DITL & Scenic Drive - Hondarribia, Spain & Fundao, Portugal, April 2012

Better late than never, I guess!  A combination scenic drive and day in the life video from three weeks ago.  (It is difficult to find a good WIFI connection from which to upload these gems.)

-K

Zambujeira do Mar, Portugal – Apr. 26-28, 2012

More (finally) stunning pictures here!

The southern Alentejano coast of Portugal is often overlooked as people set their sites on the more popular Algarve region and zip down the interstate as quickly as possible.  Indeed, we almost missed it ourselves only catching it because the 300 KM radius we drew from our last camping spot dropped us right near Zambujeira do Mar.  All I can say is thank goodness for limited driving rules!  What a gorgeous place.

The town is small, with a plethora of small restaurants and street-side cafes all seeming to cater to Portugese tourists (no English options on the menus and very little English is spoken in the shops.)  I can’t blame them for trying to keep the foreign tourists away; the coastline and beach are simply stunning in their natural beauty, lacking [so I have read] the over-developed ocean frontage to be found in the Algarve region.  (We are heading down there eventually so I reserve the ability to change that comment!)

The town also sits right along the Rota Vicentina hiking trail, which you can follow along the coast in either direction, landing in another seaside village in as little as 11 KM.   Along the hike, the multitude of blooming wildflowers draw your eyes across the plateaus to the drama of the black rock cliffs.  The cliffs, in turn, lead your gaze down to the peach-colored beaches and then back out to the aqua sea.  With so much stunning beauty at your footsteps it is easy to trip over your own tongue.  As SP put it, “A hike that is good for your soul.”

Our campground, the Parque de Campismo Zambujeira, although not nearly as close to the beach as the website would have you believe, is only a short walk to the town and ocean.  Given the time of year there were ever only a few of us caravaners on site so we enjoyed the peace and quiet as well as the freedom of running The Noses off leash.  (They, incidentally, have become quite good at the “Caravan Come” command; no matter where we are if we give it, they will rush to the front of Salt, and, if the door is open, they will jump right inside.  A very handy new trick!)

Being so alone in camp, we thought we would break out the P90X workouts on our first day.  However, the sun started to peak out so we called, “Carpe Sunem” and opted to head south along the Rota Vicentina trail.  We hiked two and a half miles down then returned to town for what we thought would be a fast snack.  Language is a huge barrier here for us; my French and Alan’s Spanish only combine to make things more difficult as most Portugese try to speak to us in German.  (Although once we figured that out, things became a bit smoother.) 

Anyway, our quick snack of what we thought would be deep-fried calamari turned out to be a long wait for a giant dish of very delicious teriyaki infused calamari, French fries and bread.  Plus two beers.  Good thing we hiked five miles!

Our second day in town we stopped at the Padaria for some fresh bread before heading for a shorter hike along the cliffs to the north.  The northern side, although equally stunning, lacks the large beaches found to the south. 

The weather remains a bit too cold for sunbathing otherwise we might never leave.  But leave we will – heading down to the more popular Algarve region where I am sure more stunning photos are awaiting us (and hopefully more warmth and sunshine!)

-K

Tordesillas, Spain to Fundao, Portugal – Apr. 22-24, 2012

As Spain, this time around, was only a pass-through country on our way to Portgual, we didn’t spend a lot of time selecting our stops.  The night in Hondarribia was a treat and the area around San Sebastian, including the first hour heading southwest toward Valladolid, remains some of my favorite geography; lush rolling hills with towns snuggled into the valleys and an occasional glimpse through to the ocean (coming soon to a combination DITL and Scenic Drive video.)  But after climbing up to the plateau just before Burgos the geography becomes quite dull so it was with a great relief of boredom that we pulled off to our campsite in Tordesillas.

