A winter's tale...

It's a sad sight... but she's tucked up, safe and warm for winter... roll on the spring, roll on the open road... Nite Nite Frida,
xxx

Home again, home again, jiggity jig...

Frida returned to us... mended, in  fine fettle and to our great astonishment: she now has first gear...!

This has made negotiating steep hillsides in Devon rather less stressful... I held her at biting point several times, just for the sheer hell of it.

Best of all, on her first day back , we managed to secure a much sought after front row spot in the car park at Gwithian and so, following our final foray into the waves, we threw together a slap up, post-surf breakfast and sat scoffing it in the sunshine before it was time to wend our way home northwards and eastwards...

But we were after all, homeward bound. And so after a brief stop to break the journey once again on Dartmoor... we waved farewell to the West Country for this year.

Dartmoor Babies

Van-less in the West Country...

Well, the AA man arrived and with an 'I'm glad I'm not you, mate' nod and wink to The Boy, he took dear Frida away to be mended somewhere in Newquay... but not before I sheepishly unpacked all of our camping gear, passing it to The Boy who repacked what we could fit of it into the boot of his car...(Thankfully, although rather inexplicably, he had brought with him a spare tent... )

And so, with the promise of seeing Frida again in five days time... (just in time to drive home again)... we drove out of Devon (in a car!) and onwards to Cornwall... and back to glorious Gwithian, where The Boy and I had such a smashing time earlier this year.

Mainly, we surfed, swam and had barbecues... and the babies wore only their wet suits or pyjamas... and it was a blissful week... (despite having to slum it in tents.)

Sunset Surfing, Gwithian Bay

Don't look... just don't look...

I love The Boy, god knows I do... but he refused to pay attention to the sensitivities of Frida's delicate gearbox... and look what happened... *sigh*

It's true that she had no first gear at the time... it's also true that she was parked at the bottom of a rather steep slope outside a house somewhere on Dartmoor... however, it's also true that I had already managed to successfully  negotiate these things in second gear... albeit by taking a bit of a run-up.

The Boy however saw things rather differently.

Perhaps I should have simply shouted, sworn or taken over... but The Babies were strapped into the back seat and I tried to keep a lid on it as he revved and revved and revved and failed to get any further up the hill.

Result: burnt out clutch and a van that wouldn't go. (Secondary result: very sheepish looking Boy in driver's seat, three very curious Babies in back seat... and a very weepy lady owner in the passenger seat.)

Worst of all, we were en route to Cornwall and supposed to be camping out of Frida for the next week.

Dear AA Man, 

Please help.

Signed, 

Weepy Lady Van Owner 

(parked somewhere on Dartmoor)

Latitude Attitude...

It was fab, but frosty; great but grubby; daring  but damp as hell... it was a rather soggy Latitude... but on one night at least, we got a great sunset.

We'll always have Widdecombe...

This morning, with not a crazed Morris Man in sight, we woke feeling rather groggy and ropey... The Boy more than me, I fear...(no dinner + beer + whisky = poorly campers)... but to the sound of church bells and skylarks and to sunshine streaming in through the windows... we opened the door, pulled back the curtains and lay there staring out at the most fabulous view...

The only thing that threatened to spoil it was the sure fact that today we had to go home... it had been our last night in the van and was the last day of our lovely adventure through the west country... eager to get on the road we drove north, across the rest of Dartmoor, beautiful in the early morning light... where Frida showed her mettle as she negotiated those craggy mountainous roads... sometimes in second gear up a 20% gradient hill...The Boy has become an out-and-out expert at campervan hill starts in a van that doesn't have first gear... He’s become pretty hardcore after a week of it..

We drove straight through to Stonehenge where we had decided to stop for breakfast and, ditching the usual tourist route, we parked up just across the way and cooked ourselves a slap up breakfast, which we ate staring across at The Henge under clear blue skies...and lingered long, knowing that not a lot lay ahead of us now apart from the M25 and unpacking the van later that evening...

There was no two ways about it; it was time to go home... it had been, however, the most fabulous fun-and-frolics filled road trip... and best of all I found out that Frida was everything she had ever promised to be... Fears that a proper road trip might break her or that I might find out that at the ripe old age of 22 she was just too far over the hill to manage it were entirely unfounded... 

That brilliant vehicle drove over 1500 miles in just under a week and she didn’t even blink... in fact, I think I’m right in saying that she rather enjoyed it.

God, Frida, how I love you..!