Todays mission: Fix Berties mirror

We had a great night sleep in the carpark in Belgium but we woke up to freezing! Well, not quite, but it was pretty cold. Our first stop was a Mercedes dealership just outside Ghent… only to find out they don’t deal with vans or stock the parts we needed. Luckily, the kind receptionist called their city branch and confirmed they had what we were after.

A quick detour into Ghent, and Bertie was soon the proud owner of a shiny new side mirror. The best part? Fitting it was a easy. A quick pop-in job and Bertie was as good as new, ready to hit the road again. 

But no road trip goes completely to plan. Not long after we left, a warning light flicked on the dash. Time for another detour, this time to Antwerp and another Mercedes dealership. And, you guessed it, they didn’t handle vans either. The nearest van specialist was 30 minutes away… in the wrong direction. Strangely enough, when Mike restarted the van, the warning had vanished. Mysterious, but we weren’t complaining.

The rest of the day was a fast-paced sprint up the motorways, bypassing Belgium’s and Holland’s major cities – Antwerp, The Hague and Amsterdam.

Since freedom camping is banned in the Netherlands, we pulled into a campground north of Amsterdam. It’s not cheap at €27 a night, but the showers and toilets are super-flash, and it seems like a peaceful place to rest up.

Right now, it feels like we’re racing through Europe, but with limited time and many miles to cover, we’re skipping over the countries we’ve explored before. Things will slow down once we reach Denmark.

The day did not start well.

As I mentioned in the last blog, today’s “big adventure” would probably not be the ferry to France. Turns out, I was spot on. The real challenge was driving to Dover.  The question wasn’t when we’d make the ferry. It was if.

On a good day, the drive to Dover takes 3.5 hours. Our ferry check-in time was at 3pm. Mike, ever the optimist, suggested leaving at 10am. I, ever the contingency planner, said no later than 9. Sensible, or so I thought…

We got up at 7am, feeling super excited and fully prepared. That’s when Mike noticed Problem #1: the rear tyre pressure was down. Apparently, he’d seen bubbles on the valve the day before when we were faffing about washing Bertie and checking his tyre pressures. Probably should have dealt with that then. 

I could feel a minor panic brewing deep in my subconciousness. Not quite anxiety, but definitely potential. The Hitch-hikers Guide to the Galaxy came to the rescue. Don’t Panic, and… something about fish. Details were hazy but the message was clear. I was thankful we had options. If we couldn’t get the wheel fixed today, there would always be another ferry!

A quick call to a local tyre shop quickly stomped on our impending doom and thankfully they squeezed us in straight away. Sure enough it was a dodgy valve. Thirty minutes later, 20 pounds lighter, and we were back on the road by 9:30am. Contingency intact.

Then came Problem #2:  The M25 carpark was full. Because of course it was. There had been an accident and they had closed it off causing mayhem. Google decided to help with a scenic detour right through London’s Ultra Low Emission Zone. Two immediate problems with this:

1.  I didn’t want to go anywhere near London traffic.
2.  Bertie is many things, but a “low-emissions” van he is not!

In my panic to avoid London, I tweaked Google’s settings to avoid tolls and motorways. That was a mistake. A big mistake.

Next thing we knew, we were zigzagging through every back road, country lane, and goat track in southern England. Bertie was getting far too intimate with the hedgerows.

Then Problem #3 happened. Somewhere along the way, one of the sneaky bushes stole our side mirror. It was super-stealth about it too as we didn’t even notice until much later. How on earth was Mike going to handle driving a massive van on the wrong side of the road without a side mirror? But this was a problem for future me.  Right now, I just wanted to escape this maze from hell!

Eventually, the roads widened just enough to unclench, and for a glorious moment, it felt like we were back on actual roads. Almost. But then Mike missed a crucial turning. I told him to take the next one. We pulled over to regroup. Mike wanted to stay with the traffic flow. Google disagreed. In my frustration, I exited the navigation and tried to re-route. Rookie mistake. We were in a data dead spot, and now we had NO navigation.

With no signal, I had to navigate the old-fashioned way: zooming in on offline maps, squinting at the tiny roads, and hoping for the best. Meanwhile, our 2-hour buffer had been chewed up at an alarming rate and we only a 25 minute contingency left!

Eventually, we stumbled back into signal territory. Google found its bearings, but we’d lost precious time. To make matters worse, I realised I’d forgotten to uncheck the “avoid highways” setting. Things were starting to make sense now.

Once that was fixed, it was plain sailing down the M20 to Dover. But by then, Bertie was short one mirror, we were short on nerves, and our “relaxing” drive had turned into the Great Dover Dash.

At least we made it. Just.

The ferry from Dover to Dunkirk was nearly empty. Just a handful of cycle tourists, a couple of vans, and a few trucks. The crossing was smooth and uneventful, and we arrived around 7:30pm.

Then came the final challenge of the day: finding somewhere to sleep.

We had no plan, no destination other than heading north, and a vague idea that heading towards Ghent in Belgium might be smart, since there are a couple of Mercedes dealerships there. Hopefully one of them has a mirror for poor, lopsided Bertie.

