My random ramblings about time spent in our caravan and the time spent wishing we were in our caravan. Touring with a caravan is something you either 'Get' or you 'Don't get.' There is no middle ground.
2019 was a bit of a year for us. A quick summary would read 9 trips staying 61 nights away on 10 different sites (6 of which were new to us) and 2350 towing miles miles in two different caravans.
The year started early for us at the start of February, when full of post Christmas winter blues, Herself suggested a cheeky 4 nights away. In freezing temperatures and surrounded by snow we spent 4 nights at Tudor Caravan Park in Gloucester shire. We didn't know it at the time, but this was to be our last trip out in our cherished Pageant 7 Series Sancerre. Short days were spent walking along the towpath of the adjacent ship canal and getting shitfaced in the Tudor Arms adjoining the site.
We'd been to the big show at the NEC in October and for varying reasons, mainly money, that we would not change the van just yet. Just 4 days after returning from Tudor an advert flashed up on my time line from the local dealer. We went to have a look and to cut a long story short fell for an offer that was too good to miss.
February 23rd saw us collecting the Charisma 635, but there was no way we were going to wait until Easter to try it out, so late on March 7th, in the darkness once more, we are pulling through the gates once more of Tudor Caravan park for a 4 nights shakedown trip.
No snow this time, but wet, cold and windy. Again we spent time walking the towpath and availing ourselves of the facilities in the adjacent premises. We were also joined by Beastie for a few nights - she also brought her parents.
A heatwave arrived at Easter and on April 18th we are pulling in through the gates of the Stover site near Newton Abbot for a planned stay of 4 nights. In the sunshine we had a day out up on Dartmoor and a trip over the Tamar into east Cornwall.
Our stay was cut short though, as a phone call home on the Sunday morning reveals that Creaky has been taken into hospital and we head for home just as soon as we can pull down the canopy and hitch up.
May Day weekend was approaching, and we had planned a trip to Longleat. That changed rather abruptly though as Creaky was once again rushed into hospital in the days leading up to our departure. we've both got leave booked from work, so luckily I manage to secure a pitch for 6 nights at a very local Pembrey Country Park. We're away, but close enough for Herself to visit hospital every day.
The weather was quite kind to us and we spent lots of time walking the dogs and chilling by the van, also taking in a war festival over the weekend.
We didn't go away for the Spring bank holiday due to us attending a Madness gig over the weekend. We did have 6 nights away in the week following at Home Farm near Weston Super Mare. A superb and peaceful CL was a real tonic.
We spend a lot of time walking on the beach at Sandy Bay, but also manged days out to Brean, Wells, Cheddar, Glastonbury and Minehead.
After having some warrantee work done on the van, an impromptu weekend is had at Pembrey Country Park on June 20th, where we pitch next to Ronnie, MBW and Beastie for 3 nights on one of the hottest weekends of the year so far.
The start of July sees us setting off on our early summer holiday. The first stage was 5 nights at Exebridge Lakeside. The weather was great and as well as various walks we took in The Valley of the Rocks and the Tarr Steps.
We also spent a lot of time in the beer garden of the nearby Anchor Inn.
Straight from here we headed towards Lyme Regis for 3 nights stopping at Manor Farm CS. We had a great few days, but the main reason was to attend the annual Sausages n Cider Festival, hosted by the local football club.
From then it seemed like an eternity to our main summer break, our annual pilgrimage to the far west of Cornwall for 18 nights, starting at August 22nd. Trevedra Farm didn't disappoint, but then it never does. It's our spiritual home.
No October getaway this year, but the start of November sees us hitching up once more for a two stop trip away. Firstly we pitch up for 2 nights at Parc Bryn Bach in the pouring rain to attend a nearby birthday party.
The Sunday, with very nasty hangovers, sees us towing down to the New Forest, where we pitched up at Black Knowl for another 6 nights. We spent a lot of time walking in the forest, and didn't really venture far. The weather was mostly kind to us and we had a fabulous week.
