We've been in Devon for just over 2 months now, initially staying at a B & B for 14 days to quarantine after our return from Saudi, and the subsequent time in a granny flat down at the bottom of the garden (like the Poddington Peas). And whilst it's been wonderful to have the beach on our doorstep and the moors nearby, it has getting a bit stale; a first world problem if ever there was one I know, however there is no denying that the routine has been getting to us. But, with my wife Jeannie’s birthday upcoming I thought the chance had finally presented itself for us to shake things up; have a champagne breakfast with fresh croissants from the local baker, a picnic in the moors and then top it off with a fish supper on the beach before retiring to a birthday blingtastic bedecked beach front hut for the night. I'd definitely get some Brownie points for that and wipe the slate clean of other, less ostentatious, displays of occasion from days of yore. Then a couple of days before all this, my wife said her parents were going to get their caravan set up near Bude and we should go for her birthday. Hmmmmm... out went the plans (for now at least) but I've stored them for a later date. Now some of you might think I've given the game away by writing it on this blog post but my wife doesn't really read my blog so that's okay, although also quite sad.
Now my wife has a rose tinted nostalgia attached to camping as in her childhood her family would travel around Europe in their car and camp at sites. It was a formative part of her youth and she fondly recalls the many (mis) adventures with her nearest and dearest with dewy wistfulness.
For me however, camping and caravanning never appealed and it might be in part due to my childhood. Growing up, I remember my dad saying he just didn't get camping, "I left Pakistan for running water which didn't come from a standpipe and a comfortable bed, why would I want to go back to that?" Fair play I thought but during my formative years I did go camping and caravanning as my friends liked it as a cheap break away. Also, I’d also wanted to give it a go as I liked to experience different things myself before forming an opinion.
My first experience was as a 16 year old with the Youth Achievement Award Scheme, where my friends and I worked with underprivileged kids at a John Bosco camp where they did lots of fun activities to give them a break away from their parents. I liked the kids and enjoyed the rewarding week but I hated the cold tent, creaky camp beds, cold showers, the general feeling of griminess and the fact that, as a Muslim who could only eat halal food, my meals mostly consisted of salad in a bun as most of the meals were very meatastic and very pork-biased. Coming from Barking I had a certain level of refinement, £1 grade F halal chicken and chips if you please.
This was followed by a camping trip to Snowden with work colleagues at the age of 18. We failed to plan adequately and arrived on an evening during a Bank Holiday weekend, only to find most of the facilities were closed and so we had to share a KitKat Chunky and a small packet of dry roasted nuts (as this was what we had buried in our bags) between the 4 of us whilst it chucked it down with rain in our 4 man tent. We did climb Mount Snowden in our inadequate equipment, so I'm proud of that, but I do remember praying so hard for warmth and a burger that I almost gave myself a hernia.
As a 19 year old I'd gone to a static caravan in Cornwall and, later that same year, a canal boat in the south of France and found that those were actually pretty good. However pumping the water for the toilet and seeing your own poo floating in a flood of water before going down the toilet scarred me for life. I left it another 10 years and tried the static caravan experience again but didn't like it when my friends and I went to Cromer, a short distance from Norwich.
Since then, I've had the privilege of traveling around the world, staying in many different qualities and quantities of accommodation. So, when my wife suggested the caravan near Bude I girded my loins and thought I'd give it another crack! What could go wrong? I'd matured and maybe I'd like it now, like how I now actually like mushrooms and porridge after years of disliking them.
The journey was just over an hour, 30 minutes of which were through lush green fields on either side as we drove through windy roads and lanes.
When we arrived at the farm camp site in Devon but near the outskirts of Cornwall on July 15th, we saw that the surrounding area consisted of beautiful verdant hills. The sky was cloudy but it was a pleasant 20 degrees and hope and optimism filled our hearts. We drove past the main field, which had a dozen or so caravans with epic aspirational sounding names like ‘Explorer,’ ‘Wanderer,’ ‘Buccaneer,’ ‘Conqueror,’ ‘Sardine Tin’... Okay, I kid about the last one but you almost believed me right? We drove on to the back field which had just one caravan, our caravan--the ‘Sterling Continental,’ a real beaut she was. She sat at the top of a hill and overlooked quiet lanes and gentle rolling hills. My in-laws were really taking social distancing to heart by perching the caravan here!