I managed to find a carpark in Belgium for us the sleep in for the night. Not glamorous, but we’re tucked in now, hoping nobody knocks on the window at 2am.

Tomorrow? Your guess is as good as mine!

Poole, UK

It’s organisation day! But first, emergency repairs: Bertie’s having a mid-life crisis – his air-con has packed up and I’m not doing another van trip in a sauna!

We took him to the local Mercedes dealer and they had a look. Turns out he had no gas! They tried to re-gas him and failed. More diagnostics are needed. They won’t have time to fix him before we go away, so we decided to leave it until we get back. We’re heading north. How hot can it get?

Other than that, the day was spent sorting our van. We took some stuff back to storage, picked up some more stuff and bought more stuff. What stuff? I have no idea!

Then it was time to wash Bertie. This was a bigger deal than it should have been. First there was a queue, so we decided to check the air in our tyres. But it cost £1 just to find out. Outrageous! We didn’t even know how much air we needed. So, back in the car wash queue we went, grumbling about being charged for something that’s literally everywhere. Then it was our turn to wash. 

We chose the ten minute option thinking this would be heaps of time. There were three different hoses. The black hose for fresh water, the blue hose for soapy water, and the hose for the brush. Straight forward enough, except they’d all got tangled up in a mess by the last person. Why hadn’t we thought to check that beforehand? The clock and our money ticked by as we desperately tried to untangle them.

In an attempt to make up for lost time, we tag-teamed it: Mike wielded the squirty hose, I chased after him with the brush. But when it was time to use the soap, it just trickled out like an old man having a pee. By the time we’d dribbled soap all over the van, we were down to our last minute. We need to rinse, NOW! I grabbed the black hose and started spraying like a maniac, but only soapy water came out. Shit! We’re not gonna make it! God help us if we have to pay more money! And then everything went quiet. The frantic hustle gave way to an unsettling silence. The stupid machine had left us with a half-clean and soapy Bertie.

I sent Mike into the shop to complain and he came back with a lady, a refund, and a queue of annoyed people waiting to wash their cars. So, Bertie is partially clean. That will have to do.

I think we are now all ready for our big adventure which starts tomorrow! Driving on the M25 to Dover! (Oh, and we’re catching a ferry too, if we can get out of the M25 car park.)

Bournemouth to Poole

Today we picked up our van, Bertie! First challenge: me in the driver’s seat. What could possibly go wrong?

Mike’s daughter, Mich had been looking after Bertie while we were away. She’d taken him for little adventures,  just around the block to stretch his wheels. But just before we arrived, he went on a big adventure. Bertie went to a festival! He’s been living his best van-life without us!

Mike was only insured to drive our rental car, which meant I had to drive Bertie. I’d never driven him before, and he’s very big. And manual. The last time I drove a manual was in a different lifetime, on a different continent, in a car that was much smaller and far less judgmental.

It took a few moments to find reverse. The little guideline that usually sits on the gear stick had fallen off. I found it in the ashtray. Reverse was to the left and down. I did this, but the van kept creeping forward. With a massive big fence in front of me, I didn’t have much room for error. So I called on the “expert” for help. Turns out, Bertie has a secret handshake: to get reverse, you have to lift a hidden collar thingy before moving the gear stick. 

Next I had to manoeuvre this beast out of the car spot. It’s weird not having a rearview mirror. How do I know there’s nothing behind me? The side mirrors worked fine. I had to call in the “expert” again to make sure I didn’t hit anything. He walks up, laughs, and points to the dash. ‘You’ve got a reversing camera!’
That would’ve been handy five minutes ago. Little did I know, the reversing camera has a personality all of its own. But more on that later.

Next, I had to try to keep up with Mike on the way to drop off the rental car. For anyone that knows Mike, put him in a car in England and he instantly drives like a maniac. (He calls it rally driving).

Surprisingly, Bertie was a dream to drive. The real challenge wasn’t the gears. It was squeezing his chunky frame into England’s idea of “lanes”. 

As for changing gears? Turns out, muscle memory is a thing. Just like riding a bike. A very large,  intimidating bike with a house strapped to it.

I made it to europcar, incident free. No curbs were harmed. I even managed to vlog a bit while driving, because why not raise the difficulty level? Clearly, I’m now a professional van driver.

There is one small problem with the van. His air-conditioning isn’t working. Apparently, functioning air-con is just too much to ask from our campervans. First Rodger, then Poppy, now Bertie! But I managed to get an appointment tomorrow at the Mercedes dealership. Not cheap, but it beats sitting in a mobile oven. 

I’m guessing our readers might be confused at this point. In the previous blogs we were preparing for the arctic and extreme cold, and now we’re worried about the air-con not working. Well, it’s just the way things work in Europe. 

The rest of the day was a blur of “just a few errands” that somehow swallowed the entire afternoon.