And there we have it. Two further trips in December were cancelled. At the start of the month a 3 night shopping trip in The Cotswolds was ditched due to me needing emergency dental surgery that weekend, with a dismal weather forecast for the time between Christmas and New Year extinguishing any enthusiasm we had for a 4 night trip to Longleat.
Right then, before I start I have to fess up that I've stolen the idea for this blog post from an imaginary friend on the Internet who's superb blog can be read HERE.
Tinternet, and especially groups on The Book, is full of discussion on what constitutes pink and blue jobs when away in the caravan. I've previously touched on this in a blog post back October 2012 (CLICK HERE) , when I said ......
When we are away, Herself and I tend to share the duties equally.
She tends to be 50% cook, washer upper, laundry lady, reversing aid, left wing mirror authenticator, sweeper of the floor, bed maker upper, financier, site booker inner, fridge switch operator, roof vent checker, medical advisor, Health & Safety representative, highway code enforcer, speed trap detector, profanity censor, blind operator, water empty alarm, “bog full” announcer, dietary advisor, disc jockey, meteorologist, and three night conjugal event co-ordinator.
Of course, everything else as usual is down to me, and rather than bore you with a long list, suffice to say I drive. I am also put in charge of anything that in effluent related.
This hardly does the topic justice though, so I knocked up the following table. It is obviously composed from my perspective and makes a big issue of everything I do while at the same time completely ignoring a multitude of tasks that herself does that I didn't know she does, or even that they needed doing!
So if you see a fat, bald Welsh bloke with two black eyes emptying the waste on your next site, you'll know that Herself has read this post and explained to me in no uncertain terms the error of my ways!!
Anyway, the chart ........
Where we go is always down to me. Herself take s no interest in this, to the point that even 2 days before we set off her response to work colleagues when asked where she is going this time on holidays is always a shrug of the shoulders.
Towing duties are down to me, Herself can tow and has done in the past when we towed a much smaller 15ft Avondale Pearl Custom, but since our vans have gone past 7m she's not towed on the public highway.
Seeing that Herself also has no interest in where we are heading, the navigation is also down to me ..... This of course may also be due to me ranting at her in the past when she's unwittingly sent me down a dead end or something.
I'm deaf, so always leave Herself to check in and have the lecture off the site wardens, and I just circle the site (at least 3 times) until Herself had decided on a suitable pitch. There are many factors to take into account here for Herself, but the practicalities of getting the van onto the chosen pitch and being able to get a TV signal are not on Herself's radar.
I'm shit at reversing and Herself won't touch the mover remote so getting the van off the back of the car and onto the pitch is down to me, but to be fair she will jump into the driver's seat just as soon as I've unhooked the breakaway cable, and parks up in the allocated spot once I precision pitched in line with the white peg (no dressing down off those pesky wardens).
I have toys, so pitching the van and getting it level is my job, and I will not give up that pleasure to anyone. I make it look as complicated as possible but to be brutally honest the combination of a Pitch Perfect, Lock 'n' Level, cordless tyre inflator, cordless drill and a pair of Nemesis wheel locks makes the task a doddle.
No doubt though, if Tyre inflation of the Lock 'n' Level was via a foot pump, Herself's assistance would be required as I wouldn't be able to fully concentrate on looking out for those magic two lights while at the same time pumping away and pulling calf muscles.
By now Herself has generally escaped the wind and rain just as I'm winding down the last leg. She inside and is hurling stuff out of the door in my general direction. Well it can be no accident that most of it hits me! Services are connected by me outside while she sets about converting inside from travelling mode into a habitable space. This used to be a big deal, but in reality is much easier now it's just the two of us travelling. When the boys travelled with us you couldn't step inside the van for crap that covered the entire floor!
Awning / canopy next. If just the canopy I manage that by myself while Herself trots off to inform the wardens what pitch we are on and collect any security fobs needed. She never used to, but we've had too many near misses with pegs flying through the air over the years and she feels safer out of the firing zone.
