Roadtrips, Festivals, Breakdowns and an Engine Rebuild, Part 2.

It's the reason you own a campervan, right?

To park it in a field and call it home. Loaded with food, beers, blankets. iPod full of music. It's a place to chill out in between exploring and enjoying what ever festival you're at has to offer. Yea, driving is cool. Parking up at a show is cool too. But the greatest, best thing a campervan does is become a home.

Doris was our basecamp at the Hay Festival, in Hay on Wye. We remember it as possibly the best camp out we'd had in Doris so far. In fact, to this day it is still the last camp out we've had in Doris. 

I have big withdrawal symptoms.

Hay is known as the town of books. Its festival is a place for lovers of books. Certainly a place for Kirst, she was quite literally in her element. She met Neil Gaiman, having ended up sitting right next to him whilst we watched his wife Amanda Palmer perform on stage. A special little moment. There was folk music, good food, antique markets, fireworks and gin. The gin was good. 

We spent our days exploring the town and our evenings soaking up the atmosphere. We used Doris's little gas burners for all our breakfasts, lunches and dinners, sourcing extra ingredients from a cool deli we found. 

The mixture of exploring, being entertained by festival goings on, and heading back to the bus to relax was just perfect. Good times. 

An awesome time was had by us both. Doris treated us well. Cool and relaxing in the day, warm and cosy at night. She took on the Welsh terrain, got us to our festival and became our home for nearly a week. What more could we have asked for?

Well as a matter of fact, getting us all the way home would have been nice, but things don't always end perfectly, do they? Blowing up her engine on the motorway was not part of the plan. 

Part 3 soon, oily guts and all... 

Roadtrips, Festivals, Breakdowns and an Engine Rebuild. Part 1.

Vanlife. That simple romantic fantasy that many of us crave.

We ditch the regular pace of life. We jump in the bus. We go. We Enjoy.

I bet that paints a sweet picture in your mind. Sunsets, beers, mountains, river crossings, star filled skies. Got it? Good. Let me spoil it for you. I'm jumping out of the bus with a fire extinguisher. It's limped to the roadside, smoke everywhere. It's a dual carriageway and the sun is setting. The bus is dead. More on that later.

Summer 2015 promised so much. Faith in the old bus was high and 5 adventures in, we were really getting into it. We'd arrived. Plans were ambitious. Road trips, festivals, camping spots in woodland and cities alike. Doris's tailgate was proudly branded with the Charity Route 67 logo; John O Groats to Lands End. This humble little blog was gaining followers.

Late May. Our destination was Hay On Wye, for the Hay Festival. Our camping spot, a small site just outside of the village. The journey was to be split it two parts. Nottingham to Shropshire for a stop over at Kirst's parents, then onto the winding roads of Herefordshire and Wales.

I cannot stress how enjoyable the narrow winding lanes of Shropshire, Herefordshire and Wales are when traveled via camper van. The trip was seriously enjoyable.

(Yes, I enjoyed the side mounted go pro experiment)

After a couple of phone calls and a bit of guidance we arrived at Gypsy Castle campground. From our spot we could see some of the Hay Festival tents, teepees and marquees. We popped open the roof and set up what would become our tiny home for the rest of the week. Our camperbus.

The camp site was perfectly perched on the hillside. Our neighbours for the week were close, but that wouldn't bother us. Everyone was like minded, chilled and ready to take in the sites, stories and tales that lay waiting for us. 

Part 2 soon... The Hay Festival, Camping, Cooking, enjoying the sweet life. 

This Is Our Open Road

Life on the road. By car, it's just another journey. Another motorway. Another A road. Sat Nav telling you where to go. The climate control keeps you cosy. The steering and gears so simple you don't even need to think about them. You jump in and you go. Press the accelerator and your car goes. It's almost a guarantee. No, it is a guarantee.

Our open road is different. It's a special place. After you've checked the oil level you jump in. You set the choke. Find the right key, turn the engine over. Smile when it bursts into life. You take in the roads, the scenery, the life. You learn gear changes. Reading maps, reading signs. Getting lost is part of the adventure. When the top of the next hill is in sight, you relax.

The engine. You think about it. That last repair you made, you hope it holds out. And it does.

There's not much to warn you it's going wrong. Your dashboard has two lights. Battery. Oil. Both mean nothing when it's too late. They only work when it is too late. Faith is what you have.

There is no air conditioning. There isn't even a heater anymore.

Pure simplicity between you and the highway. The windscreen becomes a picture frame to the world. You chat, you take it all in. When the camperbus is involved, when its full of supplies for the days ahead, you enjoy the trip even more. 

Roadtrips become part of the adventure. Part of the holiday. Just as important as the destination. 

You are travelling in what will be your home. In front, the journey is unfolding. Behind you is your room, your space. All the memories of where you've stayed before now. Your van was there. That space was there. You are inside the very same place, but you are taking it somewhere different. 

Plans become adventure. The adventure is what you lust for. The excitement and the relaxation. The slow pace, the rest stops, they make you explore. The places you'd have never known about by car become the places you return to by van.

This is why we do what we do. We don't travel by car. We explore by camperbus.

Our Top 20 Pictures from Stanford Hall 2015

I'm going to let the awesome VW's that were on show at Stanford Hall this year do the talking for me today.

A cool selection of our best snaps from the day. Go make yourself a drink, then come back and take a scroll down through these. Enjoy.

 

Campervans Of The Dub Ball Cruz

A recipe for one of our usual road trips is simple. Us, our bus, and the open road. Sometimes we hook up with friends and, if the plans work out, we end up on a convoy. There is something cool about cruising with another van, or two. Or three.

Or forty something.

Just over a year ago I found out about the T25 Dub Ball Cruz. It was the first ever and I found out about it through Facebook. The day after it had happened.

Luckily, it was popular. It needed a sequal and we were going to be part of it. The plan was simple. On the day, turn up to a specific service station somewhere in Leicestershire, wait for as many owners with the same make and model of van as you to show up, and then cruise to a big VW festival.

The result of a simple plan? An awesome weekend away, meeting up with friends, making new ones and generally having an awesome time thanks to everyone's love for the original wedge shaped VW bus. Awesome.

Half way through the Cruz we took a break at Rutland Water. Numbers of vans increased. Many ice creams were consumed. People took pictures and chatted. Then we headed for the show.

Through the car park gate, slowly we lined up ready to leave in a convoy of epic proportions. We both sat, wondering if everyone was going to make the 30 something mile trip to Stanford Hall. Not even knowing exactly where Stanford Hall was, we lined up behind the lead busses. Doris, the least powerful van there, was third in line. What could possibly go wrong.

As it turned out. Something could go wrong. Doris struggled to keep up with her newer watercooled counterparts and soon let me know about it. We limped into a side road and left the Cruz to carry on. Random knocking noise from the back. She had done this before, but a long while ago.

We were now at the back. Pointing home. Giving up. But home was further than Stanford Hall. Kirst persuaded me to continue. VW show or bust. We went for it. Slowly.

You know the rest. It's a VW thing. They get you where you want to be. That's why we love them. A bit behind the rest, we made it. The night was young and the campfire was lit. The beers flowed and the tunes rocked out. Doris and co, Snowdrop and Bernice, accompanied by Ade's firewood catching T4 became our festival home. Everyone else from the Cruz was chilling too.

Us and a field full of old VW's of all types. Beer, Gin and a loud party tent. We were glad we made it.

Sunday was show day. But we're saving that for next time.

ed.