First stop: the storage unit, where we played a fun game of Find Our Stuff. We loaded up, drove to the campground just outside Poole, feeling quite accomplished… until we realised we’d forgotten the camping chairs. You know, those minor luxuries like somewhere to sit. So, back to storage we went for round two. By the time we returned, we were absolutely wiped out. And to top it off, we had the kids coming over for dinner.

The kids arrived around 4:30pm and we had a nice evening catching up. Mike cooked some Chinese pork burgers but we completely forgot Jessie’s now a vegetarian. Oops. Thankfully, the food truck on-site came to the rescue. Mac and cheese chips for Jessie. Crisis averted. 

After they left, all we wanted to do was fall into bed. Tiny problem. There was stuff all over it. We’d basically regurgitated our storage unit into our tiny living space. Then I had a revelation. The cab area … totally empty!. Within minutes, we’d relocated our crap heap onto the front seats. Problem solved. Out of sight, out of mind. Sleep restored.

Tomorrow, we attempt “organisation.” Wish us luck.

My advice for today is… Don’t go shopping for “essentials” when jet-lagged! You’ve been warned!

The day went something like this. After washing the plane gunk off our clothes, we went out for Sunday lunch. I bet you’re thinking cosy English pub, nice roast dinner, pint of a warm beer. But no, we’re in Westborne, and upmarket part of Bournemouth, so a fancy cafe it was. Mike had a mountain of avocado and bacon on sourdough. I had a halloumi burger. Both were really good.

Then we visited our favourite store. Decathlon! We went in for “a couple of things” and came out with half the Arctic wardrobe section. Thermals, hiking trousers, fleeces, and a bunch of other “essentials”… all in preparation for our sunny summer holiday. 

Tonight we played games with the kids. I lost. Then I challenged Mike to chess. I won!

This is what jet lag chess looks like:
Me: “Why didn’t you take my queen?”
Mike: “Oh, damn, I didn’t see that.”
Me: I immediately move a random piece that is NOT my queen.
Mike: takes queen.
Both of us laugh, because clearly, our brains are still somewhere over Malaysia. Which brings me to my next thing.

Last night I couldn’t sleep, so I wrote a little poem:

Jet lag jet lag you’re such a prick

You make me feel a little thick

While everyone else is fast asleep 

I’m laying here counting sheep

My body arrived but my brain stayed home

Now I’m feeling all alone 

I’m wide awake and want to play

But it’s dark outside and not yet day

This poem’s lame, it’s hard to rhyme

Jet lag does it every time

It turns my mind to a pile of shite

Hope my brain is on the next flight

Tomorrow we pick up Bertie!

Today was flying day. That odd, limbo-like day where you’re hanging around at home, but you just want to get to the airport. 

Our main mission was to tuck Poppy into the garage, safely out of reach of winter and her arch-nemesis, Rust. Unfortunately, she takes up ALL the space, so that had to be our final task. The rest of the day was spent disconnecting car batteries, washing sheets and emptying the loo. 

Our flight isn’t until midnight, but we could either sit around at home or sit around at the airport. We chose the airport. So we caught the 2.30pm bus from Hamilton.

The intercity buses have been having a few problems with breaking down, and we had a flash replacement bus. The bus driver got on and said, “how the hell do I drive this thing?” I let out a nervous chuckle. I thought he was kidding, but he was serious! As we lurched onto the road, he was still adjusting his seat, fiddling with buttons, and making occasional wooshing noises.

Apart from a brief moment where we was talking on his mobile while driving a bus load of people along the motorway, I felt mostly safe.

We arrived at Manukau and had to catch another bus. We swapped from our flash comfy bus to a utilitarian commuter which smelled like piss. But it was only a few mins to the airport. Hopefully not enough time to infuse into my clothes.

We arrived at the airport at 5pm. We’d already checked in so it was just a matter of walking through. And here we are, sitting in the airport, 7 hours early for our flight. That’s gotta be a record!

We’d just found ourselves a cosy spot by the window looking at the planes, when out of nowhere came a horrendous downpour. Then the airport started leaking! It started with a few drips, then it came pouring through the ceiling! So that was our excitement for the day. Next stop. Singapore! 

It’s that time of year again, when we flee the cold in search of sunshine. Not that it always works out that way. Last year, we ended up camping in sub-zero temperatures and in snow! This year? Probably something equally ridiculous, in pursuit of the midnight sun.

Norway is calling. We’ve never been. I’ve always been terrified of those endless tunnels they have up there, but I’m sucking it up. There’s usually some sort of a detour if I get spooked, usually in the form of a stunningly scenic mountain pass that adds 2 hours onto the journey.

But hey, we’re not in a rush. Apart from the imposed 90-day limit due to Brexit. But we don’t talk about the B-word.

This week was meant to be all about ticking off the to-do list. What actually happened was several days of faffing about, followed by a Thursday panic. Classic us. We did buy travel insurance though — today. We leave tomorrow!

We still haven’t booked the ferry to France. Or the one to Norway. But hey, one thing at a time. We don’t want to overdo it.

Tomorrow, we catch the bus to Auckland, scheduled to arrive ten hours early for our flight. But more on that tomorrow.