The Vango is a 2 person job, and with the appropriate risk assessments in place I am honoured to have her assistance which really only includes holding onto things that need holding onto and following me round with the peg bag!
Awning furniture is her department while I plug in the extension lead and set up any lights.
To complete the set up The TV needs to be tuned and our IT set up. Again this involves toys so I am responsible. TV is a priority as this will keep Herself happy, so an app is fired up on my phone to find the nearest transmitter, the compass app is fired up to make sure the status in pointing in the right direction and the TVs are prodded into doing their thing.
When we're on site any cooking is shared evenly, when I say shared what i really mean is anything exciting like using a BBQ or a griddle is bagsied by me while Herself gets to hold onto the more mundane stuff that involves using the cooker. The one task that we do share evenly is the washing up, though to be honest as we have a dish washer at home I find it a bit of a novelty.
Keeping things empty that should be empty and keeping things full that should be full is my department. Herself did empty the toilet once, but it is an experience she's not too keen to repeat!
I can't stand being in a dirty caravan with dirty windows so all outside cleaning is initiated by me, but to be fair to Herself she always makes the bed and spruces up the inside to her much higher standards than mine!
I don't know how to work our washing machine at home, so when away a trip down to the laundry room when required is a bit of a novelty for me, though my incompetence sometimes infuriates any assistants working there!
Breaking camp is a depressing process. We tend to just get up and do it, with very little social interaction. It can be simply split. I do outside and Herself does inside, but she does watch over me when hitching up to correct any "senior moments".
I'm usually on my chin straps when we get home, and Herself has usually has a good kip as we eat up motorway miles, so once home she engages overdrive, with me just having to get the van back into its rather tight parking space and secure it from thieves. Herself does most of the rest.
And there you have it. Should have just left it as it was in 2012.
Our plans were to head straight to The New Forest on Saturday for our late autumn break this year, but a text inviting us to a significant birthday party changed all that.
Friday 1 November
I'm up early doors, and while still dark, but the road relatively quiet, I'm in my HiViz inching the van out onto the back of Toyah, who incidentally has been a very naughty girl.
You see it has transpired that all the time we've had her she's had a knackered turbo (not that you'd have know) and has been ditching oil at an ever increasing rate. So alarming was the magnitude of the oil loss on the way back from Cornwall that she got booked in for someone to confirm what I suspected. new turbos for a Touareg are not cheap!!
Anyway, our site reception closes at 5pm with no arrivals allowed after, but they said you can come as early as 9am if you like. So hitched up I'm on the M4 by 7.30am and taking the A465 Head of the Valleys road in the wet rush hour traffic.
I've booked a few hours toil, but don't want to waste much time, so am waiting for them to roll up the shutters at 9am.
I look around my surroundings and acknowledge that if the weekend weather warnings come to anything we are going to get a right hammering all the way up here until Sunday.
The van is on a grass grid standing but all around is squelchy, but by 10.30am I'm set up and heading back down the A465 and into work.
In the darkness we're making our way up the Glynneath Bank as the rain gets harder and harder. It's like stair rods as we pull into site, which sort of sets the tone for the weekend.
Even though we're on a hard standing (of sorts) the dogs get filthy running from the car into the van. Instantly the inside is covered in mud splashes and we go into panic mode with a pack of flash wipes.
Saturday 2 November
It hammered down all night, so much so that we're getting messages through the night asking if we're OK from Sabrina. The stock answer was "yes we're fine" which of course we were (so long as the lake level didn't rise too much) until we got up in the morning and were forced to declare an emergency.
We'd neglected to restock our tea caddy and coffee jar after returning from Cornwall.
A text is sent to Sabrina, whose cave is just a few miles from here, and we're on our way. I don't think she thought we were serious mind, but never the less within 2 mins of us knocking on the door steaming mugs are presented to us while myself and Bear settle down to watch England choke spectacularly in the World Cup Final.
Herself and Sabrina have some serious catching up to do, and I doubt ant breaths were taken.
