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. 

Festival of Vintage

Our York adventure was coming to an end on Sunday morning. But at dawn, the sun was out.

You can never cut an adventure short when the sun comes out.

Breakfast.

Simple. Fast. No Fuss Baked Beans, Fried Mushrooms on Crumpets.

Burners lit. Beans on, mushrooms chopped. No toaster? Grill the crumpets in a dry frying pan. Easy.

Campervan Bliss. That's what it's all about. When you're camping you've got to slow the pace down and enjoy the simple things. Just the sun popping through the windows on a promising Sunday morning is enough to put a smile on our faces, when you're in the camping groove.

With Doris packed we made plans. I carried out my ritual that ensures good camping vibes.

Check oil level. Set the choke. Turn the key. Wind down the window and listen to the engine purr. Good times.

We had a destination. On route to York, we noticed signs for a "Festival of Vintage". To Kirst and I, this sounded good. With Doris ready, we set off.

The festival did not disappoint. Set in the grounds of York Racecourse, both indoor and out, there was much to see. Inside there were countless stalls with everything from retro furniture to vintage dress patterns, enough to keep us browsing for hours. Kirst made a few choice purchases, and I waited in line for a hair style and beard trim by Jacks Barber Shop.

Outside there was a small line up of classic cars, but typically for us the campervans caught our attention.

Older than Doris. Probably even slower. But with bags of character. Awesome.

A seriously cool little trio.

York gave us an awesome adventure. We can't wait to go back later this summer.

The journey home? A slow cruise on the open roads. That's just how we like to roll.

Awesome York.

When we first stayed for a weekend in York we didn't own a campervan. 

It was a case of booking a Travel Lodge. A default option we once turned to when attempting to enjoy an adventure away. 

We didn't imagine our York adventure to be much different. It's a city. You generally don't camp in the middle of a city. We had tickets for the legendary Seasick Steve and we wanted to be as central as possible. 

Thats our bus. By the river Ouse, in York. We didn't stay at Travel Lodge this time.

Rowntree Park Caravan and Camping site was our destination. A city break for 2, for 2 nights. For £60. Lovely. 

10 minutes walk from the city centre, located right by the river it was a brilliant location to park our home. We settled in, planned a quick pre gig snack and celebrated completing our road trip from Nottingham with a couple of craft ales. Friday evening was awesome. Seasick delivered. His blend of gritty folk and blues, and sheer talent left us in awe. 

Saturday became a slow paced day of exploring what York has to offer. It's independent shops, its parks, its history. And of course its food and drink. 

York does not fail to capture your imagination. In between wondering around the vast mix of cool shops, landmarks like the York Minster demand your attention. 

The Shambles. Nothing here has changed much over the past several hundred years.

A pub crossed with shop brimming with craft ale, the epically named Trembling Madness was where we ended our explore. We recommend it. 

Done with adventuring for the day we headed back to the bus, chilled out with some music and eventually tucked up for the night. Rain was lightly tapping away outside, but inside we were cosy. With no plans for Sunday we waited to see what the sky would bring. 

6.30 am. My view through the tailgate.

Sunday would be a good day, too.

ed.

Castle Rising.

Our Norfolk adventure took us through the small village of Castle Rising, just a few miles short of Hunstanton. Castle by name, but without venturing onto the beaten track you'd never know this place is there.

Aside from the road sign. That says Castle. Yea, that.

We left behind the overcast sky of Wells Next The Sea and hit the coastal road for Castle Rising. Not wanting our holiday to end, it felt like a cool way to spend part of our journey home.

One thing our adventures lead to, rustic, interesting, eclectic places. Buildings that ask you to get the cameras out and capture them. So that's what we did.

Built in the 12th century. It's a monolith. Originally part fortification, part hunting lodge and with connections to the likes of Henry VIII there is a lot of history to take in. Much of the detail remains, despite what 900 years of weather has thrown at it.

There are interesting details throughout the hollow chambers and rooms. Central to the building, the great hall has left a huge void, it's floor and roof both missing.

Whilst I wondered outside taking in the scale of the place, Kirst found some small carvings that remained intact.

We left wishing the weather had been kinder to us. But, with Doris running low on supplies for us, we knew home had to be our next stop sooner or later. We drove down the castles narrow drive and back onto the main road home. I checked the rear view mirror. No, you really can't tell this place is there. Apart from the sign, that says Castle. 

ed. 

Into The Peak District

Our Camperbus finds hills a challenge. They are not its strong point. So a trip out into the Peak District National Park is more of an adventure for us than for most. If we held you up on the A515, we are sorry. We were going as fast as we could.

With a slower pace you take in the scenery. The Peaks had a lot of it to offer. Once we broke free from Nottingham, tarmac turned into real roads and the views reminded us what the countryside can look like.

Pretty spectacular.

In Doris what could be a day trip easily becomes a night away. We made a short stop in the landlocked "seaside" town of Matlock Bath to eat our vegan mac and cheese (which actually contains no cheese, interesting no?)

Taking in the sights from the comfort of the bus we hit the road for our destination. Staden Grange, just outside Buxton.

Our home for the night was peaceful and relaxing. Staden Grange is a small campsite, in the woodland grounds of a traditional country house. With the sun dropping behind the hills, we spent the night in. Our pitch was sweet and the facilities excellent, nothing more was needed. Just us and the evening's sky.

Not everything could go our way. In the morning high winds picked up and the site had to close. Tall trees and howling gusts do not mix. We planned to move early anyway. We cut the day short and pointed the bus toward home, knowing later this summer we'll plan to go back, and spend longer in the Peaks next time.

ed.