We booked two nights because we needed to do some laundry and experience has taught us that this chore quite often requires the flexibility of a full 24 hours.  The campsites that have laundry facilities often have only one washer and one dryer so you can never be sure when your time will come.  (Incidentally, since leaving England doing laundry has become a much larger expense; usually at €4 per wash and €4 for dry.)  The campground was serviceable but, alas, we were not the coolest outfit in town:  Around dusk three Land Cruisers rolled in, complete with steel roof racks and air intake snorkles, setting up tents just 100 meters away.

The following morning we walked into town only to find that it was a holiday and most shops were closed.  So with a freezing wind (and me with no hat and a head cold!) we headed back to camp.  Enter Rookie Mistake #10,000:  I put in two loads of wash even though there was only one dryer.  But it really didn’t matter as when it came time to dry, the dryer didn’t function anyway.  So SP gathered the wet clothes (does anyone need a reminder of how I feel about wet clothes?  If so, see a posting from Mammoth Mountain, California) and drove them to where Google Maps had indicated a Lavanderia.  Never found one.  But ever the resourceful partner, he bought some clothes pins and upon his return we stood in the freezing wind (and partial sun) hanging our clothes on the line.  (This is when you are glad you threw away that old stained t-shirt.)  I must admit that during this exercise I had a couple of flashbacks to my old laundry room at 1109 . . .

By 7:00 p.m. the clothes were mostly dry so we gathered them up, leaving a few items to hang in Salt’s shower until the morning.  All in all, it wasn’t a bad experience (except for the wasted money):  The clothes, if a little stiff, came out smelling fresh like only air-dried clothing can. 

And people ask us, “What do you do with all your time?”

The next day we left for Portugal, crossing the border just after noon.  No passport review, no questions about The Noses, nothing.  However, as we started down the highway we noticed a sign that displayed something to the tune of "electronic toll only" and SP, having read up on the country, knew we needed to stop and buy a temporary pass.  So we turned back to the tourist office and found the machine, purchasing a three day pass for €20.  The machine requires that you enter your license plate number and the country of origin however, it did not have an option for the USA, so we opted for UK thinking this was the next most logical solution--and, if they sent someone after us, they might send someone who spoke English.  Pass in hand, we returned to the motorway.

The geography changed back to the lush rolling hills last seen outside of San Sebastian but Portugal ups the ante with all-white towns topped with all-red roofs to make it even more picturesque.  The sun was out as we pulled into our first Portugese campground, Camping Quinta do Convento, and headed into the town of Fundao. 

Luck was with us as we were able to find AO Sept (our contact care solution) at the Pharamacia and buy two SIM cards from Vodafone, all in less than two hours!  Back at camp, we celebrated the sunshine and the fresh country with our first bottle from our “expensive” collection (€50-€100/bottle) purchased in St. Emilion – Chateau Canon’s Premier Grand Cru 2007.   Aventura rating:  Delicious.

-K

St. Emilion, France, & Hondarribia, Spain – Apr. 20-21, 2012

More pictures!

I was apprehensive our first day driving with Pepper’s new transmission.  Call it gun-shy I guess, but every little bump in the road made my heart skip a beat and my stomach lurch.  But hit the road we did!  We got a late start out of Tours, France and began heading south toward San Sebastian, Spain around noon.  Knowing we were not likely going all the way to Spain in one day, we opted to stop in one of our 2009 Reconnaissance Mission’s Must Return areas, the Bordeaux wine region.

Now, some of you might not know about our Reconnaissance Mission:  In the Fall of 2009 we flew over (without the dogs and caravan) to Barcelona, rented a car and drove up into France, measuring roads and visiting campgrounds along the way.  Ha!  We thought this would prepare us for the big adventure.  I might have to start an entirely new blog just for the Things We Thought We Knew or better yet, Things We Didn’t Think to Ask.

Anyway, back to our drive:  During my driving shift, SP hunted us up a Municipal Camping site along the river Dordogne, Camping la Plage, so we set Snoopy to its coordinates.  First, a few words about our new GPS device, whose real name is The Snooper:  It has the ability to store the width and length of your rig and [is supposed to] direct you on roads suitable to your size.  Apparently we define suitable a little more generously than Snoopy as he often directs us onto very small, winding roads with barely enough room to squeeze one car let alone two.  (At times like these, we refer to him as Snoop Dog.) 

