I love having a van, and knowing that it is there, ready to go off somewhere with only minimal packing.  I love the fact that, as a teacher I have a decent summer holiday, you can get pretty far in 6 weeks.  I always feel that the weeks I spend at home are just housework and hanging about, waiting until we can all go somewhere together. I have daydreamed about long road trips, and we have talked about me driving the van out somewhere in Europe, and KB joining a few weeks in for his regulation 2 week break, and then me bringing the van home again with the kids afterwards.

But.  There’s always a but. Am I brave enough to do it?  Plan it, book it – fine.  Go off on my own, deal with everything on my own – could I do it? It’s always been one of those things I say I would love to do but secretly think I probably would never have the nerve.

So it’s a big first step, fucking off to Europe for 6 weeks.  If I’m going to have the confidence to do something so big, I figure I need to start smaller and build up.

Last summer I took the kids off for a mini adventure to Filey for 2 days.  We parked up (I even got the van up on the chocks with the assistance of Madame).  I filled up, emptied out, plugged in, cooked.  We had a minor worry with the battery – which in the fullness of time turned out was on its last legs as we let it go too flat too often instead of using it or plugging it in regularly; lesson learned.

We’ve used the van more often as a day van lately, which I’ve always been reluctant to do in the past because parking it is a ball ache in most places and for short errands it feels like taking a sledgehammer to crack a nut, but then how can I feel more confident driving the van if I hardly ever drive the van?  And keeping it on the drive adds to that feeling of hanging around and waiting.

So I’m becoming a woman of action.

Local campsite booked, jobs to do on the van ready for the big summer family trip, which can’t easily be done at home, so a Wednesday night solo camp out happened to test my nerve.

I booked a hard standing super pitch with electric, water and drainage for 39.50 a night.  I always moan about the price going up, but the pitch without the water and drainage was only 2 quid a night cheaper which would have meant arsing around driving backwards and forwards to the service point to do my water tank jobs, and probably feeling like I’m spending too long there trying to do what I need, feeling self conscious, so I swallowed the extra 2 quid and booked the super.  Do something hard, but make it easy.

When I arrived and they gave me a map, it seemed that the vast majority of the pitches were the super ones, so the chance of me getting a cheaper one would have been smaller.

The campsite was lovely, made a great impression.  It’s quite new and you can tell.  The reception building has a shop, bar and coffee shop with patio/terrace and lots of glass.  The facilities block is accessible with a code as it’s on the edge of the country park.  Mother would be impressed a the space and cleanliness.  Although the showers are the classic push button, they lasted ages and were warm with a good spray.  If the anklebiterz were there they would have loved the miles of tarmac paths to scoot about on and the play area overlooking the view down to the lake.

So, to business.  The pitch was huge.  The electricity bollard was in the middle and I parked just to the right of it, with room to wind out the awning fully and still have space beyond; so I had the same amount of space again.  It was pretty hot so I got the rainbow screen out and opened all the doors and windows. 

My aim was to test the new purchase of the Peggy Peg sunshades.  After about 10 minutes stood on a stool with the awning leg in one hand and the shade in the other I gave up trying to attach it solo.  It’s a 2 person job, as the strip it slides into is on the inside of the awning and the legs are just at the wrong angle.  I needed 3 hands.

The previous day I had filled the clean water tank and added tank cleaner which has to sit for 24 hours.  The plan was to empty, refill and rinse out before changing the water filter for the drinking tap.

I rigged up the colapz drainage pipes and drained out, after running a good portion through both sinks, it was coming out a bit frothy, so I could see it would need a good rinse through.

Once it was empty I set up the hosepipe into the clean tank, but would it stay put?  Would it buggery! Every time I took my hand away it snaked out of the hole and drenched me and everything else.  Several atempts later, I’d eventually got it full, so started draining down again, frothy water, slow drainage, losing the will to live…

I gave up part way through the second refill, and consoled myself that I could fill the kettle and my water bottle directly at the tap and cut my losses.

Chair out, fizz open to celebrate getting this far.

Celebration was premature.

I’d brought a frozen portion of homemade lasagne in a foil tray for tea.  Plan was to bung it in the oven whilst I enjoyed my drink…

Oven wouldn’t light.  Thinking back to earlier in the day when I used the van to nip out to drop a parcel and the fridge lights were blinking when I parked up.  I had looked up the error code which said it was not switching power source automatically.  I checked it with the hook up back home and decided it must have righted itself.  But here was the  oven not lighting.  I tested the hob.  Also not lighting.  Gas gauge on the dashboard was clearly lying to me as there was no gas.  Arse.

No biggie, I could microwave the lasagne – if I had something to put it in.  I was just about to decant it onto a small chopping board, when I remembered I’d brought a plastic box of salad to have with it, which saved the day.  I didn’t have to eat frosty lasagne for tea.

2 glasses of fizz in I realised I had a choice between finishing the bottle and definitely having a quiet night, or clearing up and going to bed potentially more nervous about spending the night on my own.

I decided to tidy up, as I wanted to be off early the following morning, and settled down to watch some TV on my laptop when I’d made the bed up.  I left the windows and skylights on the latch as it was still warm out and told mysdelf not to be such a big jessie.

All was good, until I was woken up just before 2am by the sound of crunching gravel, which made me wake up with a start.  I put the light on, had a pike out of the window, couldn’t see anything amiss, put my phone next to me and decided I should try to go back to sleep.  It took a while, the tawny owl calling out didn’t really help (but I did add it to my Merlin list!) 

This was the kind of thing I was dreading, being afraid in the night and being alone.  Realistically I was on a site with security barriers, CCTV, a patrolling guard and 24 hour access to reception, I had no reason to be afraid.  I’m a sensible, capable person who deals with all sorts of shit on a daily basis at work, so I had a word with myself and let it go.

So how do I feel about the solo camping adventure?

I’m glad not everything went to plan, because it gave me chance not only to work out how to handle it, but to show myself that I can handle the unexpected.  As a person who loves a plan and a list, uncertainty is not an option, except knowing that you can deal with uncertainty is far more powerful than planning hoping and worrying about what might not happen.

I enjoyed the confidence that came from doing things by myself, and feeling good that I did something that I thought I couldn’t do.  It was a bit of feel the fear and do it anyway, but probably the biggest takeaway was a reminder that camping is a team sport.

I loved sitting with a drink as the sunset, but I wanted to share it with KB.  I loved discovering the campsite, but all I was thinking was “the kids would love this”  I did all the jobs that needed doing (mostly) but they are quicker and easier done together.  Camping needs time, and you need more of it when you are by yourself, sharing it with the ones you love is the best bit of any trip.

#campervancapers