Doggy Conversations & Wild Camping in Anglesey

Why is it when we camp in a campsite we rarely strike up conversations with fellow campers? Caravaners stake out their pitches defensively via windbreakers or sun loungers circled around like wagons in a 1950s Western. But when we wild camp people seem to be falling over to talk to us
Having the dog with us does help. A blind colleague once told me how everyone she met started with a doggy conversation about her guide dog. And it’s no different in our Anglesey wild camp. We stay in the car park alongside the dunes at this dog walking and free-spirited camper van hangout. In the baking summer sun, we have doggy chats galore and meet a lovely couple who have converted their tranny into a camper van extraordinaire. They show us around its ingenious layout, and straight away I know that he’s the kid that spent hours on Blue Peter projects; reconstructing Tracy Island from egg boxes and yoghurt pots. And it probably was brilliant - unlike my sad efforts.
As we’re shown around, there is one cupboard at the back which remains firmly closed.
“This is where I keep my toys” we’re told and we move on.
But my mind’s still stuck on the cupboard. What could possibly be in there? Battery operated items bought online? Kinky costumes? Maybe his alter ego is a Gloria Hunniford drag act?
After a fun swim in the sea and a few beers, our new BFFs finally give us a sneaky peek into the ‘toy box.’ Much to my disappointment, there’s not a Gloria Hunniford drag costume in sight. Turns out they’re survivalists. If Mr Trump ever does say “hit the button” (even though what he meant to say was “do not hit the button”), the idea is that these guys will dive into the camper van and use the ‘toys’ to survive.
I choose not to burst their bubble by asking how they intend to survive the megaton nuclear blast and the ensuing radioactive fallout with a wire snare, fishing rod and the pride and joy multi-functional survival knife with catapult attachment (last year’s Christmas present). Given that our camper’s only got a cheese grater and a garlic press our chances seem slim. But realistically with Wylfa power station just up the beach, my guess is that we all would be instantly baked, fried and toasted anyway...
In the midst of the beers and these cheery thoughts another dog walker rocks up to our makeshift camp, and once our dogs have sniffed each other out and we’ve done the now obligatory doggy conversation, he joins our happy band. He’s a dead ringer for Anthony Hopkins, has a converted day van and is planning to sail solo from Anglesey to Scotland. As the evening rolls on, he pulls out his false teeth and tells us a gory tale about how a famous mass murderer broke his jaw with a piece of iron bed when he was visiting him in his secure hospital cell as part of the murderer's legal team. We never got to know his name but his whippet is called Winston.

Meet Nellie - our chief conversationalist and networker.