But follow him we did and around 4:00 we left the motorway and headed into the rolling, grapevine covered hills.  Snoopy led us into the charming town of Saint Seurin de Prats and then along the Dordogne River to the completely empty, and disappointingly closed, campground.  (Snoopy also has the ability to provide information on campgrounds nearby, including opening dates, but you have to actually read the information he provides.  Ahem, I was the driver not the navigator, that’s all I’m saying.)

We let the dogs run around the fields for a while then jumped back in and followed Snoopy back across the Dordogne (twice) up and down rolling hills, on tiny roads, in the rain.  The few times I managed to peel my eyes from the road (and I was just the navigator by now!) the scenery took my breath away.  Even in the pounding rain, the loveliness of the Dordogne River Valley doesn't miss an opportunity to enthral.   


After another hour on the winding roads and unable to locate campground #2, we decided to head to St. Emilion, a stone city situated on top of a hill.  Having been here during The Reconnassaince, we knew there was a bus parking area and if we had to we could stop for the night there.  However, Snoopy located an open campground (Domain de la Barbanne) about 3 kilometers from the town so we pulled in--a good two hours after leaving the motorway.  For those of you who know this area, I am sure you are laughing right now!  (St. Emilion is usually attained via a quick, non-pulse rising, 15 minute drive off a major motorway.) Aventura baby.

We thought we might spend two nights in St. Emilion after such a late, exhausting arrival but found ourselves the following morning standing in the rain, stocked with wine, cheese and fresh pictures of the town all before noon.  Time to continue our mission south and find some sunshine.

Again, I was still a little nervous riding as a passenger on Day 2 but remembering that I had felt better when driving on Day 1, we swapped and I was able to relax.  That is until SP spoke the words every trepedatious traveler wants to hear, “How adventurous do you feel?”

Seems that SP and Snoopy had conspired to locate us a spot via “Camper Stop”, a program on the device that lists areas (often parking lots) where you can camp for little or nothing overnight.  These stops usually don’t have water, bathrooms or electricity so you have to be completely self-contained.  But that’s why we bought Salt and added solar panels; the ability to stop and be completely self-sufficient at least for a few days.

So Snoopy directed us to a beach-front location in Hondarribia, just north of San Sebastian, Spain.  Driving in, we noticed ten or so RVs all parked at the rear of the lot and all close together.  Not enjoying crowds, we opted to be on the far side of the lot, parking so our door opened a few feet from the beach.  We were in heaven!  However it was only 3:30--a little early to stop driving for the day; we dragged our feet around until it was 4:00 then we ruled Carpe Pitchem and parked for the night. 


The sun came out which was nice not only for us and The Noses (as they raced around on the sand), but also for the many by-standers staring at Salt.  She is quite a hit over here—indeed, we haven’t seen another Airstream since leaving Gold RV in the UK.

This parking lot happened to have a faucet so we loaded another five gallons into our fresh tank and settled in for the night.  SP made Morrocan Poached Eggs for dinner—I just love it when he cooks, we always get something unusual and delicious. 

If the weather had been better we surely would have stayed another day, however the next morning dawned with clouds and more rain so we set off again.   Ever moving southward . . .

-K

Musings – On When *#$! Happens on the Road - Apr. 22, 2012

Repair pictures here!

As you know by now we encountered some issues on our drive south from Jumieges, France landing a crippled Pepper and a one-windowless Salt in Tours.  Once the breakdown began, I realized how quickly two smart people can go from making good decisions under reasonable stress to making poor ones under extreme stress.  It got me thinking that maybe that’s why some of life’s bad experiences just get worse and worse; compounding bad experiences with bad decisions, ultimately creating more bad experiences. 