Late morning and it stops raining for just long enough for Herself and I to take the dogs for a walk with Bear and his along the banks of The Ebbw River. By the time the kettle has boiled once more it is biblical again, and passing the highest point on the Heads of the Valleys we are down to 30mph with Toyah's wipers going flat out.
They're a hardy lot up here, and our afternoon is spend in the comfort of the van (even if it does smell of mud) watching all breeds of nutters walking, cycling, running and riding scooter around the lake, while all the time God persists in making an escape route for Noah!
It is still tipping down as it gets dark and we get scrubbed up to head off out. Sabrina has a significant birthday this week. I'm far too much of a gentleman to give away a lady's age (that and she has a large collection of voodoo dolls and such like) and she's having a party week - we have been invited to this evening's leg.
It was a great doo. All the women sat around the table talking women stuff, while the men retreated to the bottom of the garden, into Bear's "Man Cave", generally ignoring each other while necking beer and staring into the flames of his stove!
Perfect.
Sunday 3 November
Not feeling too sharp this morning, and maybe over indulging last night was not the best preparation for a day of travel. It stopped raining at about 5am, but outside is sodden. The dogs get a run while I move the van off the pitch.
That didn't go to plan. The hard standing is made of concrete grass grid, only due to council cut backs the infill has long since gone, leaving jockey wheel sized holes in the surface. Mine got stuck and the shaft is now bent. I cursed a little, and having been a rather vocal critic of Karrt and their premium range of jockey wheels, i now fear I'm going to have to bite the bullet and become the owner of one!
My frame of mind is not improved either when the educationally challenged bint on reception duties (who is at pains to let me know she is just covering for someone) is having difficulty counting out my £15 deposit on the vast array of keys and fobs we have needed to get in and out of the site and facilities block.
Herself has also lost her phone. We'd tried ringing it in the van - no joy. We'd tried ringing it in the car - no joy. She's insistent that she didn't get it out at Sabrina's doo last night so it can only be in the taxi. One last try as we start to drop down into Abergavenny on the A465, and Bingo, it's answered by someone called Morgan who sounds like he doesn't really know where he is. He must be at Sabrina's gaff, so we hang a right for a little detour.
With the phone retrieved, a rather tricky 3 point turn on the narrow roads of Blaina, and a little later than planned, we are able to announce to the world .... Wagons Roll.
The sun is out as we drop down the A449 towards the M4, and despite of our diets we are both in need of some hangover food. The McDonalds at Magor services come to the rescue before we once again hit the road. Herself embarks on some serious personal contemplation and I do my very best to stay awake at the wheel.
Hindsight it a wonderful thing, and maybe I would have been better off taking the route across country through Chippenham and Salisbury rather than the easier, but longer and more boring motorway route!
I soon perk up as we hit the A and B roads of the New Forest and start to soak in the scenery. I'd not bothered to look up the club's directions to site, but luck was on our side as we settle in behind the tail lights of a Bailey Pursuit who obviously had, and we're pulling through the gates of Black Knowl with little drama.
As soon as the legs are down Herself is inside setting about giving the van a deep clean, removing all traces of the nightmare site we've just left, while I am left to set us up.
The door springs open, and an aroma of freshness wafts out towards me. The mats have been washed and anything that can be washed or wiped down has been washed or wiped down.
Tea is some chicken thighs cooked on my new toy for this trip, a Kampa hot plate, and is devoured before the plate has had enough time to cool down properly.
Early night tonight. Monday 4 November
Today started off in a pretty mundane fashion, we need supplies, and apart from the local Tesco Express, Google tells me the nearest supermarkets are Sainsburys and Waitrose. That isn't happening, so I cast the net a bit further and locate a big Asda near Southampton.
The dogs will spend most of the morning in the boot so need to be exercised first. We park up at nearby Whitemoor Pond Inclosure where for the next 15 mins they get their legs run off while chasing a ball
Onwards, and we leave the very scenic surrounds of the New Forest towards civilisation. Closing in on Southampton we stop off at Asda, get some illegals to throw a bucket of water over Toyah, dart around B&M before finally stopping off at Ikea.
