Note to self

We’ve decided we’re never again going to book a caravan holiday in November!

Last year, our weekend stay in Fife coincided with the tail end of a hurricane. We cowered through the night as the caravan was buffeted by 55 MPH winds, trying not to imagine the caravan tumbling off the adjacent cliffs and down into the sea.

We thought we could never be that unlucky again. And when we saw predictions of 45 MPH gusts, we didn’t bat an eye. We’ve survived worse than that in a caravan. And this time, we’re in the middle of a different park, nowhere near a cliff edge. Unfortunately, shortly after we arrived yesterday afternoon, the alert level for Storm Arwen was upgraded from amber to a rarely-issued red. By then, the winds had picked up enough that it didn’t seem safe to travel back home.

It was one of the longest afternoons and evenings I’ve ever experienced. It was like flying in turbulence - for 12 hours, non-stop - as the caravan shook with the wind. In the early evening, we were plunged into darkness when the power went. We took comfort in music and light from an iPhone, and huddled under blankets as the caravan grew colder. And we were so grateful when the park manager knocked on the door and handed us a newly-bought flashlight, which shone a stronger light and saved our precious phone batteries. By then, the wind was gusting at somewhere between 60 and 70 MPH, the rain was lashing and the wind chill was below freezing, so the manager had made a valiant effort to get these to the caravan guests.

We distracted ourselves with (thankfully self-lit) Kindles, until all of a sudden, the wild weather was inside the caravan. The French doors had given way. We just managed to use our full weight to get them closed again, but as we were drying off, they flew open again - and this time, one of them came off the frame completely. We were able to get hold of the manager, and took turns holding the other door in place until he arrived and set up some clever strapping to hold the remaining door in place.

Thankfully, a neighbouring caravan was empty. It hadn’t been cleaned since the last guests had left, but Covid concerns went out the window: we just needed someplace safe and dry, and were grateful for it. After multiple trips back and forth, trying not to get knocked over by the wind, we managed to shift most of our contents. And just as we walked through the door with our final bags, the power came back on. Thank you, Scottish Power!

We slept very little, waiting for the now 70+ MPH winds to blow through the identical French doors in our new caravan, but thankfully these ones held. And by the early hours, the worst had passed.

We were booked to stay until Monday, but left this morning. It’s disappointing, but we’re grateful: no one was injured, and the manager was so helpful in really difficult circumstances. We saw at least one other caravan on the park that had also lost a door. And I’ve just seen a news report: various caravans around the country overturned as a result of Storm Arwen, or were completely destroyed. Nothing for us to complain about, then.

But we are never again booking a caravan holiday in Scotland in November!