When we initially felt the Pepper shaking (much differently from the other day’s wheel balance issue; this shake only came with acceleration), we pulled off the A10 to check it out.  That’s when we discovered the missing window.  Thinking (ok, hoping) that the missing window might have been causing the shake, we taped it up and set back toward the A10.  Is that smart?  Was that even logical?  Not really.  That, my friends, is what Wishful Thinking looks like in France.

Pepper restarted shaking almost immediately upon acceleration so we turned around and headed to the first motel that we had passed--the dropping of Salt becoming our #1 priority as we feared that Pepper might stop moving altogether.  I jumped out to check us in and just didn’t like the feel of the place:  The door was locked but included a sign directing you to register yourself at a machine.  I made an executive decision that we would take a deep breath (or six) and sit in the parking lot until we found a more decent place to stay.  Was that smart?  Was that logical?  Quite.   Could that have been the turning point; the point at which I stopped the cycle of reacting badly to a bad experience?

A few minutes later we located the Mercure Hotel, Tours Nord and slowly made our way over.   My stress level immediately dropped about 10 points upon entering the bright, crisp lobby and being greeted by a very helpful (and, thankfully, bilingual) clerk.   (If you can believe it, my French becomes even worse under stress.) I explained our issues (broken-down car, towing a trailer, two dogs) and she assured me that we could stay for a few days, parking Salt in their bus parking area.  In less than three minutes I had a key and was back out the door.

Stopping what could have been a very bad decision (the Quick Palace Motel--see what I mean?) turned out to be pivotal in our ability to cope with our issues.   I can’t say enough for the staff at the Mercure; everyone at the desk was incredibly helpful (one lady even called Porsche to check up on Pepper, although I don’t think she used his proper name) and the fast internet was our lifeline to finding hardware stores for Salt's repair. 

Our room was perfect but Salt’s was even better:  The bus parking area provided a great spot for the construction of Salt’s temporary Plexiglass window.  A new window will catch up with us in Portugal, thanks to Airstream UK, but in the meantime Salt looks great and is back to being waterproof, what more could you ask for?

-K

Jumieges & Normandy Coast, France – Apr. 13-16, 2012

More pictures here!

SP and I are lucky travelers:  We often stumble upon places of great interest to us particularly when we least expect it.  Our goal upon coming to France was to head south to the warm beaches of Portugal as fast as we could.   But knowing that the ferry from England was already going to be a bit stressful, I booked us for two nights into Camping de la Foret in Jumieges about 50 miles from our landing point in Dieppe.  One night reserved simply to arrive and another to get our bearings (and cell plans) in France.  We ended up staying for four.

I selected the site because of its access to a forest along the banks of the Seine so I was expecting the tree filled walks but was thrilled to discover a charming town as well as a famous Abbey.  The park also offered a “service complet” option which provides, as we were hoping, a full hook-up pitch the likes of which we haven’t seen since the U.S.

Now, almost deserving of a “Musings” in its own right was our Big Talk about Group Think.  We had started using phrases like, “Would you like to stop for a coffee?” instead of, “I would like to stop for a coffee, do you mind?”  Such Group Think led us to spending our first day walking five miles to and from a bus stop and spending upwards of 7 hours (seven hours) just to buy a cell plan.  Oh My God.   If I haven’t already, I won’t bore you with the details, suffice it to say that if one of us had spoken up, we would have been driving the Pepper into Rouen not only saving time but also avoiding an exchange with the Gendarmerie on the return bus route.  (Sometimes it doesn’t pay to acknowledge that you speak a little French . . . “Madame, les chien ne sont pas permitter dans le bus” . . . but of course Les Noses are permitted on the bus, as the bus driver explained to the Gendarmerie while I was busy saying how sorry I was that I didn’t speak French.)

Anyway . . . after our talk about Group Think, SP declared that he would like to visit the beaches of Normandy, in particular a site honoring the American soldiers.  So Day 2 was spent driving the Pepper to Normandy (about 1.5 hours each way) during which we noticed that if you drive faster than 80 mph, the Pepper starts to shake.  Slowing down, and leaving the repair of Pepper to another day, we stopped in Courseulles-Sur-Mer for an outstanding lunch at Les Alizes (clearly a local favorite) opting for the plat du jour (muscles for SP and salmon for moi) while drooling over the platters of shellfish heading to the local’s tables.