The reason for Ikea is that our crockery in the van is from their cheap as chips range, made from tempered glass - very durable supposedly - and while they feel a lot better than melamine (I hate chasing plates around the table) and do not chip, we found out on or last trip that they are not COMPLETELY shatterproof. Some numpty dropped one and it need replacing.
A 50p plate was located, but somehow by the time we got through the market hall to checkout we had £27 worth of crap loaded onto the conveyor! How did that happen?
Exiting the car park we retrace our tracks back, marvelling at the size of the docked cruise ships as we leave the city behind.
After a quick lunch we decide that despite the showers, having been cooped up for a few days, the dogs are in need of a decent walk.
In hindsight it was getting a little late in the day, but off we set anyway. All was going well as we trudged off down the drive with the dogs on their extenders until safe to be let off. The ground is wet and rivers are in flood, but we're enjoying getting up so close to the wild life.
After meandering through the sodden ground next to the swollen river we walk over the bridge into the now closed Alrdridge Hill camp site. We get to the end of the gravel track and I suggest turning around.
Now the next bit is important. Herself is adamant that we carry on.
I look at Google maps and plot a route back to site. We simply have to carry on walking NE along the bank and then cross over into Long Meadow before following the track back to site.
We keep going and going. The river is swollen and the surrounding low lying land is also flooding. Little impromptu streams are now forming and we need to cross one. Herself's knackered knee is not helping either, but somehow we both manage to get over by clinging onto brambles and hopping from clump to clump, getting very wet feet and palms full of thorns for our troubles.
Little did I know that we are now on Highland Water, but Herself is starting to twig that we are marooned on a high point with water rising all around us despite me trying to bluff it out (the concern must have shown on my chops). We have no option now other than get our feet wet again and go back the way we came.
By now Herself has forgotten that I suggested turning around just over an hour ago, and it is now all my fault. We get to the other side through desperation really and with no other option, but are a bit disorientated. It takes us a while to get our bearings, and pull out all the thorns, and we suddenly realise that the light is fading fast with us being in the middle of nowhere and not a scooby of where we actually were.
I send out a message in Facebook, and while a friend from back home helpfully suggests a three words app that can locate you, a cousin replies that he's currently pissing himself laughing while following our misfortune whilst propping up a bar in Spain. Family eh!!!
It is getting darker and darker, and we are still trudging through moist stuff trying to find a track to follow. Even the New Forest ponies are giving us "What on earth are you still doing out here" looks as we pick up the pace.
We have never been so happy to glimpse the lights of the caravan site through the trees, and when back we sit under the canopy laughing uncontrollably at our escapade. I thought you were supposed to get more responsible as you get older! Tuesday 5 November
After yesterday's shenanigans, and step count, we had a great night under the covers. The bed was way more comfortable this morning and we spent quite some time watching Piers talk down to people as we contemplated getting up.
Ronnie video calls us to wave at Beastie and I motivate myself enough to get up, light a flame under the kettle and get breakfast on the go.
Leaving site we are slowed down somewhat as we join the back of a traffic jam New Forest stylee.
He was in no hurry to move over.
Having once again ran the dogs at Whitemoor Pond we were OK to leave the dogs in the car at Lyndhurst while we had a mooch around the shops.
Herself scores herself a bottle of local(ish) gin and presents for Beastie are procured. I feel somewhat left out when Herself lets me know in no uncertain terms that a little something from the Maserati dealership would be somewhat OTT to be considered a small holiday treat!
Soon enough though the guild pangs arrive and we head back to Toyah and the dogs. With Rhinefield Ornamental drive punched into the savnav we are soon on the muddy roads once more admiring then scenery, and hotels we probably couldn't afford to park in.
We find a quiet spot for a picnic lunch - not easy round here - and make up some beef rolls sat on the tailgate while the dogs played in a muddy ditch - no doubt looking for BJ.
