff, with a picturesque garden that slopes down to the water's edge, sits Dunvalanree - the most Southerly of Seafood Trail establishments and run by Alan and Alyson Milstead.

Alyson is a fantastic, self taught cook who enjoys experimenting with taste combinations and using the abundance of seasonal produce that she grows to the back of the house. Favourite produce at this time of the year include the smoked mussels from Campbeltown - an epicurean delight. Husband Alan is co-founder of The Seafood Trail and we chatted over a glass of wine and some of the afore-mentioned smoked mussels - served with Alyson's deliciously warmed home-made bread. The Seafood Trail is hosting the Scottish Restaurant at this year's travel trade fair in London at the end of March - a logistical nightmare, to be sure, but a huge opportunity for us to showcase our fabulous local seafood and shellfish and to introduce The Seafood Trail to potentially new visitors. Alan is the logistics man so we talked logistics for a while, and then had a wander through the garden.

Archie had rested enough by now - there are a couple of very steep climbs on the long and winding road which afford fabulous views across to Arran when you get to the top, but which leave Archie puffing a bit. So we took the gentler route South, hugging the West Coast of the peninsula and enjoying a glorious sunset over  Islay and the Paps of Jura.

Archie the VW camperVan tastes the good life

Everybody has a dream. Mine is to travel the world in a VW camperVan. But sometimes you have to drip feed those dreams; tackle them bit by bit in the hope that one day the individual bits come together in one great big piece of fulfillment.

So this week, a little bit of my dream came to life when I borrowed a lime green camper VW camperVan called Archie from Kiltie Campers and travelled as much of The Seafood Trail as was possible in a few short days. Oh, the joy! I once sledged down a steep snow-drifted slope in a business suit and screamed at the sheer pleasure of throwing caution and common sense to the winds. Archie had the same effect and whilst my husband was heard to mutter on more than one occasion that there were now 'three people in this marriage,' nonetheless I grinned from ear to ear, loch to loch and langoustine to langoustine at the sheer downright ageing hippiness of traveling in such smile-inducing style through some of the most beautiful scenery in the world to sample seafood and shellfish at its best.

We travelled West from Comrie, freeing Archie from his Perthshire constraints to arrive in the fishing village of Tarbert, Loch Fyne, just in time to watch the fishing boats coming home from their early morning adventures. Picking up some friends en route, we headed more West over the moor to Skipness, a tiny hamlet overlooking Arran and where only those on the evolutionary upside of an oyster would venture in the darker winter months. But Spring has sprung on the West Coast, snowdrops bursting out of the frost cracked earth; reminding us to tread gently in our wellies towards the beach.

We knew that the Seafood Cabin would be closed. Sitting in the grounds of Skipness Castle, a basic wooden shack belies the freshest of shellfish, served in the simplest of style. Steaming mugs of tea; a thick glass of chablis and jugs of local hill water accompany huge plates of langoustines and crab rolls that taste like the crabs have side-stepped into the soft bread baps and surrendered. Fresh? Never fresher. Sophie, the owner, is also the farmer and spends three frantic months lambing prior to opening for the season over Easter Weekend.

Nonetheless, not open was not enough of an excuse to not walk the deserted beach, chasing rainbows, collecting lumps of driftwood and causing my husband to hyperventilate because he's not really into stuff that you pick up from the beach even if it will make a wonderful coffee table. We shall return . Not perhaps with Archie, who will most likely be exploring the gentler Perthshire slopes, but certainly with more friends and even greater anticipation. So much seafood. So little time.