The view from the caravan park was stunning, gentle rolling hills and blue skies.
Once we'd alighted from the car my father in-law greeted us and explained the various systems to me; the water, electrics, gas and... the sewage. It was all pretty straightforward as the caravan was only a couple of years old and very modern, so a lot of the things were intuitive or automatic, or so he reassured me. That made me happy as I'm used to quite a sedentary lifestyle, for better or for worse, and I'm not used to manual labour so if a machine did it for me... great! I welcome our artificial intelligence overlords, especially if it helps keep my peachy, sensitive hands clean and soft.
The thing I dreaded the most was cleaning the waste water and the sewage box each morning but apart from that I thought it should be alright. I'd have to take the two storage boxes to the waste area, empty them and clean the area with the standpipe. Gosh my dad was right all those years ago!
My family and I established a rule of pooing only in the site facility toilets and peeing in the caravan toilet as I didn't want to empty out poos each morning. My old nightmares of pumping the toilet to see floating spinning poos wasn't going to emerge again after 12 years of laying dormant. Now we haven't been using public facilities during this scare for obvious reasons but I'm not gonna lie, the facilities were actually too notch. The caravan park we stayed at was very well maintained and due to the Covid-19 pandemic, immaculately cleaned and maintained. It only allowed one person in and when the person exited, one of the site workers would go in and clean it up. I didn't know how they did it but they were like ninjas, swooping in after we'd gone to the toilet. We saw them a lot as my youngest daughter is being trained to come out of nappies so we had a lot of phantom poos but it was all part of the process.
For the first night we stayed on the campsite and played football and bat and ball. The girls enjoyed being able to run around, gamboling carefree on the grassy field whilst we sat in the 'grandad chairs' (sun loungers), drinking a lovely cold drink and admiring the wonderful view whilst enjoying the peace. The hours passed by pleasantly and as the time hit 7 pm, we all showered, had our dinner and got the girls ready for bed. We transformed the interior, changing the two seating areas into the 'master bed' and bunk beds. The girls didn't settle and as the time hit 11pm we knew it was going to be a long night, and it was.
The next day was my wife’s birthday and for this momentous occasion we put up a 'Happy birthday' banner, blew balloons and had a delicious handmade (not by me, I can't bake for toffee) buttercream and jam cake for breakfast. It's very hard to maintain an element of surprise in a tiny caravan but it was a sweet celebration with Jeannie assisting in putting up the decorations for her own birthday. We then completed our morning ablutions and I went about completing the tasks of fetching fresh water, getting rid of the waste water and toilet tray unit. I was nervous as it was the first time I'd ever done it and didn't want to do it wrong and end up in poop creek but luckily, it went alright and no-one was harmed. We then went to Widemouth Beach, which was very wavy, so there were lots of surfers and body boarders. It was a gloriously sunny day and we had a picnic on the beach. The girls loved running around on what was a pretty quiet beach.
After that initial day, the holiday became easier as we got into a routine. Over the next few days we went to a few different beaches including Sandymouth and Summerleaze, ate ice cream and caught up with some old friends. Having a child of their own meant our kids were entertaining each other and catching up whilst we adults discussed the pains of the pandemic, future prospects and possibilities- all pretty heady stuff but the delicious vegan BBQ helped though. On our final day, we were able to have a socially distanced reunion as two of our friends from Cambodia lived nearby and we sat and had tea, discussing how much things had changed over the past 8 years or so whilst reminiscing.
Sandymouth had lots of rockpools.
Widemouth had stunning views on the coastal walks.
Sunset at our caravan site.
And so it was that after 6 days we departed for home, happy with our break away. I had a great time and have a new found appreciation of the wonderful British countryside and coasts. I'd overcome my fear of chemical toilets and enjoyed the simpler life and it was sweet, for a while at least. I think we’ll be back soon but not I’m not sure I’ll be rushing out to get a caravan anytime soon though, no matter what Jeannie says.