With another walk under our belts - no we didn't get lost this time - we pile back into Toyah and continue along Rhinefield in the direction of home (hopefully). We had no idea we were so close when parked up at (and no I didn't take much notice of the name of the car park either) Whitefield Moor, and within seconds we are passing where we take the dogs for their early morning run (Whitefield Pond) and taking a left down past Beachern Wood towards site.
The rest of the afternoon is spend chilling and enjoying some us time, before it gets dark and thoughts turn towards dinner. Herself enters the lounge looking a million dollars and asks "What are we doing for tea? Are we cooking or going out?"
I'm quite quick on the uptake and surmise that seeing she's taken the trouble to put her face on we are going out. I open up the laptop to search for a suitable establishment but am told she fancied the look of a place when passing yesterday - The Cheese something or other, but where it was she couldn't remember!
Google is yewer friend as they say (how did we ever manage without it?) and in no time at all we are parking up outside The Happy Cheese on the other side of Lyndhurst towards Southampton.
Herself has a rather restrained wild mushroom risotto (keeping in line with her recent very significant weight loss), whilst I took the opportunity to indulge in a large fish supper with a side of salt and pepper squid, washed down with a pint of Shipyard Pale Ale.
I won't mention the double scoop of Rum 'n' Raisin Gelato just in case my diabetic nurse is reading this, but in my defence (I didn't know this until I just Googled how to spell Gelato by the way) that well know fountain of knowledge, Wikipedia, categorically states ..... Gelato is healthier for you than ice cream, ice cream has 17% fat and Gelato just 3% because ice cream is made with heavy cream and not milk like Gelato.
So that's good enough for me.
Herself has been on the lookout for deer all day, but with little success. This of course has been my fault as I have failed to deliver on one of her expectations. That was put right on the way back, as after giving the dogs a run in the inky darkness up at Whitemoor Pond, watching Southampton doing an impression of Beirut in the distance, we are stopped in out tracks as one runs across the road on our final approach to site.
Wednesday 6 November
We wake to bright sunshine this morning. Herself has a bit of a lie in while I give our walking boots the good news with some Nixwax.
Breakfast is simply poached eggs, and we throw a packed lunch into the rucksacks and head off out for a bit of a wander. We've got a rough idea where we want to go today, and get into our stride hoping for no unplanned river crossings.
Our 4 mile walk took us down the drive from the site and then over towards Puttles Bridge, up onto Whitefield Moor, over to Whitemoor Pond Enclosure, down towards Beachern Wood and back to site.
It was a superb walk with varied views. Feet didn't get wet nor did we get lost or marooned on an island! The only bit that didn't quite go to plan was we couldn't find a picnic bench anywhere to stop for lunch. So the weight of that and our water stayed in my daysack to be consumed under the canopy back on our pitch.
Herself's knackered knee and Tali's ageing rear end are giving them some severe gip by now, so the rest of the day will be less strenuous. Dosed up with pain killers and spruced up a bit we head off out for a spin. We've had our fill of forest and moorland for today, so coastal views are on the agenda.
First up we make tracks for Milford on Sea, which to be frank was quite uninspiring. We pass through and find a car park on the other side where we stop for a while looking over to The Isle of Wight and The Needles.
Herself asks why they are called that when they look more like teeth? I'll be honest here and admit I had no answer, but again, Google is yewer friend and soon came up trumps to save my dignity.
"The formation takes its name from a fourth needle-shaped pillar called Lot's Wife, which collapsed in a storm in 1764.[8] The remaining rocks are not at all needle-like, but the name has stuck."
With that mystery solved we press on through Christchurch. This place reeks of money, cars are gleaming and occupied by Yummy Mummies collecting their little darlings from private school.
At Boscoombe we take a left down towards the pier and beach. It must have been a bit stormy recently as Undercliff Drive is covered with sand. So much so that it is impossible to see where the beach ends and the road begins.
I open up the door to get out and a blast of cold air assaults Herself. She grabs her phone so it would appear that it's just me getting out with the dogs for a stretch on the sand.
With the light starting to fade we make tracks back towards site. It will be a staggered journey though broken by a few pit stops.
