Perigord and pinxtos: Life on the road

Have had several queries about our camper and how we're going, so here's another entry to fill in those blanks for all who are interested in that aspect of the trip. The camper has come as a complete surprise package. We bought our Lunar Champ online for a song and picked it up in Peterborough. In between trips here each year we are leaving it with friends in Cheshire. It looks smaller in length than I had imagined (though Pete thought it would be exactly as it is, he says) and taller in height. It's 5.55 metres long and 3.05 metres high. I know this by heart as the measurements are glued now to the windshield in case we come across a low-hanging railway or road bridge: having the measures there avoids any panic attacks.

We are incredibly well organised -- we have to be -- all of us; and we've packed well and have only bought what we will use, so we fit into the small space admirably. Everything has a place, and everything needs to be in its place and stowed -- or the camper rebels and starts throwing things about once you're moving. With three of us 'wild camping' most nights we also have to be very organised about who is in what space when, and how much water we use and why, etc. so we've developed some really good working routines -- one of which means Pete gets to sleep in latest every morning. Which suits him.

The motorhome is surprisingly comfortable and drives remarkably smoothly--and I have to regularly compare it to our Rodeo, which is not and does not. Unlike the Rodeo, this turns on the head of a pin, has excellent gearing, and is, according to Pete, easy to drive--despite only being a 2 litre instead of the 3 he might have preferred.

To my mind it drives like a comfy small bus. It goes uphills without missing a beat and keeps on keeping on. Very stoic little beast. We are becoming quite fond of her. So, we have been nothing but delighted with all of that so far. However, she has some very lightweight fittings in her interior (to keep the overall weight down is the argument. All motorhomes are built along the same lines and it's quite a bone of contention amongst the consumers.) and in our very first week we've probably managed to temporarily wreck everything that was even a teeny tiny bit suspect, or fragile, about the interior fittings.

We likely did more damage in that first week than any of the previous users of the van did in the 2 years it was hired out. But, as it turned out, all of it was essentially superficial stuff that while easily 'broken' was just as easily fixed. We broke the connection on the dining table where it meets the wall. Repaired with an even stronger Euro slide fitting bought enroute at a French Bricomarche. We've dragged stone chips in on the soles of our walkers and scratched the faux wood floor covering. The ensuite bathroom window is currently duct-taped until we get back to the UK where we will know how to ask for the correct screws that we need in order to screw it back into place (because we forgot the lesson that if you leave the camper windows open while you're driving they're built to slide off, and it nearly did). We've tightened many a loose screw. We've bruised the kitchen bench top with a bottle of lemonade falling out of the top cupboard and lightly scratched the outside paintwork with low flying branches in the narrow lanes that we love--and we've left behind our brand new outdoor mat at the bottom of the stairs. Twice. The last time we didn't bother going back for it since it didn't seem to want to live with us.

We had a great orientation with the previous owner before we drove the camper away, then must have promptly forgotten everything he said, because, today, even after nearly 4 weeks we are still discovering new and unusual things we didn't know, or don't remember, about how things work in the vehicle. Luckily, there are many manuals which occasionally we think to pull out to refer to. The only thing we still haven't tried is the oven. It has an amazing kitchen and enormous cupboard space which we don't even fill, but heck!--weren't planning on lamb roast for meals and we're not having Tom Cruise to dinner. We do, however, use the oven grill-every morning for brilliant baguette toast. Bec's bed is the table collapsed into a double. Our bed is upstairs in the luton space and is queen size, made on those stretched Japanese-style slats and is wickedly comfortable. So, all working well.

Besides buying the camper the next best purchase we made for these planned trips was the satellite navigator. Every day one of us says that it is worth its weight in gold. It has taken us most places with hardly a beep, and the one or two minor blips we've had are not the fault of the sat nav, but ours: for not reading or hearing the directions properly. After nearly a month in France, last night I heard Pete tell our next door neighbour, quite smugly, (please be warned, Glen and Bill. I fear he is out to gloat!) that he has not paid one single Euro on any motorway toll in France. That, then, appears to be his modus operandi for our trips. We go the long way. Which suits all of us. As usually they are the most scenic.

We sleep remarkably well, we eat disgustingly well, and we walk most days until we're plodding. We need to. We're just back, actually, from our second walk today watching the sun slide down over the Bay of Biscay while drinking Grand Marnier at nearly ten o'clock in the evening on the sand outside a little beach cabana with a big view. We find markets most days and that would be one of the joys of our days if it wasn't for Rebecca. Rebecca (thanks to Ian -- lord, Ian, you will pay for this!) was well drilled in Essential French before she left home. Ian taught her that the most important thing she had to remember if someone said, or gave her something, was to say: "Messy!" You will be chuffed to know, Ian, that not only has she perfectly mastered the 'Messy'-- accompanied, I might add, by a high-pitched cackle each time, as she remembers you teaching her this--she now has graduated to 'Bon---' in front of everything. Which she remembers, also, because of you and which gets another cackle with each use. Now, Ian, I will have you know that the French are moderately restrained folk. When someone cackles so unrestrainedly in a French marketplace, on a daily basis, it tends to be rather obvious. Heads turn. Yours, my friend, may roll when we arrive home.

The other thing worth commenting about is that when you travel with Peter you rarely, if ever, stop: not even to read a Sunday paper. He has this WASP-ish notion, that a minute spent in self-indulgence might lead to some secret devil's business, I think. So Beck and I don't get much rest. We wake early. We get to sleep late. And there's a lot going on between those two happenings. Pete doesn't sit still well, so, a lot of things get covered. But it's all fun.

Another little tidbit: I doubt a day goes by when we don't hear British accents--and we are not talking tourists here. We're talking people who now live and/or work in France. This decade must have seen a massive English invasion to this part of France. There are English people working in hairdressers, hardwares, mechanical repairs, real estate--you name it, they are here in droves. Even on the Cote Basque, where locals are so proud of their Basque heritage, there are shop signs duplicated in English. I wonder what history will deduce when it comes to this episode of English exodus? It is now 11pm and I am off up onto my wonderful flexible Japanese slats for what little rest I can grab before a big day out on the Basque hills tomorro