After lunch we journeyed south along the Normandy coast, stopping for a quick walk on the beach at Arromanches before eventually making our way to the American monument at Omaha Beach.  After the free-wheeling (although not free parking) sites we experienced along the coast, I was appalled at the bossy U.S. signage “no picnics, do not play in the cemetery” and the metal detector screening required of anyone heading into the visitor’s center.  Nothing epitomizes the freedom of the U.S. like a full body x-ray.  Forgoing the search, we headed out to view the beach, enjoying the immaculately maintained grounds along the cliff.  Then, before you can even prepare yourself, you turn left and see row after row after row of white marble headstones.

The day had been very cold and windy causing my eyes to water quite often while outside.  But coming around that corner and seeing those headstones, I could not stem the tears at all, nor could I blame it on the cold wind.  It was overwhelming to see the sacrifice that the U.S. had made to help bring an end to that horrible war.   It is a gorgeous and stunning stop, visually and emotionally.  Definitely a Don’t Miss – and those of you who know me, know I am not fond of historical touring.  Even as a naturalized citizen, I was proud to be there as an American.  I only wish we had along my step-father Bob whose knowledge would have brought the entire experience to life.

Given what we had learned about Pepper, Day 3 was spent taking it into a Speedy tire service and trying to communicate our issue.  I personally think I did an outstanding job explaining (in French) that when we drive more than 125 KPM, the wheel begins to (and here, not knowing the word for “shake” I did a whole body pantomime of “shake”.)  They got the idea, responded with about three paragraphs of French, only a fraction of which could I understand:  That it wasn’t a big problem.  They pulled Pepper in, rebalanced the tires, charged us nothing and wished us a safe journey.  You don’t’ see that every day.  (That’s what they said.)

And so we are back on the road headed south.  No Paris this time—it’s just too cold and I am sick to death of all my cold weather clothes.  We are heading south as quickly as we can, with maybe, maybe a stop-over in San Sebastian, Spain, a town which I adore.

But only if it is sunny and more than 70/20.

-K

PS:  Since my Tweets come faster than my posts, you know that we are now holed up in a hotel outside of Tours, France.  Pepper’s drive train busted and, miracles of all miracles, we limped off the A10 only a few kilometers from a Porsche dealer.   (I told you we were lucky travelers!)  We dropped Salt in a hotel parking lot before continuing our limping to Porsche.   They need a few days for the part to come in and Porsche thought Pepper was too dangerous to drive so they rented us a little car (mais bien sur, we tried for a Hybrid Cayenne but that is where our luck ran out.)  We are staying a few nights in a hotel with a very sad view of Salt in the parking lot; she missing one of her windows (we drove off and left it unlatched [and by “we” I really mean “I”], so it is somewhere along the A28  or A10 . . . )   When it rains it pours and it happens to be doing both right now.  Literally.  

Aventura, Baby!

Musings – On Leaving England – Apr. 2012

More pictures here!

It turns out I have developed a Seattle-like relationship with England:  When the weather is nice, you think you are in heaven, but when it is bad you are ready to move anywhere.  And so we find ourselves ready to leave England for . . . anywhere. 

Those beautiful sunny days in March, which many locals told us was as good as it gets all summer, turned into rainy and cold days in April.   In the U.K., the weather and the geography change on a dime and both attributes contributed to our enjoyment of this incredibly varied land.  Topping off our enjoyment was the arrival of two dear friends, and the making of others, during our last week.

What stood out to me the most about the English people (and I do intend to omit the Scottish here) is their love of caravanning.   As I noted before, we began receiving The Caravan Club Magazine at least a year ahead of our California departure.  The magazine consistently warns you to make reservations for the parks, particularly when travelling on a bank holiday weekend.   I suggest they add a note about the forecast:   If it is sunny, make sure you have reservations too.  Just like long time Seattle- or Vancouver-ites, when the sun shines the English go a little crazy. 

