We took advantage of another Bank Holiday Weekend to drag the tent out of the garage, pile it into the boot along with a load more camping gear and head off up to Rosedale for a couple of nights of peace and quiet. That was the plan at least, but Rosedale was crammed to bursting point, as was the Spires camp site just down the road, so we ended up at the Upper Carr Lane camp site on the south edge of Pickering.

Hills - Not for Caravans

Since we’d spent most of Saturday actually looking for somewhere to sleep we didn’t get to see much of the area. The weather was cold and windy but thankfully dry, so we spent most of the first night tucked up in the tent, reading and gossiping about this and that. Beans, burgers and buns were in abundance, so we were well fed and watered.

One of my favourite aspects of driving through camping country is the sheer number of hills in the area. Coming from the relative flatness of Lincolnshire, the dips, dives and dales around Goathland (Famous for being the setting of TV’s Heartbeat) are a cheap thrill. Even with a fully-loaded Picasso, comprising a dog and two screaming women, you can throw yourself up and down the hills with wild abandon and without actually breaking any laws.

If only the same would apply to the motorcyclists who plague the area like flies on a turd. Hardly ten minutes passes sometimes without a group of bikers hurtling past, ignoring all rules of the road as well as common sense, overtaking on blind corners, double white lines and oncoming traffic – and sometimes all three – and generally causing a nuisance. Perhaps I’m just jealous.

Sunday we passed through Goathland and on to Scarborough where we let the dog off his lead for a run along the beach. Having only previous seen the waves at Cleethorpes, he was in his element with the much rougher surf and he kept us amused for a good hour while we threw things in for him to retrieve.

Sunday night we camped at the Flower of May site near Scarborough and had a quiet night there – far fewer screaming kids, a lot less wind and some considerate neighbours. It did turn cold later on, but the next day was a scorcher and we headed back to the beach for a short walk and a bite to eat before heading for home.

Camping seems to be growing on my dear old mum who is looking forward to retiring in six months and heading out on her own. Come August we’re off up to Scotland for a tootle around there (including a brief stop at Glen Nevis) and after that she’ll probably take herself away for the occasional weekend, whenever the desire arises.

Of course, all good things must come to an end and I find myself in the office this morning, with hundreds of junk emails to sort through. The weather is dull, grey and wet and the weekend away already seems like a distant memory. Sigh…