First up we swing into the car park at the Hare and Hounds at Sway. Swinging the door open we are greeted by a roaring fire, the smell of which sets the atmosphere. We order drinks at the bar and go to take seats at an empty table within sight (and within radiation distance) of the fire.
A local is sat next to the fire, with his dog on the floor by his side (blocking access to the table). He looks up from his paper, looks straight at us, then gives his paper more undivided attention.
"Righto, we'll sit over there then!" with a few insults in Welsh thrown into the bargain!
Pressing on, and it's dark by the time we get to The Forest Park Country Hotel near to site.
This place is welcoming and has a box full of freshly laundered doggy towels at the door. The bar is well stocked with a variety of gins. Herself is persuaded to try their own Brock Gin. It is made specially for them and the barman recites his sales pitch.
"Distilled exclusively for Forest Park, Brock Gin is a light, elegant gin with a complex floral palette. Carefully distilled in small batches this artisan premium gin contains botanicals of juniper, water mint, cucumber, orris root, angelica root, thyme, lemon peel and orange peel, which reflects the nature of our beautiful New Forest landscape. We have a rich abundance of wild food on our doorstep and Brock Gin captures and conveys this perfectly."
We take a table in very pleasant surroundings. Herself is taken with Brock, really taken, so a bottle is procured to take away with us. We now have a better selection of Gin in the caravan than most pubs!
Back at the van we indulge ourselves with a tea consisting of a Parsi King Prawn Curry, Tandoori Slamon and steamed Basmalti rice.
The rest of the evening flies by as Herself gets herself acquainted with the Brock and I put a serious dent in my San Miguel stash. Herself is feeling the cold tonight and has the Truma set to "Blast Furnace" and I'm feeling it. I need to cool down so take a seat outside under the canopy in the darkness letting to cool night air waft over me before bed time.
Nos dda
Thursday 7 November
With most of the week over I wake up early and reflect on our choice of site. OK it was somewhat restricted due to most shutting up shop at the end of October, but this one has hit the spot. Superb walks direct from site, stunning scenery, abundance of wildlife as well as being near the coast.
Another reason this one has been good is that we've avoided the week long celebration of Guy Fawkes, and save the odd bang (and I'm talking 2 or 3 over the entire week) we've (the dogs mainly) have been spared the week long torture that they have to endure at home!
The sun is shining and we have blue skies, but it rained quite a bit over night. Not that I'm moaning having seen the floods in Derbyshire on the news.
We've had breakfast and are off out on a walk quite early. Different route today. Out of the gate and down towards Ober corner, then a right to follow the track towards Long Meadow campsite. We've no particular route in mind, which is a good job really as we'd not gone far and our progress is halted by the river in flood. After our escapades the other night there is no way we are wading this morning so take the only other option to our right and onto a poker straight path that will take us back up onto Rhinefield Rd and the New Forest Park Hotel.
We take a table out the back in the sunshine and I got in to order a pot of tea and a coffee. I did honestly, it's just when I got to the bar it had just turned 11am and I couldn't bring myself to do it.
Herself was somewhat surprised when I arrived back at our table with pints of lager and cider!
Some lamb is thrown on the griddle for lunch, we have showers and head off out for the rest of the day. Portsmouth is the lucky destination and the expensive sounding Gunwharf Quays outlet. We resist spending on ourselves, but Beastie scores some clothes from Gap and some daps from Vans before Herself declares she's had enough and we make tracks back westwards.
Herself says she's fancied the look of a pub for food, and after her superb recommendation for the Happy Cheese the other night, who am I to argue?
I should have heeded the warning signs as we swung into the empty car park of the Crown Stirrup in Lyndhurst. Never the less we take a table in front of the log fire and the barman brings over some menus for us to peruse.
I should also have heeded this warning as I glanced at the recently printed A4 sheet that resembled the contents of a freezer in Farm Foods. Herself is far nicer than me and is far too embarrassed to get up and walk out, and it was nice by the fire.
