By: Blonde Two
When you are living in a bothy your idea of luxury becomes somewhat distorted. For example you realise that a wooden platform is a luxurious alternative to a cold concrete floor, that using a loo with a flush and brush is a pleasure compared to squatting in wet grass and that a few candles can make a room feel warmer even if you are not allowed to build an inside fire.
The question of washing didn’t really arise with either Mr B2 or I until day three when I decided that I didn’t want to partake in either my wet wipes (which are useful but not environmentally congenial) or a lukewarm splash in the sink. I had however found (and investigated) the one hidden luxury that Peppercombe still had to offer… it had a shower.
I have experienced some showers in my time, fierce ones, solar ones, billy can ones, needle sharp ones, woodland ones, hot ones, cold ones, alternating hot and cold ones… but the Peppercombe Bothy Shower is going to take some beating as it was shockingly cold, knock you off your feet powerful and in the middle of a public beach!
Some pessimistic souls might have called this shower a waterfall, but needs must and once the idea of a shower was in my head I had no choice but to rise to the cleanliness challenge. It was tricky because the rocks were slippery, I was glad that only Mr B2 was there because the sight of me with a bottle of shampoo stuffed down the front of my swimsuit and a walking pole in one hand must have made interesting viewing as I ventured close enough to stick my head in. My head didn’t stay in for long as the power of the water was initially overwhelming but I quickly anointed it (and other places) with shampoo knowing that I would then have to put my whole body under the flow.
It was cold and wonderful and over very quickly. I got soaped, I got wet but whether I got clean or not is something of which I will never be quite sure. Let’s call it ‘bothy-clean’ because I was straight back in the fire smoke again afterwards anyway.