In looking over my postings, I realize I left out at least two places that, if you find yourself near, you should stop by:  The Haunch of Venison and The Dock O’ The Bay.

We ran (literally—during a rain storm in Salisbury) into the Haunch of Venison with our dear visiting friends in search of a warm spot for a refreshing beer.  We were rewarded with both as well as a hearty welcome from a local gentleman (dressed better than anyone around) who passed along a flyer on the history of the Haunch.  A charming man, when we were leaving he kissed me on both cheeks to which I responded, “How very European”, and he replied, “I am better than European, I am French.”

No one kissed me at the Dock O’ The Bay in Southampton, but I would have kissed the chef had he or she shown themselves.  A delightful little restaurant that sits neither on a dock nor near a bay, but serves some of the best food we have enjoyed in a long time.  Like the Haunch, it is clearly a local favorite.

And finally to new friends; we found ourselves a little quiet upon leaving Gold RV for the last time having picked up our Sani-con Macerator (I really just love to write those words) on our way out of the country.   We have often been asked, when being offered a grocery club card or to put a deposit down on a rental car, if we didn’t know someone in the UK that might benefit from the membership (grocery) or be of help in an emergency (car.)  I don’t think Gold RV would benefit from a grocery membership but I know we will continue to benefit from having met them and I certainly wouldn’t hesitate to contact them in an emergency--Sani-con or otherwise.

-K

New Forest National Park, England, U.K. – Apr. 6-7, 2012

More photos here!

Oh happy, happy days!  As if being back in Salt wasn’t enough to bring on the jubilation, for our second and third nights back home we also managed to find a campground close to what we got used to in California; rather laid back, no electrical hook-ups, and wide open hiking spaces.  Let me tell you, we could hardly believe our good fortune that first afternoon as we pulled out our camp chairs, sat in the sun and toasted to being free once again.

New Forest National Park, England’s smallest National Park, is built on an old WWII air force base, a detail easily overlooked while gazing at the wild ponies crossing the vast, open fields.   Rosco didn’t pay much heed to the ponies but River never quite got used to them.  (I’m sure she was wondering why those big dogs get to run around off leash all the time—sometimes right through her own yard.)

No electrical hook-ups meant we were back on solar – yahoo!  The first day was mostly sunny so we knew we’d be fine, but as the next few days were supposed to be cloudy and rainy we decided to commit to only one night at a time.  By mid-morning on the second day our batteries had charged back to 80% (despite the overcast conditions) and we knew we could last another night so we stayed right where we were.

We did a couple of hikes, the first utilizing some public footpaths (my favorite part of the UK) to walk into Fritham hoping to find some gin.   After three miles we never did locate a store, but happened upon a Free House where we refreshed with a half of Guiness and some peanuts before heading home.  

Our second hike was more traditional; we just set off into the woods on various paths leading to and fro.  The Noses were off-leash and loving every minute of it.  We stopped for a quick picnic lunch in a meadow and watched a large herd of deer bound through the woods (thankfully unseen by R&R.)  I haven’t seen a herd that large since travelling in Africa.  They were delightful.

The campground is very unstructured which we enjoyed.  You just drive in and park where you want to, all they ask is that you keep 20 meters away from a neighbor.  It has large, open areas which are great for the sunshine as well as some wooded spots if you prefer the shade. 

It was a well-timed find (found by SP after we took a wrong turn on one of our drives in Peppercorn) reminding us of what we really enjoy about this life:  Unstructured freedom. 

-K

Scenic Drive - North York Moors National Park, England, UK

Finally had enough bandwidth to upload a movie!  A scenic drive while in our rental motorhome, Curry, (hence the bumpy and loud ride) through the North York Moors National Park in England.  Filmed in March 2012.


Better late than never, I guess!