The food was rank, the Amstel tasted like it had been in the pipes for 2 months, they didn't have enough gin to serve a double and the bloody fire went out in the time we were there. Herself is now regretting not walking and is simmering under the surface as a woman walks in with her dog and just drops the lead. the dog is free to roam the pub and the woman is unworried that the dog has made a dart for our table and has it's nose on Herself's plate after a piece of Farm Foods battered cod fillet.
Words were said and Herself had to be ushered from the premises before aforementioned woman was dragged from Olde Worlde stanchion to Olde Worlde stanchion by her grey pony tail.
Friday 8 November
As per usual I'm up quite early. I light a flame under the kettle and spring open the blinds at the front end. We have a heavy frost, with any puddles of standing water on the site frozen over. Usually I have my first cuppa to myself, but this changed this morning as a sleepy eyed Herself shuffles up front to join.
I'm looking forward to a cosy morning in PJs just guzzling tea, but Herself sees the heavy frost and suggests a walk. I give her my best "You have got to be joking" look before chirping up "Bt it's only just got light. It's half seven woman!"
All to no avail, and too far before 8am for my liking we are layered up and heading out of the site at a fair old pace to get the blood circulating.
I'll not admit it yet to Herself, but coming out this early was the right thing to do. It's a little quieter for one thing. We set off on the circular walk again. Down the drive and then through the forest to Puttles Bridge then back alonhg a different path to Aldridge Hill and the site for a well earned braekfast - all before 9am.
Last day here today, so don't want to waste any of it. Tali is suffereing so more long walks are out of the question. Piling into Toyah we first drive through Rhinefield Ornamental Drive and then the Bolderwood Arboretum Ornamental Drive, The trees here are big, tinternet says they're the tallest and oldest in the New Forest, but it's not the trees that we're here for today.
We swing in to Bolderwood car park and clip on the dogs, making the short walk to the elevated platform at the deer sanctuary. I'm not hopefull to be honest as last time we came here we saw ziltch, but as we drop down the steps I motion to Herself to ssshhhh. A distance away we spot 2 deer, then 3, then 4 then as time goes on we have a bit of a gathering.
From here we carry on, heading in no particular direction following the road under the A31 and onto the single track road passed Milkham until a sign stops us in our tracks at Spring Bushes. Pointing to the right down a dirt track is a sign for the High Corner Inn. The child in me reckons that any pub down a dirt track has got to be worth a visit.
What a find! A lovely dog friendly pub in the middle of the forest with a log burner on tickover and horses roaming the beer garden. Bliss.
Refreshed after a pint and a sandwich we retrace our steps back to site and chill for a few hours before getting scrubbed up for a meal out at the nearby New Forest Park Hotel to finish the week off in style.
Saturday 9 November
The canopy was dropped yesterday, so breaking camp should have been a simple affair this morning. It dropped well below zero last night, and at 7am it was still minus 2. My first issue was trying to get into Toyah. I'd done a bit of stealth washing last night, and there must have been some water on her door seals and locks that had frozen. 30 mins is waster with bottles of warm water untilo she is fully accessible.
Just before 8.45am we're hitched up and dropping off the barrier card in the box and readyt to hit the road. We didn't get far though, only to the end of the drive and the car park at Beachern Wood, where I reverse back in and we give the dogs a good old run before setting off propper.
Different way home today. Instead of following Satnav which would be motorway all the way I've plotted a cross country route via Salisbury, Devizes and Chippenham before picking up the M4.
It was fine as we threaded our way through Brockenhurst, but as we appraoched Lyndhurst the skies were getting darker. Devizes saw the first few drops of rain and by the time we're on the M$ heading west at J18 it's absolutely tipping down.
The going was heavy, though Toyah shrugged it all off. Thankfully as we neared "Home is Where You Drag It" Towers the skies cleared and we were able to put the van back into it's cwtch and get her unloaded without getting wet.
Fantastic week away in the New Forest, somewhere we've not been since 2006. Guaranteed it'll not be as long until our next visit.