Salt’s European Transformation – April 2012

More Transformation Pictures Here

I have been promising details on Salt’s European Transformation for a while so I thought I should post the transformation before I post any of our trips.  I was hoping  SP would write this part (he will be the one to answer any questions that arise so you might want to take note of his email:  alan.t.bryant@gmail.com) but, alas, he is still wearing his CFO hat and is promising me budget to actual numbers soon.  Instead of holding my breath, I am taking a deep one and diving in to Salt’s transformation details.

I’d like to take the worst part first:  Black & Grey Tank Disposal

As I have previously reported, most of the caravans and motorhomes in the UK operate on a cartridge basis; most particularly with the black waste, referred to in the UK as Chemical Waste.   (“Waste Water” is their name for grey tank water.)  As a consequence, most RV parks and campgrounds are set up for hauling cartridges over to a sink-like area (called a Chemical Waste Disposal Point), often picking the cartridge up, then tipping the waste and waste-water out of the cartridge.  (An act horribly at odds with the cashmere and tweed wearing English campers proved even worse for Alan; I’m sorry to report that one day, while emptying Curry's black cartridge, he spilled some waste on his shoe.  Rosco followed him around all day.  I am still not sure which bothered him more.)  By now the North Americans reading this are wondering , much like we did when we arrived, how on earth would that cartridge dumping system work with our interior tanks and exit pipe layouts?

Well, first you have to look for the “Motor Vehicle Waste Disposal” point, which only about half of the parks provide.  If they have one, there will be a sewer connection that you can drive next to, and lay your hose down into, for grey and black tank disposal--sometimes.  Sometimes there is a sign indicating waste water (grey) only.  This solution is all fine and good except for the fact that parks providing these points are few and, quite literally, far between.  Enter The Macerator (cue the music from Jaws), Thetford’s Sani-con.  This device will pulverize your black waste (and grey, although there is not much to pulverize in that one) and pump it 200’, even uphill, thus allowing you to reach all the Chemical Waste Disposal Points just as if you were carrying in your cartridge.  I am so thrilled about this I cannot tell you--not.  But Alan sure is and who could blame him?  Our Sani-con is on order from Gold RV who can get you anything for your American RV, relaying it to wherever you are in Europe.

Not stimulated by that black tank discussion?  Let’s move on to:  Electric

As I am sure you know, the U.K. and Europe run on different currents than Salt is expecting.  If you have been reading along you also know we love our solar power, but we have learned that you cannot rely on it 100% of the time, especially in countries where sunshine is not their biggest attraction.  Enter The Yellow Box:

A simple device that transforms the power from the campground mains into something acceptable to Salt.  (I did warn you that for more details you will need to contact Alan:  alan.t.bryant@gmail.com, don’t ask me about wattage or voltage, to me they just mean “smile harder.”)  With a little plug adaptation from, you guessed it, Gold RV, our Yellow Box (purchase from an electrical contractor for around $100) was ready for use in about an hour.

Saving the best, well at least the most expensive, for last:  LP Gas

By far the most complex and costly issue was replacing our LP tanks.  We chose not to ship our two tanks over as getting them certified as empty (a requirement of the shipping company) was going to cost $50-80 per tank and a quick internet search showed tanks of equal size could be purchased for less.   (Cue the Cash Register.)

In the U.K., most of the caravaners use a Blue Rhino type of system called Calor and do the LP bottle exchange.  Many campgrounds and grocers have exchange bottles available so if you don’t mind the extra cost it is a viable alternative, especially if you are staying in one country. 

However, the European countries all have their own exchange system.  Not wanting to start up a new exchange in every country, we opted for refillable LP tanks; a new and increasingly popular solution.  But refilling is not quite as easy as in the U.S.:  Here, although you can fill up your own bottles often from a gas pump right next to the unleaded or diesel options (that’s easy!) you must be able to refill your tanks via a hose attached to the outside of your caravan (that’s not easy!)  You cannot refill directly into your bottles.   (Ca-ching!)

Gaslow is the clear leader in the refillable LP bottle field and we opted for their solution.  The purchase of two 11 KG bottles, pipes, regulator, refill kit and adapters (so we can refill in multiple countries) set us back roughly $1,000 – pulling out the credit card for this, we toasted to how clever we were in not bringing over our old tanks.

The installation of the Gaslow system took about half a day done by our new best friends, Gold RV.   Many Gaslow and RV dealers would not even attempt the installation on a US trailer.   So when Gold said they would install and test it, we immediately upped them to Friends for Life status.  (They, on the other hand, have probably upped us to Crazy American status.)

Thus with electricity, gas and black tank empty’ing options we were ready to hit the road on April 5^th, only a day and a half after picking them up at the dock!  Unfortunately, it wasn’t all done until 4:00 p.m. and we had no idea where we were heading.  Enter Gold RV once again!  Gary offered to let us boondock in his parking lot where they conveniently had an electric hook-up, a hose bib and even a sewer dump.  You know our rule:  If it is 4:00 and we have a suitable camping spot, carpe pitchem!  Thus, our first night back in Salt we spent in a parking lot in Alton, England, cooking up some pork stew (with dumplings bien sur!) and toasting a delicious bottle of Margaux to being home once again.

-K

PS:  alan.t.bryant@gmail.com

Update - A Family Reunited

Just a quick update - we drove off with Salt & Pepper today from the Southampton docks; a family reunited and incredibly happy to be so!


On the way out of town, we navigated to one last RV supply store in Southampton in hopes of finding the preferred regulator for our LP gas installation.  (There will be more specific posts on the metamorphosis of Salt in the coming days . . . stay tuned!  We're talking LP tanks that you can refill yourself a many local gas stations!)  We weren't able to locate the regulator, but made quite a few new friends in the parking lot.  We gave two interior tours of Salt and a family stopped and took pictures of each other in front of it.  Quite a delight! 


We headed north to Alton where we had previously met our saviours, Gold RV (can't recommend them highly enough--they specialize in fitting US rigs to UK systems but can do almost anything else.  Plus the owners and everyone there are about the friendliest people we have found outside of Scotland.)  They started and almost completed our LP tank installation in one afternoon.  


Gold was happy to let us leave Salt in their lot overnight so we unhitched Pepper (and didn't he love that after six weeks of being locked down to Salt!) ran him through a hand wash (despite the raining weather) and parked ourselves at the Alton House Hotel for the night.  


The LP installation will be done tomorrow but we are awaiting one more item for the transformation before we can leave the U.K.  Thankfully some good friends are flying into London next week so we'll have lots of enjoyment in our last week here!


-K

Musings – On the Pleasant Tones of a Foreign Accent; Even in Children

Why does overhearing usually intolerable conversations become quite endearing when spoken in a foreign accent?  There must be a word for this, maybe SP will think one up before long.   (Or please, comment with some suggestions—I imagine I will need to use it quite often from now on.)  For me, having to listen to conversations between small children and their mothers is tied for first in the Just Shoot Me Now category with having to listen to one side of a cell-phone conversation that starts with, “OK, now we are through security.”  However, the conversation I overheard last night, spoken with tiny voices in their high-class English accents, had me laughing out loud.

I had gone to the shower block (shower room) to get ready for our night at the local pub when I overheard the following conversation between a mother and her two daughters.  It was clear that before coming in the mother had spent some time talking to the girls about what to expect and the steps to take in order to accomplish their task.  The girls were young (3 and 5 maybe) and clearly excited about their new adventure.  The mother set the older one up in her own cubicle before starting with the younger one in a cubicle next door.  

The water starts and the elder daughter speaks;

“Mummy, I believe I have done something wrong.”

“What is it Lovey?”

“I have entered the shower with my shoes on.”

(A beat of silence.)

“Which shoes are they Lovey?”

“My runners.”

(Another beat of silence.) And the daughter continues, “Will they dry, Mummy?”

“Not as long as you are standing in the shower Lovey.”

Ahh, these unflappable English!

-K